A/N: Here's the new chapter! Hope you like it!
Some notes on reviews:
Vedra9: I DID! And trust me, there is a reason for it, and it will be timey-wimey. I agree: Sherlock pouting IS really adorable. And John IS loving it. I'm glad you like the story so much, but you can do things while you wait for updates. You don't have to sit over there.
foxchick1: Here's the update! I'm glad you like it!
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NEW CHAPTER!
Lucky 'Kats' and Graffiti
"Your friend…" Dimmock says as he rummages through a box of Lukis' things. John stands across the desk from him while I stand off to the side, looking through the photographs the police have taken of the evidence, trying to catch anything I might have missed.
"Listen: Whatever you say, I'm behind you one hundred percent," John interrupts and I smirk.
"He's an arrogant sod," Dimmock finishes.
"Well, that was mild!" John responds. I chuckle under my breath. "People say a lot worse than that."
"I don't know how you and Kat put up with him," Dimmock says. I hear John laugh.
"I don't know, either," he says before lowering his voice so I won't hear. He doesn't realize how sharp my hearing really is. "By the way, nice job asking Kat to dinner." I can hear the grin in his voice. "Lestrade put you up to that?" I hear Dimmock laugh.
"Yeah, when he first told me, I thought he was nuts. But we've got a pool going now, see how long it takes the two of them," he says, and I frown. "You want in?"
"Oh, God yes," John says. I hear the rustling of papers stop and turn around to see Dimmock handing a small black book to John.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Dimmock asks as I walk over. "The journalist's diary?" John nods and takes it, flicking through it.
"Thanks," I say to Dimmock as John walks away. "See you later?" He nods and I turn to walk out with John.
We get a taxi and head to the address in the diary. I ask the taxi to drop us off across the street from it and John looks at me confused.
"So," I say, glancing at John from the corner of my eye. "They've got a pool going at Scotland Yard?" John nods nervously. "Anything interesting?"
"Oh, you know," he stalls, fishing for an answer. "Just who we'll think is going to win the World Cup."
"The FIFA World Cup?" I ask and he nods, thinking I believe him. "But John, the FIFA games don't start until June." He laughs nervously.
"We're, uh, starting early," he replies.
"Uh-huh," I respond, nodding before turning back to the window.
We reach our destination and get out of the taxi. John looks into the diary for the address, not paying attention to what's going on around him. I laugh when he bumps right into Sherlock.
"Right," John says.
"Hello, Sherlock," I greet, smiling. "Fancy seeing you here." Sherlock nods to me before going into quick-fire mode.
"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died—whatever was hidden inside that case," he says. "I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information…"
"Sherlock," John says, trying to tell Sherlock we've got an address, but Sherlock cuts him off.
"…Credit card bills, receipts," Sherlock continues. "He flew back from China, then he came here."
"Sherlock," John says, trying again, but Sherlock cuts him off again.
"Somewhere in this street," he says. "Somewhere near. I don't know where, but mmph…." I put my hand over his mouth, smirking as he stops talking, his eyes widening slightly, before pointing across the street.
"That shop over there," I say, pointing to a tourist shop called The Lucky Cat. I pull my hand away from Sherlock's mouth as he turns to look at the shop. He turns back and frowns.
"How can you tell?" he asks. "Is this you being special again?" I shake my head.
"Lukis' diary," John answers, showing Sherlock the entry in the diary. "He was here too. Wrote down the address." John turns and heads across the street.
"Come on, Sherlock," I say, walking to follow John.
We step into the shop and start looking around.
"Hello," John greets the shop keeper politely.
"You want lucky cat?" she asks.
"No, thanks," John answers. "No." I see Sherlock smirking.
"Ten pound," the shop keeper insists. "Ten pound!"
"No," John responds, smiling awkwardly. The shop keeper turns to Sherlock.
"I think your girlfriend, she will like!" she says to him, gesturing to me. I shake my head as Sherlock does the same.
"No, thank you," Sherlock says. "She's not my girlfriend. Besides, I've already got a lucky Kat." I raise my eyebrows at his pun while John laughs. Sherlock shrugs before turning to a rack with clay statues on it. John goes to look at the cats in the shop window. I head to a table in the middle of the shop. There are small, ceramic cups. They have no handles and look to be hand painted. One of these would work well with my altar. I pick up one of the cups and turn it over for the price. I stiffen. Much to my surprise, the symbol on the bottom is the same as the one on the wall of the bank office and the shelf at the library.
"How much is this?" I ask the shop keeper. She waves me over to check the tag.
"Fifteen pound," she answers. I smile.
"I'll take it," I say, then point to a purple lucky cat on the shelf behind her. "And that." She takes the two items and wraps them up before placing them in a bag.
"Come on, boys," I call as I head out the door. "We're done here." John and Sherlock glance at each other before following me out and we start heading down the street.
"We weren't there to shop, Kat," Sherlock admonishes. I laugh as I pull the cup out of the bag and unwrap it.
"Oh, I know," I respond. "But I saw this and I had to have it." I hand him the cup. "And besides, you may have a 'lucky Kat', but I don't, so I got a Lucky Cat to make up for it." I watch as Sherlock examines the cup.
"Oh," he says after looking at the bottom. John leans over to see what Sherlock's looking at.
"The label," John says. "Exactly the same as the cipher." Sherlock hands the cup back to me and I rewrap it, putting it back in the bag.
"I know that you've figured it out, Sherlock," I say. "Care to enlighten us?" Sherlock nods.
"It's an ancient number system," he says. "Hangzhou. These days, only street traders us it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the back and at the library. Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect." He walks over to a greengrocer's which has some of its wares on display outside the shop. There are various signs for vegetables in both Chinese and English. Underneath is the cost of each item written in both Hangzhou and English.
"It's a fifteen!" John exclaims. "What we thought was the artist's tag—it's a number fifteen."
"And the blindfold—the horizontal line?" Sherlock asks, holding out a price tag. "That was a number as well." He shows us the tag: It has the horizontal line at the top, and a "₤1" underneath. He grins triumphantly. "The Chinese number one, John, Kat."
"We've found it!" John says, following Sherlock as he makes his way across the street. I turn to follow them and stop. The same Chinese woman from before is taking pictures of Sherlock and John. As I watch, someone walks in front of her, hiding her for a moment. By the time the person passes, she's gone. I feel a chill go down my spine, shake my head and turn to follow the boys.
Walking into the Chinese restaurant I saw John and Sherlock walk into, I find them sitting at a table by the front window. I sit down in the empty seat.
"What is it with you and window seats, Sherlock?" I ask, smirking. Sherlock doesn't even look at me.
"I like being able to see what's coming at me," he answers. I shrug.
"Valid point. Have you ordered yet?" I ask, turning to John. He nods.
"I ordered you a sweet and sour chicken," he answers. "That okay?"
"Perfect," I answer, smiling. I turn to Sherlock. "Did you order anything?" He looks at me with a blank look. "Didn't think so." I sigh. Sherlock takes a napkin and starts writing on it. At the same time, John pulls out a small notebook and starts writing notes.
"Two men travel back from China," he says. "Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?"
"It's not what they saw, John," I answer. "It's what they both brought back in those suitcases."
"And you don't mean duty free," John says as a waitress walks over with two plates of food. "Thank you."
"Thanks," I say, looking for some chopsticks.
"Think about what Sebastian told us," Sherlock says. He frowns slightly at Sebastian's name and it makes me wonder. "About Van Coon—about how he stayed afloat in the market."
"Lost five million…" John starts.
"Made it back in a week," I finish. John hums.
"That's how he made such easy money," Sherlock says.
"He was a smuggler," John replies.
"A guy like him—it would have been perfect," I say. "Business man…" John nods. "…Making frequent trips to Asia."
"And Lukis was the same: A journalist writing about China," Sherlock adds and John hums again while I take another bite. "Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off."
"But why did they die?" John asks. "I mean, it doesn't make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they'd finished the job?" Sherlock sits back, thinking. I swallow.
"What if one of them was light-fingered?" I ask and Sherlock smiles.
"How d'you mean?" John asks.
"Stole something," I answer. "Something from the hoard. And the killer doesn't know who took it, so he threatens them both."
"Right," John responds. Sherlock looks out the window towards the shop, then looks up to the windows above it. He looks down to the ground floor again.
"Remind me…" he says, and I look out the window to see what he's looking at. "…When was the last time that it rained?" He stands up and leaves the restaurant before either John or I could reply. John sits back in exasperation but then dutifully gets up and follows. I wave the waitress over.
"Could I get two take-away boxes for these?" I ask, gesturing to the two plates. She nods, smiling, and heads behind the counter. She comes back with the boxes and I quickly pile the food into them. I put the boxes in the bag and head out the door and across the street.
"I'm wasting my breath," John says as I walk up.
"Where's Sherlock?" I ask. John jerks his thumb in the direction of the door. "What'd he do, break in?"
"Yeah," John says. I ring the doorbell as John walks away from the door.
"Sherlock?" I call. "You okay in there?" I don't get a reply. "Just…be careful." John comes back to the door, leans down and flips the letterbox open.
"Any time you want to include us," he yells angrily. He straightens up and starts pacing. "No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compete with…" he storms back to the letterbox, flips it open and shouts through it "my MASSIVE INTELLECT!" I rush to the door as he drops the letterbox again.
"John, something is very wrong," I say as I put my hand on the door knob, focusing on the lock. He glances up at me in concern.
"What're you doing?" he asks. I move a pin into place.
"Remember when I told you and Sherlock what I could do?" I pause, and he nods, though I can't see it. Another pin in place. "This is the Psychokinesis." The last few pins fall into place and the lock clicks. I fling the door open and run up the stairs to where I know Sherlock is being strangled. "Sherlock!"
I step onto the second floor to find a man in black rushing to the window. I chase after him, knowing Sherlock's okay, knowing John will check on him. I get to the window and look for the attacker. He's nowhere.
"Damn," I mutter, turning around when I hear Sherlock cough. I walk back to them as John helps Sherlock sit up.
"The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell," Sherlock croaks, ignoring John's frantic questions. "Somebody left here in a hurry." I kneel down in front of Sherlock.
"Somebody?" John asks.
"Soo Lin Yao," Sherlock answers, still croaky. "We have to find her." He moves to stand.
"Sit for a minute, Sherlock," I say.
"No time," he says.
"Sherlock Holmes, you will make time for this," I command sternly. He looks at me with wide eyes. "Do you understand?" He nods. "Okay, hold still."
I lean forward and place my hands on either side of Sherlock's neck. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and focus. I hear Sherlock gasp as my hands start to warm. We sit that way for a full minute before I open my eyes and pull back. Sherlock stares at me in shock.
"Better?" I ask, smiling. He clears his throat and nods.
"What did I just see?" John asks confusedly. Sherlock turns slightly towards him without taking his eyes off me.
"That, John, would be one form of Psychokinesis," Sherlock answers, his voice back to normal. He looks away from me, stands up and then holds his hand out to me. I take it and pull myself up.
"What?" I turn to John.
"There are three forms of Psychokinesis, John," I start explaining. "ST, MT and LT. ST stands for Stationary Target—that's how I unlocked the door. MT stands for Moving Target: This is the most common, actually, though most people don't even realize they're doing it." John looks at me, confused. "Ever play a game of dice and need a specific combination to come up, and it does?" John nods. "That's because all people have the ability to use Psychokinesis. You're willing the dice to land that way, and something in your mind is making it happen." John nods, slightly following along. We head down the stairs. Just as we're walking out the door, I see Sherlock pick something—a folded envelope—up off the floor. "LT stands for Living Target. A lot of psychic healing is actually this form of Psychokinesis. That's how I fixed Sherlock's throat."
"Okay," he says, nodding.
"So, Soo Lin Yao," I say, turning Sherlock. "I'm guessing that envelope will help us find her?" He nods, and we head off.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
"When was the last time you saw her?" I ask the young man at the National Antiquities Museum, Andy Galbraith. John is standing next to me with a notepad and pen in hand, taking notes. Sherlock is pacing around the display area, glancing at the exhibits.
"Three days ago, um, here at the museum," he answers nervously. "This morning they told me she'd resigned just like that. Just left her work unfinished." I nod.
"Not something she'd do?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.
"No," Andy says adamantly, shaking his head. "Those teapots, those ceramics: They'd become her obsession. She's been working on restoring them for weeks. I can't believe that she would just abandon them."
"Maybe she was getting some…unwanted attention?" John asks, looking at Andy pointedly. Andy looks down as I shake my head.
"No, I don't think that's it," I say. All three men turn to look at me. "Call it a hunch, but I think it has something to do with her childhood." I turn to Andy. "We all have things in our pasts that we don't talk about, that we don't want anyone to know." John looks at me in concern. I look at Andy meaningfully. "If you're really interested in Soo Lin, if you really care about her that much, then you won't care what's in her past, and you'll make sure she knows it." Andy nods, thoughtful. "Now, what was the last thing she did on her final afternoon here?"
"C'mon, I'll show you," he says before leading us away. We walk down a flight of stairs to the basement archive. Andy turns the lights on and leads us towards an opening in the stacks. "She does this demonstration for the tourists—a-a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here." He starts turning the handle, John and Sherlock standing behind Andy to look into the stacks. I keep walking, staring at a statue in the back.
"Sherlock?" I call without turning. I hear the three men walk up behind me to see what I see.
"What is that?" Andy asks. On the statue is the same graffiti that was at the bank and the library.
"It means we have to find Soo Lin, soon," I answer. I turn on my heel and head back to the stairs, John and Sherlock following behind.
"Wait, hold on!" Andy calls, running after us. He catches up and keeps stride next to me. "What does that graffiti have to do with Soo Lin?"
"Remember what I said about having things you don't talk about?" I ask, and Andy nods. "Well, right now is when you make a decision. Do you support her and help her carry the burden? Or do you say it's too much, and wish her happiness on her path?" Andy stops walking, looking down. Sherlock, John and I walk down the steps of the museum into the night.
"We have to get to Soo Lin Yao," Sherlock says.
"If she's still alive," John adds.
"She is," I respond.
"Sherlock!" a voice calls. We turn to see Raz running towards us.
"Oh, look who it is," I mutter.
"Found something you'll like," Raz says when he reaches us. He jogs off and the three of us follow. We walk across Hungerford Bridge, heading towards the south side of the river. I glance behind me, feeling a chill, and see the same Chinese woman I've seen twice before. I shake my head, making a mental note to mention her to Sherlock later. This whole case has a decidedly Oriental theme to it.
Raz leads us to the South Bank Skate Park. He walks straight to the back of the park as one of the people already there does some clever jump on his pushbike.
"Dude! That was rad!" a girl calls.
"If you wanna hide a tree then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asks rhetorically. "People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message." Raz points to a particular area on the heavily-painted walls.
"There," he says. "I spotted it earlier." On the wall are some slashes of yellow paint forming Chinese symbols. Some of it has already been painted over by other artists' tags and pictures.
"They have been in here," Sherlock mutters, then turns to Raz. "And that's the exact same paint?"
"Yeah," Raz answers with a nod.
"John, Kat," Sherlock says. "If we're going to decipher this code, we're gonna need to look for more evidence." We head out of the skate park. "Split up. We'll be able to cover more ground that way." Sherlock heads off on his own while John and I look at each other.
"I'm following you," John tells me. I raise my eyebrow at him, smirking. "He doesn't seem to realize how easily you'll find it, but I've seen enough to never be a skeptic again. I'm sticking with you." I laugh.
"Sure, just give me a second," I reply. I close my eyes, focusing on the shape and color of the graffiti. Got it! My eyes snap open. "Follow me." We start walking towards the railway lines. John starts digging through his pockets and pulls out two flashlights, handing one to me. "Thanks. Always prepared, aren't you?" He laughs.
"You never know what you'll get into when you work with Sherlock Holmes," he says. "Well, maybe you know."
"Maybe," I reply, laughing.
We walk in silence for a moment before I turn and look towards my left.
"John," I say, slowing to a stop. I shine my flashlight at the wall in front of us. The wall's about fifteen feet wide and is covered with Chinese symbols. "Call Sherlock." I pull my phone out of my pocket and John does the same, calling Sherlock while I snap a picture of the wall. I put my phone back into my pocket while John continues to try and reach Sherlock.
"Dammit, he's not answering!" John gripes. I close my eyes and focus on Sherlock. I find him much quicker than I found the graffiti, which surprises me. I start heading back the way we came.
"Come on, John," I call. "He's not going to answer." John follows me as we jog. Moments later we find Sherlock, who is looking at the side of a parked rail freight container.
"Answer your phone! I've been calling you!" John calls out to Sherlock. Sherlock looks up at us as we head towards him. "We found it." John and I turn again, John jogging slightly behind me, letting me lead the way. I hear Sherlock catching up with us. We get back to the wall, but it's blank now. John's mouth drops open in surprise.
"It's been painted over!" he exclaims. Sherlock shines his flashlight around as John stares at the wall in disbelief. "I don't understand. It-it was here…." He stumbles backwards. "…Ten minutes ago. I saw it. A whole load of graffiti! Kat lead us right to it!"
Somebody doesn't want me to see it," Sherlock murmurs. He turns and grabs the sides of John's head with both hands.
"Hey, Sherlock, what're you doing…?" John asks.
"Shhh, John, concentrate," Sherlock commands. "I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes."
"No, what?" John protests. "Why? Why?" Sherlock lowers his hands to hold John by the upper arms. "What are you doing?!" Sherlock starts to slowly spin them around on the spot, staring intently at John. I bite my lip trying not to laugh.
"I need you to maximize your visual memory," Sherlock says. "Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"
"Yeah," John answers.
"Can you remember it?" Sherlock asks.
"Yes, definitely."
"Can you remember the pattern?"
"Yes!"
"How much can you remember it?"
"Well, don't worry…."
"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate," Sherlock cuts in. I laugh outright.
"Sherlock," I call, trying to get his attention. John looks a bit green. "I've took a picture of it. You can let John go now." John pulls himself free from Sherlock. I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up the picture before handing it to Sherlock. Sherlock looks at John, slightly embarrassed.
"Oh." I laugh again.