Chapter Ten:

After they had left, Charmayne, John, and Sherlock entered a restaurant where they found Tall Giotto eating with a few other men. Talk Giotto was in the middle of laughing as he said, "... And he's left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course can never be done!"

"It was a threat," Sherlock told the man. He turned to look at him, slightly annoyed by his interupption. "That's what the graffiti meant."

"I'm kind of in a meeting," Tall Giotto said with a underlining tone of scorn. "Can you make an appointment with my secretary?"

"I don't think this can wait," Sherlock said bluntly, crossing his arms. "Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders - someone who worked in your office - was killed."

Talk Giotto was holding a glass of water and he nearly dropped it in surprised. "What?"

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat," John replied, trying for at least a bit of sympathy.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion," Sherlock said, his eyes narrowed and his voice flat. "Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?"

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Although both John and Tall Giotto disagreed, Charmayne was brought into the men's bathroom in the restaurant where they spoke. "She shouldn't be in here," Tall Giotto said, his arms crossed over his chest. "She's a little girl-"

"Someone just murdered one of your clients," Sherlock interuppted. "Excuse me for being reluctant to leave her alone while in contact with you."

John pursed his lips, "We could've left her with a waitor, or something."

"You mean a stranger? I'd rather not."

Tall Giotto decided that there was no arguing with Sherlock, and instead began to speak. He washed his hands, simply all he would have something to do with them. "Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so..."

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts," John finished, bewildered.

He grabbed a paper towel, carefully drying his clean hands. "Lost five mill in a single morning; made it all back a week later," he sighed, leaning against the counter. "Nerves of steel, Eddie had."

"Who'd wanna kill him?" John asked, but Tall Giotto shook his head.

"We all make enemies," he explained simply.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple," John retorted and then Tall Giotto's phone buzzed.

He pulled it out and read the message. "Not usually. 'Scuse me," He murmured, his eyes scanning the phone.

Charmayne saw his posture tighten and his eyes narrow. His fingers clenched the phone and he almost glared at it. "It's my Chairman," he explained. "The police have been on to him. Apparently they're telling him it was a suicide."

"Well, they got it wrong, Sebastian," Sherlock said, as if he had predicted this turn of events. "He was murdered."

"Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that," He countered, cruising his arms.

"Seb," Sherlock said, his voice firm.

"And neither does my boss," Tall Giotto continued. "I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." Then, he stepped around Sherlock, passed Charmayne, and left the bathroom.

John scoffed and turned to Sherlock. "I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards...!"

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Charmayne ran into the ground level kitchen as soon as they hit back. Inside, was Ms. Hudson, and she smiled when she saw Charmayne. "I see you're back, lovely!" She greeted. Then, waved Charmayne over. She cane and Ms. Hudson kissed her forehead.

Charmayne had been letting Ms. Hudson - and, sometimes John - kiss her forehead. It was a small improvement, but an improvement nonetheless. "What did you do today, love?"

"We-We went to this big light building, and talked to a Tall Giotto. He wasn't very nice. Then, we saw a dead person, who was warm. Then, we went back to Tall Giotto, and he was a-a little nicer."

"Did you have fun?" Ms. Hudson asked, pleased. Charmayne nodded, a bit distracted over what she was cooking. "I'm making a soup," she explained, motioning to what the code read as a black pot. It was steaming and very, very hot. "It should be done in a few hours, alright?" Charmayne nodded. "Good! Have you finished all your schoolwork?" Charmayne twisted her fingers. Then, she shook her head. Ms. Hudson was in charge of her making sure she finished everything she needed to finish. "I need you to go finish that, then we can make some chocolate biscuits later, alright?"

Charmayne nodded and left the room. She grabbed her school bag and hurried up the steps. She opened the door to room 221B and sat quietly on the couch, pulling up her bag. She worked on the rest of her papers like Mrs. Hudson instructed. Sherlock stepped out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. Charmayne stood when she finished and walked over to his chair as he moved to sit down.

"Yes, Charmayne?" He asked the girl once he was settled.

"Can... Can I read one of the books?" She asked carefully.

"Yes, you may," he replied and Charmayne went to the bookshelf, grabbing the one at the very bottom, left hand corner. Then, she took it back to the sofa and began to read.

Sherlock waited, he was going over the crime scene photographs, watching each particular detail. After a minute, he decided to print them all out.

Hours passed as they were in each other's company, silent but comfortable. Charmayne stood from the couch and put the book back, grabbing a new, particularily thick one and beginning to read. John came from the hallway and glanced at her and Sherlock. "What're you reading?" He asked curiously, coming to her side.

"'The 1842 Swamp Killer was a phenomenon, mainly because of the style of his victims. Since he used the maws of a alligator to finish kill is victims, nobody suspected them to be murdered-'"

"What book are you reading?" John asked, adjusting his question.

"'The Man and His Prey', nonfiction, by Harrison Lucas," Charmayne said. "Written 1937, published by Gatterion Ford Publishing Inc. First Edition." She looked up at John and gave a hesitant smile. "It is well written. I like the words."

This pleased John and he gave her a kiss on her forehead. Charmayne didn't look up from her book, but he noticed a faint smile on her lips. "I'll be right back," he said, grabbing his coat and leaving the apartment.

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Charmayne read for hours on end. She didn't stop until she was completely finished with the entirety of the bottom level, and even after that, she kept reading, going to the level on top.

Eventually it was time for dinner and John made her put the book down so she could eat, and she did. When she finished eating, she went back to the couch to read.

Charmayne was fascinated. She didn't read many books, but this intriguing. The words mixed and melted making her imagine things she never thought she could with just her code. The books held entire Binaries, entire worlds, in between their pages.

Charmayne felt as if she couldn't read enough! How many books were there, she wondered. How could she read them all?

"Charmayne," the voice drew her out of hee thoughts. She jumped and looked up. Male. Short. Blonde. Army. John.

John gave her a kind smile, "I know you like the books, but it's time to go to sleep now." Charmayne gave a little pout and John chuckled.

"T-There are worlds in there," Charmayne said. "Big worlds. Big binaries, in the books." John rose an eyebrow, but Charmayne continued. "I... They-It is in the books. I didn't know they were there. There... So many binaries. Je pensais que j'étais le seul. Je n'en savais pas plus existé. Je veux voir plus... (I thought I was the only one. I didn't know more existed. I want to see more...)."

John pursed his lips, "You know I don't speak French," he frowned, but Charmayne wasn't listening. She just mumbled to herself. John sighed and brought the blanket over her. "Goodnight, Charmayne," he said, kissing her forehead, before walking out and leaving the room.

Charmayne stared at the ceiling, wondering about the books and their binaries. She was so intruiged by it. She wanted to learn more and more. She wanted to read about all the binaries in the whole world!

Charmayne's eyes slowly drifted shut and she dreamed of the future stories she would read.

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John left early the next morning, but he came back a few hours later. Charmayne was sitting on the ground, doing her schoolwork when he entered.

He put his coat away and bent down to kiss Charmayne's forehead. "I said, 'Could you pass me a pen'?" Sherlock spoke and John rose, looking at him confused.

"When?" He asked.

"'Bout an hour ago."

John let out a sigh, "Didn't notice I'd gone, then," he muttered, grabbing a pen and tossing it to the man. "Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery." He explained.

"How was it?" He asked.

"It was great," John nodded, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on his hand. Charmayne froze. "She was great."

"She?" Sherlock questioned. John's thumping got louder. She swallowed hard, closing the school book. She remembered Giotto doing that steady, rhythmic beat as he entered her room, yanking her out of the closet where she hid with one hand, the other beating against his thigh.

"... It," John corrected and Sherlock gave a suspicious look, but decided to drop it.

"Here. Have a look," he said, motioning to his computer. On the screen Charmayne read as a news article, but John blocked it before she could find out what about.

John frowned, scanning the screen. "The 'intruder who can walk through walls'," he read aloud, puzzled.

"Happened last night," Sherlock explained, moving the laptop away. "Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside - exactly the same as Van Coon."

John rose an eyebrow, stunned, "God... You think...?"

Sherlock's cold eyes narrowed, and Charmayne knew he was upset. He probably wouldn't let her come with him next time he goes out, if this is what is happening. His words were an icy cold and it gave Charmayne a chill as he spoke them. "He's killed another one."