Disclaimer: (I do not own anything recognizable to BBC's Sherlock Holmes. All plots, characters and storylines recognizable from the tv show belong to them.)
This story starts on Episode 2 of Season 1. (If you haven't seen the tv show then this may not make a lot of sense to you). Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have already met and are learning to be a team. Caren Owens will be the main character for this story, but in this chapter it mostly focuses on Sherlock and John so that Caren can be introduced into the story. After this chapter, Caren will most likely be the main character (i say most likely because you never know). Feel free to leave a review! Thanks!
John Watson marched up the stairs and entered into the open door of his flat. Sherlock Holmes sat in his usual spot, the chair on the right, next to the fireplace, exactly where John had left him before he had gone out to get groceries. John looked around the flat, noticing a scratch on the door that hadn't been there before and some of the rugs on the ground were scrunched up a bit. Sherlock hardly glanced up from his book to look at John and said in a very monotone voice, "You took your time."
"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping," John replied, trying to hold back his annoyance as he continued to glance around the room. Sherlock looked up from his book disappointed, "What? Why not?"
"Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and pin machine," John announced loudly. Sherlock stared at him for a moment, "You...you had a row with a machine?"
"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted at it abusively. Have you got cash?" John explained quickly, still annoyed and slightly embarrassed he couldn't get the stupid thing to work. He didn't know why he bothered with those things when there were people at shops to do that sort of work for people like him.
"Take my card," Sherlock said with a smile, nodding over to the cluttered table in the kitchen where his wallet sat. John started towards the table then paused and huffed, "You could always go yourself you know. You've been sitting there all morning and not even moved since I left!"
Sherlock thought back on how he had just sword fought with an Arabian while John was gone, but decided not to mention it.
"What happened with that case you were offered? The Jaria diamond?" John shuffled through Sherlock's wallet, which was about as messy as the flat.
"Not interested," Sherlock snapped his book closed and saw a sword from the Arabian revealing itself from beneath his chair. He immediately shoved it back with his foot and looked around the room nonchalantly, tossing the book from one hand to the other to look as casual as possible, "I sent them a message."
John, non the wiser, sighed and leaned down to examine the table, seeing another scratch that had not been there earlier that day. He glared over at Sherlock who gave him a fake innocent look, then left the room to go have another row with the store.
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"Don't worry about me, I can manage," John huffed, struggling to bring in all the groceries up the stairs. Sherlock hardly even glanced in John's direction, deeply in thought. He stared at the email in front of him from an old 'friend' back in college, asking him to come visit. He, along with others now-a-days, had heard that Sherlock was now a consulting detective and was asking him to come look at an 'incident' whatever that meant. Sherlock wasn't quite in the mood to be friendly...on the other hand it was a new case, and he hated to turn down any.
"Is that my computer?" John's voice brought him out of his thoughts. He immediately began typing a response to the email and responded, "Of course."
"What?" John's voice sounded upset, but he always sounded upset to Sherlock.
"Mine was in the bedroom," Sherlock replied, typing his confirmation that he would come and examine whatever it was his ole 'buddy' needed. John scoffed, "What and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" he paused for a moment, "It's password protected."
"In matter of speaking. It took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox." Sherlock explained matter-of-factly. John hated when he did that. Annoyed he grabbed the laptop away from him, "Thank you." Sherlock seemed hardly affected by this, merely placing his hands in front of his lips like he always did when he was thinking intently about something.
John rested down in his own usual spot, the chair across from Sherlock's, and picked up the mail resting on the side table. Each one was a bill. John sighed and shook his head, "I need to get a job."
"Oh, dull." Sherlock replied, looking off into the distance.
John tapped his fingers against the chair, debating whether he should interrupt Sherlock's thinking or not. He finally leaned forward, "Listen, um...if you'd be able to lend me some..." he paused. Sherlock continued staring off into the distance, possibly not even listening to a word he was saying. "Sherlock, are you listening?"
Sherlock nodded slightly and replied, "I need to go to the bank." He stood abruptly and grabbed his coat, leaving John confused. John immediately grabbed his coat and followed.
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John looked around the building in confusion. Sherlock said they were going to a bank but instead they ended up at a large Shad Sanderson building, people booking flights and going off to who knows where.
"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank..." John finally asked as Sherlock headed for an escalator. He wasn't actually going to fly somewhere to go to the bank was he? Sherlock practically jumped off the escalator and headed straight for the main counter. A woman smiled warmly at the two of them. Before she could say a word Sherlock stopped her and said, "Sherlock Holmes." She nodded her head understandingly and immediately stood up, leading the two of them off down a hall to a large business room. They waited their only for a moment before a man walked in with a big cocky smile on his face, "Sherlock Holmes." He stuck out his hand and Sherlock received it, without smiling back, "Sebastian."
"How are you buddy? How long has it been? 8 years since I last clapped eyes on ya?" he turned and looked John up and down curiously. Without taking his eyes off of Sebastian, Sherlock said, "This is my friend, John Watson."
Sebastian's smile widened, "Friend?"
"Colleague." John corrected him, shaking his hand.
Sebastian chuckled, "Right." He itched his neck and looked at the too of them then turned to his desk, "Grab a seat. You need anything? Coffee? Water?"
Sherlock shook his head slightly and sat down, staring intently at Sebastian.
Sebastian waved away his secretary and sat down, and opened his mouth widely. Sherlock spoke before him, "So you're doing well. You been abroad a lot?"
Sebastian clicked his tongue and shrugged, "Well, some." Sherlock continued, "Flying all the way around the world twice in a month?" John squinted his eyes and glanced over at Sherlock, unsure of how he knew that. Sebastian laughed loudly, "Right. You're doing that thing. Yeah, we were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."
"It's not a trick," Sherlock stated unamused. Sebastian ignored him and continued, "He could look and you and tell you your whole life story."
John nodded, "Yes, I've seen him do it."
Sebastian smiled, "Put the wind up everybody. We hated him. He'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know you'd been at it the previous night."
"I simply observed," Sherlock defended himself in his typical mono toned voice. You could tell this man was already on his nerves.
"Go on then, enlighten me. Two trips in a month, flying all the way around the world, you're quite right. How could you tell? You gonna tell me there was a stain on my tie some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?" Sebastian waited eagerly, ready to make fun of him some more. Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow and responded, "No,"
"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes," Sebastian mocked. John smiled and glanced at Sherlock. His face was completely serious and he stared down the man, "I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me." John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock hadn't spoken with his secretary at all. Sebastian's face fell in disappointment that his game of teasing had come to an abrupt end, then laughed loudly. Sherlock faked a small smile back.
"You know I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break in," he suddenly said, getting down to business. He stood and led the two down a few halls. They stopped in front of an office, "Sir Williams office. Banks former chairman. The room has been left here, sort of like a memorial. Someone broke in late last night.
"What did they steal?" John asked. Sebastian turned to him, "Nothing. They just left a little message." He scanned his card and led the two through to a room where a large painting hung up on the wall. Graffiti upon it was gold spray can paint, two symbols of some sort. Sebastian stared at Sherlock expectantly, who was staring at the painting, a twinge of confusion barely visible on his face.
"60 seconds apart." Sebastian showed them the security footage of the room. One moment the paint wasn't there, and then suddenly it was, without a trace of the accuser.
"So," Sebastian said, "Someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute.'
"How many ways into that office," Sherlock asked abruptly.
"Well, that's where this gets really interesting." Sebastian led the two men back to the front desk and opened up a computer, "Every door that gets opened in this bank, it gets logged here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."
"That door didn't open last night." Sherlock thought aloud.
"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you. 5 figures," Sebastian reached inside his pocket and pulled out a check, "This is in advance, tell me how he got in and there's a bigger one on its way." He practically waves the check in front of Sherlock face. Sherlock doesn't even flinch, "I don't need an incentive, Sebastian." John's eyes widened. He's not gonna take the money.
Sherlock walked away, leaving John and Sebastian standing there, slightly shocked. John decided to immediately jump on this opportunity, "He's uh...He's kidding you obviously. Shall I look after that for him?" Sebastian handed him the check without another thought. The price on the check made John sigh aloud. If Sherlock was not going to accept this money then he definitely would.
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Sherlock spent a long time examining the room and the office, much to the surprise of the other employees there. He finally found what he needed and motioned for John to follow him out.
"Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary you said that just to irritate him," John said immediately. Sherlock smiled proudly. "How did you know?"
"Did you see his watch?"
"His watch?"
"The time is right but the date is wrong. Set two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice, but he didn't alter it."
"Within a month? How did you get that part?"
"New brightening," Sherlock responded, hopping off the escalator.
"Okay...So do you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?" John gazed around the room. The building was big. It would take them a while to find anything.
"I've got everything I need to know already thanks." Sherlock's response shocked John, "Hm?"
"The graffiti was a message. Someone at the bank, working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and..." he paused, letting John finish.
"They'll lead us to the person that sent it."
"Obviously."
"Well, there's three hundred people up there, who was it meant for?"
Sherlock responded immediately, "Pillars."
John scrunched his nose, "What?"
"The pillars and the screens. Very few places you could see that graffiti from, that narrows the field down considerably. And of course the message was left at 11:34 last night, that tells us a lot."
John feeling very confused as usual asked, "Does it?"
"Traders come in to work at all hours, some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone that came in at midnight. Not many Van Coon's in the phonebook. Taxi!" John shook his head. Sherlock never ceased to impress him.
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Edward Van Coon didn't seem to be home so Sherlock tricked a neighbor into letting him in, and use her balcony of all things. He leapt over the balcony onto Edward Van Coon's and tried the door, which opened immediately. Sherlock scanned the room, noticing a big pile of books on a table. He opened up the fridge, which was stoked with several bottles of wine. Suddenly the doorbell buzzed continuously. John.
"Sherlock," John called, but he ignored him, "Sherlock you okay?" Again Sherlock ignored his calls, searching each room carefully, but quickly.
"Yeah, any time you feel like letting me in!" John called annoyed. Sherlock tried the bedroom door. It was locked. Knowing something wasn't right about that, Sherlock instanty thrust himself at the door, breaking it down immediately. He walked in and found Edward Van Coon lying on his bed with a bullet in his head and a gun in his right hand.
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It didn't take long before the police showed up along with a team of men to take pictures and clean up. Sherlock stared at the body as a man took a photo.
"Do you think he lost a lot of money? Suicide is pretty common among city boys," John asked, folding his arms and shaking his head at the dead body. Sherlock shook his own head and turned away, "We don't know it was suicide."
"Come on. The door was locked from the inside, you had to climb down the balcony."
Sherlock ignored him and dug through a suitcase laying on the ground in the closet, "Been away...three days judging by the laundry."
John rolled his eyes. Sherlock stood and stated defensively, "Look at the case, there was something packed tight inside it."
"Thanks I'll take your word for it," John replied, glancing at the dirty clothes then back at the men taking pictures.
"Problem?" Sherlock was confused as to why John wouldn't want to see for himself, learn the facts.
"Yeah, I'm not desparate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear," John responded, and Sherlock stared at him disappointed before walking around to examine the body again, "Those symbols at the bank. The graffiti, why were they put there?"
"Some sort of code?"
"Obviously. Why would they painted. If they wanted to communicate why not use email?"
"Well maybe he wasn't answering."
"Oh good you follow," Sherlock said relieved, digging through the man's coat pockets. John shook his head, "Mmmm, nope."
Sherlock sighed, "What kind of a message would anyone try to avoid?" John shrugged his shoulders, still very confused.
"What about this morning? Those letters you were looking at."
"Bills," John replied. This still wasn't making any sense to him. He watched in disgust as Sherlock pulled a small piece of black paper, folded into the shape of what seemed to be a flower out of the dead man's mouth.
"Yes. It appears he was being threatened," Sherlock stared at the black piece of paper, then stuck it into an evidence bag.
A voice interrupted the two and they turned to see a man walk in, chatting with a cop.
"Ah, Sargent, we've never met," Sherlock went to shake his hand but the man put his hands on his hips, "Yeah I know who you are and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."
Sherlock, visibly a little surprised, lowered his hand and gave the man the bag with the black flower in it. The Sargent snatched it away.
"I phoned Lestrade, is he on his way?" Sherlock asked, not removing his focus from the sargent.
"He's busy," the man snapped, "I'm in charge. And it's not Sargent...it's detective inspector Dimmock." Sherlock stared at him in shock and gave John a look. Dimmock left the room, Sherlock immediately following.
"We're obviously looking at a suicide," Dimmock stated as he entered the living room.
"Yeah that does seem the only explanation of all the facts," John agreed, glancing at Sherlock.
"Wrong," Sherlock responded immediately, "It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." Dimmock gave him a surprised look, "Like?"
"The wound is on the right side of his head."
"And?" Dimmock asked, raising his eyebrows, rather annoyed.
"Van Coon was left-handed. Cause quite a bit of contortion," Sherlock said, demonstrating the awkward motion.
"Left-handed?" Dimmock asked, wanting proof.
"Oh I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat. Coffee table on the left-hand side, coffee mug handle pointing to the left, power strips are used a bit more on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone, because he picked it up with his right hand and took down messages with his left. You want me to go on?"
"No, I think you've covered it," John interrupted.
"Oh I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list. There's a knife on the bread board with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts."
"But the gun..." Dimmock started but Sherlock cut him off, "He was waiting for the killer," he paused. Everyone stared at him, "He'd been threatened." He quickly turned and walked away.
"What?" Dimmock asked, purely shocked.
"Down at the bank. Sort of a warning." John explained.
"He fired a shot when his attacker came in," Sherlock said, putting on his coat and scarf.
"And the bullet?" Dimmock couldn't believe anything of what he was hearing.
"Went through the open window."
"Oh come on," Dimmock scoffed, "What are the chances of that?"
"When can you get the ballistics report? The lead in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee it."
"But if his door was locked from the inside," Dommick argued, "how did the killer get in?"
Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Good. You're finally asking the right questions."
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Detective Inspector Dimmock didn't believe it was murder until another man was found dead in his flat. Sherlock was furious, but secretly thrilled at being right. John and Sherlock had gone to the library and found yet another symbol/threat. Sherlock was convinced the two were connected he just wasn't sure how.
He headed to the hospital to take a look at some samples from Van Coon's clothes and the dead journalist. He immediately made his way to go to the back room, where Molly typically let him in, but this time there was a different woman there. She was a slender woman with blonde, medium length hair, eyes down, studying something in a folder. She immediately looked up when Sherlock and John walked in. She raised an eyebrow as they immediately headed towards the door.
"Uh, hold on a second, do you have an I.D.?" she asked, stepping in front of the two of them. Sherlock stared her down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"An I.D.?" he asked impatiently.
"Yeah. No one goes back there without one," she replied, crossing her arms.
"No, I don't need an I.D. because..." Sherlock started but she cut him off.
"No I.D., no going in. Sorry. Tough luck boys."
"But I'm Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock shoved his hands in his pocket impatiently. The woman raised an eyebrow, "And I'm Caren Owens. Now that we've made introductions, scram."
"Look, I'm a consulting detective in the middle of a case, with several men on my back to get me answers so let me in," Sherlock growled.
"I'm John Watson if anyone's interested." John remarked, but the two ignored him completely.
"Am I supposed to be impressed. I'm just following orders okay? If you don't have an I.D. I can't let you..." she started, irritation clear in her voice.
"We're friends with Molly Hooper," John said. Caren raised an eyebrow, "Molly Hooper huh?"
"Yes, Molly Hooper. Where is she? She's usually here to let us in. Why are you here?" Sherlock spun in a circle, searching the room for Molly, but she was no where to be seen.
"She said she needed to check something and asked me to wait here till she got back," Caren replied, eyeing Sherlock skeptically.
"You don't typically work on this floor do you?" Sherlock said suddenly, taking Caren aback.
"No...I'm a nurse in training upstairs. I wasn't doing anything at the moment and Molly asked me to come down and watch things for her while she was out. How did you..."
"I observed. Now let us in before..." Sherlock started towards the door but Caren jumped in front of him again.
"Do we have a problem here?" a voice from behind asked.
"Finally," Sherlock cried before turning to face Molly, "Where have you been. This insufferable woman is wasting my time."
"He was trying to get in without an I.D.," Caren defended, glaring at him.
"Oh haha, Caren...this is Sherlock Holmes," Molly laughed nervously. Caren shrugged, "Is that supposed to mean something?"
"He's the one..."Molly paused and leaned toward her and whispered, "The I told you about." Caren's eyes widened, "Him? Really? Oh you've got to be joking."
"Can I go in now or are we going to sit around discussing useless things?" Sherlock interrupted.
"Sherlock," John protested but Molly interrupted him, "Oh, no it's fine. Yes, come on in Sherlock." She rushed to the door and pulled on the handle, but the door didn't budge.
"Oh, Caren has the key to unlock...Caren would you mind?" Molly's face turned red and Caren sighed, "Alright."
Sherlock stared suspiciously and Caren explained, "I was holding onto them for her just in case something happened." She pulled out a ring of keys and slowly, as if to torture Sherlock more, opened the door. She mockingly motioned for the three to enter. Sherlock was immediately taking a seat at one of the microscopes and barking orders at Molly, which she instantly began to do.
"Is he always like this?" Caren asked John as the two of them watched Molly and Sherlock work.
"Pretty much, yeah," John replied before walking over to take a seat next to Sherlock.
"There has to be some connection between the two men. If we can find anything, a bit of dirt, some oil, a chemical, that's similar it will help," Sherlock explained to Molly.
"We need more help if we are going to be looking for all that stuff Sherlock," Molly said, grabbing another microscope. She turned to Caren, "Can you help us?"
"No, not her, she's busy." Sherlock responded immediately.
"How do you know that?" Caren questioned, crossing her arms.
"The file you were studying. It's full of paperwork, you obviously have things to do."
"Actually I've got plenty of time. I'd looooove to help," Caren gave Sherlock a challenging look before sitting down by a microscope and looking inside. Silence loomed in the room as Sherlock worked, setting down samples and typing away at the computer. A 'bling' sounded off near Caren's microscope.
"Soooo, what exactly am I looking for?" Caren thumbed her fingers against the microscope and glanced at Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow at her, "Why don't you tell me?"
Caren mimicked the eyebrow raise and peered into the microscope, "It looks like dirt, but not dirt from around here. It has traces of something else." She peered closer at the microscope, "There are definitely traces of bleach on this, but it looks like different chemicals."
"Mind if I check?" Sherlock stood behind her.
"Be my guest."
Sherlock peered in for only a moment before pulling his head back, "Bleach. Definitely."
"Like I said." Caren said, but Sherlock ignored her. He grabbed the next sample and set it under the microscope and took a look.
"So...what are you searching for?" Caren pushed again, watching the detective as he worked.
"Oh don't play dumb with me, I haven't got the time. You know perfectly well what we're doing," Sherlock responded, not even taking his eyes away from his project.
"I'm just a nurse in training, I couldn't..." Caren started but Sherlock cut her off, "Oh that couldn't be all that you are. You are far too obvious."
Caren glanced over at John, but he merely shrugged. She brushed some hair out of her face, "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"Photographic memory," Sherlock's almost groaned. Caren's face lit up in surprise. Suddenly his eyes widened and he jumped up, "The same bleach! They both have the same bleach."
"Mind if I check?" Caren mimicked. Sherlock was slightly taken aback but motioned her forward. Caren glanced in then nodded, "Same kind."
"Like I said," this time Sherlock mimicked. Caren's lip twitched slightly, as if she was trying to hold in a smile.
"How did you know?" she finally asked.
"Oh well it was quite obvious. As entertaining as this charade has been, nobody would believe you're a nurse in training," Sherlock swung back over and grabbed two new samples.
"Are my acting skills so poor?" Caren asked defensively.
"I wasn't referring to your acting skills."
Caren's face scrunched up, and looked to John and Molly, who were just as confused as she.
"Then to what were you referring?"
Sherlock looked up at the three and sighed, "Let's start from the top then. Your brow is marked with intelligence, your gaze is direct, your features are delicate, yet your hands are callused and rough, your voice is refined and confident, yet you take everything as a challenge, possibly reflecting on a bad childhood? Had to defend yourself a lot, take care of yourself for the most part most likely. You reflect education yet you claim your a nurse in training. You had a set of keys to this room when Molly forgot hers, like she does every so often, and you aren't a usual to the floor, meaning you probably work higher up, possibly in something for secretive. When you entered the room, you scanned every inch of it quickly, searching for anything missing or out of place, common habit of someone with photographic memory though I haven't met many and prefer my mind palace. You were able to analyze the bleach almost instantly, again marking your intelligence in science. The folder you were holding outside was thick and you clutch it tightly, meaning it was probably confidential, even now you keep it close to you and glance at it every so often. My best guess is you're either a security guard, although you seem too fragile for that, or researcher, or scientist of some sort."
Sherlock paused for a moment to look into the microscope, "The two samples also seem to have the same type of rustic paint. But the paint is specific. Looks like something ancient, used in China years ago," he turned to Caren, "Want to check?"
Caren stared at him, half-shocked and half-impressed. She shook her head, "No...I believe you." Sherlock smiled proudly, "Finally. Now, John we've got work to do!"
Before Caren was sure what was happening the two men were out the door and down the hall. Caren turned to Molly, who was beaming proudly, "Yeah...he's always like that."
Author's Note: Thanks so much for taking the time to read this terribly written chapter! Let me know what you think!