Yeah, I know. I'm putting another one up when I shouldn't be, but I really got hooked on BBC Sherlock and this just came tumbling out when I didn't feel like writing for my other fanfics. Sorry. But please review and tell me what you think! I would really like to know if it's okay and if I should continue it ^^
A vibration came from my pocket and I pulled out my cell phone in a hurry, hoping that it was the person I was dying to hear back from about the flat I'm supposed to be renting. One look at the screen told me told me it wasn't and I scowled as I answered, just barely managing to keep my voice from betraying my disappointment.
"Yes, mother?"
"Thank goodness you picked up! I've been trying to get a hold of you for ages!"
"Yes, yes. I know, but I thought I told you that I was going to be in da Hellfire Caves? You should've known that there would be absolutely no reception in there."
"Well, how was I supposed to have known?!"
"Mum. Hellfire Caves. You know, as in under ground?"
"…"
"Nevermind. What did you wan' ta talk to me about?"
"Oh right! Won't you come home? You've been traveling ever since you left to that God awful place and even before then! I just want to see my daughter!"
I rolled my eyes as my mother went into hysterics on the phone and I continued walking towards my destination.
"Mother. I've already told you, I'll visit you on da holidays if I 'ave time. My job is very strenuous an' it's been difficult for me to even get time to myself let alone come visit you 'alfway across the world."
"I-I understand. Just be on your way then and leave you old mother to crochet all alone."
Great. Now she's playing the guilt trip. My little white lie doesn't help either.
"Mum, don't be like that. Besides, you 'ave dad! Just call 'im back from work early or somethin'. You two need a night out anyway."
"You're right. I'll see if I can get that stubborn man home. The main problem is keeping him awake long enough to have a good time."
"There you go then. I'll talk to you later mum."
"Yes, yes. And try not to pick up too many accents in your travels. It's getting harder and harder to understand you."
"Okay. I love you."
"Love you too."
The dial tone was heard and I frowned at the phone. That woman. She never warns me when she's going to hang up. Shaking my head, I adjusted the large pack on my back and ignored the stares I was getting from the folk around me. Reaching in my other pocket, I pulled out my phone and began texting.
Do u have the number 4 me yet?
-D
Dodging a business man in a hurry, I stopped in an alleyway to get out of the crowded London streets.
Sure do. It's-
My friend gave me the number and I smiled when I punched in the numbers, an older sounding woman picking up on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Ah, yes. Is this a Mrs. Hudson?"
"Yes it is. May I help you with something?"
"Actually, I was wonderin' about the ad you 'ave for flat 221C. Is it still available?"
"That it is, dear. Would you like to come by and see it?"
"That'll be great. I'll be there in…fifteen minutes."
"Lovely, dear. I'll see you then."
We both hung up and I began making my way over to the right street, getting directions occasionally when I thought I was off track. All the while, I watched the scenery and the people passing by; gauging their reactions to me and the people around them. It's an old habit that hasn't quite died off yet and I often find myself doing it in my spare time between jobs.
Finally, I caught sight of the flat and knocked on the door, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to answer. On the phone she sounded older, but I've long since learned not to trust such devices and normally stick to texting unless otherwise necessary. It's a good thing too, because when she did answer the door she looked quite a bit younger than I originally thought.
"Yes?"
She's nervous. Her eyes are darting about as she looks me over and she's quite scared with what she sees. Better help her get over that if she's to be my landlady.
"Ah, Mrs. Hudson? I'm 'ere about 221C. I called and told you I'd be 'ere."
She seemed to ease up a bit when I smiled politely.
"Oh! Right, then. Come this way." As we walked, she began rambling about the flat even as she pulled out the keys and opened the door. "I hope you don't mind the damp. It's the main reason I think no one has considered renting and I'll be sure to call someone in to fix it if you do decide to rent."
"I assure you, I don't mind a thing 'bout a bit of dampness."
Stepping in and setting my large pack on the ground I walked around to get a good view of the flat. It wasn't bad either. It had a nice fireplace and hard wood floors that could do with a bit of polishing. The walls had already been stripped and were just a plain white base. The light from the window brightened up the room quite well also.
"I'm sorry about the walls, dear. I considered getting them repainted, but I thought the renter would rather choose the colors themselves."
"Not a problem."
Walking into the bedroom, I realized that it was just as empty as the main room with the same floors and walls, but the bathroom was nice. Most likely it had been redone recently, with white tiling and new fixtures. The kitchen had been redone as well; complete with refrigerator and microwave as well as wooden cabinets. I returned to the main room and smiled at Mrs. Hudson as she continued to speak in order to try and get me to rent the place. I would have interrupted her, but I hadn't had someone to talk to in a while and I thought it would be rude.
"I had the bathroom retiled and everything since the dampness really got in there. The kitchen's been redone as well and everything should work as far as the plumbing and electricity goes. The chimney may need a bit of cleaning though."
"Mrs. Hudson, I'll take it."
"And then there's the boys. Oh dear, I hope you don't mind them they're a bit odd. John's very nice though."
"Mrs. Hudson. I said I'd take it."
She stopped and stared at me as the words registered in her mind before exclaiming loudly as she clapped her hands together.
"Really?! That's great! Follow me and we'll sign the paperwork. When will you be moving in then?"
I followed her with a chuckle at her enthusiasm.
"Right away, if that's not a problem."
"Of course not, dear, and I don't believe I caught your name."
"Dani. Dani Evans. It's nice ta meet you, Mrs. Hudson and I assure you I'm not as scary as I look."
I smiled again as further reassurance and she seemed to accept it as she took me into her kitchen to have me sign the paperwork.
I could see why she was a bit unsure about me when we first met, since most people are. I'm tall for a woman, about 5'10", and my masculine features fool enough people into thinking I'm not a woman at all. I've never liked long hair, too much trouble, so my auburn hair has always been cut pretty short. My blue-green eyes are sharp and I'm also fairly muscular due to my traveling and dealing with the wrong kinds of people. It's a good thing I've never told my mom about what my job really is. After the way she reacted about Afghanistan who knows how she'll react knowing that I'm actually-
"Dani?"
"Oh, sorry. I was daydreamin' again, wasn't I?"
She gave me a smile of her own and waved her hand in a nonchalant manner.
"It's okay dear. I was just asking if you wanted to meet the boys."
"I'm sure I'll meet them eventually. I was actually planning ta go get furniture right now so it can be delivered tomorrow."
"If that's what you want to do. Here's the keys, and could you pick me up some milk on the way? It seems Sherlock has stolen mine for another experiment."
It was an odd statement, but I agreed and she called out to me as I left her flat.
"Have a good time!"
I nodded and walked out the door, the smile dropping from my face with a sigh. She's nice and all, but keeping that smile on is going to get to me after a while. At least I finally get to use my actual name. I've been going by so many that I nearly forgot which was my real one. Can't help it though, after what happened in Korea. Hopefully my life will be a bit calmer now.
A young Asian woman with long black hair stood alone in the store room of a museum to finish up some late work. Surrounding her were various statues and figures staring her down as she made her way to one of the cabinets, replacing the ancient tea set she had been using earlier that day for a demonstration.
Bang!
She looked around, frightened, but saw no one and continued her work.
Bang!
Now she knew she wasn't alone and called out in the darkness, hoping that it was just security.
"Is that security? I'm still in here. Just another couple of minutes."
She didn't receive and answer and called out again.
"Hello?"
Stepping away from the cabinets, she glanced around the room and noticed a large piece of cloth had been untied and was billowing out in a small breeze. Her hand reached up and pulled the cloth away. What she sees frightened her terribly and she stepped back in shock.
The next day I had appropriately placed all my furniture where I wanted it as well as unpacked my bag and had taken out the few personal items I had. I placed a painted dingo skull on my mantle that I had gotten from a native on one of my travels to Australia. It was a beautiful black with gold designs and peasant feathers attached to the side and my most favorite possession at the moment.
Thud!
"What the-"
I turned away from the skull and stared up at the ceiling where the noise was coming from. The noises continued a while more before they suddenly stopped and I shrugged my shoulders. None of my business what my neighbors are doing. Besides, I have more important things to deal with at the moment. I looked around the room at the sheets spread in front of the fireplace and picked up the broom I had borrowed from Mrs. Hudson that was leaning against the wall. Pulling a pair of orange tinted goggles over my eyes and a black bandana over my nose and mouth, I crawled into the fireplace and shoved the broom upwards to knock off any loose soot.
I wasn't getting much, but I still couldn't see any light so I shoved the broom higher and must've hit a large piece since soot dropped down and covered me from head to toe. Coughing a bit, I looked up and saw that I had cleaned the majority of the fireplace and crawled back out. Scooping up the sheets, being careful not to spill soot anyplace, I put them in a black trash bag and grabbed the broom, pulling my bandana down around my neck and my goggles up on top of my head. Walking out, I knocked to return Mrs. Hudson's broom and she looked at me like I was deranged.
"Dani! What happened to you?!"
"Just cleaning out the fireplace, Mrs. Hudson. Here's your broom back."
She took the broom and shook her head at me.
"You could've just hired someone, Dani. No need to get yourself all filthy."
"Mrs. Hudson. Why waste money on somethin' you can do yourself? I'll clean myself up after I take out the trash. I'll even do my own laundry ta make it up to you."
"If you insist."
She shook her head again and returned to her flat as I finished dropping the bag off in the dumpster. Heading back inside, I very nearly bumped into someone. He was about the same age as me with sandy blonde hair that was neatly cut and he had a nice stance. Very confident, stiff, but also tired. Army man maybe.
"Oh, I'm really sorry about that. I should be watching where I'm going…What happened to you?"
"I was cleanin' out my chimney. Saves money ta do it myself, and I should be da one apologizing. Not you."
He nodded once and looked off to the side for a second before turning back and sticking his hand out.
"I'm John Watson by the way. I don't think we've met."
"Dani Evans, and no we 'aven't I just moved into 221C yesterday."
"Well that explains the movers I saw earlier."
"I have a question for you, John."
"Yeah?"
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"
The look on his face was priceless as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. I normally don't corner people like that with what I observe, but I should get to know my neighbors, right? John opened his mouth to say something, when my phone went off telling me I had a text. Looking at the screen, I rolled my eyes.
Found a job 4 u D. Starts in 1 hour. Big pay. Different name: Elliot Stanford. Young ex-thief 4 hire. Testing security.
-N
Of course he just gives me an hour and he signed me up under a different identity again. Replacing my phone, I sighed to John.
"Sorry about this, but I really 'ave to go. I just got informed 'bout my job and I only got an hour. It was nice meeting you, John."
"R-Right."
I hurried off and quickly showered and disguised myself. Trading my soot covered muscle shirt and shorts for a v-neck, hoodie, and baggy jeans. I plopped a baseball cap over my head and put on some raggedy converse and sunglasses too. Rushing out the door, I called a cab and hurried off to the address.
John and Sherlock passed through glass spinning doors, the former with a curious and very confused face glancing around the large building that Sherlock called a bank.
"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank…"
This is what he had in mind? John thought as they traveled up the escalator and to the front desk were they spoke with one of the secretaries. Unknowingly, a not-so-classy dressed figure was walking around staring at everything they could before heading towards the elevator that led to the upper levels; the same one the secretary had just sent Sherlock and John to. The hooded figure hopped in with them, them being the only other people in the lift, and Sherlock raised a brow at the curious figure.
Hm…male, around the age of 28, thoroughly covered, possibly considering committing a crime and doesn't want his face seen. Has a slight tan, therefore he's been traveling. Shoes are well worn and old as is the jacket, yet he hasn't bought new ones so has little money. Stance is very guarded and untrusting, similar to that of a criminal and yet he's at a bank in broad daylight. Very curious.
Sherlock continued to watch the man while John fidgeted, unsure about the character they were sharing an elevator with. Suddenly, the person reached out and pushed the emergency stop button on the elevator and turned to them.
"Sorry 'bout this, chaps, but I need ta check somethin'."
He then clambered up through the elevator's emergency hatch and disappeared from view, leaving John standing below open mouthed and Sherlock gazing curiously through the hatch with slight surprise.
"Sherlock, don't you think we should call someone about this?"
"Hm." East-end accent…
"Sherlock! The man just climbed through into an elevator shaft in one of the most famous banks in London!"
Before John could get any further, a pair of feet dangled down from the hatch and the hooded figure jumped back down, shutting the hatch on his way and restarting the elevator like nothing happened. Sherlock also took up a nonchalant attitude and it seems only John was concerned about what just transpired.
The elevator 'dinged' and they all got out on the same floor, John and Sherlock heading towards an office and the mysterious figure heading towards the other end of the floor. Looking back over his shoulder, John watched the man for a moment.
"Sherlock, you can't tell me that wasn't odd, what happened in the elevator."
"Odd? No. Curious? Yes."
John swiveled his head around to get a look at Sherlock's grinning face and shook his head as they stepped into the office to wait on Sherlock's 'friend'.
"Sherlock Holmes!"
"Sebastian." They shook hands like good friends.
"How are you, buddy? How long has it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"
Sebastian took a glance over at John and Sherlock blankly introduced them.
"This is my friend, John Watson."
"Friend?"
"Colleague!" John quickly interrupted, also shaking hands with Sebastian. Heading towards his desk, Sebastian offered them drinks before sitting down while Sherlock immediately began to deduce what he could about Sebastian.
"So you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."
"Well, some."
"Flying all around the world. Twice in a month."
Sebastian laughed a bit and they had a small conversation about the days he spent back in university with Sherlock before getting straight back to business.
"Well, I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break in."
"Break in?" John asked, a bit surprised. "That wouldn't have anything to do with the guy we met in the elevator, would it?"
"Who?"
Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but some shouting outside alerted them to something going on. Swiftly stand up and leaving the room, the three of them ventured onto the trading floor to find the hooded figure arguing with a couple of security guards.
"I told you, I'm only doin' my job! I was hired to check da security of the building by Sebastian!"
"Oh yeah? If you work here, then I'm the damn Queen of England!"
"That's the man we saw in the elevator!" John exclaimed.
The figure spotted Sebastian, Sherlock, and John and smirked to the burly security guard.
"Better get your wig an' dress on then 'cause 'ere comes the boss now."
Strolling up to the two of them, Sebastian waved his hand about with a frown.
"What exactly is going on here?"
The guard stiffened and pulled the hooded man in up next to him.
"Sir, I caught this man sneaking around the floor and thought he might be up to something. I was just about to remove him."
"No need. I hired him to check over our security since we just had a break in last night."
The guard glared at the thought-to-be thief and stormed off, not noticing the man sticking his tongue out and pulling the bottom of his right eyelid down in a mocking fashion. Spinning on his heel, the figure stuck out his hand to shake Sebastian's.
"Elliot Stanford. Nice ta be of service. Oh, and I suggest you keep that guard. He's the first ta notice me, although he's a bit slow 'bout it; seeing how I can get all the way up 'ere before someone stopped me."
Sebastian nodded. "Right. I'll be sure to hire some more competent guards soon. In the mean time, I'd like you to meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They will also be helping with the break in."
Elliot stuffed his hands in his pockets, not bothering to shake hands with the two of them, for which Sherlock was slightly grateful for. Happy that everyone was now acquainted, Sebastian brought them all to the room where the break in happened.
"Sir William's Office. The bank's former chairman. His room has been left here, like a memorial of sorts. Someone broke in here late last night."
"What did they steal?" John asked.
"Nothing. Just left a little message. Although, Elliot, you only need to concern yourself with the room I assume?"
He nodded, but Sherlock could see his eyes darting about under his sunglasses. He's observant and interested in more than just the room. Could be a possible asset in the future.
The office was well furnished with a wooden desk and a couple of black leather chairs. Most of the items were packed away in boxes on the floor but a few of the small statues still sat on the desk and nearby cabinet. Behind the desk, hung an oil painting of the former chairman that had been vandalized with bright yellow spray paint.
Moving back to Sebastian's office, he gestured to the computer on his desk which showed the footage of the chairman's office before the vandalism. The time in the bottom corner reading 11:33pm. He then flicked it to the next image a minute later where the paint showed up.
"Sixty seconds apart. So someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, and then left within a minute."
"How many ways into that office?"
"Well, that's where this gets really interesting."
He turned to leave the room, but Sherlock, John, and Elliot stayed where they were. Elliot with a smirk on his face.
"No need ta leave, Sebastian. I've already checked every possible way ta enter dat room."
Surprised, Sebastian said. "How? You need to swipe a card to even get access to that particular room."
Rolling his eyes, Elliot pulled out a key card with the picture of the burly security guard from earlier splattered across the front.
"Yet another security flaw. Ya need ta get these hooked on a chain instead of just clipped to a belt loop or put in a pocket."
Sebastian frowned and took the card from him while Sherlock smirked. Elliot caught the look and smirked a bit back, before grabbing a pen and a piece of paper off of Sebastian's desk. Swiftly and fluidly, Elliot drew out a quick sketch of the trading floor and the rooms surrounding it; eyes closed as he visualized the areas in his head.
"Okay. Now I'm assuming that all the doors are locked the moment the building is closed, yes?"
Sebastian nodded and began speaking.
"Every door is locked when this building closes. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."
"That door didn't open last night?" Sherlock asked, although he already knew the answer.
"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay five figures to the both of you."
He pulled out two checks, one fore Sherlock and one for Elliot. Elliot took his and John took Sherlock's when he refused.
"I don't need incentives, Sebastian. Mr. Stanford, I believe you were going to say something."
"It's Elliot. Anyway, I've checked da vents which are all too small ta house a body, let alone one of this person's height-"
"Wait, how do you know how tall this person is?"
Elliot stopped and tilted his head, letting his glasses drop downward to give John a look that said 'are you seriously asking this?'.
"Nevermind him." Sherlock said. "Continue."
"The height of da paint shows the approximate height of da person, John. As I was saying, the person couldn't 'ave fit in da vents and I've checked for an entry point from da elevator shaft and there was none that 'ad been tampered with."
"So if he couldn't have gotten in from there, then where-"
Sebastian was cut off my Sherlock's groan and Elliot explained.
"No. He could 'ave gotten in from there, but he didn't. It would've been 'ard to see the screws coving da entry points at night but none of them 'ad scratches so he didn't come in from da elevator shaft. The only other possible points of entry would be the door or…the window."
They all gave Elliot looks of disbelief except for Sherlock who actually considered it before rushing out of the room and back to the chairman's office. John and Sebastian exchanged glances before they headed downstairs while Elliot also went to the office to find Sherlock photographing the graffiti with his camera phone.
"It's Chinese, you know."
Sherlock didn't even flinch and soon turned to the window, opening it to stand on the small balcony outside. Elliot just sat back in the chairman's black leather chair, placing his feet on the desk and staring out onto the trading floor. He scowled when all he could see was a white pillar.
"Stupid pillar. Can't see a damn thing."
"What did you say?"
Elliot flinched slightly, but calmed down and responded.
"I said, 'Stupid pillar. Can't see a damn thing'."
His eyes widened and he rushed out of the room and began, what Elliot considered as, dancing. Getting up from the chair, Elliot stood just outside the door and leaned against the wall as Sherlock popped in and out of view between pillars. Suddenly, it smacked him in the face. The pillars! They block the view of the graffiti from certain angles which means only certain people could've seen it! Gah, it's like army training all over again. Why didn't I see that?
Finally, Sherlock seemed to have found what he was looking for and pulled a name tag out of it's sleeve, then left to meet up with John. Smirking, Elliot left and reported any security flaws to Sebastian before heading out to catch a taxi.
Popping back into my flat, I groaned and laid down on the cool wooden floor as my right leg ached dully. Stupid thing. You'd think it wouldn't bother me at this point, but bullet wounds are pretty stubborn. With a sigh I relaxed a bit and closed my eyes for a moment, only for them to snap open when my phone vibrated.
can u do me a favor?
-N
Texting back, I replied.
depends. 1) is it interesting? 2) what do i get out of it?
-D
I waited a few moments, gnashing my teeth at the skull on my mantle for no reason. It wasn't long before he replied back.
it is pretty interesting. you'll hafta fill in for my contact in the Yard. forensic photography stuff. and I'll owe ya a favor l8r.
-N
It isn't often my informant, Nick, gives away favors so I accepted and he sent over a photo of the guy I was to be impersonating. It wouldn't be hard. I just had to switch out my contacts for the brown colored ones, give my hair a quick black dye, and change clothes again. Hurrying to the bathroom when he told me I had half an hour to be at a crime scene, I put on my disguise and hurried to the crime scene where I pulled out a fake badge to get in. I grabbed the camera out of the van nearby and put on the stupid blue scrubs with a pair gloves, climbing the stairs to the scene to begin taking pictures, when I spotted two people I didn't expect to see.
John and Sherlock. I'm running into them all over the place aren't I? Walking straight past them without a second glance, I took photos of the body and room while simultaneously making my own guesses. Shot once through the temple and has gun residue on his hand. Possible suicide but, judging by the room, he's left handed so…murder?
"Do you think maybe he lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among these city boys."
"We don't know that it was suicide."
"Come on. The door was locked from the inside. You had to climb down the balcony."
Oh? So that's how he got in. Nice choice, although it's slower than picking the lock.
"Been away…three days, judging by the laundry."
I glanced across the room at Sherlock as he picked through the dead man's suitcase before he stood and looked at John.
"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it."
"Thanks. I'll take your word for it."
"Problem?"
"He just doesn't want to handle the dirty work, sir."
They both looked at me as I ignored the stares and photographed the corpses mouth, something black having been stuffed inside. They went back to their conversation.
"Those symbols at the bank. That graffiti. Why were they put there?"
"Some kind of code?"
"Obviously. Why were they painted? If you want to communicate why not use e-mail?"
"Well, maybe they weren't answering."
"Oh good. You follow."
"Mm, nope."
I snickered a bit as I photographed the gun on the side of the bed. John turned to me and growled.
"It's not polite to eavesdrop you know. Not like you have all the answers."
"Oh, but I do have some of them." This caught their attention. "He was being threatened, and not by the gas board, sir. Also, I suggest you take whatever it is out of the man's mouth. That might help you out a bit."
Sherlock looked back at the body and did just that, pulling out a black, folded up piece of paper. Stowing it away in an evidence bag, he looked up to question me, but someone came in and stole his attention.
"Ah, sergeant. We haven't met."
The suited man narrowed his eyes at Sherlock a bit and put his hands on his hips in an imposing manner.
"Yeah, I know who you are. And I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."
Sherlock shuffled a bit, obviously not used to this kind of treatment, but handed over the evidence bag containing the paper to the man.
"I phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"
"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not sergeant. It's detective inspector…Dimmock."
The two had a staring contest of sorts before heading off to the lounge area of the apartment. I followed, not wanting to be left out of what I think would turn out to be quite the show.
"We're obviously looking at a suicide."
"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts."
John, John, John. I'd expect you to know just a tad bit more than that. I learned my observation from the military. Surely you've picked up something.
"Wrong. 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."
"Like?"
"The wound's on the right side of his head."
"And?"
"Van Coon was left handed. It would cause quite a bit of contortion."
Sherlock began moving his left hand around to try and show how hard it would be to shoot yourself with your dominant hand on the non-dominant side of your head, but Dimmock didn't seem to get it.
"Left handed?"
"I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you'd have to do is look around this flat."
The inspector looked quite a bit unconvinced so I popped my head in for my own opinion.
"He's right, sir."
"And who are you?"
"Crime scene photographer. Name's Micheal Ross…but Van Coon was left handed. The note pad by the phone was on the left side as well as the butter knife in the kitchen, which had butter on the right side of the knife since he spreads with his left."
Sherlock, John, and Dimmock all looked surprised and I decided to stop there to see what Sherlock had discovered.
"Well, there you go. Should I expand on Mr. Ross's explanation?"
"No. I think he's covered it."
"Ah, I might as well. He's almost at the bottom of the list…Coffee table on the left hand side. Coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power socket, he used the ones on the left. It's highly unlikely that a left handed man would shoot himself on the right side of his head. Conclusion, someone broke in here and murdered him. The only explanation of all the facts."
Still not convinced, Dimmock pushed the issue.
"But the gun-"
"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened."
"What?"
Sherlock walked away from the man and picked up his scarf, preparing to leave which left John to explain to Dimmock about the bank situation.
"Today at the bank. A warning."
"He fired a shot when his attacker came in."
Ah, right. Nearly forgot about that piece of information.
"And the bullet?"
"Out the open window, sir."
"Aw, come on. What are the chances of that?"
I shrugged, not caring about the specifics. The moron should be asking how the killer got in. Although, if the bullet went out the open window when the killer came in, doesn't that prove that the killer came in from the window? Smirking at the rush I was getting from this, I left the building, deposited my camera and blue scrubs in the back of the van, and began making my way away from the crime scene while texting Nick about something I noticed.
job's done. tell me if u got any word bout the black lotus. i might pay them a visit soon.
-D
oh, the panther's coming back?
-N
back with a vengeance.
-D
So yeah, please review! I keep having this feeling that it's terrible, but i just won't know for sure without your help! ;)
