The Yellow Faces

Part III

Molly Hooper had changed and Sherlock didn't like it. Sure, she still took his insults, but now she charged back at him. He hadn't forgotten how she had smacked him not once, but three times when John had dragged him into the lab for a drug test. He unconsciously rubbed his cheek at the memory. Mousy Molly Hooper wasn't so mousy anymore.

It was no matter though, Sherlock figured. He could still manipulate her to get what he wanted. He'd hear about it now, but he could still do it. She had come with him after all and she hadn't walked out yet even though he knew he'd behaved poorly.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered as he bent over the bright smiley face on the fence. He leaned in close and sniffed.

"What?" asked Molly, wrinkling up her face.

"I said I'm sorry," Sherlock sighed. "I've been a bit…disagreeable today. You've been good to come along and I want you to know that I appreciate it."

Molly opened her mouth to say something but Sherlock held up a hand to silence her. "I'm not saying you're right about this John nonsense," he continued. "I am perfectly fine with how things are between us. John has his nice little nest of domestic bliss and I have… well, I have my life. That's fine. Perfectly fine."

He stepped around the fence to examine the other side. Nothing unusual there. No other markings or symbols. Peculiar.

"It's also perfectly fine to miss your friend," Molly offered with a small smile.

"Miss him?" Sherlock grunted. "He's only been gone for two days."

"Which might as well be two years to you, Sherlock Holmes," said Molly.

Sherlock frowned. "She's right, damn her," he thought. "The past two days have been an eternity. I've nearly gone mad. Probably would have if Molly hadn't dragged me out on this ridiculous case."

"You agreed to take the case, Sherlock. I didn't drag you out anywhere…"

Sherlock looked up at Molly and realized that he had been thinking aloud. Thankfully she just shook her head and changed the subject.

"Do you think they are a message? Like Jackie said?" she asked.

"What? The faces? If they are, they're hardly threatening, don't you think?"

"I dunno," said Molly. "Sometimes happy-looking things can be frightening to people. Like creepy children in horror films or candy houses or clowns."

"Yes, or Valentine's Day cards," Sherlock replied humorlessly.

Molly's shoulders sagged a bit at the realization that the holiday was just round the corner and once again she'd be alone. Sherlock noticed her change in demeanor and tried to think of something else to say.

"This face doesn't look like any kind of gang or cult sign I'm familiar with. It just looks like a smiley face." He snapped a picture of it with his phone and fired off a message to a few members of his network. It didn't take long to get a response.

"Smiley face," read the first message.

"Happy face," read the next.

"Hakuna matata," read the one after that.

"Very funny," Sherlock mumbled to himself as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

"Sherlock," Molly called from the alleyway between the houses. "There's another one over here."

Sherlock made his way to the alley and looked at the outside wall. A large yellow smiley face, identical to the others, had been painted on it.

"What does it mean?" asked Molly.

"It means that we have an unimaginative graffiti artist," Sherlock answered flatly and began to walk away. Molly followed.

"But there was one of those faces inside Jackie's house," she argued. "That can't mean nothing at all."

"Look," Sherlock said, pausing to stare down at her. "I've checked it out. They're just faces. If there's a connection to Alfie Munroe, I don't see it."

"Jackie says he works for a computer company," Molly stated. "Perhaps he's involved in some kind of information trade gone wrong."

"For that matter," began Sherlock, "Jackie has access to more dangerous secrets at her job. She works for Q-Global, remember? The chemical company. Perhaps she's the mole and the happy faces are a warning for her. Maybe she's just trying to throw us off the trail." His tone made it clear that he was being sarcastic.

Molly looked at the ground. "I'm just trying to think of possible solutions," she replied quietly.

Sherlock sighed and led her out of the alley. "Most of the time, Molly," he told her as they walked, "the simplest answer is the correct one. Mr. Munroe is having an affair and those faces mean nothing and are leading us nowhere—except to that house over there."

He stopped and pointed and Molly gasped. A trail of yellow smiley faces led from the alley, down the side street and up to a brick building several houses down.


Molly had counted seventeen smiley faces from the alley to the brick building. Twenty in all counting the one in the alley, the one on the fence and the one in Jackie's kitchen.

"Twenty smiley faces," she told Sherlock.

"Yes," he answered. "And they're all fairly identical, no variations. A circle with two dots for eyes and a smile. Why? What does it mean?"

"So you do think it means something," Molly said smugly.

"Perhaps," Sherlock hesitantly admitted. He rushed up the stairs of the brick building before he could see Molly's look of satisfaction and knocked on the door. A thin, elderly man answered.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Just doing a little check of her Majesty's subjects. Don't mind if we come in? Nah, didn't think you did." Sherlock gushed before barging into the man's home.

"Excuse me," Molly told the man politely as she stepped past him to follow Sherlock.

"Now, just a minute here," the man cried angrily as he hurried after them. "You can't just charge into my house like this. This is breaking and entering!"

"I didn't break anything, I merely entered," explained Sherlock. "I just want to ask you about the faces."

"What faces?" the man asked, obviously confused.

"The yellow smiley faces painted all over," Molly told him.

"Thank you, Molly," Sherlock said curtly. "The faces, Mr…?"

"Bramby."

"Right. Mr. Bramby, there are twenty faces spray-painted in yellow leading from your house to the kitchen of Mrs. Jackie Munroe four doors down," said Sherlock.

Mr. Bramby moved to the window and looked out. Several of the smiley faces could be seen on the pavement, fences and walls of nearby buildings.

"Those weren't there yesterday," Bramby replied. "Who did that?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Molly answered. "Have you seen anything unusual lately?"

Bramby thought for a minute. "No," he told them. "Not much goes on 'round here. We had some activity a few weeks ago when the folks next door moved in, but nothing much since then."

"You said new folks moved in next door?" asked Sherlock. "Exactly when was that, Mr. Bramby?"

The old man thought again. "I'd say it was about three weeks ago," he answered.

"That's around the time that Mr. Munroe got the phone call and started behaving strangely," Molly whispered to Sherlock.

"Yes," Sherlock replied absently. Molly could tell he was headed inward, weighing what had been said against what they already knew, checking and rechecking for any tiny bit of important information he may have missed previously.

"I think," Sherlock said suddenly, making Molly and Mr. Bramby jump, "it's time to meet the neighbors."


A/N:

So...any clues as to what's going on? PM me with your theories and I'll let you know if you're right.

*Sherlock's first line to Mr. Bramby was directly lifted the from Doctor Who episode "The Idiot's Lantern." I love the 10th Doctor. He's very Sherlock-ish to me.