When I was 15, many moons ago, I had my pride and joy stolen from a locked shed one sunday morning. I phoned the police with no great hopes and they said they'd log it and let me know if there was any news.
Three hours later there was a knock at the door and a young copper had my bike in a van outside. It had been found, without a scratch on it, in the road, handed in at the police station and an efficient desk sarge had put two and two together. He then asked the young sprog on duty to run it round to our house

One happy kid...one box of quality street to the police mess. So it can happen, though that was in the days when police numbers where better than now.