The following morning, Sherlock stood in St. Bart's morgue watching as Molly spoke to the children of Arnold Peterson. They were both in their late twenties and looked to be in well paid jobs. He watched as the deceased man's daughter crumbled in her grief, clinging to the pathologist who gently held her like a mother soothing her child. For a moment, she caught Sherlock's gaze and gave him a solemn look. The woman's brother held his sister's shoulder, yet there was pain etched on his face as well.
Assuming the role of the head of the family, even though he's dealing with grief as well... Sherlock deduced.
Once the Peterson children had left, Molly went back into the morgue. "I feel so sorry for that woman. She's due to be married in a couple of weeks, and now her dad won't get the chance to walk up the aisle with her." she sighed. Sherlock noticed that the young woman's situation had touched Molly, having lost her own father a few years ago.
"What were you able to find?" Sherlock asked, shifting the focus on Mr. Peterson's autopsy.
Molly cleared her throat to pull herself together. "Well, the carvings on his torso were made with a knife. The lines are smooth and have no sign of jaggedness, so it could've been something that'd been recently sharpened or has been barely used; possibly a dagger of sorts. There were some traces of chloroform near his lips, which means he was knocked out and taken somewhere else." she began, directing his attention. "The cause of death was blood loss from the wounds on the body." she concluded, gently pulling the white sheet that covered the man down to the torso.
Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "A surprise attack and chloroform being used means this killer is trained in how to take out enemies." he mused, and cast a gaze at Arnold's body. "This man wasn't important enough to warrant an assassination; his business was a market shop selling potatoes and other groceries... which means he was just something to be used as bait to draw my attention." he added.
Molly looked saddened at Sherlock's deductions. "Poor guy, he just happened to be walking home to mourn his failed marriage. Now he won't get to see his daughter get married..." she sighed, a lump forming in her throat.
Sherlock looked over to her. "Something's distressing you. Could be that the young woman's predicament has brought back memories of your own father's sad death. You'd always said that when you eventually married, you wanted him to be walking up the aisle with you to give you away to your future husband." he began, noticing the tears that were starting to form in her eyes.
The pathologist quickly rubbed her eyes. "I-It's not that. I've had a lot on my mind lately." she replied hurriedly. "I-I should get back to work; got a lot of reports to do..." she mumbled as she went to work. Sherlock sensed that he should be heading off and walked out of the morgue. Once he was gone, Molly covered her face with her hands and let the tears she'd been desperate to hold back finally flow freely. "Sorry, Dad... I know I shouldn't dwell but... I miss you so much." she whispered. Her thoughts drifted to Sherlock. I know he sometimes can be harsh, but... why do I still let my heart betray me when he's around? she thought.
As Sherlock left the morgue, he saw that Lestrade was waiting for him. "I figured I'd find you here. I've questioned the ex Mrs Peterson, but she's got a solid alibi; she'd been visiting some relatives at the time of the murder." he began. Sherlock noticed the inspector had a look of urgency in his expression. "There was a black lotus origami on Annie Bridges' body, right?" he asked.
"Yes, and I suppose you didn't come all the way here to remind me about that fact, did you Graham?" Sherlock replied. He had a suspicion that the police had found a clue that would prove vital to the case.
"It's Greg. You're still not going to get my name right, aren't you?" Lestrade sighed with irritation. "But that's not the point. We were going through a suitcase we found near where Arnold Peterson's body was found. It has his details on it in case it was possibly lost. But we went through the contents and spotted something interesting amongst the belongings of his that were inside." he began. He took out what seemed to be an evidence bag. Sherlock leant in to have a closer inspection, and his eyes lit up. Inside was a black lotus origami, confirming his suspicions.
"They left the origami inside the suitcase after he died. Now that's very interesting." Sherlock muttered. With a slight spring in his step, he started to head out of the Pathology unit. "I think this little chess game will soon be concluding." he grinned.
Lestrade sighed. "I'm never going to hear the end of this..." he muttered to himself before making his way back to headquarters.
Several days passed, but there was no sign of the Black Lotus making their move. This was no help to Sherlock, who had started to become incredibly bored. John knew he was itching to put an end to the gang's activities once and for all, and he and Mary were doing all they could to keep him preoccupied. Mycroft had personally seen to it that the artefacts from the Chinese government had been shipped in safely for the Chinese New Year event at the British Museum, and the homeless network that Sherlock worked with were keeping a watchful eye out for any sign of the Black Lotus. In the meantime, the detective took on a few minor cases in order to keep his mind active.
Until finally, after he'd solved yet another case, he got the sign he'd been waiting for...
John was at work in the clinic when he'd received a text from Sherlock;
Come to Baker Street immediately. The game is on. – SH.
After making a quick call to Mary to head to 221B to meet with Sherlock, he cancelled any appointments, making sure he'd apologised profusely for the sudden cancellations. Once this was done, John made his way to Sherlock's flat as quickly as possible.
When he arrived, Mary was already waiting for him, as well as Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson had taken the baby to her flat to look after her, with (much to the godfather's displeasure) the help of Philip Anderson, a former employee of New Scotland Yard. "What's going on?" John asked, noticing Sherlock's demeanour.
"I was just about to ask you the same thing!" Lestrade replied, looking towards the man who'd helped him out on many occasions.
Sherlock had been in deep thought since Mary and Lestrade's arrivals, having been in his mind palace to piece everything together. "The homeless network has finally given me a clue about their whereabouts. And I was just about to inform Mary and Lestrade about their cunning trick before you got here." he replied, directing them to a map of London on the wall nearby.
The three looked at the map on the wall very closely, hoping to see what Sherlock was talking about. "I don't get it, what are we supposed to be seeing?" Mary asked when she gave up looking.
"It's not about 'seeing'; it's about 'believing'." Sherlock replied with a sigh, giving his best friend's wife a pointed look. "Good God, it's like I'm talking to a brick wall..." he muttered under his breath. He took out a small plastic rod out from his cup of tea, which John assumed he must've dropped while in his mind palace. "They want us to find them; it's what they've wanted all along. Yet, they don't want to look too out of place to drawn unnecessary attention." he began.
"Ok, so they're trying to blend in. Why?" Lestrade asked.
Sherlock pointed at some rail tracks on the map. "The last time the Black Lotus was here, they set up a sort of base here on this abandoned tramway. They were also kindly assisted by Moriarty. He helped them find a way into London for a smuggling operation. This time, with a lack of a 'consulting criminal' to help them, they had to find their own way in." Sherlock explained.
"Ok, I can kinda understand the blending in thing, but how is this going to help us if we have no idea where they're based now?" John asked.
Sherlock gave him a sly smile. "As I said earlier, it's about 'believing'. They want us to think we can't find them, yet they made one fatal mistake; they didn't count on my homeless network." he smirked. "One of the people in the network overheard some Chinese men speaking in Mandarin about a 'final phase'. There was one name in particular that was mentioned: General Lien." he added.
"They mentioned their new boss? Wait... are you saying that she's somewhere in London, at this moment?!" John blinked.
"Exactly, and their 'secret base' is not exactly secret." Sherlock replied smugly.
"Let me guess; you've already figured that out?" Mary chuckled, sipping her tea.
Sherlock's eyes had a familiar twinkle in them; one that said that he was just about to solve this case in a blink of an eye. "Why yes, Mrs. Watson, I believe I have!" he grinned. He directed their attention to a part of the map with a photo of warehouses next to them.
"Some warehouses? What do they have to do with the Black Lotus Tong?" John asked.
Sherlock pinched between his eyes. "Think, John! Where do people go to store items when they are currently not in use or are due to be used? Where do we go when we need to retrieve items?" he asked, prompting his friend to realise what he was suggesting.
As if on cue, it seemed clear to John. "They're based in a warehouse. They were under our noses all along!" he exclaimed.
Having proven his point, Sherlock promptly finished his tea and went to grab his coat and scarf. "Finally, you believe instead of seeing!" he exclaimed.
"Wait, where are you going?" Lestrade asked.
"To the warehouse, I believe I owe them an overdue visit. John, get your coat." Sherlock answered as he left the flat.
John quickly got up from the chair he'd been sitting in and grabbed his coat. "I'll see you soon." he smiled at Mary.
Mary gave him a quick kiss. "Keep an eye on Trouble for me, would you?" she smiled.
"I'll try..." John replied, knowing that "Trouble" was impatiently waiting downstairs. He popped into Mrs. Hudson's flat to check his daughter was alright. "Daddy will be home soon, Princess." he whispered before kissing the baby on the head. He looked to Mrs. Hudson. "Do you and Anderson mind...?" he began.
"Oh, don't worry, dear. Your little one will be just fine. It'll be nice not to have Sherlock cooped up in that flat all day. Now off you go!" Mrs. Hudson beamed.
John carefully placed her into Anderson's arms. "I think she might be due a fresh nappy..." he smiled weakly.
"Oh, cheers... Cheers for that." Anderson grumbled. He grimaced when he checked the little girl's nappy, immediately heading into Mrs. Hudson's bathroom.
"John, come on! I'd very much like to get this game going!" Sherlock called from downstairs, the obvious impatience clear in his tone.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Just hold your horses!" John called back as he made his way down to join him. Once he was downstairs, the two men headed out to make their way to the warehouses. "Do you have any clue where we're going?" John asked.
"The member of the homeless network who overheard the Black Lotus is waiting for us. He'll lead us to them, or close enough to them." Sherlock replied as he hailed for a cab.
Once they'd arrived, they met up with the homeless man who led them to the warehouses. "We'll have to split up. It'll save time on having us decide which ones to look in. Text in case you find anything." Sherlock began.
John went on the west side of the warehouses and Sherlock went on the east side. For a while, neither of them found anything, until John found one that seemed very suspicious. Upon further investigation, he saw some boxes that seemed to have a symbol of a lotus; one that looked similar to tattoos that members of the Black Lotus Tong had on the heel of their right feet. He quickly sent Sherlock a text letting him know what he'd found.
As he was about to head to a safe place where Sherlock could easily spot him, a Chinese man had raised a knife to his neck, having snuck up behind him when John wasn't looking. "Stay where you are." he hissed in broken English.
"O-Ok, let's put the knife down. I don't mean to intrude." John gulped, hoping Sherlock would hurry up.
"A pleasant story, one I am sure will cost you your life." the man replied. Suddenly, there was a tap on his shoulder.
"Pardon me, sir." a familiar voice piped up. The man turned to see who it was, but was suddenly knocked out by the person head butting him. It had been none other than Sherlock. "Are you alright, John?" he asked his friend calmly.
"I just had a knife raised to my throat, what do you think?!" John exclaimed in anger.
"Oh relax, you're fine." Sherlock replied. He looked down to the unconscious man. "But our friend here may be of use to us..." he grinned.
John's face fell when he saw the grin on Sherlock's face. "You're not going to push him out of a window a countless number of times, are you?" he asked nervously.
"Throwing someone out of a window? That was so 2012." Sherlock chuckled as he remembered a past case involving a dominatrix by the name of Irene Adler; known professionally as The Woman. "No, I have something much more horrible in store for him..." he smirked.