In the morning I wake up at 9:00. I don't mean to wake up this late on a weekend, its just my internal clock telling me not to wake up. I go downstairs and find dad perched on his chair, not acknowledging my appearance as I go to make breakfast. Its Saturday, so dad will need a cup of tea and a slice of toast. No spread, just plain toast. On Saturdays I never have breakfast, a silly little habit from when I was a small child. As I prepare dads breakfast, I hear a loud bang coming from the living room behind me. I turn around to see dad fighting a foreign assassin with a sword. I drop the plate and rush to get a cricket bat from outside our flat. When I return, I see the assassin pushing dad onto the table, blade at his throat. I rush over and hit the assassin over the head, distracting him so dad can push him off. Now his attention was on me, I begin to panic. He rushes over and tries to swipe me with his sword. I lean back on the sofa and push him off with my legs. As he stumbles backward and I pick myself up, I see dad straighten himself up before lunging at the assassin. We both work together to wrestle the assassin. The cricket bat, however, wasn't the best weapon of choice. The assassin swung his sword at me, and I block myself with the bat causing the blade to neatly cut the wooden bat in half. I glance at half of the bat in my hand. "Oh," I mutter before the assassin realises I'm the easier target. He hits me it the face with the butt of his sword. He was about to chop off my head when dad tackled him to the sofa. Dad fought the assassin as I brought myself up onto my feet.
"Look!" dad shouts as he points at me. The assassin turned round to face me, and I wasted no time in punching him right in the face. I was so angry, I put all my energy into the punch and knocked him out with one single blow. Pain shot up my arm, but I don't care. Dad looks into the mirror and straightens himself up. I walk up to the mirror and inspect the wound on my head. A small cut with a bruise around it. All that pain and one small cut to show it? Unbelievable.
I turn to dad. He asks, "Are you alright?" I chuckle. "Yeah, you?" he just smile and sits in his chair.
I go upstairs and cover the wound with make-up, as well as the rest of my face, before John gets home. I run downstairs as soon as I hear John come home. I walk in when dad states to John "You took your time."
"Yes, I didn't get the shopping," he says casually.
"What why not?" dad asks as he pick his head out of a book. He wasn't really reading it, he just wants to look inconspicuous so John doesn't worry.
"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-pin machine!" I sit on the sofa and bit my lip to stop the giggles coming from my mouth. I would have paid money to see that! Dad clearly wasn't impressed. "You… you had a row with a machine?"
"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" John sighs.
"Take my card," dad says whilst nodding his head in the direction of his wallet. John walks in that direction but stops.
"You know, you two could go. You've been sitting there all morning, you haven't even moved since I left," he aims at dad, "and you've only just woken up," he aims at me. John walks over to his wallet and takes out some cash.
"What happened out that case, the Jariah diamond?" he mumbles.
I see a glint of light coming from under dads chair as he shuts the book and tell John he was, "not interested."
I catch his eye and signal to under the chair. He kicks it away, but you can still see it. I have to do something. I casually stand up and sit on the floor in front of dads chair. John notices and eyes us carefully before heading out of the door. I pick up the sword and start waving it about.
"Put that down, before you loose a finger." I roll my eyes and take the sword up to my room. I go back down and curl up into a ball on the sofa. I must've been sitting there for about 45 minutes before John came back.
"Don't mind me, I can manage," he sighs as he clambers up the stairs.
I hadn't noticed dad had moved and was now on Johns laptop. John had already put the bags down when he noticed.
"Is that my computer?"
"Of course," dad says, obviously not understanding the word 'privacy.' He begins typing away vigorously at the keys.
"What?" John says, horrified at my fathers lack of manners.
"Mine was in the bedroom," still typing away.
"And you couldn't be bothered to get up?" he pauses thoughtfully. "Its password protected," he ponders.
"In a manner of speaking, took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly fort knox."
I would like to say I have more manners than my father and I take after him in no way…but then I'd be lying. John walks over and slams the laptop lid shut, muttering "Alright thank you," as he did.
Dads hands moved from his typing position to under his chin.
John notices and picks up some letters, groaning as he does.
Bills.
How dull.
I could get a job, but I wouldn't last very long in an ordinary job. Plus the fact that they are truly tedious. John mutters, more to himself than anyone else, "I need a job."
Dad groans, "dull."
John glances at me then towards dad and leans forward.
"Listen, um, if you'd be able to lend me some… Sherlock are you listening?"
"I need to go to the bank." Dad says out of the blue. He jumps up and grabs his coat.
"Kate," he says, signalling for me to follow.
"Yep," I say popping the 'p' and grabbing my converse and slipping them on my feet. I don't bother putting on my coat on, but I grab my beanie and my phone before we three rush out of the flat, me and John trying to keep up with dad.
he was leading us to Shad Sanderson's. We wander through the doors.
"You know when you said we were visiting the bank," John says questioningly.
We walk up to the reception and dad states his name to the receptionist, and she immediately informs her boss that he was here. By now I know that this is for a case. Why else would we be here?
She directs us to an office, where we are told to wait.
The loud, boisterous man stalks through his office door.
"Sherlock Holmes," he grins and shakes his hand, "How are you buddy? How long has it been, eight years since I last clapped eyes on you."
"Sebastian, this is my friend, John Watson."
"Colleague," John corrects him as he shakes Sebastian's hand. Sebastian notices me stood behind my father.
"Ah, hello Katharine," he grins at me, "How are you?"
I pretend to be polite and shake his hand, "Its Kate, and I'm fine, thank you."
I feel really uncomfortable when Sebastian holds my hand for longer than needed, and I pull back, smiling to cover it up.
"Right. Well, grab a pew. Need anything, coffee, water? We're all loaded here. Thanks" he adds, waving to his secretary. We all sit down.
"So, you're doing well. Been travelling a lot."
"Well, some." Why was Sebastian so modest all of a sudden. Modest doesn't suit him, I prefer arsehole better. The watch on his wrist was a new expensive model, it had only been available from a month ago. The date was set to two days ago, but the time was correct. He had altered the time, but forgotten to change the date twice. Two trips around the world in the last month.
Honestly, give me something challenging! I knew to just let dad do the talking though. As soon as I open my mouth, all havoc breaks loose.
"flying all the way around the world, twice in a month."
Sebastian chuckles and points at him, "Right, you're doing that thing." He turns to John to fill him in.
"we were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."
Dad glare at the floor, "Its not a trick."
"He would look at you and tell you your whole life story."
"Yes. I've seen it. Kate appears to have it too." John says.
"Put the wind up everybody, we hated him. We came down to breakfast and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night." I winced at the word freak. I hate the word freak. Being a genius doesn't make you a freak, it just makes you…special.
"I simply observed." Dad states, not making eye contact at all.
"So, flying all around the world, twice in a month. How did you know? Is it a stain on my tie from some ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?"
"No," dad tried before he was rudely interrupted.
"Or was it the mud on my shoes?"
Now he is just mocking our intelligence.
How rude.
"I was just chatting to your secretary outside, she told me."
Oh, how good it must feel to mock people back. I smile slightly.
Sebastian laughs loudly and claps his hands loudly. Everything about this man was loud and annoying.
"I'm glad you could make it over, we've had a break in."
Ah, now the fun starts.
We get up and walk somewhere.
Sebastian tells us on the way, "It was Sir Williams office, the former chairman, it was left there as a memorial. Someone broke in late last night.
"What was stolen?" John enquires.
"Nothing. They just left a little message."
We all walk into the small office. There was a large painting of a rather fat man on it. That must be Sir William. There was a bright yellow blindfold painted over his eyes and a symbol to the left of it. For some reason it seems faintly familiar, but I have no idea where I've seen it before. I turn to Sebastian, "Does the CCTV show anything?"
He hears the question but doesn't acknowledge whom it had come from. He turns to dad, "It was sixty second apart. He walks over to his computer and we all follow in suit. He shows us the security footage, which is not much help. At 23:33:01 there is no message and at 23:34:01 there is.
"So someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed some paint around and left within a minute."
"How many ways into that office?" dad enquires.
"This is where it gets interesting
Sebastian escorts us to the main reception desk and shows us the access to the office.
He explains, "Every door that opens in this bank gets locked right here, every walk in cupboard every toilet."
"That door didn't open last night," dad states rather obviously.
"There is a hole in our security, find it and we'll pay you, five figures." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cheque, "this is in advance, tell me how he got in and there's a bigger one on its way." I knew that dad wouldn't take it.
"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian," he walks away without a second thought, we could use that money.
I clear my throat, "He's just kidding, shall I take that?" and I grab the cheque out of his hands and smile. Imagine what I could spend this on!
I walk away staring at the huge number on the cheque. I walk in the direction dad was going in, but when I have no idea where he is, I lift my gaze from the cheque and look for him. I look up to see him running around the offices. Bobbing his head as he goes. I can see what he is trying to do. I shove the cheque in my pocket and walk around, doing the same as dad but in a more discrete fashion. I walk around and see which desk can see the message. I come to the desk, which takes care of the Hong Kong accounts. This has a perfect line of sight. Dad runs to the spot I'm standing at and does a double take at the memorial office. Seeing as we both agree on it, I look to the desks nameplate. Edward Van Coon. We exchange a quick smile before heading to the exit.
As we were leaving, John states, "You didn't ask his secretary, you said that just to irritate him," it took me a moment to figure out what he was going on about before realising, he means about Sebastian's travelling. He pauses before continuing, "How did you know?"
A smirk appears on dads face.
"Did you see his watch?"
"His watch?"
The time is right but the date is wrong, it was set for two days ago. It crossed the date line twice but he didn't alter it."
"Within a month? How did you get that bit?"
I cut in, "New Breitling, it's only been for a month."
"Ok" John replies hesitantly, "So do we need to sniff around here any longer?"
"I've got everything I need to know, thanks. That graffiti was a message, for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. If we find the intended recipient…"
"Then that'll lead us to the person who sent it." I finish off for him.
John has another thinking pause, "But there's three hundred people on that floor, who was it meant for?"
"Pillars!" I answer.
"What?"
Honestly John keep up!
"The pillars and the screens, very few places you can see that graffiti from, that narrows the field considerably. Also the message was left at 11:34 last night, that tells us a lot."
"Does it?" John is getting slower and slower.
"Traders come to work at all hours, some trader form Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." I tell him, seeing as he has no clue.
"Not many Van Coons in the book." He comments before hailing a taxi. How does he hail cabs so easily?
When we arrive at Van Coons flat, dad presses the buzzer, and being the impatient man he is he rings it again two seconds later.
"So what do we do now?" John asks, "wait for him to come back?"
"Just moved in." dad states.
"What?"
"The floor above has a new label."
"They could've just replaced it."
That's a stupid idea! "No one ever does that!" I exclaim.
Dad buzzer the flat above and puts on a happy face for the camera.
"Hello?" a woman's voice answers.
"Hi, I live in the flat below you. I don't believe we've met."
"No, well I've just moved in you see."
Dad gave an all-knowing smirk to John before turning back to the buzzer box.
"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat," dad says with an pretend apologetic look on his face.
There is a slight hesitation before the woman's answer, "You want me to buzz you in?"
"Yeah, and can I borrow your balcony?"
"What?"
In case you haven't noticed, my father is a completely normal human being. Sarcasm.
While dad jumped off the nice woman's balcony, John and me tried to get him to open the door.
When he does eventually let us in, we find Van Coon dead on the bed. The doors were locked from the inside, making it look like a suicide.
But we know better.
While dad is actually allowed to inspect the body, I have to observe from a distance. My main job is to hold dads coat and scarf.
Oh the thrill of it.
There is a little black object in the mouth; at first I thought it was a shadow. When father notices and pulls it out, we find that it is in fact a little origami… flower?
Why would someone…oh? A label. A little trademark symbol to remind him who would do this to the poor man. As I have to stand by the door, I can't hear what dad or John is saying. I haven't mastered the art of superhuman hearing yet.
I only got a glimpse of the corps but I do have something nagging at my brain. Something doesn't seem right. The wound is on the right side of his head but everything in this flat suggests that he was…
My thoughts are interrupted by the loud, annoying voice of a Sargent walking in the apartment.
"…See if you can get prints off this glass," walking in and looking as if he knew what he is doing when its clear as day that he doesn't have the foggiest idea of what to do. Incompetent fool.
He strolls into the bedroom. Dad decides to be polite for once in his life and walks over to shake his hand, "Sargent, I don't believe we've met." The Sargent places his hands on his hips and so rudely replies, "Yeah, I know who you are, and I would prefer it if you didn't tamper with the evidence," and snatches the evidence bag away like a two year old grabbing a toy.
I can tell already that I don't like him very much. Dad notices his icy attitude and returns to speak with icy, piercing eyes.
"I phoned Lestrade, is he on his way?"
"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sargent, its Detective Inspector. Dimmock."
Yep… I definitely don't like him. I excuse myself from the bedroom and stand comfortably in the living room. When the others walk in, the DI notices my presence.
"Whose this?"
"My daughter Kate," dad answers before I can get a word in edgeways.
"And do you think it's appropriate to bring a child in here?"
A child? How dare he call me a bloody child!
" A child?" I hiss at him. Dad leans in and covers his mouth, "I wouldn't have gone there."
I start to have an internal conversation with myself about what would happen if I slap him.
You'll get into serious trouble.
He deserves it!
You'll make a spectacle of yourself!
I don't care; I will feel so much better!
Dad wont be allowed to work on the case!
…Oh…
"Detective Inspector," I start cautiously, not letting my anger get the better of me, "I have been to more crime scenes than I have had hot dinners,"
"I can believe that," Of course John had a witty comment to say under his breath.
"I have seen more dead bodies than I've had hot drinks, which is more than you have seen, seeing as you're a newly promoted DI. In short, how dare you can call me a child when I have a higher IQ, a stronger stomach and a more mature attitude." I was so surprised when I stopped to find my voice volume had never lifted from my intimidating hiss. I'm quite proud. I see dad smirk slightly and add, "In short, don't call her a child ever again. Last time I did, she didn't speak to me in over a week." I throw him his coat and smile. What an eventful week that was. Sarcasm.
The DI expresses a confused expression before sighing and getting back to the matter at hand.
"We're obviously looking at a suicide then," he states bluntly. What an idiot!
"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts," John adds, why does everyone have to be so blind!
"Wrong, its one explanation of some of the facts, you've got a solution you like but your choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it," dad says rather frantically. Finally someone who understands!
"Like?" the oh so dumb inspector asks.
"The wound is on the right side of his head."
"And?"
"Van Coon was left handed!" I say out of frustration.
"It requires quite a bit of contortion," dad explains whilst trying to mimic the awkwardness of the gunshot.
"Left handed?"
"I'm amazed you hadn't noticed, all you have to do is look around this flat," I explain to the dull minded DI.
"Go on Kate," dad encourages me, "I'm sure the Detective Inspector would like to know how you knew."
Okay then! I take a deep breath before my explanation.
"Coffee table on the left hand side, coffee cup handle pointing to the left hand side, he used the power sockets on the left, pen and paper on the left hand side of the phone because he would answer the phone with his right hand and take down messages with his left hand."
"Anything else?" dad encourages.
"…no, how did I do?"
"Well but I'll carry on seeing as you're nearly at the bottom of the list," dad says, wanting his chance to show off. "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left."
…Oh yeah.
"Its highly unlikely that a left handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: Someone broke in here and murdered him, only explanation of all of the facts…"
"But the gun…" the DI started.
"He was waiting for the killer, he had been threatened."
"What?" the DI asked as dad walked to get his coat and scarf from me.
"Today at the bank, sort of a warning"
"He fired a shot when his attacker came in," dad carries on.
"And the bullet?" the DI enquires.
"Went out of the open window," father states as he wraps his scarf around his neck.
"What are the chances of that?"
"Its as good as any other chance of any other theory," I huff.
"Wait until you get the ballistics report, the bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee it." That still leaves some unanswered questions, like…
"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the murderer get in?" the DI enquires.
"Good, now you're starting to ask the right questions," which in daddy land means 'I don't know.'
Dad turns and walks swiftly out, and I do the same.
As we walk out of the building dad explains to me our, or his, next moves.
"We're going to talk to Sebastian, you going to come or not? I don't mind, you make your dislike to his so obvious." I suppose 'talk' would be quite boring, and Dad will fill me in on it later… I'd like a nap too.
"I think I'll head back to the flat… is it really that obvious?"
Dad smirks, "clear as day to me," and he hands me the key and some money for a cab.
I hail a taxi and head back to Baker St.
When I arrive there, I crawl up into a ball, like a cat, on dads comfy chair. My eyes grow heavy and I nap for a few hours. I'm awoken by a buzz coming from my pocket. Two new messages from dad and Hazel. Hazel is my 'friend,' she finds my bluntness 'adorable' and my cleverness 'sexy,' so you can probably tell she's not normal. I open her message first.
Hazel: Hey, guess what? I'll tell ya ;) Party at the new kids! Such a hottie! Your invited! And you are coming! Next Friday! Be there or be square! Talk to ya on Monday!
After this I mentally scream, groan and throw my head back in despair. I really don't want to go to that party. At that moment, dad walks through the door and looks at me in confusion.
"What?" he asks.
"I'm being dragged by Hazel to a party on Friday." I sigh out. I'm met by another confused look.
"And that's a bad thing? You love partying."
"No, I pretend to love partying so I seem normal. I really couldn't give a crap about going to some shitty party." I know I'm being really touchy about the subject and I have good reason to be.
"Period?" dad asks. I wonder how he knows? Sarcasm.
"Yeah," I sigh out, "Why did you make me female, everything seem so much more inconvenient."
"Its not my fault," dad objected, not catching onto my sarcasm. I roll my eyes as he continues, "I was only one of two willing participants…" he trails off. I think about living with a mother. It would be so nice, having her guiding me through life instead of finding out things through the internet and awkward conversations with teachers. But I suppose you don't miss things that were never there.
"Where's John?" I ask, only just noticing he wasn't there.
"He's gone to see about a job, I think he said a doctor," dad sighs out.
"Oh, how mundane," I snort out. Dad sighs in agreement.
I shut my eyes for a split second, hoping for some peace and quiet.
"Anyway, what are you doing in my chair? Get out!" he suddenly says.
I grunt out a "No."
I hear him walk around to the back of the chair and lift the back so I fall out. Instead of resisting, I just fall on the floor and lie there, not being bothered to do anything.
"Oh god! Whats wrong with you? You love arguing with me, any chance to pick a fight." He exclaims.
"Unlike you, I like to take days off."
"Well, that's just lazy."
"I am lazy, I take after you."
"I'm not lazy!"
"You always say going out is 'tedious' or 'boring,' I think you say that to cover up the fact that you're lazy."
"…Point made."
"Thank you."
"You are quite indolent though."
"Whatever, you're idle…"
"Lethargic…"
"Languid…"
"Sluggish…
"Slothful…"
We both stare at each other for a split second before doubling over in fits of laughter.
"I genuinely can't think of anymore words to describe you as." I giggle out.
"Oh I have a few…" he chuckles.
"Go on then…"
"Brilliant, amazing, intellectual, radiant…handsome?" I burst out laughing once again.
"Maybe not the last one though." His face fell, sending me into more laughter.
I went and lay down on the sofa, I genuinely think that al that laughter has made me tired. I close my eyes for a second, and open them a hour later to the sound of John running up the stairs.
It seems in my nap, dad has managed to stick up the pictures without waking me and was now sitting with his hands placed under his chin. I shut my eyes and listen to their conversation whilst pretending to sleep.
"I said could you pass me a pen." Dad calls to John.
"When?"
"About an hour ago."
"couldn't Kate get one for you?" obviously not noticing me on the couch.
"Shhh don't wake her!" dad playfully stage whispers.
"Oh, sorry," John whispers back and chucks dad a pen. "Didn't notice I was out then," he sighs. I know dad knew he was out, either he was pretending to forget to be cool in front of his new mate or he had to erase a pointless scrap of information and that happened to be the only useless thing floating around in there.
"Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery."
"How did it go?" dad asked obviously not caring.
"Great she was great," John mutters. My interest has peaked up. I open my eyes and sit up straight, making it obvious I had been listening.
"Who?" I ask. John glances at me in confusion.
"The job," he answers obviously.
"She?" I continue to enquire.
"It." He obviously feels embarrassed that he fancies someone.
"Have a look," dad interrupts, nodding his head towards his computer.
I get curious as John walks over to the laptop, and I follow, seeing what dad has found.
"The intruder who can walk through walls?" John asks.
"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside."
"Sounds familiar, he died exactly the same as Van Coon" I comment, whilst skim reading the article.
"God, do ypu think…" John starts before my dad interrupts
"…He's killed another one."
A moment of silence falls over the flat. It is broken by dad jumping up and declares, "Right! We're going to Scotland yard. I think Its time we paid the young DI a visit." As John goes outside to visit a taxi dad gives me some instructions.
"I need you to visit this address, when I text you I need you to climb up and try and find a away into the flat, ok?"
I just smirk, "Got it."
In case your wondering, this is like a normal weekend for me.
I grab my beanie and my skateboard and head to the address. I guess it's the deadmans Brian Lukis' flat. It makes sense, that's obviously how the killer got in without making it look like he was there at all.
It takes about 20 minutes to get to the flat, but seeing as they have to visit Scotland Yards first, I could be waiting a while, damn London traffic. While I wait, I look at the building at figure out how to break in. I map it out in my head, I'll climb up the wall (somehow), run across the roof and drop in through the skylight. I'm obviously not an acrobat, so how should I climb the wall? I could break into the flat opposite and jump to the roof, I could climb up the gutter, I could pull myself up between the two walls. In the mindset I'm in now, I think I'll stick to breaking into the opposite flat. There is a buzz that comes from my pocket. I open the text.
Now –SH
I set to work. Taking out my hairgrip from my hair, walk to the vacant house opposite. I'm used to picking locks so it doesn't take very long. I then make my way to the skylight in the hallway. I climb through that and jump from one roof to another. I mist admit I wasn't very graceful, so I bet they heard me in the flat below. I then run across the roof to the skylight where dad is there waiting for me.
"Ah, right on cue." He comments as I slide into the apartment, trying to be more graceful. I smirk as I see a gob-smacked DI and John gawping at me.
"The DI was just telling me how ridiculous my idea was," Dad explained to me.
"Well, the DI is going to have learn to admit he's wrong,"I smirk. "Do you think me and the killer got in the same way?" I ask.
"I think you took a slightly different route seeing as your not an acrobat. I think the killer climbed up the wall, like an insect, whereas your not as skilled as him," he teased. I stick my tongue out at him and walk of to inspect the flat. The first thing I notice is the black origami lotus flower on the floor. I point it out to dad, and he nods signalling that he had seen it.
"We have to find out what connects these two men," dad states. I walk over to a stack of books on the stair case and pick up the first book. I open it and see that he booked it out of West Kensington Library the day he died. I toss the book to dad and head towards the exit. We silently agree that that is where we should look for clues. When I get outside I try to hail a cab, like dad does. Usually he can get one first time, where as the taxi doesn't notice me and just drives straight by. Nailed it. Dad laughs at me and hails the cab first time round, flashing me a smug smile. I be the more mature person and stick my tongue out at him.
When we arrive at the library, we waste no time in scanning the book and finding out where Lukis was on his last day. We locate the shelves and we don't hesitate to start looking. John is the one to notice something odd.
"Sherlock?" he calls whilst looking in horror at something on the shelf. The cipher was there, threatening Lukis in his last few hours.