Two
Charlie POV:
She honestly couldn't believe she was getting herself sucked into another case. The first one had been enough, more than enough really yet here she was staring at another dead body with two men she was beginning to think were more than a bad influence upon each other. The man in question was lying upon the bed, dead as a doornail and all three were at lost as how to now approach the situation.
"Do you think he lost a lot of money? Money loss is a common thing for city boys…" John said and tilted his head to stare at the body.
"We don't know it was suicide." She pointed out and John gave her a look.
"Oh come on, the flat was locked from the inside! You two had to climb in using the balcony!" He pointed out and she blushed, remembering her near fall off said balcony. In search of a new topic she moved over to where Sherlock was now crouched beside an open suitcase.
"Been away three days judging by his laundry..." He said as he looked up at her, she nodded and crouched beside him.
"Overseas." She said and he looked impressed.
"Oh please is it totally inconceivable to the great Sherlock Holmes that someone could actually be smarter than him." She teased and he nodded smugly. She rolled her eyes and stood.
"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it." He said and she took a double look, sure enough the clothes seemed to be bunched tightly to one side; resulting in the conclusion that a medium sized object had been contained within the case.
"Sh…" She began but he beat her to it. He bolted past her so fast she almost got whiplash by simply following him.
"Those symbols at the bank, why were they there?" He asked John as Charlie looked around the apartment, extremely bored. She thought back upon the phone call. Never had a phone call from her mother caused this much distraction; this was the second time in five minutes her attention had been snatched away from the present. She checked her phone… one new voice message.
"Some sort of code?" John suggested.
"Obviously but why were they painted...?" Sherlock pushed.
"Why not use email or something?"
"Because he wouldn't have answered, what sort of message does everyone try to avoid?" Charlie asked ad replaced her phone, unanswered, into her pocket.
Sherlock withdrew a tiny black origami flower from the mouth of the corpse.
"He was being threatened." He sad dramatically and Charlie cracked.
"What!" He asked and she smiled.
"If you ever give up detective work please become an actor." She teased and he looked confused. She waved his confusion away as a man entered the apartment, uniformed to the hilt and a holier-than-thou attitude to match.
"Ah, Sergeant..." Sherlock began, only to be interrupted which cause Charlie to frown. Only she was allowed to interrupt him.
"Yeah, I know who you are and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." The stranger said rudely and Sherlock retreated under his hot gaze.
"I called Lestrade, where is he?" He asked.
"Busy, I'm in charge. And it's not Sargent, its Detective Inspector. Dimmock." The man said smugly and a sound that would have been a snort if it hadn't come from Charlie's ladylike direction. When looks were sent her way the door suddenly became extremely interesting. DI Dimmock scowled and walked out of the room, the three stragglers followed him closely.
"Well we seem to be looking at a suicide." He said and Sherlock sent her a look that clearly told her to let him handle it. She rolled her eyes but let him have control.
"It does seem the only possibly explanation of all of the facts..." John said and she waited.
"Wrong, it's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like and you're choosing to ignore anything that doesn't agree with it." Sherlock said petulantly.
"Like?" Prompted Dimmock.
"The wound was on the right side of his head." Sherlock pointed out.
"And?" This inspector was getting almost as annoying as Anderson… almost; its pretty hard to top that man.
"Van Coon was left handed." Charlie said.
"Requires quite a bit of contortion don't you think?" Sherlock demonstrated said contortion and Charlie loved the astounded expression that often appeared on peoples faces after Sherlock pointed things out.
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Dimmock asked.
"All you have to do is look around the flat. Coffee table on the left, pen on the left side of the phone because he picked it up with his right hand and took notes with his left hand, plug sockets – habitually used to ones on the left. Do you want me to go on?" Sherlock asked as he built himself into a little tirade. Charlie felt her phone go off again but ignored it. She would definitely check it later.
"No I don't think you need to..." Said John, only to be cut off again.
"Oh I might as well, chopping board, knife is on the 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 possible explanation of all of the facts." Sherlock finished with a smirk. Dimmock looked unconvinced.
"But the gun?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.
"He was waiting for the killer, he'd been threatened." She explained and the man whirled around to face her.
"What?" He demanded.
"Message at the bank." John explained to him.
"But the bullet?" Dimmock protested.
"Went through the open window." Charlie said and the man snorted.
"What are the chances of..."
"When can you get the ballistics report?" Sherlock interrupted.
"Soon hopefully we're sending the body to St. Bart's. I've heard good things about the forensics there. Anyway if the door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in and out?" Dimmock said and Charlie smiled.
"Good, you're finally asking the right questions." Sherlock answered.
"I believe I see Death upon his white steed approaching." She teased and John sniggered. She smiled at him appreciatively.
"I'm sorry but who are you?" Dimmock demanded and she extended a hand.
"Dr. Charlotte Myers, criminal psychologist and forensic anthropologist of St. Bartholomew's hospital."
He froze and did not extend his own so with an uncomfortable expression withdrew hers as Sherlock's voice came from behind her.
"Come on Charlotte!"
She turned and without a backwards glance, followed her flatmates from the crime scene.
Sherlock POV:
Sebastian was sitting at the table, surrounded by men who reminded Sherlock strongly of the students he had associated himself with during college. He perversely looked forward to interrupting this little tete tete. He marched boldly till he was stationed behind him. 3… 2…1…
"It was a threat, that's what the graffiti meant." He satated sharply and smrked as the man spilt the drink in shock.
"Look I'm kind of in a meeting here so could this wait?" He asked and Sherlock's smirk broadened.
"Er, let me think about that...no." He said.
"One of your bankers, a man who works in your office, was killed earlier today."
"What?" Sebastian actually looked shocked which was promising but not altogether hope raising.
"Van Coon" John said.
"The police are in his flat."
"Still want to make an appointment?" Sherlock asked
"Would nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" With a sigh the man stood and the three men trooped into the bathroom, Charlie smiling and waving off the apologies John offered. Very odd. He fixed her with a look bu she ignored him and pulled out her phone as she leant against the opposite wall.
"He was a bright guy...Oxford..." Sebastian said as he washed his hands.
"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts?" Serlock asked and he nodded.
"Lost 5 million one week, made it back a week later. We all make enemies you know." Sebastian explained and John rolled is eyes.
"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." He muttered.
"Police are telling us it's a suicide." Sebastian pointed out and Sherlock snorted, deeply offended at the reference.
"They're wrong." He said simply.
"Well my boss doesn't think so. I hired you to do a job, do it." Sebastian demanded and stalked out of the room. Sherlock sent ohn a look which clearly said he was not impressed, the ex-military man merely shrugged good naturedly. They exited the room to find Charlotte deep in conversation on her phone.
"No… no I can't. I'm sorry but… no I understand. Alright Mother I call later." She said and hung up. His interest was perked. Since when did Charlotte want to talk to her mother? John missed the connection and joked as he walked up to her.
"And there I was thinking that all bankers were supposed to be heartless bastards." He said and she smiled.
"I take it he wasn't helpful then." She said and the both shook their heads. She smirked up at them and hooked her arms through theirs. Sherlock felt extremely hot at the contact, every finger was clearly felt even through the multiple layers he had wrapped around his figure. They left the restaurant and caught a taxi home, Charlie falling asleep on Sherlock's shoulder. He noticed her eye was slightly swollen; a momento he had repaid to the bastard who'd given it to her. If he had been quicker…
He shook her awake as they pulled up and the trio trooped into the lounge room, John whispering a goodnight and trying to catch a few hours sleep before his job interview at a nearby practice. Charlotte collapsed on the couch and produced her phone. She held it to her ear and listened to the voice messages, a strange look over her face as she did so. When that was done she curled up on the couch and stared at him.
"Do you think family's important Sherlock?" She asked after about two whole minutes of silence and he tilted his head inquisitively.
"Not really no, they can be useful. My brother's connections can make it easier for some of my cases and vice versa however we do not extend much affection or loyalty to each other however much Mycroft insists otherwise… it is no our way." He said and she nodded thoughtfully. She swallowed and seemed to ponder a painful answer. "If I said I needed to leave London for a few days… you wouldn't mind would you?" She asked and the violin he had been plucking idly made a horrid note as his fingers slipped. She looked over at him and he was captivated by her green eyes shinning from behind the growing red locks. Leave? He hadn't done anything too bad lately had he?
"Why would you be leaving?" He asked and she shrugged.
"Stuff." She said and rolled to stand.
"I've got work tomorrow and probably a mortician to sweet talk into five minutes with a cadaver." She said and he saluted her out of the room. He stayed awake all night playing his violin and thinking. Why leave, why now? He looked over at her phone which was still lying on the couch. Of all the people in the world he had to room with the only one he could not read. Did he dare listen to those voice messages? Had she left it behind to test him? It seemed like something she would do but to what end. The case. He reminded himself. Focus on the case. His fingers began to pluck he strings rapidly as thoughts whirled through his head like a snow storm. Symbols, threats, dead bankers what on earth could link these things? He honestly had no idea.
Charlie POV:
Charlie sighed as she entered the flat, closing the door with her foot as she hung her coat on the rack and wandered up the stairs. Work had been a bitch… Thalia had been on her back about the "Sherlock situation" as she called it and the paper work seemed to pile up over night. She saw that Sherlock was sitting still as a statue on his back on the couch, the fingertips touching lightly as if in prayer.
"I asked John to pass me a pen. About an hour ago. Where is he?" The insolent man asked and she resisted throwing something at him.
"He's at his job interview. Didn't you notice that he'd gone out?" She replied without tossing him the pen.
"Uh, dull." He said and sat up to look at her.
"Pen." He said pointedly.
"Get it yourself." She said and sat down with a small sniff.
"It's necessary." She replied as John came in with a dreamy smile on his face.
"Oh hi John, any luck?" Sherlock said as he lay back down still staring at her. She ignored him and busied herself with her new book.
John smiled and nodded.
"I went to see about that job at the surgery." He said.
"And...?" She prompted as she flicked a page. She'd read "The Mill of the Floss" by George Eliot many times but it was a nice change from lighthearted romance crap she'd been subjected too from Thalia.
"It was great, she was great..." He ruffled his hair in the mirror as Charlie smirked smelling a victory.
"Who?" She asked.
"The job!" He replied a little too quickly she and Sherlock shared a joyous look.
"You said she." Sherlock pointed out and Charlie nodded.
"I said it." He argued. Charlie rolled her eyes and setting her book aside, nodded her head towards the open laptop in front of her.
"What's that?" She asked Sherlock.
"'The intruder who can walk through walls?" She continued and he nodded.
"Happened this morning." Sherlock said, a little too happily.
"Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly like Van Coon."
"Good God...you think..." John stuttered and Sherlock smiled.
"He's killed another one." Charlie said with a sigh. She honestly wasn't really up for it right now. She had to pack.
"Scotland Yard?" She asked and Sherlock stood.
"Scotland Yard." He said.
Some time later Charlie and John stood by while Sherlock explained to DI Dimmock, about the similarities between the two murders, waving a copy of the ballistics report (which Charlie had managed to photocopy during her time at work that morning) in front of his face. It wasn't technically stealing, they weren't going to use it for illicit purposes and she had every right to photocopy articles of evidence included in her "psych" reports.
"Five minutes… just five minutes in his flat is all I'm asking." Sherlock was saying when something caught her eye.
"Francis?" She whispered and Dimmock looked over at her.
"I beg your pardon." He asked and she looked up at him from the picture she had been studying. It showed a young man of about 30 or so who had light brown hair and vibrant green eyes. The notice was stuck to a board with arrows, photographs and evidence littered all around it. Charlie felt her stomach drop at the sight. She looked up at Dimmock and smiled.
"I'm sorry, must have been thinking aloud… tend to do that." She said and Sherlock looked at her like a second head had sprouted from her shoulders and begun to speak. She hoped he'd drop it and thankfully he did.
"Fine, five minutes." Dimmock muttered to Sherlock and the three of them left Scotland Yard, Charlie throwing worried glances at the evidence board. Sherlock stared at her as they drove away in the cab.
"Why…"
"Stay out of it Sherlock… trust me when I say you do not want to get involved." She said and ignored the both of them for the rest of the trip.
OHHHHH what's going on with Charlotte's family? Is I sinister or something else? Sorry I haven't updated been hectic these last few weeks but thanks to everyone who's still reading this.