Disclaimer: So the kidnapping plan. Not so good. I'd have to be able to find a fictional character first. Lestrade is imaginary. So I'll have to come up with something else. Well, my mom always said I can do anything if I believe in it enough. So…yeah, it's worth a try at least.

A/N: To those loyal and not so loyal readers that are wondering: I only follow canon when I want to. The Honey 'Verse stories are not canon. This is a Honey 'Verse version of The Blind Banker. Not canon. Close. Closer than most of my Honey 'Verse but not canon. Yes, it'll be a lot like the show but there are changes. Big ones, little ones and even in between ones. I hope you all enjoy it and I thank you for reading and reviewing.

The Case

"Sir William's office," Sebastian told them as he led the way down the corridor of cubicles. "The bank's former chairman." He looked over his shoulder at Sherlock. "His room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" John asked, know Sherlock wouldn't.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder at them again with a puzzled frown. "Nothing." He paused to regard them fully. "They just left a little message."

Sebastian stopped in front of an office door. He pulled a key card from his pocket and ran it over the reader. The reader beeped and then there was the buzz of the door unlocking. Sherlock's eyes darted over the office space outside, the cubicles, the people and everything else with a frown of concentration. John grimaced at the tiny spaces. How could anyone work like this?

The office was large. A roaring lion sat on the desk in front of a painting of a man. John didn't think that the yellow line of spray paint had been the artist's original intent. To the side of the painting was another shape spray painted on the wall. A strange half-finished figure eight with a line over the top of it. John had no idea what they meant and they had to mean something. People didn't paint on walls for no reason there was always a meaning behind the symbols.

Sherlock stared hard at the wall for a few moments before Sebastian pulled them from the room and down the hall back to his own office. Sherlock stared outside the windows thinking, while Sebastian went around the desk and pulled up the security footage from the night before to show them. "Sixty seconds apart," he said. John and Sherlock stood beside him and watched him click the camera view back and forth. A blank wall and picture and then exactly sixty seconds later the symbols were there. Sebastian stopped clicking and put his hands in his trouser pockets. "So someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around and left within a minute."

Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back. "How many ways into that office?" He asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting," Sebastian said in a low mysterious tone. He walked off down the hallway to the front desk. He motioned the girl out of the way and pulled her keyboard towards him. "Every door that opens in this bank," he tapped the keyboard to bring up the schematics. The screen showed the floor with a red dot for every door. "It gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet." He leaned over and scrolled the mouse to show the rest of the building.

"That door didn't open last night?" Sherlock half asked, half told.

Sebastian straightened the lapels of his suit jacket and rebuttoned it. "There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you," he promised. "Five figures." He reached into the left side of his jacket on the inside, near his heart and withdrew a check. He looked down at it in his hand. "This is an advance." He turned to Sherlock, ignoring John as most people did. "Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way," he held the check out to Sherlock at chin level.

Sherlock gave it a slight frown. Sebastian didn't know that the discussion of payment always disgusted Sherlock. He was not a hired hand. Let John take care of the finances. He liked that part anyway. "I don't need an incentive, Sebastian," he told the other man. He knew John would pluck the check from Sebastian's hands before the man could blink. He passed by the man with a quick hand along John's back. He liked touching John.

John gave him a half nod and turned to Sebastian once Sherlock was away. "He's uh…he's kidding you obviously," John told the taller man and plucked the check from his fingers. "I'll just look after this for him shall I?" Sebastian shrugged with a smirk. "Thanks." John eyed the figure and let out a shaky breath. They'd make rent the next few months without worry. That was good. That was very good.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

Sherlock made his way back to Sir William's office and lifted his phone. There was something here. Something that was not quite right. These symbols were more than just graffiti. He eyed them as his camera phone clicked the symbols into the memory card.

He turned his back on the painting and graffiti so that he could run the symbols through the files in his mind. There had to be a meaning to them. Now he just had to find it. The sun glinting off of the top of the oval shaped roof across the way distracted him and his eyes narrowed.

It couldn't possibly be that easy, that boring. But it apparently was. Sherlock unlatched the window and stepped onto the ledge. He let the breeze that was always at places this high above the city ruffle his hair as he thought. Yes, a message, the symbols were a message. But for whom?

Sherlock danced around the trading floor, popping up and down behind people, peering around the pillars and generally making a nuisance of himself. He ignored the startled and confused looks, not caring for what the idiots thought of him. Finally he backed into an open office door and then whirled around to stand behind the desk. From there he could see the painted out eyes of the painting. Perfect. He looked around to identify the owner of the office and finally went to the nameplate at the door. Edward Van Coon. Hong Kong Desk Head. Perfect.

He pulled the paper with the name from the plate and headed off to retrieve his husband.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

"'Two trips around the world this month,'" John started as they walked towards the front entrance of the bank side by side. "You didn't ask his secretary. You said that just to irritate him." Sherlock smirked. Of course he had and of course John, his John, would pick up on it. "How did you know?"

"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock asked.

"His watch?" John returned. He frowned and cursed himself. He knew better than to let details like that slip by him. Apparently he was more out of practice than he'd thought. Though in his own defense he had been rather distracted by his own anger and Sebastian's supercilious attitude.

"The time was right but the date was wrong," Sherlock explained in his 'how did you miss it' tone. "It said two days ago."

"So he crossed the International Date Line twice and didn't fix his watch," John nodded. That was plausible and knowing Sherlock exactly what Sebastian had done. "But how did you know that Sebastian had done that in the past month?"

"New Breitling," Sherlock informed him with the air of someone who thought that was almost too obvious for words.

"Pardon?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Only came out this February."

John chuffed a laugh. "Well if I'd known you'd wanted one, I'd have called Mycroft."

Sherlock glared. "Not funny."

"Right," John grinned and tapped his fingers on the escalator. "So have you solved it or should we look around some more?"

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks," Sherlock answered with a distracted tone. "That graffiti was a message."

"I had deduced that on my own, Sherlock," John said dryly. "Who was the message to though?"

"Obvious. The message is for someone working on the trading floor. We find the intended recipient and…"

"They'll lead us to the person who sent it," John finished. "You know there were 300 people up there…you know who it was meant for."

Sherlock smirked over his shoulder at him. John was much quicker than other people and he loved him for it. "Pillars," he said slowly and simply hoping John would make the connection.

John thought for a moment with his eyes narrowed and then his tense muscles relaxed. "The message could only be seen from one place because of the pillars and the computer screens," he said quietly.

"And, of course, the message was left at 11:34 last night," Sherlock continued.

"Traders come to work at all hours because of the time differences around the world."

"Quite, some of them even trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came into work at midnight," Sherlock held the door for John and then walked down the sidewalk beside him. "Not many Van Coons in the phone book." He held up the paper to show John and then almost ran a few steps to the kerb. "Taxi!"

Of course, John shook his head. His husband had magical taxi powers and one had stopped before John had even caught up to him. It was only two steps to the kerb. Off to Van Coon's then.