11.
"How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John demanded angrily, watching Dimmock rummage through the paperwork on his desk with his back to them. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him. Ellie could've been shot!" he added with a frustrated gesture towards Elspeth, who was sitting in a chair in front of the desk.
"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers – a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose," Sherlock said quietly, leaning forwards so he stood close to Dimmock.
Finally, Dimmock turned around to face him. "Can you prove that?"
"Not just a criminal organisation," Sherlock said as he and John strode into the living room of 221B, having just proven to Dimmock that Lukis and Van Coon were part of the Black Lotus. "It's a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders."
"Soo Lin said the name," John reminded him quietly, glancing towards Elspeth. Rather than join Sherlock and John at St Bart's, she'd gone home with the excuse that she had a headache. She was fast asleep on the sofa when they returned.
"Yes, Shan. General Shan."
"We're still no closer to finding them."
"Wrong," Sherlock retorted. "We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces."
John didn't say anything, looking slightly confused, and Sherlock sighed.
"Why did he need to visit his sister?" he asked impatiently. "Why did he need her expertise?"
"She worked at the museum."
"Exactly."
"An expert in antiquities," John said, slowly catching on. "Mmm, of course. I see."
"Valuable antiquities, John," Sherlock said. "Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution."
"And the Black Lotus is selling them."
Tilting his head to the side as if he had an idea, Sherlock strode past John and into his bedroom, where he retrieved his laptop. He took it to the dining room table, turned it on and opened the internet, his fingers drumming against the surface impatiently. John got up from his chair to stand behind Sherlock, looking over his shoulder.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"Recent auctions," Sherlock said, scrolling through the website he'd found. He had narrowed the search down to any Chinese or Asian works of art. "Check for the dates," he murmured to himself, still skimming. "Here, John."
Sherlock pointed and John looked at the image of the two Chinese Ming vases.
"Arrived from China four days ago." Sherlock checked the sales information. "Anonymous. Vendor doesn't give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East."
"One in Lukis' suitcase and one in Van Coon's."
Sherlock quickly typed out a new sentence into the search bar, saying it aloud as he did so, and waited for the results list to load.
"Look, here's another one," he said, pointing. "Arrived from China a month ago: Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred thousand."
John consulted Lukis' diary. "Ah, look, a month before that – a Chinese painting, half a million."
"All of them from an anonymous source. They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain."
"And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China."
"So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?"
"That's why Zhi Zhu's come."
"You two are being really loud," Elspeth complained quietly from the living room, making both men jump guiltily. She lifted her head, pushed her hair out of her face and glowered at them both sleepily. "What are you doing?"
Sherlock grinned back brightly.
Mrs Hudson knocked on the living room door. "Sorry," she said, as if she was interrupting something. "Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?"
"What?" Elspeth asked, still half asleep.
"A young man's outside with crates of books."
"Tell him to bring them up," Sherlock said to Mrs Hudson.
"I'm not your housekeeper, Sherlock!" she complained half-heartedly, trotting back down the stairs to tell the men to bring up their crates. Elspeth yawned and curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees. She watched as the police officers carried in many plastic crates, dumping them in any space available.
"So the numbers are references," Sherlock said, making no attempt to help.
"To books," John guessed.
"To specific pages and specific words on those pages."
"Right, so . . . fifteen and one, that means . . ."
"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read," Elspeth said wearily. She stretched her legs out in front of her.
"Ok, so what's the message?"
"That depends on the book," Sherlock retorted. "That's the cunning of the book code. It has to be one that they both owned."
John's eyes were filled with despair as he looked around at the many crates in the room, each either marked 'Lukis' or 'Van Coon'.
"Okay," he said. "Right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?"
Elspeth smiled back at him weakly, rising to her feet and flipping open the lid of the nearest box. She sighed when she saw how many books were in it, looking over her shoulder and feeling relieved when John also huffed in despair. Sherlock opened another crate and started taking out the books, looking at the cover in each one, and John did the same, carrying an armful of books to the dining room table.
Dimmock strode into the living room, glancing irritably in Elspeth's direction and receiving a sour look in return. He held up an evidence bag.
"We found these at the museum."
He showed the bag, which contained the photographs of the cipher they had taken to Soo Lin, to John.
"Is this your writing?"
"Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us," John said shortly, taking the bag from Dimmock. "Ta."
Elspeth caught John's eye across the room and she smirked. He grinned back.
"Anything else I can do?" Dimmock asked, looking at Sherlock. "To assist you, I mean?"
"Some silence right now would be marvellous," Sherlock replied without turning around.
"But thanks for the offer," Elspeth added sarcastically, venom dripping off her words, and she gave Dimmock a look John wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of; her eyebrows raised slightly, she gave him an insincere smile before turning her back on him again.
Looking slightly incredulous, Dimmock looked at John, who smiled and shrugged apologetically. Elspeth watched as he strode back out of the living room silently.
Sherlock took out a book from his crate and realised that he had already taken the same book out of a different crate, putting them side by side. He opened one of them to page fifteen, looked at first word on the page and frowned.
"Cigarette," he read out. He slammed the book shut.
Sherlock went back to rummaging through the crates and John made a small pile on the floor before turning his attention to another crate. Elspeth abandoned her crate, wandering across the room to join John.
"Two's better than one," she reasoned when he looked up.
Before long, Sherlock found another pair of identical books, flicking to page fifteen and reading out the first word.
"Imagine," Sherlock muttered. Elspeth then started to sing Imagine under her breath which, while pleasant to hear, was rather distracting. Sherlock snapped at her to shut up; Elspeth scowled and slammed down a few books onto the table with more force than was necessary.
As the night went on, Sherlock took off his jacket and John stripped out of his thick cardigan, both of them continuing to search through the crates. Elspeth looked dead on her feet and her eyes were bloodshot but she hadn't stopped all night.
Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, looking around the crates and sighing. An alarm on John's watch went off, making Elspeth jump. John looked at it and then out of the window as if to confirm that it really was morning. He sighed tiredly.
"You're home early," Sherlock commented, not looking up from the book in his hands, when Elspeth trudged into the living room several hours before she usually arrived home. She glared at him with heavy lidded eyes, flopping onto the sofa.
"I got sent home by my form tutor," she grumbled. "I fell asleep in Art."
"That explains the paint in your hair."
Elspeth's hand flew up to her hair and she groaned when her fingertips came away tinged bright blue. She felt like she might cry.
"I'm going to have a shower," she said wearily. After a few seconds, she made no attempt to move. Sherlock looked at her. "Just . . . give me a minute."
It took Elspeth a few minutes to find the strength to get up and go into the bathroom. By the time she was out, John had arrived back at 221B. He looked incredibly happy.
"You're home early," he said to Elspeth.
"You look unusually happy," she returned, curling up on the sofa with her damp hair tumbling down her shoulders and turning on the TV.
"Yes, well, I've had a good day, that's all."
"Huh," Elspeth said quietly. She eyed him suspiciously and John smiled back as he left the living room.
"A book that everybody would own," Sherlock muttered. Turning to his bookcase, Sherlock took down three books and opened the first to the correct page. "Fifteen. Entry one."
Elspeth watched disinterestedly as her father continued searching through the books, looking away when John strode back into the room. He was wearing a fresh change of clothes.
"Looking good, John," she teased, grinning when he blushed.
"I need to get some air," Sherlock announced. "We're going out tonight."
"Actually, I've, er, got a date," John replied, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.
"What?"
"Who with?"
"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun."
"That's what I was suggesting," Sherlock retorted.
"No it wasn't," John grumbled. He hesitated slightly before adding under his breath, "at least I hope not."
"Where are you taking her?"
"The cinema."
"Oh, dull, boring, predictable," Sherlock criticised. He took a piece of paper out of his trouser pocket, walking across the room to hand it to John. "Why don't you try this?"
Elspeth realised that the paper was the strip of the poster Sherlock had ripped off the other night and John looked at it; there was an advertisement for the Yellow Dragon Circus.
"It's in London for one night only."
"Thanks," John said, chuckling and handing the paper back to Sherlock. "But I don't come to you for dating advice."
"It's been years since anyone took me to the circus," Sarah said as she and John walked up the slope towards the building.
"Right, yes!" John said nervously. "Well, it's . . . a friend recommended it to me. He phoned up."
"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?"
"I don't know much about it."
Pausing, Sarah looked up at the lanterns strung outside the hall. "I think they're probably from China!" she joked.
"Yes, I think . . . I think so, yes."
They walked up the stairs together, towards the box office, and John cleared his throat.
"Hi. I have, er, two tickets reserved for tonight."
"And what's the name?"
John glanced towards Sarah. "Er, Holmes."
The person at the desk rifled through the reservations and took out an envelope, checking it for tickets.
"Actually, I have four in that name."
"No, I don't think so," John said in confusion. "We only booked two."
"And then I phoned back and got two more."
Looking up in disbelief, John had to supress his groan when he saw Sherlock standing behind him, accompanied by Elspeth, who looked rather pretty in a dress and boots. She smiled warmly at Sarah, who stared back with a lost expression.
Also smiling, Sherlock extended his hand. "I'm Sherlock. This is my daughter, Elspeth."
Sarah glanced at John, turning around and shaking Sherlock's hand rather nervously.
"Er . . . hi."
"Hello."
Sherlock's smile was quick and fake, and he instantly turned around, striding up the steps. Elspeth rocked on the balls of her feet, smiling awkwardly at Sarah, before quickly following him.
"I'm so sorry," John said immediately. "I had no idea he'd do that."
"It's fine," Sarah replied with a forced smile. John's heart sunk slightly. "Honestly, I think it's nice he's come along . . . and brought his daughter." Sarah looked over John's shoulder at Elspeth, who seemed to be berating Sherlock. "It's fine," she insisted. "I'm just going to pop to the loo before it starts."
"Alright, we'll wait for you."
John watched Sarah walk away, scowled and strode up the steps. Elspeth bit her bottom lip.
"Hi John," she said, grinning sheepishly at him.
"Is something wrong?" Sherlock asked, like he didn't know.
"You couldn't let me have just one night off?" John hissed. He moved out of the way when a few people walked up the steps, making their way past him.
"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits," Sherlock replied. "The Tong sent an assassin to England –"
"Dressed as a tightrope walker," John interrupted. "Come on, Sherlock, behave!"
"We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity?" Sherlock retorted. "Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place."
"You do that, I'm going to take Sarah for a pint."
"Ooh, romantic," Elspeth muttered under her breath, pushing the long braid she'd tied her hair into over her shoulder.
"I need your help," Sherlock said sternly. Elspeth rolled her eyes; she was under the impression that she was helping her father because John was on a date.
"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"
"Like what?"
John stared at him in disbelief. "You are kidding."
"No, he's really not," Elspeth told him. For a man who was a supposed father, Sherlock could be incredibly dense when it came to romance. Perhaps dense wasn't the right word though. He was almost ignorant, like he couldn't comprehend why people fell in love and spent the rest of their lives together.
"What's so important?" Sherlock demanded, looking put out that John wasn't as willing to help as he expected.
"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. Do you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to –" John cut himself off suddenly, looking uncomfortable.
"What?"
John lost his patience, raising his voice as he snapped, "while I'm trying to get off with Sarah!"
Inevitably, Sarah walked around the corner at that exact moment, smiling rather awkwardly. Elspeth had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing.
"Hey!" John said a bit too brightly, covering up his outburst. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Ready?"
"Yeah!" Sarah said, also sounding a bit too bright, too embarrassed to tell John that she'd overheard him. They strode up the stairs together and Sherlock made to follow them, but Elspeth grabbed his coat sleeve.
"Dad," she said slowly. "Just . . . give them a bit of space, yeah? They're on a date."
Rolling his eyes again, Sherlock bit back his retort and instead offered his arm to Elspeth, smiling pleasantly.
"Would you care to accompany me?" he asked, making her laugh. Her arm looped around his, Elspeth strode up the steps with her father. The night was certainly going to be a memorable one.
Thank you xxxMadameMysteryxxx, Smiling Dreams, Starcrier, Adrillian1497, TheDoctor'sAmazingCompanion, Bookworm45669, thestargazer7 and AlieCat for reviewing!