Off Limits - S.H.

The Blind Banker - Part 6

"That would get him to the office," Amanda said slightly confused.

"During rush hour. Mid-morning." Y/N pointed out, showing Amanda the receipt was timed at 10:35. "Eighteen pounds would get him as far as..."

"The West End. I remember him saying." Amanda realized as Sherlock handed her a London Underground ticket with the same date on it.

"Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly."

"So he got a Tube back to the office." Amanda turned to Y/N, who was chewing her nails thoughtfully. "Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?"

"Because he was delivering something heavy. You wouldn't lug a package up the escalator." Sherlock explained, still shuffling through the receipts.

"Delivering?" Amanda shook her head slightly, going to say something before Y/N spoke up.

"Somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Delivered the package, and then..." She bent forward slightly, placing one hand on Sherlock's shoulder to steady herself as the other one reached to pick up a receipt from an Italian restaurant, holding it up so Sherlock could read it.

"Stopped on his way. He got peckish." he finished, his voice slightly breathy due to Y/N's close proximity.

•••

Y/N and Sherlock found the espresso bar, the detective talking, more to himself than to Y/N as they walked down the street.

"So you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you?.." Sherlock was spinning around, bumping into someone, both men grunting as they collided. Turning around to see none other than John, Sherlock began rapidly blurting out. "Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died - whatever was hidden in that case. We've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information..."

"Sherlock-" John tried to interject, but the detective paid no mind as he continued.

"...credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here."

"Sherlock." John tried, yet again unsuccessful. He shot an exasperated glance at his sister, who was leaning against a stone pillar, arms crossed as she watched in amusement.

"Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I don't know where, but..."

"That shop, over there," John stated, slightly annoyed as he pointed to the other side of the road. Sherlock looked at the shop, then frowned, turning back to John.

"How can you tell?"

"Lukis' diary." John showed Sherlock the entry he had been reading when they bumped into each other. "He was here too. He wrote down the address."

"Oh," Sherlock mumbled as John headed towards the shop. Y/N came up from behind him, grabbing his hand and dragging him along as she followed her brother.

The trio entered a touristy shop, consisting largely of decorative cats, aptly named The Lucky Cat Emporium.

"Hello." John greeted the female shopkeeper politely as they looked around the items on display.

"You want lucky cat?" The shopkeeper lifted up one of the cats from the desk.

"No, thanks. No." John shook his head as Sherlock looked around and smirked.

"Ten pound! Ten pound!" The woman tried to convince him, but John continued to decline. The shopkeep gestured towards Y/N. "I think your wife, she will like."

"She-she's not-" John choked out, Sherlock and Y/N sniggering at his flustered state.

"I'm his sister," Y/N explained kindly to the woman, who just smiled and vanished behind a curtain to the back room. John sighed heavily, going to examine a display of ceramic cups, as Sherlock inspected a shelf of clay statues.