A few minutes after leaving Baker St, Sherlock was walking through the revolving glass doors of Shad Sanderson Bank, followed by Max and John.

Max took a few seconds to look around the grand foyer. The theme of the entire building seemed to be glass, even the walls, and the ceiling stretched up as far as the eye could see. Professionally dressed people were walking in and out of the building, enough for the building to be considered busy but not crowded yet.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank..." John trailed off, unable to form words.

Sherlock headed towards the escalators, and Max and John hurried behind him. He glanced around the foyer as the escalator ascended: not for the sake of scenery, but to note the locations of the cameras and the security system.

They reached the top of the escalator, and Max saw that there was a large reception desk with countless receptionists stationed at even intervals. Sherlock walked straight up to the one in the center, not showing any sign of uncertainty.

"Sherlock Holmes," he announced.

000

Apparently the name Sherlock Holmes carried some weight at Shad Sanderson Bank, even though Max was pretty sure that Sherlock didn't even have an account here, because the three of them had been rushed into the boss's office. They were currently standing together in a corner of the office and waiting for the boss to join them. Max wasn't sure if they were allowed to sit down or take some of the chocolate truffles on the desk, and it didn't seem like John did either. Sherlock just looked bored.

Suddenly, the door to the office opened, and a man in a business suit walked in with a smile on his face. "Sherlock Holmes!" he greeted enthusiastically.

Sherlock nodded to him, his face expressionless. "Sebastian," he replied.

They shook hands, with Sebastian clasping Sherlock's extended hand with both of his own. "Howdy, buddy," he said. "How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"

Sherlock didn't reply, his stony expression staying the same. From the tense set of his shoulders, it was fairly obvious that he and Sebastian hadn't gotten along well in the past. She could practically feel the distaste radiating from him.

"This is my friend, John Watson," Sherlock told him. His tone made the hidden message clear: see, I can make friends too.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Friend?" he repeated.

John grimaced. "Colleague," he corrected.

Max resisted the urge to punch him.

Sebastian nodded as he shook John's hand. "Right," he agreed. He glanced at Sherlock, his expression smug for a second. You still don't have any friends, he seemed to say.

It took half a second for Sherlock to gather himself. "And this is his friend, Maxine Arthur," he continued.

Sebastian extended a hand to Max. "Hello," Sebastian said.

"Hi," Max stated flatly. She didn't offer a handshake; she had only known Sherlock Holmes for a little more than an hour, but something about the way Sebastian treated him pissed her off. So no, she wasn't going to shake his hand.

There was an awkward silence in which Sebastian momentarily rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, grab a pew," Sebastian finally said as he sat down behind the desk. Sherlock took a seat on the opposite side, followed by Max and John. "D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No," John added.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Can I have those truffles?" she asked.

Sebastian laughed. "Be my guest," he replied, pushing the bowl towards her. He nodded to his secretary, who had been standing in the doorway. "We're all sorted here, thanks."

The secretary left the room, and Sherlock nodded to Sebastian. "So, you're doing well," he commented. "You've been abroad a lot."

Sebastian shrugged. "Well, some," he agreed.

Sherlock scoffed. "Flying all the way around the world twice in a month?" he challenged.

Max and John blinked in surprise, but Sebastian just laughed. "Right, you're doing that thing," he said. He turned to the two of them. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick," Sherlock muttered halfheartedly, like he was saying it out of habit.

Sebastian ignored him and continued talking to Max and John. "He could look at you and tell you your whole life story," he told them.

John nodded. "Yes, I've seen him do it," he agreed.

Sebastian sighed. "Put the wind up everybody," he continued. "We hated him."

Next to Max, Sherlock flinched, and she glanced in his direction. For a moment, there was an expression of undisguised pain present on his features; the next second it was gone, replaced by an icy face. But Max could see through the facade; his eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle, the one that could somehow bring his whole face alive with excitement. Even though he acted like Sebastian's words didn't bother him, she knew that he was hurting inside.

Wordlessly, Max held out a truffle.

Sherlock looked at the chocolate in surprise, then his eyes met hers. She gave him a small smile and held it closer to him. He hesitated, then took the truffle from her and ate it.

Meanwhile, Sebastian had continued talking, completely unaware of the silent conversation between Max and Sherlock. "You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night," he said, amused by the memories.

Sherlock grimaced. "I simply observed," he replied.

Sebastian grinned. "Go on, enlighten me," he challenged. "Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world- you're quite right. How could you tell?" He laughed. "You're gonna tell me there was a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan." Max raised an eyebrow, not impressed and slightly more annoyed.

"No, I-" Sherlock started.

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!" he exclaimed.

"... I was just chatting with your secretary outside," Sherlock said simply. "She told me."

Max and John both looked at him in confusion, knowing that he hadn't spoken a word to the secretary, but neither of them said anything. Sebastian laughed without humor, and Sherlock smiled back just as coldly.

But then laughter slid from Sebastian's face, and he gave Sherlock a small smile that actually seemed sincere. "I'm glad you could make it over," he told him. "We've had a break-in."

000

Sebastian led them across the trading floor, weaving his way through the countless pillars, screens, and cubicles, some which were occupied and some which weren't. Max was still holding the candy bowl, eating the truffles and occasionally passing some to Sherlock and John. "Sir William's office," Sebastian said. "The bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like some sort of memorial. Someone broke in last night."

John frowned. "What did they steal?" he asked.

Sebastian turned around to lock eyes with them. "Nothing," he answered. "Just left a little message." They reached a closed door, and Sebastian let them in the room with his security card.

For the most part, it seemed like a normal office in Shad Sanderson bank: white and glassy. The only thing that stood out was the framed painting hanging on the wall, depicting a man in a suit; a neon yellow line had been spray-painted straight across his eyes, and on the wall to the left of the portrait was a squiggle in the same color. The paint had been slightly oversprayed, and it left blood-like trails down the wall.

"Oh," Max said.

Sherlock walked up to the wall, looking at the paint with a critical eye. Sebastian, Max, and John stood back, knowing full well that Sherlock could see more in that painting than they could.

"Max," Sherlock suddenly said. "Come here."

She looked up in surprise, and John had to nudge her forward. She walked up to him uncertainly. "Yeah?" she replied.

Sherlock held out a hand. "Truffle," he ordered.

Sighing, Max gave him a truffle.

000

A few minutes later, they were back in Sebastian's office. Sebastian was sitting at his desk, and the three of them were gathered around him, looking down at his computer. "Sixty seconds apart," he told them as he pulled up the security footage of Sir William's office.

Max looked at the picture curiously. For the most part, the office looked exactly like it had just a few moments ago, with just one exception: there was no paint. The time stamp read 23:33:01.

But then Sebastian went to the next image, taken at 23:34:01, and now the graffiti had been spray-painted on the painting. Nothing else in the office seemed to have been disturbed.

"That's creepy," Max declared.

Sebastian nodded. "Someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute," he summed up.

Sherlock frowned. "How many ways into that office?" he asked.

Sebastian grimaced. "Well, that's where this gets really interesting," he said.

He led them back to the reception area with the large reception desk, but this time they were behind the desk. He led them to a computer, where he pulled up the layout of the trading floor and the surrounding offices. Each door was colored, indicating the security status.

Sebastian turned to them. "Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here," he told them. "Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

Sherlock nodded. "That door didn't open last night," he agreed.

Sebastian grimaced. "There's a hole in our security," he said. "Find it and we'll pay you- five figures." He reached into his suit and pulled out a check. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, and there's a bigger one on its way."

But Sherlock just looked at him coldly. "I don't need an incentive, Sebastian," he told him. With that, he turned and walked away, his coat flaring out behind him.

Sebastian, Max, and John stood there in silence for a second, but then John cleared his throat awkwardly. "He's... uh... he's kidding you, obviously," he said. He held out his hand for the check. "Sh-shall I look after that for him?"

Max bit back a groan.

But Sebastian simply gave John the check. "Thanks," John told him. Sebastian walked off, presumably back to his office, leaving Max and John alone.

When he had turned the corner, Max turned to John and slapped him on the arm. "Hey!" John protested.

She glared at him. "What was that about?!" she exclaimed. "Sherlock said he-" But then she saw the number written out on the check, and her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh. Alright then." She grinned at him. "You know that this means you're taking me to dinner one day, right?"

John rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said.

000

Sherlock, meanwhile, had returned to Sir William's office and was taking pictures of the graffiti with his phone. Once he was satisfied, he slid his phone away.

He turned away and glanced out at the floor-to-ceiling windows, where he could see the Gherkin tower outside. He walked closer to the windows and pulled the blinds up, revealing a door that led out to a small balcony.

Sherlock opened the door and stepped onto the balcony. The wind this high up was fierce, but he didn't flinch. His gaze skimmed the London skyline for a moment, and then he looked at the very long drop to the ground, hundreds of feet below. He bit his lip thoughtfully, then turned back inside...

... only to see that Max had silently joined him in the room, still holding the truffles. She was standing in front of the graffiti, brow furrowed in thought; as he watched, she reached out and ran a hand along the spray paint, touching it as a blind person would run their hands along a page of Braille. It didn't seem like she had even noticed his presence.

"It could be some sort of logo," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Sherlock joined her by the painting, looking at the graffiti again. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm a graphic designer," she answered simply. "It's my job to demonstrate an idea by using images. If there's a logo in the design, it's generally always the biggest and brightest thing, so people notice it."

Suddenly, she heard Sherlock breathe in sharply, and she turned around to see him looking at the graffiti strangely. "Sherlock?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

Sherlock turned to her, his eyes bright. "You're right," he said.

Max blinked in surprise. "It's a logo?" she replied.

He scoffed. "Of course not," he told her.

She frowned. "Then what was I right about?" she demanded.

Sherlock turned to look at the trading floor outside the doors of the office. "Art is meant to be noticed," he stated. He clapped his hands together with a grin, any sign of his previous bad mood gone. "The game is on!"

With that, he left the office.

000

"... What's he doing?"

"I don't know. He just walked out of the office and started jumping up and down."

Max and John were leaning on the wall outside of Sir William's office, watching Sherlock as he made his way through the trading floor. It looked like he was dancing through the cubicles, ducking down beneath a desk and then popping up again a moment later, constantly keeping his eyes fixed on the painting. As they watched, he ducked back down and crab-walked sideways as he hurried past some of the cubicles, passing a group of traders in the process. The traders watched him with amused expressions, and it seemed like they were resisting the urge to laugh... or call the mental asylum.

"Did you say something to him?" John persisted.

She shrugged as she ate yet another truffle. By this point, the bowl was almost empty. "We were talking about... art?" she answered. "I don't know, sometimes it's hard to tell what he's talking about."

John sighed. "That's true," he muttered. "Can I have a truffle?"

Max shot him a poisonous look. "Can't you buy your own now?" she retorted.

She gave him one anyway.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was still making his way through the trading floor in the same fashion; by this point he had reached the far end of the floor. Max sighed as he scampered around, crab-walking and popping up from behind desks and then ducking back down. Still not breaking eye contact with the painting, he twirled around a column before backing towards an office. He stopped in the doorway, then wiggled about, trying to get a different angle.

Suddenly, he paused and headed into the office. Max lost sight of him for a few seconds, but he emerged a few seconds later. He stopped in front of the door for a moment, standing in front of the name card attached to it, then turned and walked towards them normally.

"I think he's done," Max commented.

Sherlock walked by without blinking an eye, apparently unfazed by the unconventional shuffling that he had done. "Let's go," he said.

Max and John hurried after him, with Max still holding the truffles. "I should probably give this back," she sighed, "but screw it." She shoved the remaining truffles into her pockets, then left the bowl on a table.

000

In a few minutes they were heading towards the escalators, with Max and John trailing behind Sherlock. "Two trips around the world this month," John said. "You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him."

Sherlock just smiled.

John gave him a look. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock replied.

John raised an eyebrow. "His watch?" he repeated.

Max blinked. "Uh... it was from Breitling Chronometre," she reported. "Fairly new? I'm pretty sure the time was right, but-"

Sherlock nodded. "The date was wrong," he finished. "Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it."

"Ah," Max realized.

John frowned. "Within a month, though?" he insisted. "How'd you get that part?"

Sherlock glanced at Max. "Repeat what you said," he ordered.

Max started on another truffle. "I really should stop," she commented. "It was fairly new from Breitling Chronometre?"

He nodded. "Exactly," he agreed. "It only came out this February."

John still seemed a bit bewildered, but he nodded. "Okay," he said. "So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Got everything I need to know already, thanks," he replied.

John blinked. "Hmm?" he asked.

By then they reached the escalators, and they started their descent to the ground floor. "That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors," Sherlock explained. "We find the intended recipient and...?"

John nodded. "They'll lead us to the person who sent it," he finished.

Sherlock smirked. "Obvious," he said.

"Truffle, anyone?" Max interrupted.

Neither Sherlock nor John replied. Max huffed irritably and shoved one into each of their hands.

The escalator reached the ground floor, and they headed to the doors. "There's three hundred people up on the trading floor," John pointed out as he unwrapped his truffle. "Who was it meant for?"

Sherlock slipped his truffle into his pocket. "Pillars," he answered.

Max blinked. "Is that a name?" she asked.

Sherlock shook his head. "Pillars and screens," he elaborated. "Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at 11:34 last night. That tells us a lot."

John raised an eyebrow. "Does it?" he asked.

They reached the revolving doors and headed through, emerging onto the street. "Traders come to work at all hours," Sherlock said. "Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." He reached into his pocket and held up a name card reading Edward Van Coon. "Not many Van Coons in the phonebook."

Max gave him a look. "Did you take that from the door?" she challenged. Sherlock didn't reply. "Yeah, you took that from the door." She sighed. "Well, good luck."

John blinked. "You're not coming with us?" he asked.

She grimaced regretfully. "Sorry," she said. "This has been fun, but it's been two hours. I need to go home."

They stared at her in surprise, as if they hadn't realized that she would have to leave eventually. Then John smiled and gave her a hug. "It was nice to see you, Max," he told her. "Sorry we didn't get to talk much."

Max laughed. "Are you kidding me?!" she exclaimed. "This was awesome!" She pulled away and smiled. "I had a really good time."

John grinned. "Good," he said. "That's good. Y'know what, I'll call you later."

She nudged him playfully. "You'd better," she replied.

And then she turned to Sherlock, who had been standing quietly behind John. They were silent for a second, but then Max smiled at him. "It was nice meeting you, Sherlock," she said.

Sherlock nodded to her. "Likewise," he replied.

Max began to say something else, but she thought better of it. "I... I'll see you around," she told him. She smiled at John, then turned and walked away.

John watched her go, but Sherlock was already moving onto the next order of business. He stepped onto the curb and stuck his hand out into the busy street.

"Taxi!" he shouted.