The Silent Banker
A Book Called Silence
Back in the flat, Rose took off her coat, and went to put the kettle on while John and Sherlock went to the living room.
"It's not just a criminal organisation," Sherlock was saying to no one in particular. "It's a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of it's leaders."
"Soo Lin said the name." Chipped in Rose from the other room.
"Shan." Supplied John.
"Yes, General Shan." Corrected and confirmed Sherlock.
"We're still no closer to finding them." Muttered John.
"Wrong!" Said Sherlock firmly, spinning to look at John. "We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces." Sherlock, seeing they were lost gave them an annoyed look. "Why did he go to see his sister? Why did he need her experience?"
"She worked at the museum." John answered.
"An expert in antiquities…." Rose finished.
"Hmmm, I see." John said.
"Valuable antiquities John, ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures, hidden after Mau's revolution."
"The Black Lotus is selling them." Said John, taking a cup of tea from Rose as she moved through the room, setting Sherlock's own coffee on the desk. She went back for her own drink.
Sherlock looked up as she passed, eyes falling on Johns laptop.
At the desk, John and Rose crowded round Sherlock who sat on the chair controlling the mouse of the computer. They were looking at antique auctions.
"Check for the dates…" John muttered.
"Here." Said Sherlock pointing to the screen showing two vases. "Arrived from China four days ago. Seller is anonymous."
"Two undiscovered treasures from the east…"John said.
"One in Van Coon's case, the other in Lucas's." Rose finished, sipping her tea.
Sherlock typed in antiquities sold at auction into the search bar on the screen, looking at the results.
"Look, here's another one!" He said. "From China a month ago, ceramic statue, source is anonymous. Sold at £400,000."
"That's a lot of tea…" Rose muttered, eyes wide.
"Look, a month before that." Pointed out John, looking through Lucas's diary. "Chinese painting, sold at half a million."
"They're stealing them back in China and one my one feeding them into Britain." Rose said, still looking a little shell shocked.
"All of the dates coincide with either Lucas or Van Coon going over there." John said, checking the dates.
"So what if one of them got greedy while over there, what if they stole something." Theorised Sherlock.
"That's why Zi Zhu's come, to get it back." Finished John.
They were brought out of their bubble though by a knock at the living room door. Turning around they saw it was Mrs Hudson. "Sorry, only me." She looked to the detective. "Are we collecting for charity Sherlock?" She asked.
He frowned, why on earth would we collect for charity? "What?"
"A young man's outside with crates of books." She said, looking a little puzzled.
"Ah." He replied, standing up and going to the door.
Together, the three flatmates and the two officers that had delivered the books hauled the dozen or so large crates of books into the living room. But after a box or two, Sherlock had gotten bored and started looking through them, John staying behind to help. Rose only rolled her eyes and carried on helping.
As she waved them off, she went back up the stairs.
"So the numbers are a reference then?" She heard John saying.
"Yes, to books." Sherlock replied.
But knowing John didn't quite understand fully, Rose stated, "To specific pages, and specific words on those pages."
"Right…fifteen and one, that means…?"
"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read." Clarified Sherlock.
"Ok, so what's the message?" asked John.
"Depends on the book." said Rose with a sigh, knowing the long night they had ahead of them.
"That's the cunning of the book code," Said Sherlock, looking equal parts annoyed and awed at such a system. "It had to be something they both owned."
"Well that shouldn't take too long." John commented sarcastically.
And with that they set about the books, looking at page fifteen, and seeing if the first word was in anyway a threat. Sherlock stood to the side, taking books out of a box, John taking out an armful and going to sit at the desk and Rose taking a box and simply sitting on the floor next to it to work.
Dimmock entered the room then, holding what looked like a piece of paper in a plastic bag. He walked over to stand between John and Sherlock - almost stepping on Rose - and showed them the object in his hand.
"We found these at the museum." Getting no response from Sherlock, he turned his hand to John. "Is this your handwriting?"
John took the bag. "We hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us, ta."
Dimmock just nodded and looked around again. "Anything else I can do?" Though he looked reluctant in saying it.
"Some silence right now would be marvellous." Was Sherlock's light reply.
Dimmock just looked at him a second, before turning to John, who shook his head. Sighing, the young DI turned and left quietly.
As they worked, Rose heard the odd muttering coming from behind the crates.
"Cigarettes." She heard, the tone holding an undercurrent of longing, making her smirk.
And a few minutes later she heard another. "Imagine." Said with not an ounce of longing, and more of a tinge of disdain.
After a few hours, she heard a loud, drown out yawn, easily recognisable as Johns. Standing up, she checked the time, seeing it was closer to five in the morning than four. She stretched her legs and looked around; Sherlock was working just as fast as he usually did, but John was almost collapsing.
Sighing, she went over to him and shook his shoulder. He looked up at her, suddenly awake again.
"Go get some sleep John, you have work in a few hours." She said sternly yet gently, knowing the man was exhausted.
"No, I'm fine." But his eyes were already drooping again even as he said the words.
"John…" She replied, her voice a little more stern.
He sighed, and stood up, giving her a tired smile before making his way to his room. She smiled at him, shook her head and when to the kitchen.
"Coffee, Sherlock?" She offered, getting a short hmm in reply, which she had learned to take as a yes. She flicked the kettle on, and went to the fridge. She poured herself a glass of orange juice - noting that she should pick up some more at some point - and opened the freezer to get some ice - ignoring the severed hand in a plastic bag. The cool drink would keep her awake more than any hot beverage. She downed her drink in one, feeling the kick at once and carried on making Sherlock's coffee.
John woke up late the next morning after only a few hours sleep, and jumped into the shower to get ready for work. He skipped breakfast, and got a cab to the clinic in his hurry to be on time. He worked tiredly all day, though was proud of the fact that he had only fallen asleep once, for five minutes in the break room, before someone woke him up. He even managed to get a date with Sarah - his boss - for that evening. So he was happy, if a little tired, when he got home that afternoon.
But not long before he got home, Rose looked up to see Sherlock leaning over a box, an annoyed and contemplative look on his sharp features. They had been working - with out rest - since they started the night before. Rose had found the monotonous, repetitive work soothing, and that didn't help her stay awake much. But Sherlock, who got increasingly bored and frustrated with the work as time went on, had become louder in his movements, sometimes even throwing books into a box, making a loud noise that would then wake the young woman up a bit.
"What you thinking Sherlock?" She asked, knowing it would help him to get his ideas out in the open.
"A book that every one would own…" He said.
He turned away from her, but seeing that he didn't turn back to the box he was working on, she stood up, and watched what he was doing.
Reaching up on his own book self, he pulled down a large black oxford dictionary, but before he could even open the cover a voice spoke behind him.
"Not going to work." It said tiredly.
He turned to look at her, knowing it was a long shot, but wanting the scene to play out. "And why is that?"
She looked him in the eye, wondering how he could possibly think it would work, when she saw the mischief and expectancy in his eyes. She knew precisely what he was doing, and so gave him what he wanted. "Well apart from the fact that John found a dictionary, that wasn't that one, a few minutes before he went to bed this morning, it would be extremely unlikely that they would both have the exact same dictionary, and that it would be that one that you have in your hands. They would have to be the same publisher, and publish date for the code to still work." She raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms, showing him that she knew what his game was. He just smirked in reply.
"Good." He drawled.
She rolled her eyes and went to make drinks again. He was actually bored enough that he was starting to test her on her observational skills. This could get dangerous, she thought with worry. She wanted to prove she was worth teaching, but she didn't want to cause too much trouble.
Just as she pulled out a cup for Sherlock, John came in the door, so she pulled out another one for him.
"I need some air, we're going gout tonight." She heard Sherlock say.
"Actually, I've got a date." Was John's reply. As Rose walked in the room, she handed Sherlock his coffee, as well as John his tea. Then smirked at John.
"Nice one, Doctor." She said mischievously . He just laughed.
But Sherlock frowned. "What?" He didn't seem to understand.
"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John explained, used to Sherlock's inability to understand social norms.
"That's what I was suggesting." Sherlock said, as though confused as to how they can understand each other, yet be completely wrong.
"No, it wasn't." Replied John "At least, I hope it wasn't." Rose's smirk just grew.
"Where are you taking her then?" She asked, always a sucker for gossip.
"Cinema." He smiled.
"Ugh, dull, boring!" Replied Sherlock, moving to stand in front of John, and taking a bit of paper out of his pocket. "Why not try this? In London for one night only."
Leaning over John's shoulder, she saw the bit of paper Sherlock ripped of a poster the other night. She looked up, again wondering what he was up to.
John chuckled though, and went to hand the paper back to Sherlock. "Thanks, but I don't go to you for dating advise." He said.
Sherlock glanced at Rose, saying all he needed to, and she read it loud and clear.
Wondering if she would regret it, se took the slip of paper from John. "Oh I don't know, looks half decent." She looked up at him, smirk growing
again. "Says effort, not expectant."
John turned a slight shade of pink at her words. "Cinema says expectant?"
She nodded sadly. "And predictable."
John frowned a little. "Well, I suppose…"
"Okay then!" She replied enthusiastically, nudging his arm. He just chuckled again. "Right, I'm going for a shower, god knows I need one at some point today! You go get ready, John, and Sherlock can order the tickets for you."
John looked a little puzzled, but just put it down to them wanting something to do other than look at book after book. As Rose left, John looked to his other flat mate. He was leaning on an empty box, looking quite puzzled. John thought it best to leave him to his thoughts and went to go get ready for his date.
Rose got out of the shower, mind going over what she was about to do; because she knew for sure what Sherlock was up to.
She dressed in a clean pair of black jeans, and a sleeveless, black turtle neck top, complete with her usual jewellery - ring on her necklace, tucked under her top - and her steel toe cap boots. She also knew that it would be cold, and so took out her heavier longer black trench coat that, when she wore it, fell to her calves. Wearing it now would be a bit silly, she thought and so hung it on one of the rarely used hooks in the hall.
Satisfied that she was prepared - once again, hoping she really wasn't going to regret this - she went up the stairs. She went to check the fridge, if only to avoid the room of books again - she really didn't want to go back in there.
Sighing, she went to go make a shopping list that she would get round to at some point. Sitting on the sofa, she heard John come in and looked up. She smirked at him wearing a stripy shirt and black jacket. He just threw her a playful glare and turned to Sherlock.
"All done, just go in and give them my name, you'll have your tickets." Said the detective, looking at the screen of John's laptop.
"Alright, thanks. Well, don't wait up!" He replied, turning and heading out to go pick up his date, Rose laughing at his words.
A few minutes after John left, Rose was still looking at her paper, trying to decide if the guys would eat a home cooked meal or not.
"Rose, get your coat. We're going on a date." She turned a little red at the thought of going on a date, but had been expecting the words from her flat mate.
"No, we're not." She replied calmly, not even looking up from her list.
Sherlock was sat at the desk, staring at a blank screen, when he had spoken up. But he had not taken into account that she may know his plans. He had not thought that she may simply say no.
He frowned, what now?