The Silent Banker
The Art Of Silence
Back at the flat, Rose and Sherlock stood facing the mirror that had become an evidence board of sorts, with photos and snippets of information all pinned up somehow.
"So," Sherlock started. "The killer goes to the bank, leaves the cipher for Van Coon, Van coon goes to his apartment, hours later he dies."
Rose continues. "The killer then finds Lucas at the library, writes the cipher on the shelf, where he knows it will be seen, Lucas goes home..."
"Later that night, he dies too." Sherlock finished.
Frowning, she sighed, hooking her thumbs on the front pockets of her jeans. "Why do they die Sherlock?"
"Only the cipher can tell us." He answered, looking at the photo of a yellow line of spray paint across the eyes of a portrait. He then got a thoughtful look on his face, hummed and went to get his jacket. Taking a breath, Rose grabbed her coat as well, following the consulting detective in his new idea.
They were walking through the streets when Sherlock decided to explain his thoughts. "The world is run of codes and ciphers, Rose, from the million pound security system at the bank to the chip and pin machines that never co-operate at the shop. Cryptography inhabits our every waking moment."
"Yes, ok but…"
"But its all computerised, electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different, its an ancient devise. Modern code breaking methods wont unravel it."
"Where are we going, Sherlock?" She asked.
"I need to ask some advise." He said.
She thought she heard wrong though. "What?"
"You heard me, I'm not saying it again." He said sourly.
"You, Sherlock Holmes, you need help?"
"On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert."
They had been heading straight for the museum, but took a sudden turn down an ally way.
There they found a young man, around Rose's age, standing next to a bag of spray cans, and using one of the cans to create a painting of a police man on the wall.
"Part of my new exhibition." He said, not looking up, but hearing their foot steps. "Call it, "Urban Bloodlust Frenzy""
"Catchy," Said Rose. "Nice work." She complemented him.
"Thanks." He said, looking up and giving her a cheeky smile, which she returned, ignoring the once over her gave her. She was far more comfortable with cheeky street guys who openly checked her out than she was with "high class" businessmen and gentlemen kissing her knuckles and giving her compliments.
"Interesting…" Muttered Sherlock, reaching into his jacket pocket.
"I've got two minutes before a community support officer come round that corner." He looked up to Sherlock expectantly. "Can we do this while I'm working?"
Sherlock held out a photo of the cipher, and the young man threw her one of the spray cans, which she caught, so he could have a closer look.
"Know the author?" Asked Sherlock.
"Recognise the paint." The other man offered. "Looks like Michigan, hard core propellant. I'd say zinc."
"What about the symbols, do you recognise them?"
"Not even sure it's a proper language." the younger of the two men said, turning the picture a little and pulling a face.
Sherlock gave her a look, then turned back to his acquaintance. "Two men have been murdered, Raz. De-ciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them."
"And this is all you got to go on?" Answered Raz, looking between them. "It's hardly much now is it."
"Are you going to help us or not?" Asked Sherlock bluntly.
He looked between them, from steely eyes, to expectant. He sighed. "I'll ask around." He said.
"Someone must know something about it." But Sherlock was cut off by a loud shout of "Oi!" by the community support officer that, as Raz said, had come round the corner.
Looking up, Raz dropped his can, Sherlock ran, and Rose grabbed the bag - as she was closest - and followed them. She may have had clunky boots and an awkward bag of spray cans, but she could still run pretty fast. The officers gave up after a minute, but they all kept going for a few more, just to be sure.
Jogging to a halt in another side ally, they stopped to catch their breath.
After a few seconds, Raz looked up at Sherlock and said, "Like I was saying, I'll ask around."
"Thanks." Was the reply.
"Here you go." Offered Rose, as she lifted the bag to Raz. He looked up at her quizzically, looked to the bag and let out a laugh, shaking his head.
"Thanks, sweet heart." He said, taking the bag from he, giving her another cheeky smile. She just smirked in return.
Sherlock, bored with the interaction already, and having what he wanted, made his way towards the end of the alley. "Coming Rose?" He called.
"See you soon." Said Raz, still smiling, having out run the officers and only lost one spray can thanks to her.
"I suppose." She said, giving him a cheeky wink, and turning to jog in the direction Sherlock had gone.
Catching up with him, she fell into step beside him. He didn't look at her, but asked, "Why did you do that?"
"Do what?" She asked, a little breathless from her quick jog to catch up.
"You encourage Raz to flirt and check you out, yet blush and get annoyed at being treated like a lady. You could have gotten an ASBO if you got caught with that bag." He said it calmly, but inside he was a little unnerved both at the blatant flirting and the fact that he really didn't understand the young woman.
He was so used to understanding everyone - if not after a few minutes, then surely after two weeks - that being this lost was off putting. He didn't like it.
She laughed the thought of getting an ASBO. "Sherlock, I grew up with people like Raz. I know his type of person, and know how to handle it. But I know who I am, and that is not a lady, so I don't know how to handle being treated like one. I don't like it. I grew up in a rough neighbourhood, with two brothers." She shrugged. "I'm used to being treated like one of the guys, and I prefer it that way. I haven't worn a dress or skirt in years, and completely detest being called dear." She said the word as though it were the worst possible thing to call someone, and it made Sherlock stop in his tracks.
He had realised why she got so annoyed with Mycroft, and the realisation pulled at the corner at his mouth. He had learnt a little more about his little puzzle.
He and Mycroft had been brought up to be proper gentlemen, treating women like ladies and all that sort of thing. Mycroft took it more seriously than Sherlock had, using it to climb to climb the career ladder and charm the people he needed. Sherlock preferred blackmail and intimidation, but he knew his brother would try to treat his flatmate like a proper lady, as he had every other woman he had talked to in his life. But, Sherlock thought, it hadn't worked. The thought that his flatmate was different from Mycroft's "crowd" made him happy.
"You alright there, Sherlock?" Rose asked, shocked by his sudden halt in their travels.
Sherlock looked at her, taking in her slightly concerned face and remembered his brothers words to him not long ago. Seems you have yourself a friend or two there Sherlock. Don't mess it up.
Looking at her, Sherlock tried something he hadn't done since he was a very small child - and even then he had given up after a day, becoming bored with the concept. But he would try again. He would try to make a friend.
"Thank you." He said, hoping she would say what he needed her to say for his little plan to work, and she didn't fail him.
"What for?"
He smirked, mirroring her earlier words back to her. "For being you."
She laughed, shaking her head at his niceness. "Your welcome." She said, just as he had done earlier. With that they carried on down the street in a comfortable and companionable silence.