AN - Wow my first ever AN… anyway, I had a brilliant surprise when I woke up the morning after uploading the first three stories and found that people were actually reading them, and I had messages from people wanting more. I am going to try and do the whole of series 1&2 from the TV show, as well as maybe a couple of one shots and extras and things. I will try to update as much as I can. Though it may slow down after this week, it's school holiday's at the moment, but reviews are motivation!

Anyway, keep reading!

Enjoy! =]

Summary

Sequel to "Silencing a Brother"

A graffitied bank, a dead bank man, and Sherlock wants to hack her laptop. What has Rose Spencer gotten herself into this time?

Warnings : Will contain foul language, gore and violence, and insinuations.

The Silent Banker

Silence At The Start

Rose Spencer entered her flat, carrying three Tesco's bags in one hand, and four in the other.

She had been living at 221B Baker street for a grand total of two weeks now, and they have been the most insane - and admittedly, least boring - weeks of her entire life. She had helped catch - or kill - a serial killer, been kidnapped, been unsuccessfully bribed, had argued with her new flatmate, argued with her brother, found a pickled human heart in the cupboard, and a severed human head in the fridge.

On top of all that, she had been woken up countless times in the middle of the night by violin playing - she didn't know what to think about that, she liked the music, but at the same time it disturbed her sleep - as well as having found many different body parts dotted around the kitchen - which was more of a science lab that held food - some of them human, some of them not. She was used to it now though, even if she was starting to question her sanity. Only starting to? Said a small voice.

As she went into the kitchen / home made lab, she noticed a large scratch on the table. Frowning she put down the shopping and went to take a closer look, running a finger lightly over it, noting the small amount of wood dust that stuck to her finger. Fresh. The slice was clean, so a blade, then. It was too large and deep to be a regular knife, but the only other thing she could think of was a sword. But who was a sword nowadays? And why destroy the kitchen table with it?

Deciding it was one of those things that if she need to know, someone would tell her - hopefully - she started putting away the shopping. After that was done, she made herself a cup of hot chocolate, and Sherlock a cup of coffee, as she had noticed him sitting in the living room and that he looked like he hadn't moved in a long while.

Taking the steaming beverages into the next room, she put Sherlock's on the small table next to him.

"Have you even moved since I went out?" She asked him.

That one question seemed to wake him up. He blinked slowly, shifting in his seat, but as he did, his feet pushed something under the chair, very conspicuously, she noted. It looked like the handle to a sword.

Seeing this, she sighed and shook her head. Noting this change in her demeanour, he looked up at her, raising one eyebrow. In a silent reply, letting him know that she now had some form of idea of what he had been up to while she was out, she raised an eyebrow of her own.

Their silent conversation was interrupted however, as John entered the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of orange juice, and going to sit in the chair opposite Sherlock. Even though he had fresh clothes on, his hair was a mess, and they determined that he had only just gotten up. As he sank into the chair, Sherlock went to the table, and opened a laptop, while Rose went to sit on the sofa, drinking her drink, thinking about how best to spend her day.

John, picking up and opening some envelopes addressed to him, let out a long sigh. Rose looked up as he spoke, and a splash of cold reality hit her.

"I need to get a job." He had said.

She let out an almost identical sigh, and replied. "Me too."

As could have been predicted, Sherlock didn't even look up from the laptop screen as he proclaimed. "Dull."

Ignoring him, she continued. "Want to go looking around later?"

"Sure, nothing else to do I suppose."

"Wrong."

This had caught the attention of the other two. It seemed something interesting might happen today after all, she thought brightly.

"What?" Asked John, still not quite awake, and certainly not ready for Sherlock's enigmatic ways just yet. "Wait a minute, is that my laptop?" John was awake enough to see this little detail though.

"Mine was in the other room. And Rose doesn't leave hers around…" Sherlock replied. This lead him to the train of thought that maybe there was something on there that she didn't want him to see. He made a note to get hold of it, and have a look around, throwing her a suspicious look. She smiled back cockily, an unspoken challenge, knowing that she would have to change the password on her own laptop. She would do it later, confident that by the time she did, he would have a nice - if you could call it that - experiment or some interesting case to deal with by then.

"I need to go to the bank. Coming?"

Grabbing her coat, she answered. "Really need to ask? I'm not getting left behind this time!"

At the door, they both looked back to John, still sat in his chair, watching them both as though they were about to go and destroy something, and he felt he should intervene, but couldn't decide if it was worth it.

"Not coming, John?" Sherlock said casually. Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have asked. He would have just run out the door, not even explaining himself. But he enjoyed John's company, as well as his regular way of looking at things, yet still tolerating Sherlock, and his mad methods, willing to learn.

"Not sure." Was the reply.

"Well, you could always just stay here, watch telly…" He pulled a face. Television was such a waste of time. "Or… you could do something interesting!"

Rose smirked, knowing John wouldn't just sit there. He enjoyed something interesting to do just as much as the two people standing in the door way. Her smirk only grew when she saw the man push himself out of his chair, put down his empty glass, and grab his coat, and follow his flatmates to god only knows where.