The Silent Banker
A Silent Bump
Sitting in the back of the cab, Sherlock text John, who should be leaving work around about then, telling him to get Lucas' diary from the Yard, and see if he can find anything.
After telling Rose what he was doing, she said, "Ok, so where are we going?"
"To Van Coon's office, see what he was up to before he died. Somewhere their paths will cross, and that's where we look." Sherlock explained, as Rose nodded her understanding.
Back in Van Coon's office, Sherlock and Rose were talking to the secretary of the dead man; a blond woman in smart dress, called Amanda.
"…Due back from Dalian on Friday, looks like he had back to back meetings with the sales team." She was saying.
"Can you print me out a copy?" He asked of her.
"Sure." She replied, clicking on the computer on her desk.
"What about the day he died, can you tell me where he was?" Sherlock asked her.
Rose looked over to see a black square in the calendar on the computer. "Sorry," Said the secretary. "Got a bit of a gap." Sherlock sighed, but she carried on. "I have all of his receipts."
John had just gotten home, taken off his coat and put the kettle on, when his phone buzzed.
Go to the Yard.
Find something we can use to trace Lucas's movements. SH
Letting out a long suffering sigh, he turned the kettle off again, put on his coat again, and went to hail a cab.
As he got in, he thought he saw a woman taking a photo of him, though when he looked back, no one was there. Imagining things again, John, he thought, and as he walked into Scotland Yard, the memory was long forgotten.
"Your friend..." Started Dimmock, but John tried to reassure the man.
"Listen, what ever you say, I'm behind you 100%." He said.
"…he's an arrogant sod." Finished the DI. He didn't look up from the bok he was looking through, but seemed better for getting the small phrase off hiss chest.
John was a little shocked. "Well, that was mild. People say a lot worse than that." He replied.
Dimmock offered him a small book. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? The journalists diary?"
"Thanks," Replied John again, taking the book. Opening it, he found an airline ticket from Dalian to London, tucked into the page the same day Van Coon had died.
"What kind of a boss was he, Amanda?" Asked Sherlock, and detecting the underlying tone in his voice, Rose looked up, and started paying more attention. "Appreciative?"
She seemed to go a little shy, even embarrassed at the question. "Umm, no." She laughed awkwardly. "That's not a word I'd use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag." She sounded almost jealous, and Rose knew what was going on between the two of them immediately.
"Like that hand cream. He bought that for you didn't he?" Asked Sherlock, sounding as though he knew and just wanted confirmation on the topic. Her silence was all he needed.
As he ordered the receipts, he picked one up and handed it to Rose. "Look at this one." He said, shuffling a few more tiny bits of paper about. "Got a taxi from Hemel the day he died, £18.50"
"Well, that would get him to the office," The secretary supplied.
"Not rush hour, check the time, mid morning. £18 would get him as far as.." He trailed off trying to work it out and do what ever he was doing at the desk.
Rose looked confused, not knowing her way round London just yet, and so the secretary stepped in. "The West End, I remember him saying…"
Sherlock handed Rose another bit of paper. "Underground, printed in Piccadilly."
"So he got a tube back to the office. Why would he get a cab into town and the tube back?" The secretary questioned.
"He had a package?" Mused Rose.
"He was delivering something heavy, you wouldn't lug a package up the escalator." He said, as though it was obvious.
"Delivering?" Said the secretary, starting to look a little lost.
"To someone near Piccadilly station." Rose chipped in. "Delivered it…and then what?"
"Stopped on his way." Said Sherlock, holding another little bit of paper. "He got peckish!" She thought it was as though Sherlock didn't understand that people got hungry. Again he rushed out of the office, eager to solve another bit of the puzzle, and again, she had to run to catch up to him.
Rose was shown the receipt in the cab and she noted the name of the restaurant, which she found was useful, as she liked to know where she was actually going, instead of simply following a mad man everywhere. Sherlock found it useful because then she got out of his way as he walked down the street, spinning to see the whole street. In the end though, he ended up walking backwards, in front of Rose, trying to put her in Van Coon's shoes. How they got like that she didn't even know.
"So, you brought you lunch from here," He said pointing to his right at the food place. "En route to the station." Again pointing off in some other direction. "But where were you headed from?"
She then noticed John walking their way, head down, looking at a small book. "Umm, Sherlock?" She said, trying to warn him.
"But where did the taxi drop you-" And she saw as the two men collided, Sherlock almost falling over. John wasn't so lucky as to get an almost, and ended up on the floor. Giggling, both at John on the floor, and Sherlock's affronted expression, she offered John a hand and pulled him up, much to his surprise. Strong woman, he thought absent mindedly.
Sherlock rounded on them, explaining what they had learned to John. "Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died, whatever was inside that case," but John had something to say, and tried to interrupt Sherlock's fast speech.
"Um, Sher-" Tried being the operative word.
"I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information…" But John wasn't one to give up easily.
"Sherlock-"
"…bills, receipts, he flew back from China, and then he came here." John tried a little more forcefully.
"Sherlock." Again, tried.
"Somewhere near, somewhere in this street, like really near, but I don't-" He had started whining and Rose had had enough of this now.
Something hit his arm, and if he weren't wearing his thick coat, he thought it might have hurt quite a bit. Looking down he saw Rose, who looked like she was trying not to laugh, and be serious for once.
"John's trying to tell you something, Sherlock." She said in a stern voice, even if it was lightly laced with amusement. "Listen to him!" Sherlock frowned at her, and she starred him down. Sighing, he turned to John.
"Thanks," John said to Rose, then looked to his other flat mate. "As I was trying to say, that shop, over there." He pointed to a little shop called The Luck Cat. Sherlock looked up to the shops, then back down at John, looking expectant of some form of explanation.
"How can you tell?"
"Lucas's diary, he was here too." John showed them the little book. "He wrote down the address." He said simply. With that, John closed the little book, and made his way to said address.
Rose just stood there, though, both waiting for Sherlock - who looked like he had an obvious answer completely wrong - and trying to hold back laughter. "Come on, Sherlock." She said, laughing lightly. He followed the two of them, still looking a little puzzled.
As soon as they stepped into the shop however, they were back to being serious as the three flatmates looked around.
"You want lucky cat?" Said the lady behind the counter to Sherlock. Rose looked up, and found the woman offering them one of the golden cats, with a bobbing arm. He just smiled politely and looked away, his answer obvious.
The lady then turned to her, thinking she may have been interested when she looked up. "Lucky cat? It's good luck, help you with your love life!"
Rose blushed at the mention of a love life, and said, "No, thanks," in a tight voice. John, hearing this, carefully looked up - better to avoid the lady behind the counter - and seeing his friend's blush, smirked. She didn't miss it, and mouthed what? at him, daring him to say something. He simply tried to tone down the smile a little, and mouthed back a quick nothing. He had noticed she got embarrassed somewhat easily, and thought that it would be a new pass time of his to try and embarrass her as much as he could.
As he turned away however, John caught sight of a tray of small china cups. Thinking Harry might like one, he picked one up, to see if it had a price tag on the bottom of it. What he found however pulled his thoughts from his sister and her strange collection of ceramic knick knacks, and back to the case they were working on.
"Umm… guys…" He said quietly. They both lifted their heads, and walked over to see what he found.
"The label?" Questioned Rose, not seeing the symbol written on it in red pen.
"Sherlock..?" Said John, hoping he was on to something here.
"Yes, I see it." Confirmed Sherlock.
"What?" Asked Rose, not liking being left out.
"It's exactly the same as the cipher." Explained john.
She looked closer. "Well, I'll be damned.." She whispered.
Suddenly, John looked up, and cleared his throat quietly, reminding them where they were. He put down the cup again, and the three of them left quietly.
Walking down the street, Sherlock started to explain to them. "Hang Zhou. It's an ancient number system. Nowadays, only street traders use it."
"So, those were numbers written on the wall at the bank?" asked John, trying to make sense of it.
"And at the library." Said Rose, remembering the message on the shelf.
"Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect." Clarified Sherlock
"It's a fifteen, what we thought was the artists tag. It's the number fifteen." Said John, looking at random price tags on things on a market stall.
"And the horizontal line was the number one." Said Rose, holding up another price tag.
"We found it!" Said John triumphantly.
"Know we need to find out what it means." Replied Sherlock.