The Silent Game

Silent Impatience

Sitting next to Sherlock in the cab, Rose watched the world go by, thinking about the next steps to take in their investigation, knowing Sherlock probably wouldn't tell her any time soon.

After a few minuets of silence, Sherlock bounced the pink phone in his hand, looking around the cab. "Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern. Why?" She frowned at his words, but before she could reply, he leaned forward to speak louder to the cabbie. "Waterloo Bridge?"

"Not the gallery?" She asked him, wondering what could be at Waterloo Bridge that would catch the man's attention.

"In a bit." He replied, looking through his pockets.

When he didn't continue, she thought she would voice a few questions. "Why The Hickman? Thought it was a gallery of contemporary art." She watched as he wrote a note on some paper from a battered and old looking notebook. She couldn't read what it said though. "Why have they got hold of an old master?"

"Don't know." Sherlock admitted, much to the young woman's well concealed surprise. "Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data…"

She knew where he was going with this though. "Where to, boss?" He ignored her however as he took out a fifty pound note, wrapped the written note in it, rolling it up into a small shape, stuffing it back in his pocket again.

A few seconds later, Sherlock shot forward. "Stop! Can you wait here?"

"What are you doing?" She asked, making to follow him out of the car.

"I wont be a moment." Was his reply, aimed at the waiting cabbie.

Rose followed Sherlock out of the cab, looking up just in time to see him land on the other side of a long line of dirty silver railings. Sighing, she gave a small jump, pushing herself over the cold steel after him.

Sherlock ran up the few steps to see a woman bundled up to keep warm, a bag of various belongings next to her. On seeing him approach, she asked her usual question. "Change? Any change?"

"What for?" Was his predicted reply, making her smile just a little. It was so rare that regular people would notice her, let alone talk with her.

"Cup of tea, of course." She smiled up at him, not taking any notice of Rose, who was watching them with a confused curiosity in her eyes. Rose's eyes only widened at Sherlock's next words.

"Here you go, a 50."

"Thanks." The woman replied, taking the money and starting to unroll it. Rose turned to follow the strange man as he started to head back to the cab again and so didn't see the homeless woman take out the written note. Must be a big one if it's a fifty, she thought briefly before putting the thought out her mind. Doesn't matter though, this will last over half a month!

"What are you doing?" Rose questioned Sherlock as she followed him back to the cab.

"Investing." He replied, but as he went to climb in the cab, he turned back to her, frowning slightly. "Have you got any cash?"

She just nodded, rolling her eyes. "Of course I have!"

"Good." He replied, getting into the cab. "Then we can head to the gallery."

A few minuets later, the cab pulled up outside the gallery, Sherlock getting out once more. As Rose went to follow him however, he held up a hand. "No, I need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you address."

She didn't quite know what he was planning, but from the look of equal parts excitement and attempting-to-hide-something in his eyes, she doubted she would approve. She reminded herself that this was Sherlock though, but the thought did little to ease her conscious. "Okay, but whatever you're doing, don't get caught."

He just gave her a cold smirk. "I never get caught."

"Liar." She retorted, smirk of her own in place as she closed the door, taking out her phone to call Lestrade.

As the woman showed Rose to the Alex Woodbridge's room, Rose heard the information she was being given, making sure to remember it all. "We'd been sharing about a year. Just sharing." She was saying, as if to try to correct an unsaid statement. Rose just smiled slightly in understanding.

As she looked around carefully, trying not to disturb too much, the woman stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Rose pointed to a metal frame, covered by a cream sheet. "May I?" The other woman nodded and Rose pulled off the sheet, carefully folding it absentmindedly as she looked at the now uncovered telescope. "Stargazer was he?"

"God, yeah…" Replied the woman, the smile coming through in her tone. "Mad about it. It's all he ever did in his spare time. He was a nice guy, Alex. I liked him." She fiddled with something on the table of the room. "He was, err… never much of a one for hoovering." He laughed, thought it sounded a little watery to Rose, who just smiled slightly in return.

"What about art? Did he know anything about that?" Rose asked, feeling a little out of place intruding on the upset woman, but still needing to know the answers to her questions.

She sighed, collecting herself a little more. "It was just a job, you know?"

Rose nodded, and carried on looking around. "Has anyone else been round asking about Alex?"

"No." She replied. "We had a break in though."

This caught Rose's attention though. "What? When?"

"Last night." She replied. "There was nothing taken." Rose frowned, sounds as though they started looking for him here. "Oh, and there was a message left for Alex on the land line."

"Who was it from?" Rose asked, taking a step forward.

"I can play it for you, if you like. I'll get the phone." The woman said, walking through to the other room.

"Thank you." Rose muttered, looking around the room again. As the woman came back into the room, Rose heard a beep from the phone, a voice ringing out.

"Oh, should I speak now? Alex? Love, it's Professor Cairns. Listen, you were right. You were bloody right! Give us a call when…" The phone cut off there.

"Professor Cairns?" Rose repeated, committing the name to memory as well.

"No idea, sorry." She answered, shaking her head slightly.

Rose hummed for a second. "Can't call back?"

"I've had other calls since, you know. Sympathy ones." The woman said.

"Right." Rose replied.

As the woman walked to the other room, Rose heard her own phone beep, telling her she had a message.

RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS

Have you spoken to West's fiancée yet?

Mycroft Holmes

Rose sighed at the message, typing her own and sending it to the persistent man. She slipped the devise back into her pocket before taking her leave from the grieving friend.

Mycroft checked his phone briefly as it went off with a reply. He only had time to read it however, though it didn't make him happy at all.

On my way now, Sir. Do be patient. RS

The mocking of her working for him - in some form or another - he could take, but somehow, through their silly little games, Miss Rose Spencer had found one of the few things that annoyed Mycroft to no end; he hated being told to be patient.

He still owed her a comeback from their last meeting and his next move would not be taken lightly; he would make sure of it.