Chapter Nine:
When Sherlock and John finally escaped the office, Charmayne jumped to her feet, her bear dangling from her hands.
John smiled at her, "Ready to go?" He asked and Charmayne nodded, following they neared the escalator. John looked at Sherlock, "Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him. How did you know?"
"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock asked,
John rose an eyebrow, "His watch?"
"The time was right but the date was wrong," Sherlock explained. "Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it."
"Within a month?" John continued questioning. "How'd you get that part?"
"New Breitling," Sherlock said. "Only came out this February."
John nodded and looked around the building. "Okay. So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?"
"Got everything I need to know already, thanks," Sherlock said confidently and John looked at him with surprise.
"Hmm?"
"That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and..." He trailed off, giving John the chance to finish.
"... They'll lead us to the person who sent it," John finished and Sherlock gave him an approving nod.
"Obvious."
"Well, there's three hundred people up there," John said, reaching down to grab Charmayne's hand as large crowd of people came their way. Charmayne put the paw of her bear in his hand, holding the other paw for herself. "Who was it meant for?"
"Pillars," Sherlock said.
"What?" John frowned.
"Pillars and the screens," He continued. "Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot."
Sherlock entered the spinning, eating doors, getting lost behind them. John went to follow him, but Charmayne tugged away, getting nervous. John noticed and opted for the side doors instead.
Sherlock waited on the other side and they continued their conversation. "Does it tell us a lot?" John asked.
"Traders come to work at all hours," Sherlock explained. "Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight."
Then, Sherlock held up a strange paper card that had a bunch of words on it, and Sherlock gave a rare smile. "Not many Van Coons in the phonebook." Satisfied with his explanation, he faced the busy London street and hailed a taxi.
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As they sat the taxi, John looked at Charmayne, "Are you ready to to home?" He asked her. She was place between the two, her legs somehow able to be drawn up so she didn't have to touch the taxi's floor. It wasn't dirty, Charmayne just didn't like the floor of a moving vehicle. It made her stomach flip.
"No," she said softly, staring at her knees.
John went silent for a few moments, then he said, "I'm sorry for what Sebastian said about you. He's a rude git, and it didn't mean anything."
"S'okay," Charmayne replied simply. "I know m'stupid. The House Lady says so."
"You aren't stupid," John said firmly. "You're a brilliant girl. He was just too much of an arrogant, loud-mouthed prick to realize." Charmayne nodded again, but she didn't look altogether convinced.
John couldn't say much more after that. The car slowed to a stop and Sherlock paid him, and slipped out of the side. John and Charmayne followed suit. John took Charmayne's bear's hand, and kept her close to him.
Sherlock made his way to the block of flats, then pressed the buzzer, then looked up at a few cameras near the archway. Charmayne frowned, but didn't say anything. He pressed it again, but door still didn't open. "So what do we do now?" John asked, with a hurt. "Sit here and wait for him to come back?"
He came back to the door and ran a finger down the names. Some of them were weathered by the years, but a few looked newer, no less than a few weeks old, if that. Then, he stepped away to look at the exterior layout of the building.
Then, Sherlock grinned. Charmayne didn't like when he grinned. The code said usually grinned when he was about to do something bad.
He came back to John and Charmayne, who were standing by the buzzers. "Just moved in."
"What?" John frowned.
"The floor above. New label." Then, Sherlock pointed to the buzzer labeled 'Wintle', his grin growing.
"Could have just replaced it," John noted.
"No one ever does that," Sherlock said, and pressed the buzzer. Sherlock looked at the camera and grinned up at it. Charmayne watched, shocked as his entire code shifted. Before, it read him as smart and morbid. Now, it was like he made that smaller, as if surpressing it, and showing this new Sherlock now. He was funny, quirky, and kind. This wasn't her Sherlock. Charmayne did not like this at all.
"Hello?" A female voice replied from the buzzer, who had to have been Wintle.
"Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met..." Sherlock said, trailing off. Charmayne cringed, wanting to pull away and run.
"No, well, uh, I've just moved in," The woman explained.
"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat," Sherlock made a weird grimance and bit his lip, his teeth turning it pinkish on his pasty pale skin.
"D'you want me to buzz you in?" The woman asked, completely convinced by his lies.
"Yeah, and can I use your balcony?" Sherlock asked.
This gave the woman pause, "What?"
"My door is locked," Sherlock lied. "But I don't usually balcony the back door, the only way in is the key. Well, that or my spare, which I gave to my ex."
"Your ex? Are you single?" The woman asked and he chuckled.
"Currently," he admitted, looking sbeepish.
"This'll be an interesting story over a few drinks someday," the woman told him as she buzzed Sherlock, John, and Charmayne in.
John moved to hold the door open, before it automatically locked again. "You'll be the first I tell," Sherlock promised and stepped inside.
As soon as they were in the building, his code went back to normal. Charmayne was intruiged, wondering how he did that.
"You just seduced a woman so you could perform acrobatics," John scolded as they made their way up a flew flights of stairs and Sherlock scoffed.
"Seducing and simple flirting are on two entirely different planes," Sherlock told him. John rolled his eyes, trying not to show his impressive-ness.
Sherlock continued to wiggle his way into the woman's house while John took Charmayne to the floor below and waited for Sherlock to open the door. Charmayne heard a small thud, which could only be Sherlock getting into the flat.
John must've heard it too because he began to call out, "Sherlock?" He said. "Sherlock, are you okay?" He received no answer.
Charmayne looked at the door, then at the floor where a small discarded bobby pin laid. She bent down and picked it up. She looked at the door knob for a second.
"Yeah, any time you feel like letting me in," John huffed indignantly. Charmayne fiddled with the lock for a minute, before it clicked open. She pushed the door, but was stopped by chain-lock. John noticed and was ready to yank it off completely, but Sherlock appeared in the gap.
"Don't touch that," He warned, and John stopped. "Van Coon is dead. This is a crime scene."
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Charmayne stayed near the side, watching as people entered and exited the room where the dead man laid. Curiosity peaked her interests, but she didn't want to get go close to all the tall, new people. She hasn't read their code, she doesn't know what they would do.
It best to assume everyone's angry, so that when you're cautious, you don't have to be near the angry.
Charmayne listened to Sherlock and John talk beside her. Sherlock was putting on plastic gloves. "D'you think he'd lost a lot of money," John asked Sherlock. "I mean, suicide is pretty common among city boys."
"We don't know that it was suicide," Sherlock said, but John didn't look convinced.
"Come on," he drawled, arms crossed. "The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony."
Sherlock moved near a suitcase and John and Charmayne followed. She didn't want to be left alone. People would try to talk to her. "Been away three days, judging by the laundry," Sherlock commented, messing with the man's undergarments.
Sherlock looked at the suitcase for a minute before straightening up and turning back to John, "Look at the case," Sherlock said. "There was something tightly packed inside it." Charmayne looked at the bloated suitcase and nodded, there were a lot of clothes in it.
John wasn't as pleased as Sherlock to go through the man's laundry. "Thanks - I'll take your word for it."
"The code says you're disgusted," Charmayne commented and he nodded.
"Yep, listen to her," John nodded. "I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear."
"The code says you'd root around a girl's dirty laundry," Charmayne spoke again, and John looked at her. His face grew pink and mouth hung open.
"I-I... That's..." He couldn't finish his sentence. Sherlock turned away, but there was a smile on his face.
Sherlock got back to work and turned to the bed post. "Those symbols at the bank - the graffiti. Why were they put there?"
John looked away from Charmayne and cleared his throat, "What, some sort of code?" He asked.
"Why were they painted?" Sherlock asked as he checked the man's legs. Charmayne stared at the dead man on the floor. His code said old, secretive. His clothes were shiny, but a few had been dripped on by blood. "If you want to communicate, why not use e-mail?"
Charmayne studied the body with intent, her eyes curious. He wasn't in any state to be depressed and the code saw a tan line around his ring finger. It was old and long-past faded.
"Well maybe he wasn't answering," John suggested and Sherlock nodded.
"Oh good. You're following," he replied, messing around the desk, picking up a few intricately pre-placed pens before putting then back in their prior position.
"No," John admitted. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him before he turned around towards the body and bent towards the man's hands. He twisted it gently as He examined the hand.
"What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?" Sherlock asked, not looking away from his work. John only frowned, puzzled and Sherlock sighed from his lack of response. "What about this morning - those letters you were looking at?"
"Paper," Charmayne suggested, and John said, "Bills."
Sherlock finally got to the mouth, prying it open with a hiss of the dead-man's lungs, tbe oxygen leaving him. "Yes," Sherlock nodded, as if convincing himself of his own words. "He was being threatened." Then, he pulled out a black flower. Sherlock put it in a plastic bag and continued to investigate.
Charmayne heard a man calling orders outside the room as Sherlock talked. "Bag this up, will you... Not by the gas board... And see if you can get prints off this glass," Then, he stepped in the bedroom.
The code read that he was tall and young. He was also a police officer, by the badge he wore. Charmayne read that he was arrogant, obsessed with his title and women. He was no older than 25. He had a pet dog. He lived alone. He wasn't married, but frequently went on dates. His eyes were narrowed at Sherlock, he didn't like him.
"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met," Sherlock said, holding out his hand to him.
Blue Man put his hands on his hips, and frowned. "Yeah, I know who you are," he said, as if annoyed by Sherlock's prescense. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." He lowered his hand expectantly, and Sherlock reluctantly handed the plastic bag to the man. Charmayne saw that Sherlock did not look happy.
"I've phoned Lestrade," Sherlock commented. "Is he on his way?"
"He's busy. I'm in charge," Blue Man said, turning his nose up at Sherlock. "And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector Dimmock." Sherlock's eyebrows knit together in surprise. Then, he turned to John who was equally shocked.
Blue Man walked out of the room and Sherlock, John, and Charmayne followed. "We're obviously looking at a suicide."
"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts," John agreed as Sherlock turned to him, taking off his gloves.
"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts," He told John, them turned to the Blue Man. "You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."
"Like?" Blue Man asked, eyebrow raised.
"The wound is in the right side of his head," Sherlock said.
"And?" Blue Man was not happy.
"He was left-handed," Sherlock explained, then moved his right arm around his head to show his point. "Requires a bit of contortion."
"Left-Handed?" Blue Man did not look convinced.
"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice," Sherlock stated. "All you have to do is look around this flat." He pointed to the table, and began to talk at a rapid pace. "Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left." Sherlock turned back to Blue Man, "D'you want me to go on?"
"No," John spoke up, and he sounded tired. Charmayne looked at him. "I think you've got all of it." Sherlock began to talk anyway, but Charmayne wasn't listening.
"The code says you're sleep-feeling," she told John softly, and he frowned, then shook his head.
"No, I'm fine," he assured. "Look, this, uh, looks serious. Do you wanna go home?" Charmayne looked at her shoes. Were they going to have to talk to Talk Giotto again? She didn't want to see him anymore. But, she also didn't want to go home either. This was... Charmayne didn't know how to describe it. It made her heart race, almost like it did before the House Lady hit her, but it felt good. Charmayne liked it. She liked it a lot.
She shook her head firmly, her long dreads curling around her face before falling limp down her back. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Charmayne said, and John sighed helplessly.
"Well, then, get ready. Judging by how Sherlock looks, we might be leaving soon." Charmayne glanced over, and it was true. Sherlock had pulled away from the scene and had put his hat and gloves on.
"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?" Blue Man asked, confused.
Sherlock turned and walked out the doorway. "Good! You're finally asking the right questions." Charmayne gripped her bear tight and followed behind him. She was really beginning to enjoy this.