The Silent Banker
A Silent Connection
Rose woke up at half seven the next morning, and found she was unusually well rested.
Jumping up out of bed, she put her mp3 on random and found Matchbook Romance's song "Monsters" was the first to play. Smiling at the up beat song, she turned the music up, and went for a shower, singing along to the slightly creepy music.
Getting out, she decided on putting on her favourite top - a form fitting, black shirt, with two halves of a broken heart over her left breast in a shockingly bright purple colour, and sleeves long enough that the cuffs dangled around her knuckles - over her usual pair of black straight leg jeans.
She had her usual chain around her neck and silver ring on her right hand, and just because she felt like it, she picked up her black bandana with its standard white pattern on it, and wrapped it around her left wrist once, then wrapped it around her palm, tying it just under her knuckles. She loved her fraying bandana; her oldest brother hand gotten it for her, for her fourteenth birthday, and it was one of the few reminders she had of him.
She figured that, as she was feeling so good today, she would also put a little bit of eye liner on, even if she wasn't going out. She also put her steel toe caps on - completing the look - as she had learned that leaving at a moments notice didn't leave time for putting shoes on. She had to deal with Sherlock moaning for half an hour last time, and she had only taken a minute!
As she went to go to the kitchen, she saw John pulling his coat on, about to go out.
"Off to work, see you this afternoon. Good singing, by the way." He had heard her through her closed door, and discovered that his female flat mate had quite the voice.
She blushed at the compliment, and the fact she had been caught singing. She loved to sing, and though she had the confidence to do many bizarre things - like dancing round Sainsbury's, spinning a trolley in circles, she remembered - singing in front of people was not one of them. So, pretending to ignore the comment, she told him, "Have a good day at work."
"Oh, I'm sure it will be lovely and dull!" He said with a wide smile. As he pulled open the door, he realised she had gone a little red in the face, and thought he may as well complete the job. Turning back, he said to her, "You look nice today, by the way." And with that he grinned, getting more of a reaction than he had expected - she went tomato red - he closed the door, and headed to his first day at work.
Face burning from blushing so hard, she tried her best to just ignore the compliments. She had never been one for getting them, and when she did, she didn't believe them or know how to handle them, and so simply turned bright red. She turned around, heading for the stairs, mind turning to that of breakfast and the possibility of toast.
As she moved around the kitchen, she noted that Sherlock already had a cup of coffee, half full, and so didn't bother making him one, though she offered to make some toast, and got no reply.
Moving into the living room, half a glass of orange juice in one hand, slice of buttered toast in the other, she went to sit in her usual place on the sofa, contemplating the idea of look for a job for the day.
Glancing up at the woman on the sofa, he deduced that he may never understand her. She looked happy today, happier than she was the evening before. But at the same time, she looked darker, with dark clothes and dark makeup that brought out her blue eyes.
Deciding that he had better things to do, he turned his gaze back to screen of John's laptop and saw something that really was worth his time. He let out a noise of interest, in turn catching Rose's interest.
"Got something there?" She asked.
"Take a look." He stated flatly, as he got up and went to stand in front of the large mirror above the mantle.
She then noticed that he had fixed a few pictures of the squiggles and the dead man to the wall around it. Deciding that she could look closer later, she got up and looked instead to the laptop, noting with a small smile it was John's and not hers.
"The man who can walk through walls…" She read out loud.
"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat, doors locked from the inside, windows bolted, found exactly the same as Van Coon." He said, just as flatly.
The penny dropped. "God, you think…"
"He's killed another one." He confirmed. He let the statement hang in the air for a second, then turned suddenly, heading for the door, grabbing his coat on the way. "Come on!"
She smirked, and grabbed her own coat, holding the toast in her mouth as she put it on.
As she hurried out the front door, she found Sherlock just getting in the cab, and was thankful she decided to put her shoes on earlier, knowing her would have just left her behind.
By the time they pulled up to Scotland yard, she had finished her toast, and she brushed the crumbs off herself when she got out again. They marched through the office spaces with purpose, Rose slightly behind as she had no idea where she was going, but she made sure she looked like she did - people moved out of the way then.
As they approached the desk of the younger of the two DI's they had met, she saw him grimace.
"Eddie Lucas, free lance journalist, "Started Sherlock, "Murdered, in his flat, doors locked from the inside."
"It's similar." Rose threw in. "Both men, killed by someone who can walk through solid walls."
Dimmock still didn't look like he believed it.
"Inspector, do you really believe that Van Coon was just another city suicide?" Still not getting any where, she thought. Sherlock seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he sighed looked around and continued. "You have seen the ballistics report, I take it?" Dimmock nodded. "And the shot that killed him, was it fired from his own gun?"
"No."
"No, so this investigation might move along a little quicker if you take my word as gospel!"
Dimmock just raised an eyebrow at him.
Sherlock, getting rather annoyed at the useless man, lent on the desk in front of him and tried to explain it a little simpler. "I've just handed you a murder enquiry. " He waited a few seconds to let the words sink in, making sure that the man understood them. "I want five minutes in his flat."
Dimmock looked at Sherlock a few seconds, then at Rose - whose eye brow lifted in expectation - then sighed, grabbing his car keys.
"Alright! Fine!"
"Not in your car, we'll take a cab." Said Sherlock, looking bored already. Dimmock gave him an annoyed look, then told them the address that was halfway across London.
Out on the street again, Sherlock hailed another cab, and climbed in the back, telling the driver where to go.
Just as she sat down, she heard her phone beep; she had a text.
Sherlock watched her reflection in the window. She looked at the phone, sighed, and replied to who ever it was.
As she took out her phone, she glanced at the sender. Unknown number, eh? She thought, knowing exactly who it would be from. Opening it, she read the message, sighing at what it meant.
All set up, and to our agreement. MH
She never really liked it when people didn't reply to her messages, and felt rude when she didn't reply to theirs, so she typed away at her mobile, writing he own message.
Thank you for sticking to the arrangement, Mr Holmes.
Glancing down at his mobile, Mycroft Holmes was a little surprised to see a reply. He didn't usually get a reply from someone.
However, on reading it, he was a little disgruntled that she thought he would not stick to their agreement. So he decided he may as well fight fire with fire, and remind her of the situation.
A few seconds later she got another message, from the same number.
I do honour my word.
And may I say, my dear, you do look nice today. MH
On reading the message, the automated blush crept up her face, and her eyes flashed in anger as he did it again. This time on purpose, and somehow, it bugged her even more.
Huffing, she put the mobile in her pocket and looked out of the window. All the while, Sherlock watched her, still confused as to what could cause her to blush and be so irritated at the same time. The only thing that made him that annoyed was Mycroft - but he didn't blush - and he doubted Mycroft would be texting her. Maybe one of her own brothers? No, they don't seem to get along too well.
"Are you alright?" He asked, the words a little foreign on his tongue.
"You may want to talk to your brother." Mycroft had been texting her?
"And why on earth would I want to do that?"
"Because he has a camera in your bedroom." She replied calmly.
However, Sherlock was not calm. He hated his brother spying on him. Tails he could deal with, and shake when he wanted to, but cameras were his limit. He really didn't like being spied on in his own home. "What?" He said darkly.
She sighed and turned to face her flatmate a little reluctantly. "I caught his assistant trying to put another camera in the flat yesterday when I got back, and you and John went to see Sebastian. I stepped on it, and told her I wanted to talk to him. So, he picked me up, and after a little talking, we came to a compromise." She said, not knowing what Sherlock would say to the compromise.
He gave her a suspicious look. "What sort of compromise?"
She swallowed, but tried to hide it. He caught the motion anyway. "Well, he wanted a camera in every room, excluding the bathrooms, and I said that the bedrooms were a no go. People need their privacy at some point, and he said me and John could have our rooms to ourselves. I warned him about what he might find in another persons room, but he didn't seem to be worried… Sorry."
Sherlock blinked. "So you let Mycroft bug the flat?" He said flatly, not quite sure if she was joking or not. He could never tell with some people. But she nodded. "Why?"
She lifted her gaze from the floor of the cab, and looked up at the question. It wasn't harsh, or cold or even empty. It was… curious.
"I… umm… I thought it would be better if we knew they were there, rather than have him do it anyway, and we end up telling him something we may not want him knowing. God knows what, but it made sense at the time. And I think he would have bugged mine and John's rooms as well, and that's kind of too far, hell, your room is too far, but I couldn't think of a decent argument for it. I mean, you grew up together by the looks of things, and well, yeah…." She knew she was babbling, and promptly shut up before she said something she would regret, returning her gaze to the floor, waiting for him to start shouting and scolding her. Instead she heard a contemplative "Hmm…" that was neither angry or even annoyed.
After a few seconds, she looked up gingerly, only to find him looking out of the window again. "Are you not mad with me?" She asked in a small voice. It made him turn to face her again, he hadn't heard her sound so… small before.
He frowned. "Why would I be mad with you?"
"Because I let your brother bug the flat, put a camera in your room. You should be at least a little angry with me." She didn't understand his reaction. She thought he should be more than angry; fuming. But he wasn't, and he seemed a little amused at her reply.
"Your right, I did grow up with Mycroft, and so I am used to him bugging the places I live, as well as kidnapping people I come in contact with. Did you know he has people watching us right this second?"
She thought for a second, and then frowned, remembering his last message. How could he know what I look like? She thought. She had been so caught up in her embarrassment, she hadn't really seen what he meant. Thinking more on it now, he even used the same words John did. Realising that the compliment was stolen, for some strange reason, made her feel better. Smiling sadly, she shook her head. "I'm an idiot." She stated.
"Don't worry, practically everyone is." Was the reply she got. She looked up to her flatmate, and saw he was completely serious.
She laughed. She just laughed. He just looked so serious, she cracked up.
Watching his companion laugh in the back of the cab, Sherlock had the strangest desire to join her in her laughing. Was this what people had meant by laughter being contagious? He would ponder it later, but for now he just let a few chuckles slip and gave her what he hoped to be a reassuring look. He defiantly wasn't used to this much social activity in one day, and it wasn't as normal as it was with John. "I will fix the cameras after we have solved the case." This made her smile, and he felt as though he had done something socially right, just for a change.
Besides, finding the little cameras was always a hunt he enjoyed. Mycroft had gotten good at it over the years, and now provided a somewhat interesting challenge. It would keep him occupied for half an hour at least.
As they got out of the cab, she turned to him and smiled. "Thanks Sherlock."
"What for?"
"For being you." She laughed a little again, this time at his clueless expression.
He had never been thanked for being him before. It confused him, so he just replied with, "You welcome..." But it had come out as more of a question, making her smile again, and together they went to the flat.
On entering the small place her thought was, wow, there is more stuff here than there was in the living room, when Sherlock first moved in. There was "Do not enter" tape across the door way, leading up a flight of stairs, which they promptly ducked under. The stairs themselves were lined with books and papers, so much so that some of them looked like they had fallen down a step or two. The flat itself was a tip. There were clothes on the floor, and on hangers, hanging off doors and door handles. There was an umbrella propped up against the wall, next to a stand that held a green, leafy potted plant. Atrocious wall paper hid behind a cluttered desk and over flowing book self, the things seemingly spilling from one surface to another as they crossed over to a lower, longer table, also covered with books. The cheap, cloth furniture was grubby, the blue stripes standing out on faded white material; that was, when they weren't also hidden by papers and books. Boxes were dotted around the room, some open, showing books or ornaments, others were closed and sellotaped up, a few of the latter having books and papers stacked on top of them as well. The kitchen area was just as messy, books mingled with multiple beer bottles and the odd pizza box or takeaway tub. In the middle of the floor sat a lone, black origami flower.
Sherlock spotted a window, curtains pulled open. He walked over, pulled back the netting and smiled. Must be on to something, she thought as he spoke.
"Four floors up, that's why they think they're safe. Put a bolt across the door, keep it shut, they think they're impregnable." He looked around again. "They don't reckon for one second that these is another way in."
"I don't understand." Said Dimmock, not understanding what Sherlock was on about. Rose looked at the window again, and thought back on all the information.
"Of course!" She whispered.
"We're dealing with a killer who can climb!" Explained Sherlock, walked over to a window.
"What are you doing?" Questioned Dimmock, still not used to working with the man.
"Clings to the wall, like an insect… that's how he got in!" He opened the window, but now the DI was thoroughly confused.
"What?"
He elaborated. "He clung to the walls, ran along the roof, and dropped in through this sky light."
"Your not serious. Like Spiderman?" Mocked the DI.
"He scaled six floors of a docklands apartment building, dropped down onto the balcony to kill Van Coon." Sherlock went on.
"Oh, come on!" The DI still didn't believe it.
"And of course, that's how he got in to the bank, he ran along the window ledge, and onto the terrace." Sherlock pulled away from the window, looking around again. "Have to find out what connects these two men…" But he saw something, and went down the stairs again.
"Sherlock?" Questioned Rose, going to the top of the stairs, to better see what he was doing.
He had picked up a book, opened it a few pages in, closed it, and carried on out the door. Sighing, she ran to catch up to him.
Five minutes later they were at a library, wandering down the isle where the book Sherlock had "borrowed" was meant to sit.
"Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died." She heard him say. He started looking at books on the one side of the shelf, and getting the general idea that they were looking for something, though not entirely sure what, Rose started pulling out books, guessing that she would know what it would be when she found it.
After pulling out a few books, she saw something on the back of the shelf itself, and pulled out a few more books, only to see the same yellow symbol, painted in the same yellow spray paint. "Sherlock…" She called quietly.
He turned to see what it was she had found, and pulled a few more books off the shelf.
It was a much smaller version of the symbols they had found at the bank.