Firstly: OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL! SERIES THREE HAS OFFICAILLY BLOWN MY MIND! For those of you who haven't seen it, you will love it. I hope. In case I don't update again before the 19th, I hope you all enjoy The Empty Hearse. Please let me know what you thought of it. I absolutely love hearing everyone's thoughts on the episodes.
Secondly: I don't own. Only Emily. I'm sorry for any spelling/punctuation mistakes I have probably made and failed to correct.
Thirdly: For those of you wanting more Sherlock/Emily moments, there is one coming up very soon.
To say Emily was furious was an understatement. She had been left in a taxi to make sure it didn't go anywhere, while she waited for Sherlock and John to return. They had entered the building the cab was lingering outside of minutes ago, but to Emily it felt like hours. Apparently it was a bank, but that's not what it looked like from here. Tall enough that she had to crane her neck back to look to the top,(or attempt to, it was that tall) and made of what looked like glass but was probably something a lot more practical and called something Emily wouldn't have had a clue even existed if she hadn't seen this place.
She would have been a lot less furious if either of her flat mates had explained exactly what was going on. John had attempted to of course, but he had been interrupted by Sherlock informing her that John wouldn't tell her every detail, which would lead her to even more confusion and promised to tell her later. She didn't believe him for a second, he still had yet to sow her what happened to eyeballs when they were microwaved.
It didn't help that their driver, one of the more talkative types, had believed her and Sherlock to be a couple. John, who was more than a little relieved that it wasn't him being accused of being Sherlock's date, had tried, and failed, to hide his grin behind his hand as Emily had enlightened the man in the front that she was not in fact Sherlock's girlfriend. Okay, perhaps there had been a more polite way to tell the man this tidbit of information than using a handful of swear words in her tirade. But it's not as if she could turn back time and take it back. The atmosphere had only thickened when Sherlock opened his mouth and notified her that he would make an outstanding boyfriend. Needless to say, the driver had not perused any further conversation with either her or Sherlock. Instead choosing to talk to John about the weather.
She turned her eyes from the ceiling of the cab now to look back at the entrance of the building. Hoping that her flat mates were on there way back. To her delight, even if it was only a somewhat small delight, they were walking back towards her. She opened the door for them as they got nearer and moved over to the other side of the seat. As far away from Sherlock as possible. She could have sworn she caught the driver smirking a little, but dismissed it and turned to her companions.
"What's happening then?" Her tone had taken on that tired edge she got when Sherlock had been grating on her nerves for hours on end.
"He wasn't there." Sherlock replied cryptically before telling the driver their next destination. But Emily missed the address as she was busy looking at John, begging him with her eyes to tell her what was happening.
"Someone emailed Sherlock about a break in," Emily put her hand over Sherlock's mouth when it opened, to prevent him from interrupting. "We went to see him, then we ended up at the flat where we met you, we came back to talk to the man from this morning but it turns out he's having lunch. It's him that wasn't there."
"Okay." Emily nodded trying to take it all in. "Where does that left handed guy come in then?"
"Whoever it was that broke into the bank, they didn't take anything, they left a message behind. That message was left for Van Coon, the dead guy in the flat." Emily listened with rapt attention and felt as if she understood everything, her hand slowly fell back onto her lap.
"So, that message, to Van Coon. It was a threat?"
"Precisely." Sherlock looked at her with a genuine looking smile and an expression that resembled pride. Emily couldn't help but smile to herself at gaining the Consulting Detectives praise. It didn't exactly happen very often.
"That's it?" She questioned.
"Pretty much." John nodded to himself before Sherlock could answer and make it all the more complicated.
"Okay." Emily relaxed back into her seat and looked out at the passing scenery. Why they couldn't have explained it to her sooner she would not understand.
It didn't take them long to arrive at their destination; A restaurant that looked as if it charged a fortune for two bites of main course and where the waiters probably looked down their nose at you if you wearing anything but smart clothes.
"Why aren't they together?" The driver quietly asked John so he couldn't be heard by Emily who was hanging back and waiting. Sherlock had already wandered over to the entrance and had left John to come up with the fee.
"It's complicated." John muttered in reply.
"Looks it. Cheers." The driver added before he drove off.
Emily took John's arm as he passed, something he had grown used to in the weeks that had followed their first meeting. At first it had felt strange to have a beautiful young woman hanging off his arm and gaining envious looks from the men around them. But Emily never noticed. Wether she really didn't notice, or just didn't pay them any mind was another matter entirely. But whenever her arm linked through his, it felt comforting. This felt a little silly after only having known each other for a couple of months. But then again, they had moved in with Sherlock Holmes after only matter of days of knowing him. He shouldn't really be fazed by the feeling of an arm holding onto him.
"Who are we looking for?" Emily looked up at him from her height as they weaved in between tables. Some filled with people, others empty.
Why did restaurants have to have those funny stool seats? Why could they just never be simple and have chairs? Also a bit of bright light wouldn't go amiss either. "Remind me to never book a table in here." She ordered of John instead of letting him answer.
He smiled. "Only if you do the same for me." She nodded her head eagerly and opened her mouth to make a joke but was beaten by Sherlock who had apparently found the man he was looking for.
"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." Emily took in the man's appearance. Smug looking in his posh suit and tie. Her eyes strayed to his haircut. To be honest, she thought it looked a little ridiculous. Who in their right mind gets their hair cut like that?
"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" Good God, he even sounded smug, like Sherlock wasn't even worth his time. Emily raised an eyebrow of annoyance. She opened her mouth to speak when Sherlock turned his head slightly and looked at her over his shoulder. He shook his head the tiniest fraction. Emily closed her mouth and hoped she didn't look like a goldfish.
"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders – someone who worked in your office – was killed."
"What?"
"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." John supplied.
"Killed?" Sebastian sounded shocked.
"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Emily smirked, more than a little satisfied that Sherlock had managed to wipe that smile off the arsehole's face. It was far to early to be thinking this about someone she had met thirty seconds ago, but she was convinced of this fact already. The man who was now running his fingers inside his shirt collar, was an arsehole, and there was probably nothing that he would say or do to change her mind. At least in a positive way.
"Would you excuse me?" The arsehole spoke to his colleagues or clients and got up from his table, heading towards the loos. "You don't mind if we talk in here do you?" Without waiting for an answer he pushed the doors open and headed towards a cubicle.
John who thought Emily would have the manners to wait outside did a double take as he watched her follow in after them and lean on the sink next to him. She noticed his expression and smiled up at him cheekily.
"This is the men's loos Em?" She knew it was meant to be a statement but apparently he couldn't avoid it turning into a question.
"So?"
"So, women can't come in here?"
"Is there a rule that says that? And anyway, I've been into the men's toilets lots of times." She shrugged as if it was nothing and ignored the sound of urinating that came from the only occupied cubicle.
"When?" The shocked tone of John's voice made her smile.
"When I was little, and my brother didn't exactly feel comfortable taking me into the ladies. I was too short to get up onto the seat by myself." She elaborated.
"Why couldn't your Mum take you?" John questioned sounding curious now. Emily looked over at Sherlock and found she had his attention too.
She sighed and crossed her arms. "My Mother wasn't out with us John, she could hardly lift me onto the toilet when she was sat at home could she?" She rolled her eyes. She pretty much always did when the subject of that woman arose in conversation.
"Right." John now shut his mouth feeling the awkward tension in the air.
"Oh, and when I went to this all day festival once. The queue for the ladies was unbelievable. But there was only about five guys waiting outside their door so I went over and joined them. I was pretty desperate." She nodded to herself as she finished her tale. Suddenly the toilet flushed and the door opened to let out the arsehole.
"I'm sorry." He didn't sound very apologetic as he spoke to Sherlock. "But who is this?" He pointed to Emily and looked her up and down.
"This is Miss Emily Cooper." Sherlock supplied. "Another colleague." She felt as if she had missed something as John sighed next to her.
"Colleague?" She questioned. "Not friend?" But Sherlock didn't answer. Instead, he looked at her with a confused look as if she had grown a second head. Emily moved over so Sebastian could wash his hands. Another silence had settled over them. An uncomfortable one that made Emily want to burst into fake hysterical laughter just to break it. But she reasoned that it would only make the tension even more awkward.
"Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so..." Sebastian started as if he had been asked a question. Emily could only guess he was talking about the Van Coon man.
"...You gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John finished for him.
Sebastian grabbed a towel and dried his hands. "Lost five mill in a single morning; made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had."
"Who'd wanna kill him?"
"We all make enemies." Sebastian answered, checking out Emily's legs again. Emily rolled her eyes and mentally informed him that he had just made another.
"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." A phone beeped that didn't belong to the residents of 221B.
"Not usually. 'Scuse me." He reached into his blazer and retrieved his phone. No one spoke for a moment, and Emily took the opportunity to look over at Sherlock who had been uncharacteristically quiet. He didn't notice her stare, he was too busy looking at Sebastian as he read something on his phone. "It's my Chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently they're telling him it was a suicide."
"Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered." Sherlock insisted.
"Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that..."
"Seb." Sherlock sounded a lot sterner than Emily had ever heard him speak before.
"...and neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." With that, he walked out of the room, leaving the remaining three to listen to his departing footsteps and the door closing as it shut behind him.
"I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards!" John had waited until the arsehole had vanished to say this, though Emily got the impression he had been holding it in a lot longer than the few minutes they had been in the toilets.
"I'm sorry, let me get this right." Emily studied the floor as she spoke. John watched her as she gathered her thoughts, but Sherlock waited until she spoke to turn his gaze back to her. "That arsehole, is the one that emailed you this morning?"
"Correct." Sherlock replied.
"But he isn't going to believe a word your saying?" She asked slowly, not quite believing those words were coming out of her mouth. Yes, sometimes the things that Sherlock said were rather annoying and sometimes impossible. But surely if you asked someone for their help you would believe what they were saying, not treat them like the dirt under your shoe.
Instead of giving an answer, Sherlock headed for the door. Emily looked at John and shrugged her shoulders in wonder before following after the Consulting Detective.
Believe In Sherlock.
FB