Chapter 18
"I sent a couple of cars, the old hall is totally deserted," Dimmock said, us three trailing after him closely though the crowded office space. I felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if the eyes of Anderson and Donovan were watching and judging me. Not that I particularly cared. They could piss off as far as I was concerned.
An arm pulled me back as John and Sherlock went on ahead with the DI.
"Listen, I don't know who you are or what kind of thing you've got going on with Sherlock Holmes, but stay away." It was Donovan. Wonderful. That's exactly what I wanted. To see her ugly mug in my face. "He's dangerous. It's not safe to be around him."
I snorted. "Yeah, he's a consulting detective who runs around trying to solve murders for a living. I'm sure I had no idea that if I stuck around I might get shot or something. Thanks for the heads up!" I smiled sarcastically and tried to walk away, but she stopped me.
"You really don't know him," she said.
"Oh, and you claim to?" I laughed. "I am perfectly aware of everything he is capable of, and I honestly don't care what happens to me in the process. It's just a good bit of fun." I shrugged my shoulders. "These past few days have been fantastic. In the end, that's all that really matters isn't it."
"You're just the same as him," she spat at me. "Just another freak psychopath, that's what you are."
I rolled my eyes. "You know, I wonder how you think this is affecting me, because honest to god I couldn't give two shits about your opinion. In fact I think it's pretty sad that you think it necessary to say such awful things just for the purpose of making others feel inferior. What does that say about your character, hmmm?" We stared at each other for what seemed like an age when Sherlock and John came to my rescue.
"Sorry to interrupt your little pow wow Donovan, but I am in need of Helen's presence." Sherlock grabbed my hand and held it aloft. "Excuse us." He led me away from her, and I could tell he was revelling in the opportunity to be pretentious in front of her. I elbowed him and grinned.
"Thank you," I said. "I can only withstand so much insuffrability before my brain implodes." We looked like such an odd pair, as he still held my hand up as if about to twirl me in a circle. A posh life in a posh way, is superior to idiocy any day! I'm not exactly sure why I thought that. Maybe all the pretension was getting to my head. Nah, I would never sink that low. The very thought! "So, off to home then?"
"Yes," he replied. He continued to lead me away until I stopped suddenly. "What, what is it?"
My eyes looked at him, wide and waiting. "Ahem." I tugged on my hand, still clasped firmly in his. "May I have it back?" He dropped it immediately. "Thank you. Let's continue on, shall we?" We made our way back to Baker St.
"They'll be back in China by tomorrow,"John said.
"They won't leave. Not without finding what they came for. We need to find a hideout, a rendezvous. Somewhere in this message, it must tell us." Sherlock took off his coat and staff and studied the mass of papers tacked above the fireplace. The flat was a mess. Books strewn everywhere, other papers just laying about. Sherlock gathered a few materials and began reviewing them for more clues.
John looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, then went off to find something to nom on.
I thought for a moment about what was supposed to happen next. In a moment I was off, searching for the evidence bag that Dimmock brought the night that Soo Lin Yao died. A lump formed in my throat as I found it on the desk, staring at the translation she must have done whilst my back was turned. I shook my head. It was no use dwelling.
I turned to Sherlock. "Hey, you with the face." He looked at me in disdain. "Yeah, you."
"Despite the fact that your words were phrased slightly less then that which is inelegant, I'll humour you and ask what I presume what it is you want me to ask. Is there something you'd like to perhaps share with me? Has your lack of a job or any real purpose besides pestering me left you wanton?"
I laughed. "Fine then," I said, backing away from him. "Be an ass and I won't give you this." I held the bag up and waved it teasingly.
"For what reason would I possible want that?" He asked nastily.
I looked at it and made a face. I removed the picture carefully. "Well, I guess if you don't want the first two words to the cipher then I guess there's no use for this. Maybe I should just burn it and be done." I picked up a lighter. "What say you, Sherlock Holmes?" I lit it, holding the flame inches away from the paper. "Should we turn this shindig into a pyro festival?"
"Wait!" He said, getting to his feet. "Give that here."
"Ask me nicely."
"Give it here, please."
"Aww, you're so adorable when you act like a righteous dick. Tell you what. Give me your card and I'll give this to you." I waved the evidence in front of my face. "Come on big guy. If you look deep into your heart, I'm sure you'll know the right thing to."
He narrowed his eyes at me. I'm sure I was enough of a risk that he believed I might actually follow through with my threat. Carefully he moved towards John's coat and pulled out the card. "Now," he said, extending a hand. "The photograph."
"Do you honestly think I'm dumb enough to fall for that?" I tutted. "Dear me, someone thinks I'm a fool. Can't have that. John!" I called to him. He came over and appraised the situation. "I want you to take the card," I said. "And then take this." I brandished the photo. "After you've done that, hand me the card and him the paper, and we all walk away happy. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Sherlock said. "On three. One, two, three!"
Simultaneously we handed our respective objects to John, who then handed us the other object in return.
"See? That wasn't hard, now was it?" I smirked. He had already studied the photo on a matter of seconds, steadfastly ignoring me on the process.
"I've got to get back to the museum," he said, grabbing his coat and scarf. "The book must have been sitting there on the desk." Suddenly he grabbed my shoulders. "Wait, you were there. Didn't you see it happen?" He started spinning me around. "Close your eyes and visualise it. Maximise your memory."
"Sherlock, I don't remember." I knew I couldn't tell him. I didn't know how it would effect things. Trying to change the events I knew were going to occur ended miserably, and when I didn't try and change things they ended up being different. I was already tempting fate as much as I was, and I wasn't going to try and go further then that.
"Uh, useless!" Sherlock released me and ran off. "If I get the book, we'll be able to solve this case and crack the cipher!" And with that he was gone.
My head spun, and I briefly stumbled. "Man, he really has a one track mind."
"That's Sherlock," John said with a chuckle. "Do you want to order some Chinese?"
"Love to," I said. He phoned up while I laid back on the couch. "UMQRA," I said mindlessly.
"What's that?" John asked, still waiting for them to pick up.
"Absolutely nothing," I replied. I giggled on the inside. UMQRA. It really did mean nothing, but then again it did mean something. Well, it meant something later. Not now of course. We waited for a few minutes, sipping coffee as we did so. After a while there was a knock on the front door.
"Wow that was fast," he said, climbing down the steps to answer the door. I could hear the voices streaming up to where I sat patiently, my tools all in place for what was to come.
"Do you have it? Do you have the treasure?"
"I don't understand," he replied. I heard his body slump to the ground as I nervously drank, trying to stay as relaxed as possible. In moments I received yet another blow to the back of the head, and blacked out.
A dull ache persisted at the back of my neck. I groaned, opening my eyes to a dark tunnel. So far, so predictable.
"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket." I glanced to my side to see John sitting there, mouth gagged. I assumed correctly that he would be. Good. Well, not good, but it could be worse. He could be dead. A woman clad in sunglasses moved towards me, and removed her shades. "Chinese proverb, Ms. Holmes."
Success! My carefully cultivated plan had come to fruition. Once I had realised that John wasn't going to yell at Sherlock when were at Soo Lin Yao's flat, I also realised that could change things. Maybe they would actually take Sherlock instead of John if they didn't mistake one for the other. Maybe someone would die. Maybe Sherlock would die. Not that it mattered. This was a dream after all. I couldn't get hurt. But if Sherlock died, then that would mean the dream would be over, and I was having so much fun messing with him!
"I'm not Sherlock Holmes," I said calmly. From my vantage point I could see John trying to untie his bonds. Good soldier. Don't be a damsel in distress. Not that I was doing much to negate that fact myself.
"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it," she said, reaching into my coat pocket and pulling out my wad of Sherlock paraphernalia. "Debit card, name of S. Holmes." I remained as still as possible. "A cheque for five thousand pounds, made out in the name of Sherlock Holmes." I bit my lip. "Tickets from the theatre, name of Holmes."
"You don't know that these are mine. I could have just stolen his wallet." It's harder to shrug your shoulders when tied up I found. Nonetheless, I tried.
"We heard it from your own mouth."
I burst out into laughter. She was taken aback. "Oh yeah, I did do that didn't I. Oh well," I said, ire thick in my tone. "I guess you've caught me then. Woah, hey, easy there." Suddenly a very big and very real looking gun was pointed at my head.
"Do you think this is a joke?" Her voice was incredibly intimidating considering the circumstances. Not like I cared.
"A joke? Oh no." I shook my head lazily. "This is a very well thought out prank is all."
The gun pressed into my head, and its cold tip made me shudder involuntarily. "Do you know who I am?"
"I thought is was Shan, but correct me if I'm wrong."
She sneered and pressed the tip harder into my skull. "Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Ms. Holmes. She was pretty darn irritated now with my sass. "What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" I stayed silent this time as she readied the gun. My eyes met hers as we simply stared one another down, her fingering the trigger lightly and me not flinching for one second.
Click!
"It tells you they're not really trying," she said. I gave her a wry smile. "Your reputation precedes you Ms. Holmes. How did you know there would be no bullet?"
"Lucky guess," I said nonchalantly. "Three tries you wanted to kill me?" I laughed. "It was a ploy. You only wanted to pique my interest." I looked around. "Well, consider it piqued. Though I must say what you've done so far is a tad melodramatic for my taste-"
She smacked me on the mouth with the gun. "Do you have it?"
"Shit." I could taste blood pooling at the corner of my mouth. "Do I have what?"
"The treasure."
"I don't have the foggiest what you mean."
She turned away. "I would prefer to make certain." A cloth was pulled off the same deadly contraption from earlier. "Everything in the west has its price." Dear Hume, could she stop with the overzealous dramatisation! Not every utterance and movement has to possess deep connotation. This isn't a Michael Bay film for goodness sakes! "And the price for his life: information." I looked over at him, and he seemed a little nervous. They moved his chair in front of the death flyer thingie. "Where's the hairpin?"
"What?" I asked innocently.
"The empress pin. Valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the west. And then one of our people was greedy. He took it. Brought it back to London. And you, Ms. Holmes, have been searching."
I laughed again. "If you knew the mistake you were making perhaps you wouldn't be acting so high and mighty. You should really do some research Shan, before you kidnap random people who haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
"I need a volunteer from the audience," she said impetuously. Shan turned away from me. "Ah, thank you sir. Yes, you'll do very nicely." At this point John began to fidget as she stabbed the bag of sand. Hurry up Sherlock! There was nothing I could do for him in my state. "Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' handsome companion in a defying act." She placed an origami lotus in his lap. "You've seen the act before, how dull for you. You know how it ends."
"My name is not Sherlock Holmes!" I yelled. At this point my heart was beating wildly, not believing it was only a dream.
"I don't believe you," she said.
"You should you know," said a voice from behind her. Thank god. She turned around and pointed her gun at him. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like her. How would you describe me Helen? Resourceful, dynamic, enigmatic?"
"Like you're ten minutes too late, you giant twat!" Oh, my words may have been angry but his voice was a sound for sore ears.
"That's a semiautomatic. You fire it the bullet will travel over a thousand metres per second."
"Well?"
"Well," he said, taking down her body guard. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." A flame extinguished and it was harder to for Shan to see. Sherlock crept behind John and began untying him.
"Behind you!" I yelled. I sighed as the other guard began strangling him. The bag of sand was still sinking, so I tried to stand up and make my way over to the cross bow thing, but fell over in the process. If I could just nudge it...
At that moment, time stopped for just me. If I moved it, then the guard would die. If I didn't, John would die. If I moved it, then I just killed him. If I didn't move it, then I chose not to save John. I didn't want to kill him. But I needed to save John. Which was the right thing to do? Which was the moral thing to do? Which was the logical thing to do? Someone tell me, please.
Suddenly the face of Soo Lin Yao filled my head, and I remembered that this guard was Zhi Zhu. In an instant I kicked it, and the bolt was sent straight into his heart. He stumbled back then fell, dead. The lasso around Sherlock's neck loosened, and Shan ran off. He began undoing John's bindings, as I squirmed over to them.
"Well," I said. "That was fun wasn't it."
John sighed as he stood up. "Fun? I was almost killed."
"You were fine," I scolded. "If worse came to worse you could've just tipped your chair over. That would've solved the problem at hand."
We all gave each other looks, then burst out in giggles.
We made it back to the flat with no problem, just enjoying the merits of solving the case and looking forward to a good cup of coffee. Sherlock poured everyone a cup in a nice change of character for once.
"Nine million," I commented.
"Yeah, nine million for jade pin, black Dragon den tramway." John fiddled with his cup.
"An instruction to all their London operatives," Sherlock explained. "A message. What they were trying to reclaim."
"What, a jade pin?" He asked.
"A jade pin worth nine million pounds," I cut in. "Take it to the tramway, their London base of operations."
"Well hang on, a hair pin worth nine million pounds?"
"Apparently," Sherlock answered, preparing to take a sip.
"Why so much?"
"Depends who owned it," both Sherlock and I said at the same time, then took a drink from our respective mugs.
I chugged the rest of mine in a matter of seconds and put the cup down. "Well, I'll see you boys tomorrow, but for now I'm going to get some shut eye." Standing up I collected my things. "Have a good night you two," I said, giving them a wink. "If you know what I mean." John put his head in his hands as I left. It would be a nice night on the couch I guess...
"John, what did she mean?" Sherlock asked, gazing over the top of his mug intently at the door.
"It's nothing, just let it go." John finished his own coffee. "I'm gonna start writing my blog." He got up and sat in his chair with his laptop, opening it up to type.
Sherlock looked over his shoulder. "Was she implying that we weren't going to have a good night?"
"Drop it."
"She has been saying strange things lately," Sherlock mused. "What with the utter nonsense she spouted at the theatre. OTP, slash, ship, canon. Hmmm. They must have some kind of meaning specific to her. When she mentioned them it was as if she was robbed of any mental stability. Whatever their significance to her, it must be great indeed. I can't imagine being reduced to such a state."
"Sherlock, if you're curious then do a bloody web search or something, and as far as her saying strange things lately, we've only known her for a few days. We know next to nothing about her. For all we do know she could say things like that every week." John sighed. "Just let it go."
"So you think if I research those terms, I could find out their definition?"
"Were you even listening to me?" John looked at him busy on his phone. "Never mind."
"OTP," Sherlock muttered. "One true pairing? What's a pairing?" He scrolled through the results. "Related terms, shipping. Could that be what she meant?" His head moved in closer to the screen. "John, did you know that slash is a fan-term used to denote a story or piece of art containing homosexual relationships between two fictional characters?"
"Am I actually going to have this conversation with you-" He looked behind him to find Sherlock gone, and the door open. "Why do I even bother?" He grumbled.
I had just curled up on my sofa when there was a knock on my door. "What do you want Sherlock?"
"How did you know it was me?" He asked, coming in without invitation or permission.
"Yeah, because there's someone else in this flat as rude as you who'd come knocking on my door this late." I sat up and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Well? Something I can do for you, maybe a get you a piece of cheese to go with that whine?"
"What wine?"
"Never mind," I said with a sigh. "So what's up?"
"Earlier you used several terms," he said. "I've looked up their definitions and I think you may have come to a incorrect conclusion about the nature of my relationship with John." My eyes widened in fear for what I was sure was going to be an awkward conversation. "We are not, to put it simply, in a sexual relationship by any stretch of the imagination." I avoided looking at him because I knew if I did I might start laughing. "I cannot speak for John, but I know that I have never desired to have sexual relations with him." I put my hands over my mouth to stop him from seeing the smile on my face. "It's not that I find the idea of sexual interaction with him repugnant, but it is simply not what I seek out of our friendship."
"Sherlock, if you say the word sexual one more time I swear..." I nearly started laughing then, not capable to handle him saying such things in my presence. "Why do you even care that I know? It's none of my business, and I certainly don't see your rational behind why I have to know."
"Well, I don't want you getting the wrong impression." He seemed slightly offended.
"And why do you care that I have the right one?" He was being ridiculous.
"That's not the point. The point is that I am not having sexual intercourse with John."
I lost it. Why was Sherlock Holmes in my flat and talking about sex with me of all people? Why did he care? What was this? I didn't even know anymore. All I knew was that this was hilarious, and he was an idiot.
"Okay Sherlock. I believe you." I stood up, still laughing. "But it's late and I'm slap happy. Don't worry. No more misunderstandings." I gently turned him around and pushed him out. "Good night Sherlock." And with that I shoved him out. "See you tomorrow."
HERE'S YOUR CHAPTER. Longer then usual, but here. This episode is almost done! (Thank God) Soon the real fun begins. Moriarty! (cackles maniacally) Oh the things I have planned. It's devious! Diabolical! Wicked! Other synonyms for underhanded and sneaky! You guys will DESPISE me. Muahahahahaha. This is gonna be fun!
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