Chapter 3
"You still haven't told me where we're going," John grumbled as we squeezed into a cab together. "And I think I have a right to know, seeing as you two are the only one's who actually possess that knowledge. So come on, give it up. Where are we headed?"
"The bank John," Sherlock said. He started out the window in intently, avoiding my gaze for the first time since I had arrived. "I have some business to attend to."
"Yeah, that reminds me. I need to get a job." The taxi trundled along the narrow London streets, traversing the intricate maze of stop lights, buses, pedestrians, zebra crossings, and other such obstacles as we made our way to the bank.
"Dull," Sherlock commented. It might have just been my imagination, but I felt like he was actively ignoring me as if I was a petulant child who had scattered his eyeballs and tissue samples across their flat in defiance. Suddenly I felt an insatiable urge to do just that and rise to his puerile expectations.
But for once I agreed with him. John's idea of a normal job was dull. If Sherlock Holmes was your flatmate, albeit a complete and total arse with a total lack of respect for your wishes, you don't go out and get a job. You mess with his head. Like I was just about to do.
"Oh no John. A job's no good." I shook my head severely. "You'll end up falling asleep on shift or flirting with the closest female on hand. Completely mundane. Besides," I glanced at him with my eyebrows raised. "Any job you apply for you'll most likely and up being over qualified." I finished off with a sweet smile. This may not annoy
Sherlock now, but it might just do the trick later.
I could practically feel Sherlock rolling his eyes at me.
John scratched his head. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name. What was it again?"
I held out my hand. "Helen Richardson. Nice to meet you John Watson."
He extended his hand and shook mine. "Yes, Helen. Sorry, my memory isn't the best. Well Helen, will you allow me to prove you wrong?" He seemed quite keen on doing so. I figured I'd humour him.
"Since you are asking my permission, I see no reason not to allow you. However in the future, you could prove me wrong on your own terms. No need to seek my blessing. We're all adults here who are perfectly capable of making their own decisions." I couldn't just tease Sherlock. That would be unfair. Not to mention make him feel special, which would countermand all the hard work I'd done thus far to bring
him down the ladder.
"Yeah, sounds good." From then on he was wary of me, not sure what to say. "I suppose it was a pleasure being introduced properly for the first time."
"Yes, that was rather refreshing," I said pointedly. "Such a nice change of pace. The day had been more then a bit trying on my patience, and some common human decency was quite in order I reckon." From then on the cab was silent as I grinned to myself, wedged awkwardly between the two men. I resolved to stay silent until
Sherlock deducted something amazing so he could be all good and smug for me to pester again.
We pulled up in front of a tall office building with flawless clear windows and a revolving door. "Yes, when you said we were going to the bank," John's sentence trailed off just before the escalator. We rode it up as Sherlock led us to a front desk and gave his name. In minutes we found ourselves up many stories and waiting momentarily in a spacious office.
"Sherlock Holmes," a business man said, walking in and immediately
shaking Sherlock's hand.
"Sebastian," he responded.
"How are you buddy? How long has it been, eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" His eyes were warm, but the smile didn't reach them completely. He reminded me of a crow. A crow in a suit and tie.
"This is my friend, John Watson." Sherlock tiled his head in John's direction. "And an acquaintance, Helen Richardson." His face bore traces of a half concealed sneer. God almighty he would pay for that.
"Friend," Sebastian said with thinly veiled doubt.
"Colleague," John quickly corrected him. They shook hands.
"And an acquaintance," he said in surprise. "Never thought you would have a woman in your acquaintance, eh Sherlock?" He laughed awkwardly. No, it was worse than awkward. Awkward implies both parties feel a mutual sensation of awkwardness. This was different. It was like Sebastian didn't notice he was being weird. He was just plain creepy.
"Actually I'm his prisoner. The mere mention of Sherlock's name causes every woman in a ten kilometer radius to run screaming bloody murder. I'm just here because he gets lonely sometimes." Now Sebastian felt the awkwardness. I felt it too, but it was different for me because I willfully caused its existence.
"Right," he said, scratching his ear. I effectively tuned out the rest of the conversation because every time I looked at Sebastian I felt a profound and unorthodox craving to douse him in a rainfall of incredibly rotten eggs. It was the laugh that did it. All nasily and condescending. God what I would give for a cricket bat.
I followed the group out of his office and decided to annoy Sherlock again by beating him to his own conclusion. All three men were dutifully ignoring me so I skipped away and hung around by the Hong Kong office, blending in surprisingly well with the office ladies in my classy attire. My mind pondered over the curious length and detail to which my dream was lasting. Usually I didn't dream at all, and when I did they were often short and simplistic. If I did have a dream that seemed to last longer then the others, it was generally a nightmare. A part of me began to freak out a little, and I started craving a cigarette.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock said, acknowledging me for the first time since the introductions. He had finally made his way through the cubicles over to the office,
"You seemed busy, so I thought I'd find a place to hang out. Amuse myself. You did say you liked silence, right?" I had to suppress a giggle setting his face contort into a look of contempt. "I'm sorry, did I do something to upset you?"
He ignored me and examined the view from the office, taking a slip of paper from the door. I followed him as he reunited with John and we prepared to leave. After exiting the elevator John took the opportunity to question Sherlock about how he knew his creep of an old 'friend' had been around the world twice in a month. I only tuned back in after he described his findings at the office. We were already outside before I really started playing attention.
"Not many Van Coon's in the phone book. Taxi!" We clambered inside another cab and headed off to find this Coon fellow. There was more silence while I was again smashed between the two of them. I started thinking what I would need of this dream continued, and the first thing that occurred was a place too sleep. I highly doubted that I would magically find a place in a dream as realistic as this.
"Hey Sherlock," I said, pulling him out of his reverie. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "I've got this really great idea." Instead of listening, he turned his head to face the window once more. "Fine, don't look at me. Eye contact isn't necessary for auditory function, and I highly doubt you can block out everything I say. Here it goes." I took a deep breath. This was a bit of a gamble on my part. "I bet that when we get to this guy's place, he'll be dead. What say you?"
No answer.
"If you're wondering why, I think he'll be dead because the message in the office was a warning to him." No response. "He didn't report it, if you are indeed correct in assuming the message was intended for him. If it was innocuous, then he would have probably told his employers why it was most likely there and received no reprimand."
Still no answer. "Since he did not do that, it's reasonable to assume that he didn't because the message frightened him somehow." He turned his head ever do slightly towards me. "So I think it was a definite threat and who ever it was killed him."
"While the reasoning behind your assumption is inspiring, the conclusion leaves much to be desired." Finally, he speaks! Even if it was to compliment/insult me, at least he recognized my presence.
"I bet you he's dead," I insisted.
"How unfortunate for you that I am not privy to gambling," he said contemptuously. "Such pursuits are a waste of my time and energy."
"How about I sweeten the deal?" I proposed. No answer. "If I'm right then you guys let me crash at your flat for the night." He scoffed at me instantly. "Just listen to the rest, idiot. If I'm right I crash with you, but if I'm wrong then I will answer any one question of your choosing with absolute honesty." I let him stew it over for a moment. "What do you think?"
He didn't answer for a moment, but I could tell it wasn't out of a desire to ignore me. He was mulling it over. Letting the full impact of my words bounce around his synapses for a moment. I could almost hear his response formulating in his head.
"Five questions," he said in counter proposal.
"Hey now, I said one question."
He turned to look at dead on. "And I said five questions. I believe this is what they call a compromise." His eyes flashed with hunger for the knowledge he thought I possessed.
"Make it three questions and we have a deal." I narrowed my eyes at him, not willing to budge any further then that. I knew that I was going to win anyway, but this wasn't about the game. This was about principal. No matter what I was standing on my ground. I want about to kneel on it.
"Done," he said, holding out his hand. I shook it, and he took the opportunity to grip it as tightly as possible.
"Geez, assert your manhood by squeezing my hand like a python. It won't bother me one little bit." I heard a faint clicks, then a succession of smaller clicks following it. My eyes became devoid of any feeling save insurmountable hatred for this man. "You didn't dare," I seethed.
"Oh but I did," he said, responding with a similar stare. His face was inches from mine. "Rest assured, you will be answering those questions. Once you lose, you will not be able to escape." He held the key aloft and stuffed it in a pocket in his jacket.
"Since when do you have handcuffs at the ready Mr. Holmes? I was under the impression that your expertise in that area was sorely lacking, or am I mistaken?" The ways I would revenge myself upon him were going to be great and varied indeed. Oh the humiliations I would make him suffer...
"I can't possibly understand your meaning," he replied.
Playing innocent. Doesn't take much to piss me off, but I'd been holding back lately and been such a good girl, it was time for me to put my trouble pants on.
"You listen to me Sherlock Holmes," I spat at him. "You are above pretending to be more ignorant then you already are, so don't test me because if you do, I promise I will fail spectacularly. And that is a sight that you very much don't wish to see."
He leaned back and didn't respond, focusing his eyes away from me in that maddening aura of indifference.
"John, you will be witness to this," I said, turning my head in his direction. "John?"
He did a double take and looked at me. "Sorry, have I missed something? What did you say?"
I nearly screamed as Sherlock laughed at my expense.
Hey guys! Don't hate me, okay? I just... the story needed... I wanted there to be handcuffs, okay? I COULDN'T BLOODY HEEEELP MEEESEEELF! The whole scenario just screamed for them. Literally screamed, the metal clicks kept going off in my head. Don't worry though, if you think this is some precursor to them doing it, that is not what is going to happen. The handcuffs won't be staying long. It'll be like Matt Smith and the fez, they will disappear very soon (I hope). Unless you guys want them to stay. Which is cool, you know. Anyway, your reviews are awesome and keep me motivated, so thank you for that! Stay cool and stay safe guys.
This quick update is for the EIGHT (!) BEAUTIFUL emails that graced my inbox since last we met. That and for some reason inspiration for this story is tantamount to the amount of garbage in the Thames River. Okay, bad analogy, but good intentions.
If you liked this and want to see more, drop me a review. If you do drop me a review and/or save this story to your alerts and/or favorites, that will make me even happier and more likely to write the next chapter. If you feel like I'm taking to long to update this story, then feel free to friend me on facebook and bug me about it there. The link is in my profile.