The Blind Banker pt. 3

A/n: This case is going to have more than three parts since the last chapter was too short and I don't want this one to be too long. Hope that's ok. My internet sucks so I'm sorry that this is a bit late. Do ya'll want shorter chapters and quicker updates or longer chapters and the update schedule we have already? - put at bottom.

…..

"We're obviously looking at suicide." Dimmock said confidently.

John nodded his agreement. "That does seem to be the only explanation of all the facts."

Sherlock and Elise remained silent, the latter still indecisive while the former removed his latex gloves.

"Wrong." He said. "It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution you like but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?"

"The wound was on the right side of his head."

"And?"

"Van coon was left handed." He mimed out what his point, showing the near impossibility that Van Coon could shoot himself in that way. "Requires a bit of contortion."

Dimmock looked at him in disbelief, a common emotion to be directed toward the consulting detective. "Left handed?"

Sherlock's next sentence dripped with sarcasm. "Oh I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." He gestured to the table beside the sofa. "Coffee table on the left hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took messages down with his left. D'you want me to go on?"

"No," John said tiredly. "I think you've about covered it."

Elise scrubbed a hand down her face. She knew her father would pay no mind to the wishes of the people around him. He would spew out all the evidence that he knew until his bid brain ran dry. Not one of his best qualities, but Elise had grown used to it.

"Oh I might as well. I'm at the bottom of the list." He said.

"Figures." Elise muttered.

He zeroed in on the kitchen. "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's 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 the facts."

Elise scrubbed a hand down her face. "So another 'suicide' that was actually murder. Developing a sort of pattern her aren't we."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "This case isn't at all linked with the homicidal cab driver. Any connections you've made are entirely coincidental."

"I wasn't saying that they were related at all." She defended hotly. "I simply noticed the similarities between the two. Besides, the cabbie is dead."

John stiffened as she said this. It was still a bit of a sore subject for the army doctor. After all, he had been the one to pull the trigger. Thankfully, no one had found out the actual cause of the driver's fate. As Sherlock had said, John probably wouldn't have gotten in major trouble but the court case was one best avoided.

"But the gun… why-" Dimmock was saying.

"He was waiting for the killer." Sherlock interrupted. "He'd been threatened."

He walked away from the flabbergasted officer and went to retrieve his coat, scarf, and gloves. Elise, not having brought anything, followed him.

"What?"

"Today at the bank." John said. "A sort of warning."

"He fired a shot when the attacker came in."

"He knew all along." Elise added.

Dimmock still was confused. "And the bullet?"

"Went through the open window."

Dimmock laughed bitterly. "Oh come on! What are the chances of that?"

"Better than the chances of you getting a girlfriend anytime soon with that winning personality you have." Elise remarked.

John tried his absolute hardest not to laugh while Inspector Dimmock glared at the snarky adolescent. He supposed that the relationship between the two would be similar to that of her and Anderson. Neither of them seemed to have a problem with that. The mutual disdain was infinite.

"Wait until you get the ballistics report." Sherlock said, not acknowledging the spat. "The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it."

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

"Good!" Sherlock said condescendingly. "You're finally asking the right questions."

He flounced out of the room, his kin and blogger in tow, a seething Detective Inspector in their wake.

…

The group entered a cozy restaurant. Customers sat at tables and booths, sipping drinks, nibbling on their food, and making conversation with their tablemates. Waiters and hostesses milled about the room like worker bees in a hive. A heavenly aroma of spices wafted throughout the air, dancing against Elise's nose. While the sight certainly wasn't unpleasant, it was unexpected. Weren't they supposed to be on a case?

"What are we doing here?" Elise asked her father. "You never eat on cases daddy."

His eyes traveled over the room, drinking in every last detail of the scene. He ignored her question for a few moments as he did so. Even after, he gave her a vague answer. "I have some business to take care of."

His coat swished behind him as he walked towards a table. Elise and John reluctantly followed, intrigued yet reasonably tired. As she grew closer, she realized that the table held no one other than Sebastian Wilkes. He and his group were laughing over something Mr. Wilkes was saying.

"…and he's left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork which of course can never be done-"

"It was a threat." Sherlock said upon reaching them. "That's what the graffiti meant."

Sebastian looked at him with visible irritation. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?"

"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders- someone who worked in your office- was killed."

"What?"

"Van Coon." Elise said.

John let out a deep breath. "The police are at his flat right now."

Sebastian was stunned. "Killed?"

Elise winced painfully and nodded. The nausea from earlier was beginning to set in again. Hopefully it would pass soon. Illness would slow them down, not a good thing when it came to murder mysteries. Besides, it was beginning to get interesting.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Sorry to interfere with everybody's digestion. Still, want to make an appointment? Would maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?"

Sebastian ran the tip of his index finger under his collar, thinking about the detective's proposal.

"I have to use the toilet."

….

Elise washed her hands in the sink of the ladies room, the creamy soap forming a lather on her hands. It stung horribly. The gashes on her skin that resulted from her picking habit didn't respond well to water. Or anything else for that matter. She really did try to stop, but she just couldn't. Bandages would have to be put on later.

She dried her hands with a paper towel and looked in the mirror. A few strands of black hair had managed to escape the hold of the ponytail. Elise tucked them behind her ears.

Buzz

Elise jumped at the sound only to realize that it came from her phone. With an exaggerated groan she pulled the device from her jeans pocket.

1 new message: 888-7765

Hey Elise

She frowned at the message. Normally she would think it was a wrong number and dismiss it completely. But this person had called her by name. It had to be someone she knew.

But why don't I have the number saved? I never give my number out to just anyone. Who is this?

After much internal debate, she decidedto respond.

Who is this?- EH

The man of your dreams ;)

Elise froze.

Excuse me?-EH

Just kidding. Its Leo. –LH

A sigh of relief.

Oh. Hi- EH

How did u get my number?-EH

Christina gave it to me. –LH

Course she did. What's up? We don't usually talk that much outside of school.- EH

Just wanted to say hi. I realized that I didn't have your number in my phone so I asked blondie for it. Hope that's ok.- LH

Yeah. That's fine.- EH

I'm going to have to talk to you later though. I'm kind of busy. –EH

Ok. Ttyl –LH

Bye - EH

Elise clicked out of the chat box and slapped a palm against her forehead. Damn Christina for giving her number to a guy she barely knew. Elise preferred to keep her social circle very limited. She had Christina and a few other acquaintances in which she spoke with. Only a few of which had a place in her contact list and very few of them actually utilized her number. Christina was the only one who she texted and enjoyed spending time with. Now she had gone and given her mobile phone number to a nuisance boy that always called her weird names.

Not to mention the fact that Leo had been acting weird lately.

First he had been jittery in science class. Elise had brushed that off. It didn't seem important. But then he had been at the bookstore after Christina went home. That was what irked her. he had made her drop her books then… he hugged her.

For no reason!

It was insane! But Elise could worry about that later. First she would have to help with this case. Then she could worry about her social life (If you could even call it that.)

With one last glance in the mirror, the curly haired teen excited the lavatory and into the atmosphere of the dining establishment.

She didn't see any sign of Sherlock or John so she decided to look for them outside. No luck.

They bloody left without me! His carelessness has reached a whole new level.

Elise sighed and hailed a cab, muttering obscenities under her breath. Thankfully she had enough pocket money on her to get within reasonable walking distance to Baker Street. Even still, she was cold, irritated, and impeccably queasy.

Curse you Sherlock Holmes.

…