Another new year with a new chapter and cover art too (which I'm happy how it turned out but wished Fan Fiction didn't cut it off some!). And it still amazes me how popular this story is, but I say that about all my stories. Anyway, let's get back to the show!-Lovely
-Clever.
-Paring(s): Sherlock Holmes/OC
-Rating: T (currently) for language, suggested violence, and slight adult situations
-TV-based
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. The characters belong to fantastic Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss as well as the legendary Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I only own the OCs introduced.
Chapter Fourteen:
"(NOT) A Double Date"
[221B: John and Sherlock's Flat; 8:00am on March 26th]
About eight hours had passed and the trio was still nowhere closer to the answer after going through more than half of the books. The only thing they all had was another night of no sleep. Well, Sherlock and John did. Sometime during the night, Marisol ended up crashing on the sofa in the middle of working and been there since; curled up on her side and snoring lightly.
Completely immerse their work, the men didn't even noticed the time yet alone the sunlight that now brighten the room. It took the alarm from the doctor's wristwatch to bring them back to the present. He groaned once remembering—it was his second day at his new job. He stood then and walked towards the sofa. Pausing, blue eyes glanced over when spying the movement and watched as the older man gave his goddaughter a soft kiss to her forehead. Her face scrunched up cutely from the action before relaxing. John chuckled at the sight, used to her doing so.
Watson tossed a 'good luck' the eccentric's way, receiving a short nod as he left to get ready. And the crowded sitting room once again fell in silence. Several minutes passed like that—Holmes flipping through page after page and Vallas deep in her dream world until..
A scream of anguish came from the other side of the room. Sherlock startled as the sound shook him to his very core. He acted fast, pushing through the stacks of crates and knocking some down before he stood a few steps away from the source. Marisol sat in the fetal position with her hands buried in her sleep-tangled hair and rocked back and forth, muttering incoherently.
The genius hurried to her side. "Marisol—" She quickly turned at the sound of his voice and upon seeing it was him, wrapped her arms around his waist. He froze in surprise, a wave of deja vu hitting him. She buried her face in his stomach, sobbing.
"You're alive..you're alive.." she repeated in a hysterical mantra.
A curious but nervous brow raised in question. "And why wouldn't I be?"
"I dreamed you were dead..you and John. You both were killed along with Soo Lin and I.." The frighten young woman cried hard, clutching onto his shirt tighter. "I couldn't save you like last time!" His eyes widen. She was experiencing a symptom of trauma as a result from witnessing the former smuggler's death. He knew well that had been her first time seeing someone she knew dead but for it to affect her to the point of nightmares..The mere thought caused his heart to clench, hating that his only friend was hurting. His hands came to gently rest on her trembling shoulders, going to speak but was interrupted.
"Is everything all right, Sherlock?" Holmes glanced back to find a frantic Mrs. Hudson in the doorway. "I heard a horrible scream—" She then noticed the writer clinging to him. "Oh no, was it Marisol?"
He swallowed; his mouth suddenly dry. "Yes, she had a vivid nightmare.."
"Poor dear! I'll go make her a soothing cuppa!" The old woman left as fast as she came, leaving the two alone again.
The eccentric carefully removing himself from Vallas and instead uncomfortably sat on the coffee table across her. She had brought her knees to her chest while they sat in silence, still crying but also slowly calming down. It didn't take long for the landlady to return with her promised drink. She had an amazing talent at that. He took the cup and thanked her before she left again. The steaming tea was placed on the table instead of given to Marisol. Judging by the slight tremor in her slender hands, he concluded holding it would mostly likely end in spilled tea and broken glass.
Troubled, the man observed her. She still appeared exhausted; her pretty face paler than normal and sweaty, her body was twitchy as well. With her current state going back to sleep would prove difficult without some assistance and it is what she desperately needed. His gaze then drifted towards the window where his precious violin sat waiting ever patient in its case. Rising to his feet, he strolled over and gently removed the instrument.
"What are you doing?" came a curious but quiet question from behind him.
"You'll see.." he answered vaguely, "Just lay down and close your eyes."
"Sherlock, I don't—"
"Try." the man pressed. Vallas tiredly huffed, obeying. A triumphant smirk formed on his lip as he got into the proper position, having been ingrained into him from a young age. The violin tucked under his chin like a kitten seeking warmth. Bow and fingers caressed the taunt strings softly like a new lover. And clear blue eyes drifted close as he began playing instinctively a certain piece—Violin Sonata No. 6 by Niccoló Paganini. It was one of his personal favorites by the composer. So he allowed the music flow through him, putting his own unique flare to it.
The beautiful sound filled the flat and out towards the stairs where John, freshly showered and dressed, now stood, listening. Mrs. Hudson had informed him quickly what happen to his goddaughter outside the bathroom door. Clothing himself in a rush, he went to check on her, only to pause when hearing his flatmate play. It wasn't the first time he had since moving in but it still made him stop and appreciate the lovely sound produced. So, the doctor stayed by the open door until the final note fading into the air. He poked his head inside then, ready to speak but the words fell short at the sight in front of him.
Sherlock hovered over the once again slumbering writer; his vintage violin still grasped in one hand. While the other had reached down and lightly brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Though the action wasn't common of the enigmatic man to show..it was the sympathetic, fond expression that grace his usual impassive face that shocked Watson. Feeling as if he was intruding on a private moment, he turned and quickly exited the place, unsure of the meaning to what he truly witness.
[Local Clinic; 1:14pm]
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," the receptionist apologized for what left like the hundredth time the past hour. "But we haven't got anything now until next Thursday." Dr. Sawyer happened to walk by then, seeing the small group in front of the desk. Curious, she addressed the flustered woman that sat there.
"Um..what's going on?"
"That new doctor you hired," she informed, speaking of John. "He hasn't buzzed the intercom for ages."
"Let me go and have a word." Sarah told before headed to the office assigned to him. She gave a gentle knock to the door, calling out to him. No response came. Slightly concern, the General Practitioner stepped inside and discovered the man sitting up, fast asleep.
It was a little past closing time when John finished all his patients and paper work. He prepared to leave but stopped by the receptionist desk once spying Sarah there.
"Looks like I'm done." he stated, shrugging on his jacket. "I thought I had some more to see."
"Oh, I did one or two of yours." she informed nonchalantly.
He gave a confused expression. "One or two?" There had seemed to be more in the waiting from the brief glimpse he caught when saying goodbye to one of his patients earlier. Thinking his sleep-deprived was playing tricks, Sawyer reassured him.
"Well, maybe five or six."
"I'm sorry," the doctor sighed, ashamed. "That's not very professional."
The woman agreed, not helping. "No, not really."
"I had..a bit of a late one."
Sarah stared before seeming to realize what he meant. "Oh, right."
"Anyway, see you." He moved to leave when she quickly spoke again.
"So..um, what were you doing to keep you up so late?" she wondered. John turned back with a surprised expression.
"I was attending a sort of book event." he lied smoothly. There was no way he could tell her about the smuggling case for obvious reasons, so a half-truth was the best he could give.
"Oh." Sarah nodded, "Oh, she likes books, does she, your girlfriend?"
"No, it wasn't a date." corrected Watson, understanding her sudden curiosity now. She thought his lack of sleep was due to him being intimate with someone. Boy, did he wished that were true.
"Good. I mean, I'm.." Sawyer stammered in embarrassment.
It brought a smile to his face, pushing him to take a brave chance. "And I don't have one tonight."
[221B; 3:27pm]
A leather-bounded book was unceremoniously tossed into a crate from frustration. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and ruffled his hair; his usual habit whenever feeling chafe. At last looking through every book owned by the victims, he chose a few from his own collection—an Oxford dictionary, the Christian and Catholic Holy Bibles—that could be commonly found in someone's possession. But once again came across words that held no meaning together. It left him currently at a stalemate..and he absolutely loathed it.
"You look like you have to poo." Blue eyes snapped open. There, leaning with arms behind her back against the door frame, stood a simpering Marisol; now cleaned and somewhat rested. After falling back to sleep, she slept for a couple more hours under his watchful gaze before her phone startled her awake. She glanced at the screen and whatever was on there caused her to spring to her feet and out the door. He didn't stop her then, once again too engulfed in his search.
No longer in his borrowed purple shirt and her burgundy trousers, she replaced it instead for a batwing short sleeve dress. The top part was beige colored and billowy while the skirt was floral printed, falling a bit pass her knees. A strip of ribbon tied in a nice bow cinched the piece perfectly to her waist. Her skinny legs were covered in tights that gave the illusion that she wore knee-high stockings. The genius noticed a moment later when she shifted some, a cute cartoon face of cat were on them. Suede lace-up boots and wool Panama hat finished ensemble with rose-gold accessories.
"It fits her personality extremely well." he noted with a smirk. "Girly and quirky but overall cute." But he also found it be more than she usually wore when around him and John. He pondered for a moment as to why.
—I guess I should thank you, Sherlock, because I got a date Friday out of your surprise visit.
His lazy smile changed to a bitter frown upon recalling. So that exampled her rushed exit earlier as well. The thought that she still went through with it after her rough morning filled him with annoyance and another strange feeling.
His frown deepen. "Wonderful. More of those."
Lost in his head, Holmes returned to the present when hearing a throat clear. Vallas had moved from her spot by the door to stand in front of him now. A clear grocery bag was offered to him and he could see his dress shirt inside.
"Ah. Thank you, Vallas." he said, taking it from her. The action caused their fingers to brush lightly. The remembrance of those slender ones carding through his hair struck him suddenly..along with the aftermath. He quickly turned his gaze away from the writer, tossing the bag in the corner behind him. Why was it only since meeting her that all these unneeded feelings chose to arise? What made her so average but different all at once? And had him wanting to—
"Had fun on your date?" he asked blankly, pushing ill thoughts aside.
Brown eyes blinked before turning bashful. "Uh, I did. It being a coffee date helped a lot too."
He raised a brow. "How so?"
"I wouldn't know how to act if it was a dinner one or something romantic like first thing. So it being over coffee was easy, felt like a normal one with a friend." She smiled, reminiscing. "And Adam was very sweet as I expected." Sherlock rolled his eyes, ignoring the tightness in his chest.
"Oh, yeah! I forgot to give this to you the other day." she exclaimed abruptly, digging into the hidden pocket in her skirt. The ripped piece of the poster she discovered was shown. "I found it when we searched the train yard." Her companion took it, careful not to touch her again, and skimmed it.
"A Chinese circus for one night only.."
"Too much of a coincidence, right? We should go check it out." the young woman grinned, hinting. "Make a night of it."
He grinned back. "Yes, we should." Just then, John arrived and joined them in the crowded room. He looked at the two standing across from each other grinning and smiled warily, once again feeling as if he intruded.
"I'm back. Feeling better, Mari?"
She nodded, knowing what her godfather meant. "Yeah, good as new."
"That's relief." he sighed, no longer fully concerned.
"I need to get some air." Holmes randomly announced, "We're going out tonight."
"Actually, I've got a date." his flatmate informed the two.
"What?" the writer and eccentric said together. He stared at Watson with confusion while she appeared as if he had offended her somehow.
"Where two people who like each other go out and have fun?"
"That's what I was suggesting." told the other man.
"No, it wasn't. At least, I hope not."
"And where, if I may ask, are you taking this mysterious woman?" his goddaughter queried in a dead tone. But underneath the indifferent attitude, ire was beginning to boil like water in a tea kettle. She didn't like the idea of her godfather meeting some woman she had yet to meet herself.
"Er, cinema." he answered, raising a brow when she crossed her arms and fixed him with a hard stare.
The eccentric walked around her then, coming towards John. "Dull, boring, predictable.." He handed over the ripped poster. "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only."
John laughed lightly. "Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice."
"Actually, I think you should go, John. It's something very different than the normal dating spiel." Marisol offered with an encouraging smile. "Definitely will get you some major points from your new lady friend, if you know what I mean."
"And when you call in, put it under my name. I'll pay for it." Holmes stated casually after her. Watson stared between them for a moment, a tad suspicious by their equal support. But he soon complied and headed into the small kitchen to make the call. While he talked on the phone, Vallas went and stood beside her tall friend, whispering.
"You're gonna call back once he's done, right?"
A mischievous smirk was given. "Why, yes, of course."
"Good." she nodded once, "..And make sure it's four instead of two."
[Yellow Dragon Circus: Chinese Theatre; 7:41pm]
"It's years since anyone took me to the circus." Sarah told in a bright excited tone as she and Watson walked to the nightly event.
"Right, yes." John laughed nervously, "A friend—well, friends recommended it to me and I phoned up." He briefly remembered said people eagerly pushing him into doing so. It was still odd several hours later to him, but pushed it out of his mind and focused on his lovely date instead.
"Oh! What are they, a touring company or something?" she pondered.
"I don't know much about it." he honestly told her, mentally berating himself for not asking more about it. They arrived in front of an old building where others coming to see the circus loiter around. Beautiful red orange paper lantern were strung about over the entrance; a hint for what was happening there.
The woman leaned over, smirking. "I think they're probably from China."
"I think so, yes. There's a coincidence.." the doctor agreed, suddenly wary and cursing himself even more for going along again. The budding couple headed inside and towards the ticket booth which appeared to be a former coat check area.
"Hi, I have two tickets reserved for tonight." he said to the young man there.
"And what's the name?"
"Holmes."He peered to the side where the reserved ones were. Once finding the name, he turned back and held more than what was told.
"Actually, I have four in that name."
A confused look crossed the other man's face. "No, I don't think so. We only booked two."
"Then I phoned back and got one for Marisol and myself as well." came a familiar voice out of the blue. The couple glanced back to find Sherlock and Marisol standing there as if the cunning duo had been waiting in the shadows all along..which they probably did now that John thought about it. His earlier suspicion was justified upon seeing them—the circus was involved with the case. Oh, joy.
"I'm Sherlock." the eccentric introduced, shaking hands with Sarah.
"Uh, hi." she greeted, nodding to the young woman who waved with a bright smile.
"Hello." he returned the greeting.
Marisol next to take her hand. "I'm Marisol, John's goddaughter. It's very nice to meet you and thanks for allowing him to work with you."
"It's no problem at all. We're lucky to have him with us." said Sawyer politely. She then peered at her and the taller man, asking suddenly. "Have you two been dating long?" The writer and detective blinked, off-guard. They glanced at each other before refusing her question in a perturbed fashion.
Vallas shook her head with a scoff. "Us, dating? Yeah, no."
"We're just friends." came Holmes' blank rebuttal, "And she isn't someone I would go for, to be honest."
"Not who you—" his friend repeated before saying angrily. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, git?!"
"Exactly what it meant, Vallas."
"Keep it up and I'll spill our little secret." she mumbled low with a sly smirk. Blue eyes glared daggers down at her, making the smirk turn into a full-blown grin. John rolled his eyes in annoyance while his date chuckled softly behind her hand. The two excused themselves then, still quietly bickering. Once gone, John took the tickets from the patient man and paid before facing his co-worker.
"I am so sorry about all that." Watson sighed his apology.
"No, it's fine. I don't mind having a double date, makes me think of times in secondary school." she told with a reassuring voice, peering in the direction the others left. "Your goddaughter seems very close to that man."
He glanced that way as well, brows furrowed. "Yeah..it worries me most times."
"As any family member rightfully should." Sarah smiled, "Oh, I'm gonna see if there's a restroom before it starts. Be back in a bit."
"Sure thing, I'll be on the stairs waiting." her date said, watching her go with a smile. It disappeared as she turned away and he headed towards the spot he mentioned. And once again, the man wasn't surprised to see his companions lounging on the staircase; the two not caring if they were in the way as people attending walked by.
"You couldn't let me have just one night off." he hissed angrily to the detective before directing his anger towards the young woman as well. "And you didn't try to stop him, did you?"
Brown eyes rolled. "Well, that's because I wanted to meet and assess your date. See if she's worth your time."
"Cock blocking is what you really mean, and yes, I understand the term." John added when seeing her astonished look at his colorful choice of wording. "Also, that is not for you to decided, Mari. It's my love life, stay out of it."
"Enough of your family squabbling, please." Sherlock sighed. The family members glowered heatedly at him but stayed silent. "Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England—"
"Dressed as a tightrope walker." finished his peeved flatmate, "Come on, Sherlock, behave!"
But he kept going; blinded by the case. "We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country."
"All I need to do is have a quick look around the place—"
John interrupted, "Fine. You and Mari do that, I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."
"I need your help." stressed the eccentric.
"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening." he was told by the man who was becoming more exasperated by the second.
"Like what?" Holmes queried with ire.
"..You are kidding?" Watson stared in disbelief that the other man couldn't get his not-so-subtle plan for the evening. Even Vallas got right away; noted by the deep grimace she wore then.
"What's so important?"
"Sherlock, I'm in the middle of a date. You want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to.."
"What?!" he pressed, still not getting it.
"My god, you are shockingly dense," the writer groaned loudly, face palming. "Or completely inept to any interaction with either sex to not get what he means. He's trying to—"
"Get off with Sarah." they said simultaneously..just as said person returned and joined the trio on the stairs. She looked at her date, smiling and having either not heard or didn't care.
"Hey..ready?" the doctor tensely asked her while the other two gave annoyed expressions before walking away again.
The Yellow Dragon Circus wasn't the usual well-known performance. There was no three-rings stage or wild animals for the small space and atmosphere in the old theatre wouldn't allow such extravagance. People instead stood around a large circle framed by lit candles in the center of the concert hall. The group stood close together at the area as they waited for the event to begin. Marisol couldn't help but gaze around with an appreciated eye. She had to admit the whole thing was kinda her aesthetic. She'd go and see something like this whether or not the performers were mostly likely trained assassins.
"You said circus. This is not a circus." John whispered to Holmes who was currently peering around taking everything in. "Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is..art."
"Sarah seems to like it so far, so stop complaining." noted the young woman in a hushed tone. "Remember, brownie points are key if you plan to get off." She sung the last bit quietly, smirking teasingly. Her godfather fixed her with a hard stare which she purposely disregarded.
"This is not their day job." remained Sherlock then.
"Sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus," the other man muttered back, sarcastic. "They're a gang of international smugglers." A rhythmic drum caught the patrons' attention as an older Chinese woman entered the circle. Her face heavily painted with shades of white and pink that matched with her clothing. An ornamented Cheongsam designed to resemble the style of dress during the Guangxu Period. The ensemble was completed with an elegant bejeweled headdress, leaving her graceful and fearsome looking all together.
Coming to a stop in the middle, she raised her arm to stop the drum—only to be replaced by a louder, heavier beat—and stepped towards a covered object beside her. It was revealed to be giant crossbow-like mechanism. The circus matron then delicately placed a large arrow into it before dropping a feather into the bowl behind the contraption. The arrow released so fast, no one saw but only heard as it struck the target on the other side.
"Assassins sure do love tempting death." the writer thought bitterly as a masked man joined the matron and was chained to the target board.
"Classic Chinese escapology act." stated softly the detective to the others, "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires. With the previous demonstration repeated, a new element was added.
"She splits the sandbag, the sand pours out. Gradually, the weight lowers into the bowl." he finished with suspense. While John and Sarah were distracted, he grabbed Marisol's hand and pulled her away from the dangerous scene to investigate. She didn't even protest, though clearly interested in the show too. It was almost instinctual now for Holmes to bring her along. If he took a moment and thought about it, he really couldn't imagine her not tailing behind him like a puppy dog, eager for adventure.
"I wonder what dog she'd be similar too." he pondered randomly, glancing over at her. She met his gaze and adorably canted her head a bit. "..Yorkshire Terrier..yes, that is far too perfect!" The man stifled a laugh as the two soon came upon the unoccupied backstage.
"So, what are we looking for actually?" was whispered from her as the two peered around the dark changing area.
"Anything suspicious or pertaining to the case obviously."
"Tone down the sass there..Sherly." Said person paused, staring at her as she smirked slyly.
"What? Don't like the new nickname?" His mouth opened to reply when suddenly the music changed from behind the curtain. Curious, he tugged her along and pulled back the heavy drapery some, peeking out. A new act was being done then involving a masked acrobat who was performing an aerial technique with silk.
"Well, well." uttered the detective to himself. As the duo continued to watch, the young woman felt a soft brush across her knuckles and glanced down; brown eyes widening. They were still holding hands.
The sight instantly reminded her of her date earlier—
She and Adam, done with their coffee, stood outside in front of the cafe. It was cold that day and in her rush getting ready, had forgotten her gloves. She cupped her hands to her face and exhaled, warming them with her breath.
"Here." Adam said before grasping one of her hands in his. "That should help warm it."
Vallas smirked slightly at him and waved her free one. "I hate to be the barer of bad news, but this one is still left out in the cold."
"Oh, right." he laughed, embarrassed. "..Okay, that was my weak excuse to hold your hand."
"You didn't need to come up with an excuse." she gently told, timid. "I would have let you if you asked." Staring at each other for a moment, they glanced away with similar flushed cheeks and lopsided smiles.
At the time, holding Adam's made her feel giddy and bubbly but her hands had still been cold afterwards. With the eccentric's, a constant warmth always seemed to emit from his touch, making lightly tan cheek blush pink each chance.
—Have you two been dating long?
Sarah's naive question popped in her head all of a sudden.
"Do we really look that compatible?" she genuinely wondered; her hesitant dark eyes drifted up towards Sherlock, only to have her breath stop short.
In the stage lighting, the enigmatic man's handsome profile was lit with shadows cascaded perfectly over his sharp features. His expression, calm and collected as ever, but those clear blue eyes held a blazing fire she had seen several times before. Now, the sight of them caused a different heat to form deep within her. Shocked by the abrupt feeling, she went to remove her hand but his gloved fingers interlocked between hers instead.
"Hey, l-let go, Sherlock." Vallas said breathlessly, hating how she sounded.
He dropped the curtain, turning those blazing eyes on her. "I'd rather not."
She froze. "..Why?"
Bright blues met darker ones, making her almost weak in the knees. "Because we're in the lion's den and I don't need you wandering off, getting hurt again."
"I only got hurt because you went looking for trouble just like now." Marisol deadpanned, "And I saved your arse, thank you very much, just like last—" She pressed her lips in a thin line, realizing her slip up and hoping he wouldn't notice. But he always did.
"Just like last what, Marisol?" he asked, gaze piercing now.
"Nothing!"
"Liar. You're biting your lip nervously," The enigmatic man leaned down closer; his voice now drawling and husky. It was as if he knew what was strangely happening to his companion and took sweet pleasure from it. As the while, it made her think back to the time her made her open up. She had been enraptured then just like now. "Breath hitched a tad, and becoming increasingly tense the more I press."
The writer hissed, "Stop reading me! I said it was nothing, so drop it!"
Their argument came to a halt as door opened on the other side of the room. Not wasting another second, Holmes hid themselves behind a clothing rack just before the circus matron appeared. The two, crouched close together to fit, silently watched as she went over to the makeup table and checked something on a cell phone.
Vallas shifted uncomfortably in her slouched position, causing her elbow to smack against one of the coat hangers which rattled loudly. Startled, the woman glanced over but saw no one as the annoyed detective pulled her down lower beforehand. Her narrowed eyes stared suspiciously for a few more seconds until brushing it off as nothing and leaving.
The two happily sighed in relief before glancing at each other; both stopping short. The young woman's warm breath was fanning over Sherlock as she stared with those big doe eyes. Memories of the incident and back at his flat after playing for her flooded his mind then, filling him with the same thought at both those times—
He wanted to kiss her.
Deeply and passionately.
But he didn't act on the uncharacteristic thought because Marisol broke their heated gaze to peer down nervously. The bashful expression didn't last long on her face though. She reached down and brought up a Michigan propellant between them.
"Um, I think we've might of stumbled upon a very important clue."
Sherlock took it, closely observing the object. "..Found you." he sung low before moving quickly from their hiding spot to the makeup table. Shaking the can, he sprayed a single yellow line—similar to the ones the assassin used. The writer poked her head over the rack and was about to cheer in glee when a costume near her rustled some. Canting her head curiously, she took a single step closer. And that's when, for the third time that week, all hell broke loose on the investigating trio.
"One kiss breaches the distance between friendship and love." -Unknown
-TBC-
Oh my, finally some developments and a small, but huge admittance from Sherisol! Next chapter will bring 'The Blind Banker' to a close.
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