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Ch. 7

The Jade Seal

Mr. King's partner caves like a half baked soufflé. It is actually rather pathetic. He hands over the unedited bank accounts to Grayson and Bell with the expression of a condemned man.

"You have to protect me." Mr. Mason insists, lips twitching and fingers drumming nervously the surface of the table. "She will kill me."

The Captain smiles at him without a trace of humor, it is more of a mocking baring of teeth than anything. "We will see what we can do, Mr. Mason." Clearly Grayson is tired of playing games.

At least the books confirm what they need to know.

"King Shipping's third largest investor: Professor Irene Adler." Sherlock says triumphantly with a smug grin.

Joan shoots him a warning glance before he gets too carried away with his pathological need to right. He simply raises his eyebrows at her cheekily, which she ignores turning back to the paperwork.

"Only female professor of London College." She muses quietly. "Seems such a shame to waste that." Joan wants to sigh and shake her head but keeps the impulse to herself. Her male colleges need not know what she is thinking.

"Gotcha." Bell says making Joan glance up. He pulls a sheet of paper out from the others and smoothes it out over the table.

Mr. Mason fidgets in his chair at the sight of it.

This ledger page is different from the others. It is only a short list of entails and figures and dates. Joan frowns trying to decipher the messy coded scrawl, but she can make hide nor tail of it.

"What does it mean?" She asks Bell curious.

"It's King's loans!" Sherlock says jumping closer to peer over her shoulder to read.

Joan freezes in surprise at his nearness. Sherlock's entire body is pressed against hers in his effort to examine the paper. Her heart is suddenly in her throat and she does not think he has even realized what he has done.

Good lord her father would shoot him for the impropriety of it all.

"Yes." Detective Bell says, giving Sherlock an annoyed glance for interrupting. He points to the letter 'M' next to '2..' on one line. "See the letter is the name of the person he borrows from and the number is how much. The two dots mean two thousand pounds, if it was one dot it would be two hundred pounds.

Joan nods and shifts so Sherlock can see without looking over her shoulder. "These are all from 'M', Moriarty I would presume, but what about these last lines here."

'J.S. 40cases -8..'

"Do the letters J.S mean anything to you?" Grayson directs at Mr. Mason pointedly.

"I do not know anyone by those entails." He shakes his head.

"What about one of your ships?" Sherlock cuts in.

Recognition flashed across the other man's features brightening his watery gaze. "Yes. The Jade Seal! She is one of our primer cargo liners."

"Oh that's it." Joan breathes, the pieces clicking into place. "Mr. King had to bring in 40 cases of something on the Jade Seal to take 8 thousand off his debt. This is about smuggling."

"Precisely, Watson." Sherlock nods his approval of her deductive reasoning as she looks up at him in excitement.

There is something thrilling about unraveling the tangled web of a mystery and she knows they are quite close to the center of this one. Hubert King was smuggling something into London for this 'M' person, who Sherlock believes is the criminal title of Miss Adler. King was killed by Moriarty's associate Sebastian Moran the day after the last shipment was scheduled according to the paper in Joan's hands. Yet the man's debt was not yet cleared. So why kill him?

"This might just solve two cases." Sherlock says to Joan as the Captain and Detective Bell march Mr. Mason from the room. The man will end up spending the night in a cell 'for his protection'.

"The other being?" She queries, wondering where he could be going with this.

"Several of my Irregulars have reported an influx of both pistols and cocaine flooding the back alley sales in recent weeks." He murmurs softly so they will not be overheard as they step out into the hallway and head towards the entrance.

"So you think that is what they were bringing in?"

"Stands to reason, does it not?"

London College is filled with the best and brightest young minds, or at least that is what the imposing architecture and parquet floors would have Sherlock believe. He knows it is more aptly a gathering of young imbeciles whose blood is most blue. Such places must be held in contempt considering they would not allow for female students.

Watson obviously would have become a proficient doctor given the chance. Why waste talent?

Afternoon shadows are already beginning to lengthen across the lawn of the university by the time the four of the them arrive. Only a handful of students mill about, seeming preoccupied with books and papers. Everyone else is in class learning the details of such useless topics as astronomy and the language of the flowers. What good could any of that possibly do them in a practical world? None, that's what.

A flash of sun reflection off glass in one of the balconies above them catches Sherlock's attention. He pauses mid step trying to determine its origin, when the echoing report of rifle fire thunders over the lawn. All around them people scream. His heart clenches on instinct and then in terror as Joan cries out falling to her knees.

"Watson!" Sherlock yells.

"Up there!" Cries Bell pointing to the dark figure fleeing across the upper balcony.

"Stay with her." The Captain orders Sherlock as he pulls out his American Army issue pistol hidden in his jacket.

Both detectives take off in pursuit. Sherlock helps Joan to her feet and half drags her into the nearest building for cover. Joan keeps up an impressive string of curses going under her breath, until he sets her on a bench. Sherlock drops to his knees beside her. Joan's eyes are screwed shut in pain, her hands pressed firmly against her right shoulder.

"Watson? Joan look at me."

For the first time in his life he is close to panic - something he did not even know was possible - while at the same time a dark, homicidal rage rises up inside him like a tidal wave. Moran, for that surely is who must have done this, best hope the detectives get to him before Sherlock does.

Joan forces open her dark eyes and Sherlock can see the intense pain in them. "It is merely a shoulder wound. I'll be fine." She pants out.

Self loathing rolls threw him. This is his fault. That bullet was meant for him. Sherlock would have been standing directly in front of her if he had not paused for those blasted two seconds. And here she is trying to make him feel better about it!

"Let me see." He says as gently as he can, reaching out to remove her fingers from the wound. There is already blood blossoming over the fabric of her dress.

Joan does not fight him, only holding onto his wrists lightly as he unbuttons her collar. Her face appears perfectly calm, yet Sherlock can feel the shaking in her fingers. She is remarkably brave. Simply remarkable.

"Really I am fine, Sherlock." Joan says as he inspects the injury carefully. She is right it is not life threatening. "Simply stop the bleeding and get me some alcohol for disinfectant." Her voice is oddly detached.

Sherlock stares into her face, his brow furrowed intensely for a moment. Then he surges forward, with that tidal force, to kiss her like a dying man and she his last chance at life. He expects her to push him away, or to hit him, or something. The last thing Sherlock expects is to feel Joan kissing him back.

Yet that is exactly what she does.