The Blind Banker part 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or the show's affiliates. Elise was created by a highly caffeinated me in the midst of sleep deprivation :P

Happy reading!

…

Raz led the other three across the under-croft. A boy has just done some kind of clever jump on his pushbike. Several of the spectators, in similar states of skater culture influenced clothing, cheered appreciatively. A chorus of "Dude that was rad!" and "Wicked!" were a popular term of praise. Elise raised her eyebrows, impressed though she didn't partake in such activities and had no knowledge in the subject. She knew that it must've taken a special set of skill to pull that off.

"If you want to hide a tree," Sherlock said as they walked, "then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldn't you say? People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message."

The cement walls were filled with an array of colors; orange, blue, red, black purple. Raz pointed to a particular area on the heavily-graffiti walls. "There. I spotted it earlier."

Yellow. Bright yellow.

Amongst all the other paint there are slashes of the yellow paint forming Chinese symbols. Some of them are already partially painted over by other artists' tags and pictures but there was no doubt about what it was.

"They have been in here." He said to Raz. "And that's the exact same paint?"

"Yeah."

Sherlock's careful gaze traveled over the cipher, no doubt billions of thoughts swirling about his head. Elise bit her lip. They still had no idea as to what the code could possibly mean. Although it had barely been a day since they had taken the case, it was proving to be more troublesome than they had originally anticipated. Hopefully they would find a solution soon. Elise couldn't help when she went back to school the day after next. Not knowing would surely eat away at them all.

"If we're going to decipher this code, we're gonna need to look for more evidence." He turned to his remaining two associates, Raz having already left. "Elise, you come with me. John, I trust you can find your own way around, yes?" Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock peeled off in the opposite direction.

Elise shouted a quick goodbye to John, running after her father as quick as her exerted legs would carry her. The sharp air filled her lungs, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Wind whipped past her face, sending her ponytail whipping past her face. Elise thought it was a good feeling, despite her high level of fatigue. It made her feel strangely fresh, alive even. By the time she had caught up to Sherlock however, she was about ready to collapse. Her legs had turned to pure jelly and breathing was almost painful.

Not my best idea… oh well.

Sherlock walked along the end of a railway line, Elise following albeit at a much more sluggish pace. He finds an abandoned spray can on the tracks. Squatting down to pick it up, he puts the end of his flashlight into his mouth and runs a thumb over the yellow paint on the nozzle, then sniffs the nozzle experimentally.

Elise's labored breathing slowly began to regulate though her legs were still wobbly and weak. "Find anything important?" she asked.

Her father tossed the canister from one gloved hand to the other, seemingly weighing his possible responses. Then, true to his deductive nature, looked her up and down with practiced precision.

"Depends on your definition of important."

Elise crossed her arms over her chest and yawned. It was getting late. "Mine is probably the same as yours."

"Then no."

Sherlock sprung up and continued walking along the tracks, tossing the paint can off to the side. Elise huffed and hurried after him, kicking at the gravel under her boots. Soon, they were walking along another poster covered wall. Quite a few advertised shops and local bands that would be playing in the area while others depicted an assortment of services: Babysitting, housekeeping, car maintenance, take away, etc. It was like an unofficial business index for the people of London.

Elise was curiously skimming over a posting for a tutoring service when she heard the sound of ripping paper next to her. She turned her head in the direction of the noise. Sherlock was glancing over a ripped piece of white cardstock paper. "What's that?"

Sherlock gave the wall another once over. He shoved his gloved hands in the pocket of his coat, concealing the note. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Elise grilled. The detective rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, his belstaff whipping gracefully behind him. Still, he dodged the question. Elise narrowed her eyes but continued on anyway. Better not push him too far. Sherlock would have no reservations on sending her home if she annoyed him.

So Elise shut her mouth and continued kicking at the ground as they trekked on. Sherlock stopped them a few times so that he could look over their surroundings for clues, all times turning up empty. Elise tried her best to help, combing through the ground with her hands until the tips of her fingers were red with cold and her bandages had loosened, but also was unsuccessful. Elise dusted her hands off on her jeans as she stood, the bones in her knees cracking from her compromised position.

She wandered over to her father who was looking over the flank of a rail freight container.

"Find anything?" Sherlock asked.

"No," Elise puffed, "I'm not having any luck at all."

"Mm."

Elise turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. A blurry blonde figure was dashing towards them, arms waving about, a small object in hand.

"John?" Elise shouted.

"Answer your phone!" He called back. "I've been calling you! I've found it."

He turns around again and the three of them run off into the night side by side, heavy breaths mixing together with the sound of pounding footsteps. John led Sherlock and Elise towards his findings, slowing down as they neared. It was a small clearing just past the railroad tracks, sparse patches of grass beneath their feet. Unlike the place that Raz had showed them, no one lurked in the area except them.

But as they stopped suddenly, Elise became confused as to what exactly she was supposed to be looking at.

Apparently, the super important thing worth getting excited about was a wall. A blank, black wall.

John's mouth dropped open. "It's been painted over."

Sherlock shines his flashlight around the area as John and Elise continued to stare at the wall in bemusement.

"I don't understand. It-it was here," he stumbled backwards. "Ten minutes ago. I saw it. A whole load of graffiti!"

Elise frowned. "How would someone paint over a whole wall in that short amount of time?"

Sherlock clicked off his flashlight. "Somebody doesn't want me to see it."

Elise shook her head. "This is so bizarre. How does someone just- DAD!"

Her father had taken John by the head, staring intently into his eyes. If she didn't know any better, she would think…

Eww no Elise. This is SHERLOCK we're talking about.

"Hey, Sherlock, what are you doing...?" John asked tensely.

"Sh, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes."

"No, what? Why? Why?"

Sherlock lowered his hands to hold John by the upper arms.

"What are you doing?!" Elise laughed.

Sherlock started spinning them slowly around on the spot, still looking seriously into John's eyes.

"I need you to maximize your visual memory, John." The consulting detective instructed. "Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"

"Yeah…"

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes!

"How much can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry..." John started to say before Sherlock cut him off.

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate."

"Yeah, well, don't worry – I remember all of it."

Sherlock stopped spinning them, an impressed frown tugging at his features. "Really?"

"Yeah, well at least I would," John wiggled out of his flat mate's iron grip. "If I can get to my pockets!"

A flicker of embarrassment flashed across Sherlock's face. Elise raised her eyebrows and walked with mock carefulness towards the two.

"You're not going to spin me around, right?" Elise snorted.

Sherlock glared daggers at her but said nothing.

John cleared his throat and rummaged around in his pockets. A moment later, he pulled out his cell phone and pulled up an image.

"I took a photograph."

He tilted the screen so that the Holmes' could see. It was a slightly blurry flash photo, showcasing a very different wall than the one they currently stood in front of. This wall, while still dingy and dark, was flocked with a collection of similar Chinese symbols- each and every one the same shade of yellow as those before.

….

"Always in pairs." Sherlock said quietly. He had blown up the pictures of the wall and posted them on the mirror with the other clues. Now he studied them quietly, occasionally making comments to himself loud enough for his small audience to hear.

John is sitting at the dining table with his back to the fireplace and his head propped in his hands. Sherlock's voice wakes him up. He blinks and turns his head, squinting round at his friend.

"Hmm?"

"Numbers come with partners." Sherlock clarified.

John glanced around the flat blearily, his eyes glazed and movements slow. "God, I need to sleep."

"We all need to sleep." Elise moaned from the couch, a copy of Emma by Jane Austen on her face, spine up.

Sherlock squinted at the pictures of the ciphers. Something still wasn't adding up. "Why did he paint it so near the tracks?"

"No idea." John answered tiredly.

"Maybe he has a weird fetish for railroad tracks." Elise commented drily.

"Thousands of people pass by there every day." The detective thought aloud, ignoring his daughter's sarcasm.

John propped his head against his fist. "Just twenty minutes."

Sherlock looked over all the facts he had gathered, sorting them out like a web of information in his head. He stepped back from the wall abruptly as all the strings wove together, giving him the answer he needed. "Of course."

John snapped his eyes open. Elise groaned and kicked her legs over the side of the couch, letting the book fall off and onto the cushions.

"Of course!" Sherlock continued, much louder this time. "He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. "He runs his finger over the symbols. "Somewhere here in the code." Sherlock pulls three photographs off the wall and turns towards the door. "We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao."

"So we're leaving again?" Elise asked wearily. She picked up her phone off the coffee table, widening her eyes as they adjusted to the harsh glow. "It's past midnight."

"Oh good!" John said with a yawn. "Lovely.

"Come on."

…..

A/N: Not my longest but I wanted to get this up. Sorry for my lateness. I haven't been in my right mind lately. This story will only be updated on weekends from now on due to conflicts with my schoolwork and things like that. Hope that's okay….

R and R please!