Sherlock sat in an office. All right, that was a lie. He was sitting in the old office of his uncle's, which was now suddenly half-full with someone else's stuff. Sherlock knew that within a day, his uncle's stuff had been moved out the office and someone else's stuff was already taking it's place. This made Sherlock somewhat uneasy.
The man on the other of the desk was in his early thirties with dark hair, bright blue eyes and able to fake a perfect smile. The man – Jake Lewis – had been smiling, right up until the point where Sherlock had told him that he was related to his dead best friend and had some questions for him.
John was sitting in another chair next to Sherlock, feeling rather uncomfortable. One reason was because the chair wasn't all that nice and the second was because for the past five minutes Sherlock and Mr. Lewis had been staring at each other.
"You're quite a bit like your uncle," Mr. Lewis said, finally breaking the silence. "Staring at people must run in the family," he smirked, and John couldn't help but try and hide a laugh. He got a slow and cold glare from Sherlock.
"Do you get anything when my uncle dies?" Sherlock asked, almost choking when he said 'my uncle'. John looked away in disbelief. Was Sherlock going to break down? Of all the times he could have, he had to do it now!
"Why, you think I killed him?"
"Maybe, maybe not, now answer the question I have somewhere to be," Sherlock shot back, and he came across to John and Lewis a little bit irritated. Mr. Lewis leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.
"Apart from his office?" the banker asked and Sherlock shook his head. "Well then, I get nothing," Lewis snarled. "You have somewhere to be, I have somewhere to be, then let's stop wasting our time. I'm fed up of you people accusing me of killed my best friend," Mr. Lewis said and gave Sherlock a hard stare. After another five minute of staring, Sherlock walked out of the door of Mr. Lewis office, John tagging along behind.
"Think he did it?" John asked as they walked into an empty lift.
"I wouldn't bet that he didn't," Sherlock replied, putting his scarf round his neck. The lift doors closed and an awkward silence fell upon them. The army doctor started to tap his left foot.
"By somewhere you had to be, you meant?"
"I have to get back to Lily," Sherlock said before John could finish his sentence.
"Right, of course," John nodded, understanding that Sherlock was feeling a little over protective over Lily and didn't want to leave her in the more than capableand more than responsible hands of Mrs. Hudson.
The pair silently walked out of the lift and out of the Bank. Sherlock signalled a taxi and the pair got in together and drove to Baker Street.
They arrived back at just past one in the afternoon. John had to remind Sherlock to stop for marshmallows and even though the detective didn't say it, a silent 'thank you' was said.
"Any progress?" Lily asked when Sherlock placed the bag of marshmallows before her. She was writing in a blue book.
"I'll be breaking into a Bank this evening so I shall not be joining you for dinner Lily," Sherlock announced, picking up his violin.
"We're breaking into the Bank?" John butted in before anyone else could say a word.
"Yes, we are. I think Lewis killed my uncle and I'm going to prove it."
"Shame, Mrs. Hudson said she'd cook," Lily replied. John just shook his head and went to make a cup of tea. Breaking into a Bank! He'll have him jumping off a bridge next! This and Lily was even more emotionless than Sherlock! Something John never thought could be possible.
"Well then, the take-out menus are in the top draw next to the fridge," Sherlock said, and both Holmes's looked at one another and smiled. They then looked away.
Sherlock started to play a calming melody on his violin.
"What are you doing there Lily"? Sherlock asked and John was shocked that his flatmate was actually trying to make a conversation.
"Maths homework –"
"School work, boring, school's boring. Come to the Bank with us," Sherlock said, barely breathing like he usually does.
"What? Sherlock!" John screamed. "She can't come!"
"Why not?"
"Because... she's a child," the doctor replied.
"Crap excuse, she's coming," Sherlock said and he used his 'end of argument' voice. John was going to reply, but Sherlock started playing a horrifying sound on his violin and the army doctor gave in. Lily smiled.
She adored her cousin some times.
"Thank you Uncle Sherlock," Lily whispered and the detective smiled.
"That reminds me, you're cousins, but you call him Uncle?" John said, walking back into the living room.
"I prefer to call him Uncle," Lily snapped.
"It makes me sound more responsible," Sherlock whispered to his flatmate. John nodded and went to make his cup of tea.
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