Rose rewound the camera feed to the exact moment he arrived…he and John, she corrected, watching the doctor take a position by the side door. She grinned. Sherlock thought he was going to get the drop on her, but that was never going to happen.
He might've worked the clue out early, but she'd set everything up last night. Of course he didn't know about her transporter. If he did he wouldn't have been waiting outside. She stood up and motioned for Frank to pick up the safe. A home safe, big enough to fit all four clues, but small enough that it could be lifted in two hands, not comfortable to carry too far…well, for humans.
She strapped the transporter to her wrist, grabbed Frank's arm and teleported them inside the building.
Sherlock ignored the chill in the air as he kept his eyes trained on the front entrance from his vantage point cloaked in the shadows of the entrance to the alley across the road. John was keeping an eye on the side entrance from another location.
It didn't take him long to get out of the handcuffs, after which he headed straight home, worked out where the safe deposit box had been taken from, which turned out to be an old bank that hadn't been used in years, then he'd phoned John and they'd been lying in wait ever since. Sherlock was determined to be there when she arrived, catch her before she entered the bank. So far she'd been the one getting the drop on him, but all that was about to change.
His phone chimed, announcing a text. He pulled it out, thinking that perhaps John had caught her in the act of sneaking in the side entrance.
You look cold. Haven't been waiting long I hope.
-BLOCKED
How the hell did she spot him? He glanced around the area. Nothing moved. The buildings nearby were mostly businesses, most of them in disrepair. He'd been watching the entrance to the bank for the past two hours forty-nine minutes and there hadn't been a single pedestrian, which meant…she had cameras set up. Damn!
You can collect your clues, if you like.
-BLOCKED
Wait. What? She couldn't have gotten past him, which meant…He ran across the street and down the alley.
"John," he called.
"Sherlock?" his friend replied, stepping out of the shadows near the skip.
John was there and fine.
"Have you been watching the door the whole time?"
"Yeah and its damn cold out here." John rubbed his arms for emphasis. "How much longer are we going to be at this?"
"We don't have to wait. She's already been," Sherlock replied, walking to the side entrance.
"What? How did she get past you?" his friend asked, catching up.
"She didn't get past me."
He pulled his lock pick set and started work on the door.
"Well, she didn't get past me. How the hell did she get inside without getting past either one of us?"
"I've no idea," he replied.
His phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the text.
Goodnight, Sherlock.
-BLOCKED.
He smiled.
"Clever girl," he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he drew a bemused look from John that he promptly ignored.
She was clever. Very Clever. He'd have to be better to get the jump on her, but he was determined to do just that. The door unlock with a soft click. He slid his lock pick set back into his pocket, opened the door and stepped inside. It was dark so he pulled out his torch and clicked it on.
John followed Sherlock into the building, pulling his own torch and turning it on in the process. He couldn't work out how she managed to slip past Sherlock. There was a first time for everything. He almost smiled, but pulled it back. He hadn't actually met the woman, but she seemed…well, he would've said nice from their brief chat if she hadn't locked him in the elevator and he was worried she was another Irene Adler.
Sherlock searched the room with his torch. Papers littered the floor and a few broken safe deposit boxes among other debris. The counters were still intact and that's when the light lit up his prize. A home safe. It was sitting on one of the counters. He crossed the room toward it. She'd drawn a red heart in lipstick over the locked door. Another grin surfaced.
"Is that lipstick?" John asked. "Looks like the same shade she was wearing at the restaurant.
"Is it?" he inquired without glancing at his friend, more focused on the safe and the contents it might include, although his eyes were more inclined to travel to the lipstick, but he told himself that was because it might contain DNA evidence, especially if it were the same lipstick she wore.
Rose grinned as she watched John and Sherlock load the safe into a cab. He wanted answers, answers about who she was and inside that safe was the beginning. Clues to the person she'd been before everything changed. It probably wouldn't take him long to work them out, but getting in the safe…well, that was going to be another thing entirely.
She closed her laptop and headed in for a bath. She didn't have much planned tomorrow, but she needed to pick up a dress. There was some posh event planned in three days time and she agreed to accompany Trevor, as his friend not his date. She made sure he understood that, at least, he better be sure.
Trevor was great. Funny, sweet, bit of an oddball, but he wasn't someone she'd want a relationship with, not that she wanted one. Relationships were complicated and with the life she had, well, it just wasn't possible.
John watched Sherlock use the blowtorch to cut into the safe. After helping Sherlock carry it up the stairs and then depositing it on the table the detective had been completely focused on the task of opening it. The tumbler was stuck and wouldn't move no matter what his friend tried, which let the easy way out. Sherlock attempted a few other means to get inside and finally settled on the blowtorch.
John glanced at his watch. It was late, he needed to get home forty minutes ago.
Sherlock stood up, pulled the blowtorch back and looked at the safe in confusion. He felt the spot he'd held the torch against. The metal felt cool, hadn't even heated up. How was that even possible?
"It's not even warm," he announced.
"Sorry?" John asked.
"The metal. It's not even warm."
"Wait. How's that possible."
Sherlock grinned.
"I've no idea."
He turned off the blowtorch and sat it down, removed his goggles, grabbed a petri dish and a scalpel, then proceeded to scrape some of the metal off.
"What're you doing?" John asked.
"I need to run an analysis," he explained. "Find out what sort of chemical she used on the safe."
An analysis. That was going to be a while. John glanced at his watch again.
"Well, I should head home then. Mary's probably in bed."
"Mm," Sherlock replied, telling John that his friend wasn't paying much attention. More focused on the mystery of the safe.
Sherlock barely registered John leaving. An alloy or chemical that kept metal from heating up. Now that was interesting. Very Interesting. How had she come across it? What other properties did it possess?
He grinned, hurrying over to his microscope. Oh! This was indeed Christmas!
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