A few minutes later, not long after my angry outburst, we were lead out to the trading floor to a room filled to the brim with large fancy portraits of some man in a tuxedo. I looked around, my eyes soaking in everything and anything as I tried to deduced what had happened. Going from the wideness of the room, and the fancy decorations, whoever worked in this office had a higher up position. And after simply glancing at his possessions he earned a lot of of money too, which was evident from the expensive computer sitting on the desk. It wasn't a computer from the company, because the company computers all had the bank logo on it and the computer sitting here did not, so it was a personal computer. After looking at the barren atmosphere of the room I concluded that the person that had formerly worked in this office was also very much deceased. The door had been locked and the shades on the widows drawn as if this room was to be forgotten. Also, the door had been stiff when it had been opened, whereas the other doors around here slid open with ease as if they were oiled daily. This meant that this specific door and this door alone hadn't been open in a long while. All of the facts coming together to back up the fact that whoever worked here was dead, and for a good while too.
"Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night." Sebastian explained, looking around the room with an upset frown. It was almost as if he were sad that someone had stolen something from a dead man … yet I knew his type and I knew that he'd never care. He got the dead man's job, if anything he should be happy that the guy was long gone. He was a bloody amazing actor when he wanted to be, I'll give him that.
"What did they steal?" John questioned, looking around the room.
"Nothing. Just left a little message." Sebastian stated, showing them the graffiti painted across the wall and on one of the pictures. It looked Chinese, possibly Japanese … maybe a secret code of some sort? It couldn't simply be a delinquent coming in here and showing off their graffiti skills, it was something more … there was a hidden meaning, which meant that this was done by a professional, someone who knew what they were doing. Not just some kid. The question was, why call the great Sherlock Holmes down to investigate it?
"So you called us down here to find out who did it." I stated, smirking at Sebastian, a small tinge of red resting on Sebastian's cheeks. Stupid bankers and their stupid ideas. All they called Sherlock down here for was to find out who splashed some paint around in a dead man's office. No murderer, no thief. Something so simple even a goldfish could solve it! Stupid Sebastian, stupid simple human beings and wasting my time.
"Yes Ms. Watson." Sebastian replied, not even strong enough to even look me in the eyes anymore. He knew I could and would hurt his ego if he ever made me mad again, and keeping his distance was the best form of action which was why he was so hesitant to talk to me anymore in the first place. He was a bastard that got knocked down a peg or two … or twenty on the egotistical skill, and now he was weak and vulnerable just like us which was all that really mattered.
"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock questioned, not even turning away from the yellow spray paint as he analysed the symbols decorating the wall.
"Well, that's where this gets really interesting. Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged, if any door opened we'd know. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet." Sebastian replied in a very matter of fact way, his confidence seeming to come back with every second that he talked.
"And that door didn't open last night." Sherlock concluded, glancing over to Sebastian with his own type of confidence. He was in his element right now, it was as obvious as the nose on my face. He was enjoying being the smartest person in the room, he enjoyed the thrill of a new case and the fun of the mystery just like I liked the adventure and the chase. The blood pumping through your veins as you tested your life against another's. Like I said before, this is a game … a game where only one person came out alive and so far I had won. Just like Sherlock. In reality, no matter how much I didn't want to admit it I was just like Sherlock and Sherlock was just like me. We were the same and yet we were different. We both saw that the graffiti was a code just as we both knew that just because the door to Sir William's office hadn't been opened didn't mean that the intruder hadn't come in another way.
"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures." Sebastian stated, pulling out a cheque from the pocket of his jacket.
"This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way." He said, holding out the cheque towards Sherlock. Why did he think that our service could be bought for some high sum of money? We wouldn't be bought off, no way no how! I'm sure Sherlock would agree with me when I say that money is just a piece of paper with nothing but debt attached to it. I don't need money, and I'm sure Sherlock doesn't either. He does the cases for the fun of it, not for the reward that comes afterwards.
"We don't need your money Mr. Wilkes. We'll figure out who did it, but not for the money." I replied, looking at Sebastian with a condescending smirk. That felt great! I loved making people feel like shit, especially A-holes like Sebastian. Besides he really did need to have his ego shoved down the toilet just a little more, so I was more than happy to yell at him more than I already had, it felt amazing! In fact, I could fly to the moon if I wanted. God making people feel bad was so refreshing. I honestly forgot just how good it felt till now! Sebastian should know better anyways … handing away his money like some loon. I gave Sherlock a small smirk and swaggered off to investigate, my ears barely picking up the smug reply Sherlock gave Sebastian.
"I agree with Abrielle, I don't need an incentive Sebastian." I heard him say, my smile immediately getting wider as I walked further away from them. Sherlock not only agreed with me, which was amazing considering he hated agreeing with others. But he also stood up to his college bully, and without my help too! I couldn't help but think him flawless now, he was unstoppable, he was on fire, nothing could stop him. Well … unless John got kidnapped of course. That was his one other weakness, his friends. Yet Sherlock used it as his strength, something to keep him fighting. Which was something I had yet to learn.
About ten minutes later after my long walk through the building, I decided to head back to Sir William's office, my feet walking giddily through the hordes of bankers and tradesmen coming in for work as I finally arrived at the door of Sir William's office, where we had been before. I walked in, my face almost lighting up with a small smirk as I watched Sherlock photograph the strange symbols. He looked so focused, so utterly set on finding out who had painted them that to me it seemed like nothing else in the world mattered to him. It was so exciting to see him work, to know that there was a mystery on hand and a case that needed solving, which was something she most certainly enjoyed!
"So what do you think?" I questioned him, looking towards him with interest as he stared at his tiny phone.
"About what?" He asked, not even glancing up to acknowledge that I was here.
"About this case, obviously." I stated, rolling my eyes at his idiocy. For someone that was a complete genius he could be pretty thick at times it seemed. He was so intelligent yet so stupid at the same time. It was like he was a computer, he gave you very scientific answers on things, yet he couldn't follow the simplest of sentences.
"You wouldn't understand." He replied, looking at me like I was a child in a classroom. It was so annoying how he looked at me like a child, something that couldn't ever threaten his intelligence or amount up to him in any way. Well he was wrong, I was a genius and I'd prove it to him.
"Try me." I challenged, my signature glare staring bullets into his eyes as I dared him to tell me no. No one told me no, everyone knew that and he knew that I'd break him if he even tried. I hurt Sebastian's ego and I could do exactly the same to Sherlock if he so pleased.
"This was a warning. I don't know what it means, or who it's for. But it's a warning." Sherlock explained, looking towards the art on the wall once more. I raised my eyebrows at him looking at him in surprise. Really, after all of that all he had figured out that it was warning? A goldfish could have told you that, if it was left here it was left here for a reason, it meant danger, and death not smiley faces and love for crying out loud!
"How about you let me have a go." I said, smirking at him as I crossed my arms and cocked my hip to the side in a sassy manner.
"Oh don't be silly, I'd rather not waste time in letting an idiot like you try to figure out more than I have. Especially someone in your line of work with no experience whatsoever." He stated, rolling his eyes at me, looking at me like I was a crazy wannabe, that wished of being smart, when in reality I was the smartest of the smart like him.
"Oh really. Well there's no harm in letting me try is there then?" I questioned, looking at him the same way he looked at me. Two could play at that game Sherlock. Just because you thought I was an idiot didn't mean I was.
"Like I said, I'd rather not waste time." He replied, turning around to look at the painting in peace. He thought that he had gotten his way and that the argument was over, when that was a far cry from the truth. I didn't give people their way just because they simply quite the conversation, oh, no,no that's when I fought my hardest.
"Oh just bear with me." I said to his back sarcastically, trying my best not to strangle him as I looked for clues. I opened the door to the balcony, my eyes looking around me and absorbing my surroundings like a sponge. I stepped out onto the balcony looking out at the amazing site below me. We were very high up, yet there was no other way the intruder could have come in. You know the old joke, how did the intruder get into the bank? Well duh, it got intruder the widow. Or balcony in this case, but that counted as a window, didn't it? After looking out at the view one last time I went out to where all the people sat at cubicles, busily working out trades and such. I walked around trying my best to figure out exactly who the message was meant for. It had to be someone that could see the painting, otherwise painting it in that exact spot was pointless, I walked around the cubicles, until finally I found the one place in the whole office that could easily see both symbols the clearest, and after looking around the area I finally found the name of the recipient and grabbed it, heading back to Sherlock to share my discoveries.
"That warning was meant for an Edward Van Coon, and the person that left it for him was an expert in gymnastics … someone that can scale buildings quickly and jump across roofs." I stated smugly, my crystal eyes brightening up considerable now that i could finally put a stop to Sherlock rude behavior. I was sick and tired of him just assuming that he was smarter than everyone and everything. It was sooooooo annoying! It was time to set him straight.
"How in the world did you know that?" Sherlock questioned, staring at me in appalment.
"Well, Edward Van Coon was the only one that could have clearly seen the graffiti from his office. Also, he was a trader for Hong Kong that means that he comes in at strange times during the night, which was around the time that the graffiti was placed there. As for who placed the graffiti there, he had to be able to scale the building because there was no other way to get into the building, and then he had to escape the same way, which means that he had to jump across rooftops, because we already know that the man that placed it there had to have used the balcony since there was no other way to get out without getting caught." I explained, ending my ramble with a huge smile. I'd shown him that was for sure!
"Why a man? It could be a woman?" He inquired looking at me, curious of my abilities. Yeah, yeah I know I never really outright showed that I was smart, but I was, and if the only way to prove to him that I was a genius, and not a child was to show my intelligence then that was alright, okay with me! It just meant that I'd totally get to show him up and make him look like a fool, which didn't seem half bad to me!
"You already know it's a man, so why would I need to explain it?" I asked, my smile immediately turning into a poker face. He wanted to challenge me … so a challenge I would be. I was going to be complicated, and mysterious and not at all forthright. That would catch the great Sherlock Holmes's eyes that was for sure.
"Just entertain me." Sherlock said, analyzing me. My eyes glazing over and showing no emotion whatsoever. He wanted to see how I'd react deducing something out of nowhere, when the truth was I had secretly already deduced it earlier.
"It had to be a man because the writing is distinctly sloppy and quick. A woman would have taken their time and made it readable. Other than that, you're looking for someone that has experience in graffiti, it is statistically more likely that it's a man because there are more male graffiti artists than female. So you're looking for a man." I replied, looking up at him with so much power that I felt like a queen.
"How could you possibly be able to do that?" Sherlock inquired, looking at me as if I were a puzzle he needed to solve.
"You'd be surprised Mr. Holmes. There is more expertise in this sort of thing within my field than you'd believe." I replied, a small smirk crawling up on my lips. He had no idea what my life was like, no idea at all.
"But you're merely a writer!" He exclaimed his eyes widening at my newly showed skill.
"Don't judge a book by it's cover. A writer can become many things while writing a story, in fact the real disguise behind a good fiction is a genius author. I'll be going now." I replied leaving the room with a smile on my face and a swag in my step. My ears once again picking up Sherlock's reply as I exited the office.
"Interesting." He whispered, my smile widening as I left the building. I had made an impression on the great Sherlock Holmes and made him question everything … I knew deep in my heart that I had won this round. It was Sherlock's move in the game of life, but even I knew he'd never figure me out not even if he tried. I'd captured his king and left him stranded without a lifeboat on a desert island. This was my game, and like I said, I never lost.