The Silent Banker
A Silent Scream
Hearing the knock, Rose frowned and went to the window, seeing a man dressed in full black, but also seeing the two men hiding against the wall, either side of the door, so as to not be seen by who ever answers it. She stubbed out her cigarette quickly.
"Sarah." She called out in a quiet voice, going to the kitchen and taking the woman's arm, pulling her into the living room. "Get behind the boxes and don't move - don't even make a sound - until Sherlock gets back. And make sure its him first, ok?" She said quickly as she moved.
Sarah frowned, but noting the controlled panic in the young woman's voice, nodded, wondering what was happening.
Rose saw she didn't quite understand the situation though. "Promise me!" She demanded fiercely in a low voice.
Sarah picked up on the urgency of her words, and knew that something was very, very wrong. She nodded, and ducked behind the boxes.
They heard a thud from downstairs. John, thought Rose, blinking away tears. She knew they would think something was up if she was knelt talking to a box, and so hurried into the kitchen, acting as though she were setting the trays, just as Sarah had been doing.
Sarah held as still as she could behind the box, trying to be very small. She had heard the thump from downstairs, and she prayed John would be alright, holding back tears of worry and fear.
But she felt them spill over, running down her cheeks as she heard Rose in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" She heard, and realised the woman was acting, trying to save a woman she had only met that night. But whether t was really good acting or it was real, Sarah still heard the fear in her voice.
She put a hand over her mouth as she heard the small scream of the brave young woman. Shaking, she remembered that Rose had said to not move until Sherlock came back, and she was thankful for the warning, as, after a few seconds of silence, she heard someone enter the living room, crossing the room containing so many books and boxes. She held her breath to try to be quieter, and heard the sound of something being sprayed.
She sat like that, shaking, with a hand over her mouth, breathing through her nose as tears flooded down her face, running over her hand.
The door slamming shut made her jump and she heard running on the stairs. She was about to get up, but remembered Rose's warning.
And make sure its him first.
She heard him call out to them, and breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she heard the detectives voice.
"Sherlock…?" She called out shakily. In any other situation, she may have been ashamed at how weak and frightened she sounded just then.
Sherlock spun toward the small sound, seeing Sarah stand up from behind a box.
"What happened?" He demanded, but she only started to cry.
Through her tears, she tried to explain. "John went to order food, and then…" sob "Rose grabbed my arm and told me to hide, and to stay there until you came back…" sob "They took them, Sherlock! Oh god, what if they're-"
He wouldn't let her say it, and so when she started to, he crossed the room and grabbed her upper arms, cutting her off. "If they wanted to kill them, they would have done it here and a dead hostage in no use to anyone." He said quickly, hoping to calm her down a bit, but she only started crying harder.
Frowning, he shook her a little. Dealing with crying women was not his forte, and he really didn't have the time to learn at the moment. "Calm down!" He snapped at her, making her hiccup in shock, stopping her sobs. It worked…
"Go to Scotland yard. Go find Detective Inspector Dimmock, give him this." He gave her the photo with his translations on it as he instructed her on what to do. "Tell him what happened and make sure to tell him about the cipher on the windows." She frowned and turned to se the yellow spray paint on the windows, but he let go of her arms and went to the door again.
"Where are you going?" She cried.
He looked back, a stormy look in his usually frosty eyes. "I'm going to get them back." He said darkly.
Rose woke up to a sore head and a flickering light behind her closed lids. She tried to move her hand up to her head, only to find both hands bound by a thick rope behind her.
Snapping her eyes open, she found she was in a dark tunnel, the odd barrel of fire dotted around to provide light. She also found the her hands were tied behind her back, and that she was sat on a wooden chair.
Looking around she saw John also tied to his own chair sitting about a meter away.
"John!" She shouted out to him.
Hearing his name, he stirred and woke up to find his hands bound and that the younger of his two flatmates was in a similar predicament. Then he thought of Sarah, and looked around. Finding that she wasn't there he looked fearfully to Rose. Seeing the emotion in his eyes, she knew what he was thinking, and hoped that the woman was alright. However, she knew that panicking would not help at all, and so she winked at him, letting him know that Sarah was safe. Hopefully, she thought.
"A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket." They heard, and their heads snapped up to see the hostess from the circus step into the light. She was dressed in full black, and wearing a pair of wide, dark shades.
Lifting the glasses onto her forehead, she continued. "Chinese proverb, Mr Holmes."
They frowned, and John spoke up, sounding quite confused. "I…I'm not Sherlock Holmes."
She just smiled. "Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She reached forward, and put a hand into the inside of his jacket pocket, pulling something out. "Debit card, name of S. Holmes."
"Yes, that's not actually mine. He leant me that the other day." John explained, Rose still frowning.
"A cheque for five thousand pounds, made out in the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes."
"Yes," Said John, remembering the scene from the bank. "I was just holding that for him."
"Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes." She said in a voice that was getting annoyed with his continuous denial.
"Yes, I realise what this looks like, but I'm not him." He looked up, to see her smiling and shaking her head.
"We heard it from your own mouth!" She insisted.
"What?" Questioned John, his head throbbing from being knocked out.
"I am Sherlock Holmes, and I always work alone." She told him, earning John an annoyed look from Rose.
"I suppose I can't convince you I was doing an impression, then." Said John in a tired voice, realising that he wasn't going to change her mind.
He looked up and saw a gun in his face then, and jerked away on a reflex, trying to get away from the weapon. Rose struggled against the rope, but only ended up burning her wrists. She didn't care and carried on, trying to find someway of helping her friend.
"I am Shan." The woman said.
He looked up, still obviously uncomfortable with how close the gun was. "Your General Shan?"
"Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Mr Holmes. What does it tell up when an assassin can't shoot straight?"
"You need a better shooter?" Came the snide remark from Rose.
Shan just looked to her, smiled maliciously, and cocked the gun. She put it right between Johns eyes, and looking at Rose, whose face had paled. Shan squeezed the trigger, a second after John squeezed his eyes shut.
They all heard the click as the gun didn't fire, and John breathed out in relief, as did Rose.
"It tells you that they aren't really trying." Shan said. She replaced the cartridge and cocked the gun again. "No blank bullets now." She told then happily. "If we wanted to kill you Mr Holmes, we would have done it by now."
"He's not Sherlock, it's not him!" Cried Rose. She was worried about her friend with a gun to his face.
Shan just looked up at her and smiled again. Rose saw the spark of an idea in her eyes and swallowed down her uneasiness.
Turning back to John, she said, "We just wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?"
"Have what?" Said John, not understanding what she wanted.
"The treasure." She hissed in reply.
"I don't know what your talking about." Replied John, and Rose could hear the slight wobble in his voice.
"I would prefer to make certain." Said Shan with a smile. She lowered the gun and walked over to Rose, who pushed back in her chair all she could, trying to distance herself from the woman. "I would think you wouldn't want you little friend here hurt."
"Get away from her." Said John strongly. A gun in his face may scare him, but if someone threatened his friends, it just made him angry.
"You have put up quite a fight when meeting our man, Little Miss." Said Shan to Rose. "But not with out leaving unscathed."
Shan raised her hand to brush a finger along Roses cut cheek to prove her point, but Rose was always a fighter, and so tried to bite the woman. Shan moved her hand away quickly though, and then slapped Rose in the face.
Rose turned her head from the force of the blow, but didn't cry out; she wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Feeling the blood trickle down her face - Shan had reopened the cut - she turned her head back to give Shan and unblinking and icy glare.
Shan just laughed though and turned to John. "Everything in the west has it's price. The price for her pain to cease, is information."
Johns gaze flickered to Rose and she saw the fear in his eyes; they both knew that they had no information to give.
"Where's the hair pin?" Asked Shan sharply.
"What?" Asked John, struggling to get out of his bonds.
"The empress hair pin, worth nine million pounds." Replied Shan, temper shortening.
"I don't have any hair pin." Insisted John. The result was Shan grabbing a fist full of Rose's hair and yanking her head back painfully. She didn't move, knowing to struggle would only make it worse, only letting out the smallest hiss of pain. The young woman tried to focus on breathing steadily.
"We already had a buyer in the east, and then one of our men got greedy and stole it." Shan said, raising her voice.
"I don't know anything about any hairpin! I swear!" Shouted John angrily.
Shan let go of Rose's hair and let a grimace pass over her features. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a wide length of material, wrapping the ends around each hand. Rose knew what was going to happen and made sure to move her tongue out of the way of her teeth, so she didn't bite it in pain because she knew that whatever Shan did, she wouldn't make a sound of pain.
"We know you know where it is! You have been looking for it Mr Holmes!" Shan said calmly to him, and the coolness of her voice sent shivers down John's spine.
He looked her in the eye and said in a tone that left no room for doubt, "I am not Sherlock Holmes."
Shan curled her lip at him and moved round to stand behind Rose, who had shut her eyes in anticipation of what was to come. Making sure that the collar of her top was pushed as far down as it could go, Shan smiled at the sight of the purple and blue skin on the younger woman's neck.
Then with the speed of a cobra, Shan wrapped the fabric around the woman's neck and pulled it tight, though not tight enough to stop her breathing. No, it was just tight enough to cause the woman agonising pain.
She felt the fabric brush over her face and braced herself. But nothing could prepare the woman for the pain that rippled through her at the tightening of the fabric. All her muscles screamed out as she jerked against the chair in pain. Her wrists felt warm with blood that had the chance to flow freely as her flesh was worn away. Her head snapped back, and her mouth opened to let out the piercing scream that rippled n the chest, but she caught it in her throat just before it broke free. Her eyes pricked with tears from the strain of her efforts.
John watched in horror as the fabric tightened around his friends throat, and her head snapped back as she opened her mouth in what would have been a blood chilling scream, except there was no sound.
And that chilled John more than any scream ever had.
"Please! Stop this! I don't know anything!" He insisted, seeing the tears that had started to fall from the corners of his friends eyes, running down her face, salt water mixing with blood as they ran into the cut.
Shan held strong few a few more seconds then let the material hang loose around Rose's neck, then unwrapped it and walked over to a large contraption covered by a sheet. Rose brought he head up and stretched her neck, swallowing her pain, breathing heavily. Then her eye caught the object covered by a sheet. Rose thought it looked familiar, and then realised what it was.
"No…" She whispered, eyes widening in fear.
Shan turned back to John. "You hold up well, Mr Holmes. You can withstand seeing your friend in a lot of pain. We could go on all night, but I'm getting rather bored now."
She pulled the sheet off to reveal the cross bow from the performance. John went pale at the sight of it. She couldn't….
"But I wonder if you can stand to have her blood on your hands?" Said Shan in a curious voice, as though it were some silly experiment, testing to see what colour would be made from mixing two different paints.
The reminder of an experiment lead Rose to think about Sherlock, and her thoughts started to catch up to reality…
John looked towards Shan again, trying to convince her of the truth. "Please! I'm not Sherlock Holmes! I don't know anything about any pin!"
"Lies will get you into trouble, Mr Holmes!" Said Shan, and she looked towards two men in masks, nodding towards Rose. They moved forward and picked up her chair, moving her in front of the crossbow.
"Ladies and gentlemen, from the moonlit shores of NW01, I give you, Mr Holmes pretty assistant, in a death defying act!" Shan taunted, looking at John. She went over to the crossbow and loaded it with a single, blunt bolt.
"No! Please…please…" John begged.
Shan took out a knife and showed it to John, the blade glinting in the firelight.
"I'm not Sherlock Holmes, I don't have any pin! Please, you have to believe me!" He shouted, trying to get through to her.
She looked him in the eye, pleading eyes meeting cold, uncaring ones.
"I think you're lying." She said with finality, and she thrust her hand in the air, splitting the bag of sand, starting the decent of the weight.
Rose saw the bag split and heard John pleading for her life again. She looked up, giving him a small, sad smile.
"John." She called, making him look at her, his eyes swimming in fear. "It's ok."
He saw the look in her eyes and knew what it was instantly; he had seen it so many times in his time in Afghanistan, trying to fix those who couldn't be fixed. He knew what it was and it scared him more than any gun could.
She had thought about everything that was going on. How John was pleading for her life; how Sarah would wait until Sherlock got back.
How Sherlock had gone to the museum, and wouldn't be back for a while. She knew that by the time he got back, translation in hand as she knew he would have it, it would be too late. She had expected something a little less dramatic, but then thought about the Holmes brothers, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips, wondering why she expected any less.
"No…" Muttered John, his voice becoming louder suddenly with desperation. "No!"
She looked away from his knowing gaze, ashamed that he knew her thoughts.
Because he knew. He knew what was going through her mind, and he knew the look in her eyes.
It was the look of acceptance.