IMPORTANT NOTE
Thank you all for your reviews on the last chapter. To answer your question about more updates, I'm attempting to give you as many as possible, but you have to be patient with me. I'm legally blind so writing chapters takes me a while as does editing because of all my programs which make it possible for me to write tend to run more slowly than my brain does. I also start back at college in two weeks so I'm trying to get chapters written ahead so there is never a delay in posting. I guarantee that you will always have an update on Sunday. When I have enough written ahead like I do for right now, you will get a midweek update on Wednesday like you are today, but I can't promise that you will always get one. I'd rather be able to post once a week than not be able to post at all because I did more than one update in a week and then didn't have anything written ahead when an exam or paper comes due. When I finish Season Three on my end you will be getting more frequent updates. Thank you so much for your support of my story! Again a post every Sunday is guaranteed, but midweek ones are not. Now onto the chapter, Allons-y!
Chapter Thirty Two- The Blind Banker
"The chief proof of man's real greatness lies in his perception of his own smallness."
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four
Lexi's POV
We arrived at the bank, Tower 42 on Old Broad Street and Sherlock led John and me through the revolving glass doors which led into Shad Sanderson Bank. The place was posh, the sort of place that Mycroft might conduct his banking at. John started at the impressive foyer as we followed Sherlock who offered his arm to me. I knew that he had seen that I was slightly dizzy from my medication and from recovering from blood loss. It was sweet that since this morning he had been taking care of me in his own little way. Sherlock led us over to the escalators, knowing exactly where he was going. I was happy just to follow him for the moment. My eyes scanned around, reading various people talking on cell phones as I caught Sherlock doing the same. This place had supposedly had a break in. Posh place like this had to have a good security system so that meant the person or people who had gotten in had to be clever. Wilkes asked Sherlock for discretion. That meant that he didn't want anyone to know they had a break in. That was understandable. One person finds out and then everyone suddenly wants to pull their money out of the bank. It was terribly bad for business.
"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank ...," John said as he got on the escalator behind Sherlock and I as we continued to observe everything around us. I made note of the security systems which had to have cards swiped across an electronic reader in order to open the glass barrier gates. As soon as we reached the top of the escalator, Sherlock led me over with him to the reception desk and addressed one of the receptionist.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Oh, um, just a moment. I'll call up and let them know you've arrived," The receptionist stuttered. Obviously they had been expecting us or at least Sherlock. The receptionist called upstairs and then looked back at us when she had finished. "Just follow me," She told us and she led us over to the lifts. We took a short ride upstairs and she showed us into Sebastian Wilkes' office telling us he would be in with us shortly. I stood with Sherlock, one hand wrapped around his arm and the other hand resting on my other arm so I was effectively hugging his arm. I rested my head against his shoulder as he stood stiffly for a moment and then relaxed. I was thankful that he was letting me rest against him for a moment. I was tired, the nightmares had come back the night before with a new vengeance. I lifted my head from Sherlock's arm as a man walked into the office and grinned at Sherlock. I drew my arm away from Sherlock and stepped back a bit, giving him some space.
"Sherlock Holmes," The man greeted and I saw the tight look on Sherlock's face. They hadn't seen each other in a long time, but by choice. There was some bad blood between the two men. They weren't friends, in fact far from it, but Sherlock had still come to help him. Most likely because he tried more than he let on to make people like him.
"Sebastian," Sherlock greeted him in kind as they shook hands, Sebastian clasping Sherlock's in both of his own. I narrowed my eyes at Sebastian and tilted my head to the side. I decided that I didn't like him. I always just knew when I met a person if I would like them or not. I was not getting any good vibes from Sebastian and I could pick up on the tension between the two men. Besides, I had a feeling he was using Sherlock.
"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian asked as Sherlock looked back at him with only marginally disguised dislike. So I had been right. Sherlock didn't like him much himself. Sebastian turned to look at John and I next and I straightened up, staring at him from under my red curls, my eyes still partially narrowed. He looked me over in that way that most men seemed to upon meeting me that made me feel like I was just a piece of meat. It was why I rather liked Sherlock and John, neither of them did that. Both were actually gentlemen.
"These are my friends," Sherlock said stressing the word friends. "John Watson," He introduced John before turning to me. I give him a pointed look and he nodded slightly before introducing me. "And Alexandria MacKenna," He finished and I nodded slightly at him in thanks at having introduced me as Alexandria rather than Lexi. I would not be letting Sebastian call me Lexi ever.
"Friends?" Sebastian asked latching on to the emphasised word. I could already feel my blood boiling. This man was a world class arse if there ever was one. The more he talked the more he was pissing me off.
I had met plenty of people like him before who thought they could use me for what I could do and I could tell that Sebastian was doing the same thing to Sherlock. He didn't like Sherlock, in fact he despised him and probably hated him, but he was willing to use Sherlock for his own benefit. And Sherlock would help him, because as much as he hated Sebastian too, there was a part of Sherlock that wanted to be liked and accepted by others. I knew that feeling all too well. There came a time that you were willing to put up with people just because you didn't want to be alone. I had my own Sebastian in Uni, Victoria Conner. She was a right piece of work but I put up with her insults and attitude because I was desperate for a friend. Then I met Mary who stood up for me. Apparently no one ever stood up for Sherlock. Well, now someone would and that person would be me. I was a lot stronger than I was when I was younger.
"Colleagues," John corrected and I snapped my head around at him and glared at him as I was brought back to the present. Traitor! He was lucky that I had to appear professional or else he would have already been kicked in the knee by now or maybe a spot just a bit higher. I turned back to Sebastian, my expression still slightly stormy.
"Friend," I corrected for myself, my voice having a slight bite to it and I saw Sherlock's eyes widen slightly from the corner of my eye. "Best friends actually," I added more calmly as Sebastian eyed me oddly before looking me over. I saw him look over at Sherlock and raise his eyebrows. I looked over at Sherlock myself and grinned at him giving Sebastian something else to contemplate as I took Sherlock's hand in mine again and squeezed it reassuringly. He squeezed my hand back slightly and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly. That was enough for me for now.
"Right." Sebastian said as he and John shook hands, Sebastian eyeing John curiously as well. "Right," He said again before he threw a brief look at Sherlock as if he was saying 'Didn't think you had a friend!' He grinned unpleasantly before he scratched his neck momentarily. Sherlock and I both looked at his wristwatch before sharing a look. As Sebastian turned away, John pursed his lips as if he had taken an instant dislike to the man as I had or was regretting correcting Sherlock. He would be getting an earful about that from me later. "Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?" Sebastian asked us and Sherlock shook his head.
"No," John told him and Sebastian looked over at me. I decided to be deliberately difficult. I wasn't fake nice to anyone and I certainly wouldn't be to this prat. He was just another pompous git who thought that he was better than everyone else and I was not going to stand by and let him humiliate or otherwise degrade Sherlock in any way.
"Aon," I answered him in Gaelic and he looked at me in confusion. Sherlock smirked beside me and I couldn't help but smile a little bit myself. I knew that Sherlock knew what I meant. I had been teaching him a bit of Gaelic over the last few weeks. He now knew some basic words and I had been making him text me in Gaelic for practice. He said he wanted to learn and I was happy to oblige.
"She said no," Sherlock clarified for Sebastian and he nodded at me, still eyeing me oddly. Yes, that's right, I'm Irish. Deal with it because there are some other things you might have to deal with if not. I took out a bloody assassin, a corporate banker would be nothing compared to that. In fact, I rather thought I would like it too much.
"No?" He asked us before turning to his secretary who was waiting by the door. "We're all sorted here, thanks," He told her and as soon as she left the room Sebastian sat down at his desk. Sherlock and John both took a seat side by side on the two chairs opposite him. I was just starting to wonder where I was going to sit before Sherlock pulled me down so I was sitting on his knee. He raised one eyebrow at me as if to ask 'Problem?' and I shook my head in return as I got comfortable and leaned back against him slightly as Sebastian raised his eyebrow at the gesture.
"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot," Sherlock said as he wounded a hand around my waist, keeping me in place and at the same time holding me upright slightly as I started to sag against him. It wasn't my fault he was comfortable and very warm. He huffed behind my head, but not in irritation.
"Well, some," Sebastian told him, his eyes drifting down to the arm Sherlock had wrapped around me as if silently asking a question. Sherlock shifted a little under his gaze and then his arm tightened around me slightly. I had no clue what was going on but I knew something had just passed between the two men.
"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" Sherlock asked him and John frowned in confusion beside us but Sebastian just laughed and pointed at Sherlock. I growled under my breath and Sherlock shushed me slightly from behind my ear. I narrowed my eyes at Sebastian as Sherlock brought his other hand up and started absentmindedly playing with the ends of my hair.
"Right. You're doing that thing," Sebastian said as he looked over at John. "We were at Uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do," Sebastian told John and I felt the blood boiling under my skin.
"It's not a trick," Sherlock and I said in unison. Sherlock said it softly but I growled lowly again as we were both ignored and Sebastian steamrolled on. Sherlock reached for my hand and rubbed circles on the back of it as I glared daggers at him wondering if I could jump the desk before John or Sherlock could haul me back.
"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story," Sebastian said as Sherlock's grip tightened on me as if he was fully aware of the thoughts I was having.
"Yes, I've seen him do it," John told him uncomfortably.
"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him," Sebastian said and Sherlock turned his head way and looked down. I saw his face momentarily filling with pain before he composed his expression and turned back. I gripped the hand that was around my waist tightly and rubbed over his knuckles with my thumb and he held me a little closer to him. "You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."
"I simply observed," Sherlock told him quietly as he started playing with my hair again.
"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell?" Sebastian asked him. Sherlock opened his mouth to answer him but Sebastian kept on speaking. "You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan," Sebastian said smugly as John smiled slightly. This time I did kick him. He had the decency to wince and I saw his eyes watering in pain as he attempted to school his face and not show any pain. Good.
"No, I ...," Sherlock tried but Sebastian just talked right over him.
"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!" Sebastian said and by this point I had heard enough. I forced my way to standing and glared at Sebastian who was looking at me in amusement.
"As Sherlock said he simply observed. The same way I observed you in fact. You and Sherlock went to Uni together. You aren't friends, no, more like you bullied Sherlock because he was different and cleverer than you were. You can barely stand to be in the same room as one another, but that didn't stop you from contacting him about your little "incident." Most likely a break in since you asked for discretion. So that suggests that you thought he would jump at the opportunity to help you. He didn't in fact, he can barely tolerate you as can I. Not surprising that. You've had one, no… two failed marriages. Probably because you need a serious attitude adjustment. I've known many people like you. You think you're better than everyone else and that gives you the right to push everyone else around. Well, let me tell you one thing, I'm not one to be pushed around or watch someone else get pushed around. You're lucky that I'm trying to play nicely with others today. So, no, it's not a trick what Sherlock can do, it's a gift. As for how Sherlock knew about your trips around the world, it was simple really, we were just chatting with your secretary outside. She told us," I finished, my accent a thick Irish brogue in my anger. I stood there breathing heavily before I sat back down on Sherlock's lap. I heard his breathing in my ear as I crossed my arms across my chest and Sherlock's arm tightened around me again, this time in more of a hug, silent thanks for what I had done. John frowned at me as Sebastian blinked back at me in utter surprise. Sebastian laughed nervously and Sherlock smiled back at him sort of smugly. Sebastian suddenly clapped his hands together, becoming more serious but still eyeing me hesitantly. I was still angry, but I was letting Sherlock calm me down as he rubbed circles on the back of my hand.
"Well, as you said," Sebastian said, gesturing to me while I still glared at him. He was officially on my list of people I didn't like. Once you were on that list you were not coming off of it. "We've had a bit of a break in," He continued as he got up and we followed him out of his office as he led us across the trading floor towards another door. "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 continued as I scanned the trading room floor with an inquisitive eye.
"What did they steal?" John asked him as Sherlock kept one hand on the small of my back, leading me forward and effectively keeping a hand close to me as if he was waiting for me to rush forward and jump Sebastian. I was a little bit calmer now that I had told him off properly. I still was pissed, but I had meant what I said. He was lucky I was playing nice with others today for Mycroft's sake. I wouldn't categorize myself as a violent person, but some people just needed to be bitch slapped.
"Nothing. Just left a little message," Sebastian told us as he held his security card against the reader by the door to unlock it. Hanging on the plain white wall behind the large desk was a framed painted portrait of a man in a suit, presumably the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall to the left of the portrait someone had sprayed what looked like a graffiti 'tag' in yellow paint. The tag looked vaguely like a number eight but with the top of the number left open, and above it was an almost horizontal straight line. Across the eyes of the portrait another almost horizontal straight line had been sprayed. Perhaps because of the texture of the paper or perhaps because the 'artist' over sprayed the line, the yellow paint had run trails down the painting. Sebastian led the way towards the desk and then stepped aside to allow Sherlock and me a clear view of the wall. John moved to stand on the other side of Sebastian, who looked at Sherlock expectantly as we stared in fixed concentration at the graffiti.
I moved closer to the wall and regarded it as I cocked my head to the side. I turned back to Sherlock and frowned at him. "I've seen something like this somewhere before, but I don't know where," I told Sherlock and he nodded at me. After we finished up with our investigation of the wall which included me taking a few samples of scraping of the paint for analysis back at the flat, Sebastian led us back to his office and showed us the security footage of the office from the previous night.
"Sixty seconds apart," He told us as he flicked back and forth between the still taken at 23:34:01 which showed the paint on the wall and on the portrait, and a minute earlier, 23:33:01,when the wall and portrait were still clean. "So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute."
"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked Sebastian as I cycled through the pictures one more time. Curiouser and curiouser. I knew I had seen the markings before but I could for the life of me figure out where.
"Well, that's where this gets really interesting," Sebastian told us and I shared a look with Sherlock before Sebastian led us back down to the reception area. He brought up schematics on the screen of a layout of the trading floor and its surrounding offices. Each indicated door had a light against it showing its security status. "Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."
"That door didn't open last night," I said as I looked over the layout, mapping it out inside my head. Well, that was very interesting. Apparently they could walk through walls.
"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you and your little Scottish friend…five figures," Sebastian said as he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and took out a cheque. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way."
"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian and neither does Alexandria," Sherlock told him before he walked away, pulling me with him. "Oh and she's Irish not Scottish. You would do well to remember that," Sherlock called over his shoulder as we headed back towards the lifts, ready to start doing a little investigating. As soon as the lift doors closed, Sherlock dropped my hand which he was still holding. "What you um…what you did… in the office… that was um… good," He told me, shuffling awkwardly. I reached out and slipped my hand into his and he looked down at me quickly and I watched him as he swallowed nervously. I stepped slightly closer to him and reached up on tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek before stepping back.
"I'll always have your back, Lock," I told him, giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded slightly looking forward again. We stood waiting for the lift doors to open and I smiled slightly to myself as he didn't let my hand go but rather tightened his hold around it slightly.
The lift doors opened and Sherlock led me out by the hand. We returned to Sir William's office and got Sebastian's secretary to let us in. Sherlock only dropped my hand when he need to take photographs of the graffiti on his mobile phone. Once he had taken several pictures he turned around and I could see his mind whirling as he looked to our right where the floor-to-ceiling windows showed an impressive view of the nearby Swiss Re Tower, better known as 'The Gherkin.' Sherlock frowned and looked away from the window and at me in thought for a moment before he promptly walked over to the windows and pulled up the blinds which were covering what was revealed to be a door that led out onto a small balcony. I walked over to him as he looked back at me and we raised our eyebrows at one another before he opened the door and we stepped out onto the balcony together, looking at the spectacular view over London before we looked down at the very long drop to the ground hundreds of feet below. One thing I noted was the way the building was designed. The person who got in hadn't used the door, but they had gotten in somehow. Maybe I was still in a James Bond mood, but it seemed as if a person had the right skills it would have been easy to climb from the ground onto the balcony. It would have been really risky, but the right person could have done it. They would have had to be small, strong definitely, and athletic to have been able to achieve such a feat. Sherlock looked along the balcony, obviously having the same idea I had before he bit his lip thoughtfully. He nodded once before he led me back inside, closing the door and fixing the blinds behind us.
We walked out onto the trading room floors and Sherlock let go of my hand doing the last thing I expected him to do, interpretive dance. I eyed him warily as he ducked down behind a desk and slowly raised upright, staring in concentration at the glass doorway to Sir William's office. I giggled at him and his gaze flicked to me for a second to glare at me as he huffed in annoyance before he continued staring at the doorway. I knew what he was trying to do, but there were other ways to go about it. I shrugged. What the Hell, I could live a little. Sherlock suddenly ducked sideways and hurried across the floor as I followed after him, loudly humming the Mission Impossible theme under my breath. I held my hands together like a gun and ducked around the office much to the bemusement of the traders. Sherlock continued to scamper around the floor, frequently scurrying sideways and ducking behind desks before popping up again and peering at the doorway. I hummed louder as I dropped down into a roll, popping up over a desk and pointing my fake gun around before acting like I was waving Sherlock on. I followed after him, jumping up with my back against a pillar as I loudly hummed the tune and viewed the office door. While I was doing my rather fantastic spy moves Sherlock danced around the floor again, twirling around the column I was pressed against as I waved him on. I followed him as he backed towards an office on the other side of the floor. Stopping in the doorway, he wiggled about, his eyes still fixed on Sir William's office, he turned and went into the office and headed towards the other side of the desk. I stayed in the doorway, my back pressed up against it as I held my hands up at shoulder level and looked about. I ducked into the room and rolled again, popping up behind the chair as Sherlock stood slightly behind me. He saw as I did that there was a clear view of the top of the painting and the new yellow slash across the portrait's eyes from that position. He danced sideways across the room before coming back to his previous position, confirming that this was the only place on the trading floor where the damaged portrait could be seen. I jumped to my feet as he turned and I leaned back to back with him as he finally noticed what I was doing.
"Will you stop that!?" He snapped at me as I grinned back at him with my tongue between my teeth. He huffed at me as I giggled, lowering my hands to my sides. I hadn't had that much fun in a while.
"Where would the fun be in that?" I asked him and he rolled his eyes at me. He was just jealous because I actually looked cool while doing the same thing he had. I had broken into Buckingham Palace, I knew my way around. I grinned as I thought back to my little break in. Ah, the look on Mycroft's face when he reviewed the footage and saw that I hadn't even made it on to one of the cameras. It had been absolutely priceless. Speaking of which, if I could get past Buckingham Palace's security than someone could more than well get past the security at this bank. With the right skills and careful practice you could do almost anything.
"Will you calm your hormonal outbursts woman," Sherlock huffed as I giggled at him again. Woman, seriously. Did he think that was going to hold any weight with me? I snorted at the consulting detective before he went back to work, looking around the room for some identification. He eventually walked past me to the door where two signs were attached outside. One showed that this was the office of the Hong Kong Desk Head and the sign above that gave the name of that person, an Edward Van Coon. Sherlock slid the top sign out of its holder and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him as he headed off. We took the stairs back to reception this time and I smiled to myself as Sherlock still bristled with annoyance. We met back up with John who was waiting for us back at reception.
"There you two are!" John said as soon as he saw us, coming over to join us. His eyes trailed down to our intertwined hands and he raised one eyebrow at me. I shrugged back at him before smiling as Sherlock seemed to forget his irritation with me as he rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. I knew I was too adorable to stay mad at for long. It's why Mycroft had such a hard time. Sherlock led us back towards the lifts and we road it down to the first floor, Sherlock still having not let go of my hand. "Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; Lexi said that just to irritate him," John said and Sherlock smirked at me but didn't respond. "How did you two know?" John asked, knowing already that I had seen the same thing Sherlock had.
"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock asked John and I grinned at the detective. That was where I had figured it out too. That and he had a slight tan line. It wasn't noticeable, but the skin on his arms and face were darker than the skin on the rest of his arm which meant he had gone somewhere a lot sunnier than England and had gotten a tan, but only on the areas where he wasn't wearing his suit. It was mid-March now and the weather was cold and mostly overcast and rainy. Sherlock, John, and I had met in the middle of February, just after my thirty- first birthday so Sebastian had done a bit of traveling abroad.
"His watch?" John asked Sherlock in confusion and I nodded at him in confirmation.
"The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it," Sherlock answered him as he let go of my hand and absentmindedly started playing with my hair again. He seemed fascinated with the way my hair curled naturally in lose waves and he kept pulling on them lightly before letting them bounce back. I don't know why, but I let him do it. It wasn't bothering me so I felt no need to stop him from doing so.
"Within a month? How'd you get that part?" John asked Sherlock who gestured for me to take up that explanation.
"His watch was a new Breitling. They only came out this February. I got one for Mycroft to make up for a little trouble I caused him around my birthday," I explained to John and he nodded at me.
"Okay. So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?" John asked us and I shook my head slightly causing Sherlock to pull on my curl slightly. I giggled and this time I slapped his hand away. He bit his lip and looked away from me but I slid my hand in his to let him know it was okay. I was starting to understand that Sherlock often thought he was doing something wrong which was why he closed himself off. Sometimes it was easier not to try when you thought someone wouldn't receive your affections. I still was of the mind that Sherlock actually craved human contact and affection but often starved himself of both, shutting himself off from all of that. It was why I tried harder with him than with John. I knew what it was like to shut yourself off from everyone, to give up trying. Recently I had discovered that I enjoyed being closer to Sherlock. We had moved from sitting in our chairs to sitting on the couch together. There was a change between us and I knew it wasn't just on my end. Since our last case…Sherlock was more open with me. He was still closed off for the most part from John and still snapped at him on occasion, but he had been almost lighter with me. He laughed, he smiled more, and I enjoyed the time I spent with him after John went to bed.
"Got everything we need to know already, thanks," Sherlock told John who hummed in confusion. "That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and ..." Sherlock said deliberately trailing off as he allowed me to finish his sentence.
"... they'll lead us to the person who sent it," I finished for him with a grin. That was the whole point of the message. So, Van Coon had to have understood what the symbols meant. They were definitely symbols. He worked the Hong Kong accounts that meant that they probably had something to do with China. A brief inkling of a case I had worked for Mycroft came to mind, something that had to do with China but right now my brain wasn't working properly. This is why I didn't even use nicotine. I really hated not being able to think straight. Sometimes I drank when I needed to calm my brain down but that was voluntary. I was now forced to think slower because of some bloody assassin who thought he would welcome us to the flat with a sword. I could now understand why John had been so exasperated by Sherlock and I having a sword fight in the middle of the living room. You could bet that I was going to make sure that Mycroft took care of our little friend and the fact that we were not interested in taking the case. He had cut my bloody hair for crying out loud! I knew I should be more upset about my arm which he had almost hacked off, but my arm would heal more quickly than my hair would grow back. I know, I know, priorities.
"Obvious," Sherlock said and I nudged him in the ribs playfully. I winced as my stiches pulled again. The rolling hadn't helped much either. My arm was throbbing painfully and the cut was burning again. Sherlock's brow furrowed as he silently looked over me, assessing me. He squeezed my hand comfortingly and I squeezed back as I closed my eyes tightly and took a calm breath before opening my eyes.
"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John asked us and Sherlock and I looked at each other before looking back at John.
"Pillars," We told him in unison.
"What?" John asked us in confusion. Sherlock sighed and I nudged him in the ribs again to make him play nice. It wasn't John's fault that he didn't understand.
"Pillars and the screens. 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 explained to him before he looked over at me and raised an eyebrow silently asking me, 'Is that nice enough for you?' I smiled at him and nodded.
"Does it?" John asked us as we stepped off the escalator and crossed the foyer, steeping out of the bank through the revolving doors and out onto the street.
"Traders come to work at all hours John. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight," I explained as Sherlock held up the name card to show John. "I'd wager there aren't many Van Coons in the phonebook. He was head of the Hong Kong Department," I finished as Sherlock looked down the street. He spotted what we needed immediately and held his hand out as he stepped closer to the curb.
"Taxi!" He called out loudly and the black cab slowed down as it pulled up to the curb. Sherlock opened the back door and held it open for me letting me slid in first. I got into the back of the cab and Sherlock slid in beside me, drawing me to his side as he put an arm around my shoulders. John slid in next and shut the door, eyeing us with a raised eyebrow at our current position. The way Sherlock had us sitting meant that my bad arm was cradled up against him and he was holding me in a manner that meant if the cab hit a pothole I wouldn't be jarred too badly. He knew my arm was hurting me so he was making sure that my arm was against him rather than sitting me between John and himself where it was more likely that John could bump into my arm as he didn't know I was injured. "Can you search for Vann Coon's address?" Sherlock asked me as I pulled out my phone.
"Already on it," I told him as I quickly brought up my little piece of tech and pulled up a search on Van Coons' address. There weren't many Van Coons and I quickly found what I was looking for and gave the address to the cabbie who pulled out onto the street. We rode in silence and Sherlock played with my hand in his as we drove. I nestled my head into the crook of his neck and sighed sleepily. I registered Sherlock's low baritone voice which rumbled by my ear as I drifted in and out of sleep until the cab pulled up in front of a block of flats. Sherlock nudged me awake and I raised my head and blinked sleepily as John got out of the cab and Sherlock paid the cabbie. He slid out next and reached in a hand, helping me out before he closed the door behind me. We walked over to the door of the flats and Sherlock pressed the door buzzer marked 'Van Coon'. He released the button and looked into the security camera above the buzzers and waited for a couple of seconds before he pressed the buzzer again. Once again there was no response.
"So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John asked us as Sherlock and I looked over the number of buzzers on the wall. Sherlock stepped back and looked up the front of the building and I joined him, calculating the layout of the flats inside. Sherlock stepped back over to the wall leading me with him as he looked at John triumphantly.
"Just moved in," He said and I grinned already knowing where he was going with this. More adventure. This was my lucky day.
"What?" John asked us, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what Sherlock was talking about. I laughed and patted his arm.
"He means the floor above. The label is new," I explained to John as I pointed to the buzzer in question which had a handwritten label saying, 'Wintle' in distinctively female handwriting.
"Could have just replaced it," John commented as Sherlock pressed the buzzer and then looked at John.
"No-one ever does that," Sherlock said as a woman's voice came over the intercom. Sherlock pulled me flush against his side and it took me a second to right myself. I brushed my coat down and shook my head at the consulting detective. I knew what he was doing but a little warning might have been nice.
"Hello?" The woman, presumably Ms. Wintle asked. Sherlock turned to the camera and smiled at the same time I did, leaning my head slightly against his shoulder so that my face would be in full view too.
"Hi! Um, we live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met," Sherlock said as he grinned into the camera and took my hand in his, holding it up against his chest.
"No, well, uh, I've just moved in," Ms. Wintle said and Sherlock turned slightly to throw a brief 'told you so' look at John before he turned back to the camera.
"My husband locked our keys in our flat," I said patting Sherlock on the chest lightly as I grimaced, Sherlock biting his lip plaintively.
"D'you want me to buzz you in?" Ms. Wintle asked us and I smiled in fake relief into the camera.
"Oh, could you?" I asked her and I looked up at Sherlock. "And can we use your balcony?" He added and I grinned at him slightly.
"What?" Ms. Wintle asked us and I turned back to the camera to explain to her.
"We left the balcony door unlocked. He just wants to use yours to pop down onto our balcony. It's just beneath yours," I told her shaking my head and rolling my eyes as if I seriously disapproved of this idea.
"Alright then," Ms. Wintle said as she buzzed us in. Sherlock and I held hands as we walked inside the block of flats and headed upstairs to Ms. Wintle's flat. We left John on Van Coons' floor as we took the lift up one more floor and walked over to flat fifteen and knocked on the door. Ms. Wintle answered it a moment later and let us inside as we acted like the married couple again. "Are you sure you want to use the balcony. It's not exactly safe is it?" Ms. Wintle asked us as she led us through her flat to the door that led out onto the balcony.
"Once he gets an idea into his head I can't stop him," I laughed as Sherlock stepped out onto her balcony. "Be careful love," I called over my shoulder before looking over at Ms. Wintle who was wringing her hands nervously. "Don't worry about him. He works for Scotland Yard. He's done worse than this to catch criminals if you can believe that," I assured her to set her at ease as I looked over my shoulder to where Sherlock was now climbing over the edge of her balcony. "I'm just going to go make sure he's alright," I told her and she nodded as I stepped out onto the balcony and looked over the railing. "Hanging in there?" I asked the consulting detective who was hanging from the railing. He glared up at me before he dropped down onto the balcony outside Van Coons' flat which thankfully for him the floor below had full-width balconies as opposed to this floor which only had balconies that ran half way across.
"Are you coming?" Sherlock called up to me as I stared down at him. I looked over the edge of the building at the same time as Sherlock did so on the floor below. I wasn't afraid of heights but I wasn't sure how my arm would hold out, hanging off the edge of the railing.
"I'm fine up here, thank you," I told the consulting detective who sighed in frustration as he looked up at me the hint of a smirk playing around his lips.
"Get down here woman," He told me and I shook my head as I leaned my head against my arm. "I'll catch you if that's what you're afraid of," Sherlock added and I sighed as I took a slight step back.
"Fine, you talked me into it," I told him as I put my foot up on the railing and climbed over it. I saluted Ms. Wintle who was watching me from the door way before I climbed so I was hanging in the air. As soon as I felt my stitches starting to pull I let go of the railing. I fell for a few seconds before Sherlock caught me and righted me, setting me down on my feet. I became aware of just how close I was standing to him as I looked up and was met with his beautiful azure eyes that reminded me of the crab nebula. I cleared my throat and took a step away from him, brushing off the awkward moment as I stepped over to the door that led into the flat from the balcony and turned it. Of course it was open. "They always leave them unlocked," I tutted as I breezed into the flat. Sherlock followed me into the very elegantly decorated living room. This was clearly the flat of a wealthy man, with white leather furniture, shiny black tables, and minimal clutter. Sherlock and I scanned the room as we walked through it. I glanced at the pile of books on a table as Sherlock and I walked through the kitchen. I looked over the work surface which was spotless and looked like it had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. Sherlock opened the fridge behind me and I turned to find that it was full of nothing other than bottles of champagne, expensive champagne at that. "Care for some bubbly?" I asked Sherlock with a grin as I walked past him.
The front door to the flat buzzed as I walked out of the kitchen. "Sherlock, Lexi," John called from the other side of the hall as Sherlock followed me into the hall. "Sherlock, Lexi, are you okay?" John asked us as Sherlock opened the door to the small bathroom and glanced inside. I poked my head around him and took inventory of the few items on the shelf opposite. Sherlock shut the door and I rolled me eyes as he walked to the larger door which was closed, finding it locked. "Yeah, any time you feel like letting me in," John said tetchily from the other side of the door. Sherlock turned side-on and shoulder-charged the door. It did absolutely nothing.
"Let a professional do that," I told him and he stepped away from the door and looked at me despairingly.
"By all means," He told me sarcastically and I shrugged at him before brushing past him. I eyed the door for a moment and Sherlock smirked, moving forward to take over again. I held up my hand, making final calculations as to where the weakest part of the door was before I took a few steps back and then rushed at the door, kicking it in the weakest part of the wood. The door burst open and banged against the walls as I looked back at the consulting detective and took a little bow.
"I'll be here all week," I told him with a grin as he rolled his eyes at me and brushed past me into the room. I followed him inside and we both suddenly stopped dead in our tracks as we looked over to the bed and found a man in a suit and overcoat lying on his back on the bed quite clearly dead. There was a pistol on the floor and there was a small bullet hole in his right temple. I looked over at Sherlock and shook my head in exasperation. "Well fuck," I said and Sherlock and I shared a look as he gave me a disapproving look. There went our lead. "Don't judge me with your judgy eyes," I told Sherlock, poking him in the chest as Sherlock pulled out his phone to call Lestrade.
"Don't touch anything," Sherlock told me as I moved around the room as he lifted his phone to his ear. I looked over at him despairingly.
"I know how not to contaminate a crime scene Sher. What do you think I was doing before you came along?" I asked him, snorting as I pulled out a hair elastic and tied my hair back so I wouldn't get my very noticeable red hair around the crime scene. Wouldn't do to be mistaken as the killer.
"Writing terribly dull fiction," Sherlock said and I rolled my eyes at him as I moved around the room. "Lestrade, I need you to come down to an Edward Van Coon's flat. He's dead," Sherlock said as Lestrade presumably answered the phone before he gave over the address. I made one final sweep around the room before I walked back into the hall and over to the door, behind of which I could hear John loudly cursing both our names. I opened the door and peeked out at the army doctor who looked up, his arms crossed.
"Whatever you're selling we're not buying," I told him, reciting Jack Harkness' line. John pushed off of the wall and walked over to me not at all amused. Some people just couldn't take a joke.
"About time," John snapped as I opened the door wider and let him inside the flat.
"Sorry, but we were a bit preoccupied. There's a body in the bedroom," I told John who immediately looked around and as if he was waiting for some gun or knife wielding assassin to jump out of a closet and try and murder us. That would be rather interesting however. I could go for round two with an assassin.
"A body?" John asked me in shock and I grinned as Sherlock joined us. He huffed at me as he walked into the hallway and I grinned back at him.
"Yup. Van Coon," I said as I skipped over to Sherlock. "The very best sort of case, the case of the unexpected death," I told John as Sherlock looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. "I'm high on meds, go with it," I whispered to Sherlock as I turned back to John. "Sherlock called Lestrade already so just don't touch anything until he gets here," I told John.
"Are you alright?" John asked me eyeing me oddly as Sherlock scanned me from head to toe. I bobbed my head quickly. I felt wonderful. The tiredness had worn off and now I felt completely energized. I could run a marathon. Plus, now we had a murder to investigate which meant that there was finally something fun to do. As Sherlock said, it was Christmas!
"She's experiencing a hormone imbalance," Sherlock said and John eyed me wearily. For a doctor, John didn't like to discuss anything that went on with women like that. Just him knowing I had gotten my period was enough to make him uncomfortable. Sherlock on the other hand was very clinical about it, though I had convinced him to get me a bowl of ice cream when I didn't want to move off of the couch during a period of bad cramps. How Sherlock knew before I did I will never know, but he had decided to run an experiment to see what helped with cramps the most. Some of the methods actually worked like lying on your stomach instead of curling into a ball and dying.
"Sure, blame it on that. Typical male," I sniffed as I turned around and walked back through the living room, deciding to make a few deductions before Anderson got here and pissed me off. "I am but that is completely beside the point!" I called back to the boys who were whispering in the hallway together. I looked over the flat and blinked as I made some deductions. "Oh," I said aloud as my eyes widened. Well that was interesting.
"Oh what?" Sherlock asked me as he walked inside the living room behind me followed by John both men looking slightly frightened as if they were waiting for me to go completely mental. I nodded my head as I looked around the flat, gesturing for Sherlock to take a look. He scanned the room and looked back at me, his eyes lighting hum as he caught on. "Oh," He said his eyebrows raising.
"What?" John asked us and I looked over at him with a grin before looking back at Sherlock and sharing a look with him. Things had just gotten even more interesting.
"Van Coon, he was murdered and it was made to look like suicide," I told John before Sherlock and I looked at each other and I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. "The game is on!" We said in unison before we both turned around and headed back towards the bedroom. Two words, that summed up everything so far, well fuck.