Chapter Two
It was a long ride down to the crime scene. The rickety old cart bumped and juddered its way down to the very depths of the bank, so deep under London that no human could ever tunnel down this far. This place was Goblin made.
"You'll find what you need inside." said Griphook, pointing at the open door of a cell with his long, yellow fingernail. He was very short even for a Goblin so he barely came up past my waist, but I still flinched as he swung up his arm. He gave me a nasty smile.
"Be sure to return to work as soon as your friends are gone Miss Williams." he smirked and I nodded before scooting after Sherlock and John.
"What's his problem?" John asked in an undertone and I shivered.
"Don't ask." I sighed. The cell was in pitch darkness so Sherlock lit the lamps with a lazy flick of his wand. They threw dancing light onto the back wall which bore the cryptic graffiti. Except it wasn't so cryptic to me.
"Fifteen?" I asked, my voice echoing in the empty space. "What's the significance of that?"
Sherlock whipped around to stare at me intently.
"How do you know what it means?" he asked accusingly. I couldn't help but notice and be insulted by the emphasise he put on 'you' and I scowled.
"Why do you always have that tone of surprise when I know something and you don't?" I complained. "Its part of my job to know what those mean!"
I pointed at the symbols. There was an upside-down horse-shoe of sorts and beside that were five vertical dashes. All of it seemed to have been painted onto the rock. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and John snorted his amusement.
"She's got you there Sherlock, can't argue with an expert." John sniggered and we both threw him annoyed looks.
"So these are hieroglyphs?" Sherlock said pointedly, moving over to peer closely at the markings.
"Yes." I confirmed. "They mean the number fifteen, but what the heck does that mean?"
"Who found this?" Sherlock asked Griphook and he strode past me without a second glance.
"Mark Bulstrode, he's one of our Curse Breaker apprentices too, a rather more competent one than Miss Williams here." said Griphook nastily and I blushed furiously. Mark was no better at me with translations or interpretation! In fact he was a bit of a dunce on the history side of things, but he was an extremely talented spell caster and that was what counted with Goblins. Not the history, just how fast they could get their hands on more gold.
"When did he find it?" Sherlock persisted and Griphook's beady eyes narrowed.
"This morning, he was doing a rudimentary search of the lower cells. We do that every so often, to check no one's been locked inside."
Sherlock pursed his lips and paced around the cell, muttering to himself as he went. John and I recognised the symptoms and let him get on with it. Griphook wasn't so indulgent.
"Well?" he asked impatiently when Sherlock hadn't spoken to any of us for a whole minute. "Can you help us find how they got into the bank? You know we are willing to pay you handsomely for it."
"I can discover the identity of your security breach but I don't need a financial incentive." said Sherlock passively, before striding past the Goblin and seating himself in the cart ready to go. John gave a nervous sort of laugh.
"He joking obviously!" he said firmly. "Just put the money in his vault for him"
John and Sherlock left the bank once we reached the surface and Griphook frowned me back into my office. His comment about Mark had nettled me and I was angry for the rest of the afternoon. When my shift finally ended at half four I descended the marble steps outside in a fit of bad temper. Lilly wasn't waiting for me like she normally was and I guessed that the crisis at the Ministry was keeping her late at the office. Great, public transport in was then. I started to make my way down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron when John stepped unexpectedly out of the apothecary before me.
"Heya John, Sherlock got you running errands?" I asked, eyeing the arm load of porcupine quills John had.
"Yep, don't ask me what he wants them for, I've learnt just to accept it."
I sniggered and John jerked his head back the way I had come.
"Why don't you come in for some tea? You know he likes having more than one person to express how impressive he is."
"Uh…" I said, checking my watch and chewing my bottom lip. "Yeah alright, Mrs Potter doesn't normally expect me back straight away anyway."
I followed John back up the high-street until we came to a stop outside Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream parlour, run by the late Florian's niece. Next to it was a somewhat battered old blue door which John opened using his wand (juggling the quills precariously as he did). The hall was dark and the stairs creaked as we climbed to the first landing and went through a door into a cluttered sitting room. Sherlock had his back to us with his nose in a book.
"Hello Gwen." he said without turning around. I raised an eyebrow and waited. Eventualy Sherlock turned irritably.
"Aren't you going to ask how I knew it was you?" he asked impatiently.
"Well I know you're going to tell me anyway so go ahead." I sighed. Sherlock gave me a cold look.
"You're shoes, I'd recognise those battered old boots anywhere."
I glanced down at my boot self-consciously and John quickly offered me tea.
"She doesn't drink tea." Sherlock reminded him before I could open my mouth.
"Coffey please John." I said, before sitting down in the only chair that wasn't taken up by book and bits of parchment. John made the drink and brought it over to me whilst Sherlock paced up and down, much as I did during revision times.
"So have you got any ideas about how they got into the bank?" I asked when it became apparent that he wouldn't speak of his own accord.
"Several, but I'm not interested in how they got in, I'm more interested in why they got in." said Sherlock, turning on his heel to fix me with his sharp gaze. I had grown used to it in the past year so I gazed back, unfazed.
"Ok, why did they get in?" I asked, deciding to play along.
"Those hieroglyphs, the number fifteen, they were obviously a message for someone. And no one goes into those vaults except to do the check-ups."
"So you think it was for that Mark person?" asked John curiously and Sherlock nodded.
"What's he like?" he asked me and I scowled.
"A twat." I said bitterly. "He's Griphook's little favourite though so I'm screwed. He's a bit shifty I always thought."
"You think everyone you don't like is shifty." said Sherlock dismissively. "Still, it may be worth going to talk to him. I'll get his address from the bank tomorrow."
Sherlock promptly dropped the conversation after that, leaving John and I to catch up properly. We talked about John's work at St Mungo's and mine at the bank, and I filled him in on Lilly's hectic affairs at the Ministry. John got himself a beer and I didn't noticed how dark it had gotten outside until the clock chimed eight o clock.
"Oh crap!" I said in panic. "The Floo network will be closed now!"
"I'd take you but I've had this now." said John apologetically, indicating his beer. I glanced pleadingly at Sherlock but he shook his head.
"Didn't take the lessons, I have no interest in apparition." he said snootily and I dropped my head in despair.
"This is great!" I moaned. "I'll have to take the damn tube and they live ages away!"
"You could stay here tonight." John suggested, which made both me and Sherlock look up sharply.
"Seriously?!" I asked incredulously and John nodded, smiling.
"Of course, if you don't mind sleeping on the sofa that is."
"Oh John, thank you!" I cried with heartfelt gratitude. "I really appreciate this you know."
"No problem, I'll get you blankets and things."
"John, a word?" said Sherlock sternly. He and John retreated to the kitchen where they argued in low tones. Sherlock looked annoyed but John kept smiling mischievously. I caught words like 'breaking the agreement' and 'don't be childish!'. Eventually Sherlock retired to his own room with a huff and John and I stayed up a little longer, talking.
"What's with Sherlock?" I asked.
"Oh nothing." said John airily, though there was an odd glint in his eye.