And welcome back everyone I'm so glad you could join me today for this chapter; we are finally going to start following the story line/television series. Wowzers, I hope this is good, I'm trying my best here guys.
- Imagineer
Chapter 3: The Blind Banker (Part 1)
"Don't worry about me I can manage." I heard John mumble loudly as he trudged up the stairs.
"Oh John here let me give you a hand." I rushed up and met him halfway up the stairs and took the two grocery bags from his right hand.
"Thank you Rosie, you're a real angel." John told me.
"John I am no angel, but a sinner trying to be a Good Samaritan." I chuckled after saying this. My soul is so stained by my sins that I would not even be considered as an angel. John and I continued up the stairs to his flat. After putting the bags on the table John looks at Sherlock who is sitting at a desk looking at John's computer.
"Is that my computer?" he asked his flat mate.
"Of course," Sherlock answered, I giggled slightly.
"What?"
"Mine was in the bedroom." Sherlock said casually.
"What, you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John was getting frustrated, I felt sort of sorry that I was still giggling at his predicament.
"Its password protected." John said.
"In a matter of speaking, it took me less than a minute to guess yours; not exactly 'Fort Knox'." Sherlock stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. John took back his computer and shut it with a loud snap then placed it on the floor beside the dull reddish-orange chair then sat down in said chair.
"I need to get a job." He said after looking through what I suspected were bills.
"Oh dull." sighed Sherlock.
"Well, I guess I will be leaving then I bought some flower seeds this morning and I have been meaning to plant them. Do zobaczenia chłopcy!" I called as I walked out their door.
I planted the seeds, roses of course, into two pots, one white and one black; red roses in the white pot and in the black were blue, lavender, and white roses. When Sherlock and John left I went up to there flat and took John's computer and read Sherlock's email. Why I did this, because I knew by the look on Sherlock's face that the reason they went out was for a case, a non-homicidal case, yet. I hacked into the security cameras at the bank that Sherlock and John were at and Sherlock was obviously looking at something important but he was looking at it in the silliest way. He was going up and down, in my sight then out of my sight like a gofer; it was the most adorable and cutest thing I have ever seen someone do in a long time, I laughed so hard I cried. That is something I have never done, ever.
I shut down the computer then placed it back where I found it. At exactly twenty-six minutes and forty-three seconds later I get a phone call from John.
"I am going to assume someone is dead, am I right John?" I asked casually.
"Your assumption is correct, his name is Edward Vancoon. I'm sure you'll find out more on your own once you get here, I'll text you the address." John said.
"Wspaniały." I grinned; it was a mischievous smile that not even the 'Cheshire Cat' himself could match.
I arrived at the address John texted me in fifteen minutes, I told the cab driver that if he got there in less than twenty minutes I would pay him extra. As soon as I got out of the cab the police arrived, I got into the building before them and looked around the flat for ant useful information before the crew came and started pulling things apart like toddlers. Edward Vancoon is left handed, that is all I really needed to know because when I saw his body it explained everything. I pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from my pocket and put them on as the investigators came flooding in taking pictures and sifting through stuff.
"So what have you boys got here so far?" I asked looking from John to Sherlock who was looking at the victim's suitcase.
"Been away three days; judging by the laundry. Look at the case, there was something tightly packed inside it." Sherlock stated.
"I'll take your word for it." John said; I chuckled at his remark about not wanting to go through the victim's dirty laundry.
"Those symbols at the bank, the graffiti. Why were they put there?" Sherlock asked.
"Some sort of code?" John guessed.
"Obviously, but why were they painted to communicate why not use e-mail?" Sherlock questioned.
"Well maybe he wasn't answering." John suggested.
"Oh good, you follow." Sherlock said.
"No." John replied in a confused but casual tone.
"What kind of message would everyone try to avoid?" Sherlock asked.
"What about this morning, those letters you were looking at?" I asked John, catching on what Sherlock was talking about.
"Bills." John answered. Sherlock pulled something from the victim's mouth.
"Yes, this man was being threatened." Sherlock concluded. John mumbled something that I could hear because of the noise that the person approaching us was making.
"Ah Sergeant, I believe we've never met." Sherlock said, approaching the man holding his hand out politely.
"Yeah I know who you are, and prefer that you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." The man said rudely. Sherlock handed the little bag holding the evidence he had found and the man snatched it.
"I phoned Lestrade; is he on his way?" Sherlock asked.
"He's busy." The man snapped "I'm in charge, and it's not sergeant it's Detective Inspector Dimmock." He said arrogantly. Sherlock turned his head to John and I, John shrugged his shoulders and I was staring at Dimmock.
"Arogancki drań." I muttered under my breath, John chuckled because he knew what I said because I said the same thing about Sherlock then Later translated it to John.
"What was that?" asked Dimmock.
"Nothing." I answered innocently, what I got in return was a cold, stern stare. Dimmock left the bedroom with us following close behind him.
"We're obviously looking at a suicide." He stated handing a bald man by the sofa the little bag Sherlock had given him.
"That does seem to be the only explanation of all the facts." John agreed.
"Wrong. It's one plausible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution you like but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." Sherlock told Dimmock.
"Like?" Dimmock asked.
"The wound is on the right side of his head." Sherlock answered.
"And?" Dimmock questioned.
"Vancoon was left-handed, cause quite a bit of contortion." I interrupted; the three men looked at me for an explanation of how I knew this.
"Left-handed." Dimmock repeated, his voice cracking a bit.
"Yes, you can tell by how everything in this flat is placed." I stated.
"Coffee mug handle pointing to the left, power sockets habitually used on the left, pen and paper on the left side of the phone because he holds the phone with his right hand and writes with his left. Shall I continue?" I asked.
"May I actually?" Sherlock asked.
"Be my guest." I smiled.
"There is a knife on the bread board with butter on the right side because he used it with his left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head, conclusion someone broke in here and murdered him; only explanation of all the facts." Sherlock stated.
"But the gun?" Dimmock stuttered.
"He was waiting for the killer." Sherlock and I said seriously and simultaneously.
"He had been threatened." Sherlock explained.
"What?" Dimmock asked confusedly.
"Today at the bank, some sort of a warning." John told him.
"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock continued.
"And the bullet?" asked Dimmock.
"Went through the opened window." I concluded.
"Oh come on, what are the chances of that?" he laughed sarcastically.
"Wait till you get the ballistics' report, the bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun I guarantee it." Sherlock said, putting on his coat and scarf.
"But if his door was locked from the inside how did the killer get in?" Dimmock asked
"Good, you're finally asking the right questions." Sherlock remarked, putting on one of his black leather gloves then left the room, I followed behind him and John followed me.
"I'll see you two back at the flat, I have to go walk the dogs. Come over to my flat, I'll make lunch." I told them then hailed a cab.
When I got home, I took the dogs out on our normal route then came back and to a shower. I decided to make a broth, when I finished Sherlock and John were still not back yet so I had some spare time on my hands. Sitting at my piano I played through Schubert's version of 'Ave Maria' then other songs such as 'The Servant Song', and finally 'On Eagles Wings'.
"You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
Who abide in His shadow for life,
Say to the Lord, "My Refuge,
My Rock in Whom I trust."And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
The snare of the fowler will never capture you,
And famine will bring you no fear;
Under His Wings your refuge,
His faithfulness your shield.And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
You need not fear the terror of the night,
Nor the arrow that flies by day,
Though thousands fall about you,
Near you it shall not come.And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
For to His angels He's given a command,
To guard you in all of your ways,
Upon their hands they will bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
And hold you in the palm of His Hand."
I jumped at the sound of clapping at my flat door. Turning away from my piano I saw Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson enter my flat.
"Honestly, do any of you know how to knock?" I asked rhetorically.
"No." I laughed as they answered together with mischief in their eyes.
"That was beautiful my dear." Mrs. Hudson complimented.
"Yes, absolutely lovely." John agreed.
"Well done, I must say." Sherlock smirked.
"Dziękuję moi przyjaciele.Mrs. Hudson would you like to join us for lunch?" I asked my lovely landlady after I smiled and giving them a small dramatic bow.
"Not this time dear, I'm going to the grocer to get some more cleaning supplies and other things for my refrigerator. But thank you for asking." She told me, and then we said 'goodbye' and she left.
"So, anything new on the case?" I asked them after giving John a bowl of broth.
"No not yet, we're going to talk to our client from the bank once more to see what he knew about Vancoon's recent travels." John explained before taking a spoonful of broth.
"Rosie, this is amazing!" John said before taking another spoonful.
"Thank you John." I said, pouring some broth into a small bowl, the size of a cat food can, and placed it in front of Sherlock.
"I know you don't eat while working on a case but you need at least something to sustain you." I told him, he looked at me as if I were some sort of oddity, a mystery.
"Don't even try to argue with me, if you do I will tie you to this chair and force this broth down your throat." I threatened him with the most serious face I could. Sherlock cleared his throat.
"Very well then." He said and then took a spoonful.
"You are a very good cook by the way." He added after he had finished chewing.
"Thank you Sherlock, see that wasn't so bad was it?" I asked rhetorically and he knew it was rhetorical.
"This morning you spoke about planting flowers, what kind?" John asked, breaking the silence.
"Roses: red, blue, white, and lavender." I answered him.
"How typical." Sherlock sighed.
"Excuse me, what is that supposed to mean?" I asked him, my anger beginning to rise.
"It is typical for women to plant flowers, roses are the most common." He stated casually.
"Are you comparing to normal women Sherlock?" I asked him angrily.
"Absolutely not Rozalia, I am stating how you are not like other women; you don't let people push you around, you are independent and don't need someone to protect you because you are perfectly capable of defending yourself." He chuckled.
"Thank you." I said calmly. "What is the point of being normal if you can't have any fun?" I smirked.
"Exactly." Sherlock returned my smirk with one of his own.
"So, you said that there was graffiti or some sort of marks left at the bank for Vancoon, did you take any pictures?" I asked getting back to what we needed to focus on solving the case.
"Of course, why wouldn't I?" Sherlock huffed.
"There is no need to take that tone with me, I was only asking. May I see these pictures?" I asked trying my hardest to not give him a good smack across his face.
"Yes, you can look over them while John and I go to speak with our client." Sherlock explained.
"Very well." I nodded showing my agreement.
My apologies dear readers but I must stop here for now. Your reviews mean everything to me.
- Imagineer