How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 20

Okay, sorry this took longer than usual to update. Weekends are hetic and weekdays are calmer for me, so here you go. I'll update again in a couple of days. Please vote and comment! Thank you, lovely peoples!!

(TAXI; Alice’s POV: )

 As we sat in the back of the cab, Sherlock was looking at the pink phone in frustration. I sat by the window next to John, who was imbetween Sherlock and I, staring out of it, the rest of the world blurred out.

“Why hasn’t he phoned? He’s broken his pattern. Why?” Sherlock complained. A thought striked him and he leaned forward to the taxi driver.

“Waterloo Bridge.” He commanded.

“Where now? The Gallery?” John asked.

“In a bit.” Sherlock confirmed.

“The Hickman’s contemporary art, isn’t it? Why have they got hold of an Old Master?” John asked, making an intelligent observation.

“Dunno. Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data.” Sherlock replied. He had taken his notebook from his pocket and now wrote something on a page before tearing it out and folding a bank note inside it. He put the paper into his pocket, and then a few seconds later called out to the driver.

“Stop!” He shouted. The cab pulled over to the side of the road. “You wait here. I won’t be a moment.” He said before slamming the door. I watched him through the window. He got out, went to the railings at the edge of the pavement and easily vaulted over them.

“Sherlock...” John complained, getting out of the cab as well. As Sherlock walked off, John shook his head in exasperation, then scrambled over the railings and followed him. Sherlock trotted up some steps to where a young homeless woman was sitting on a bench under Waterloo Bridge. She had a large bag beside her with a handwritten cardboard sign poking out of the top. The first two words on the sign said,”HUNGRY AND”. Presumably the next word, obscured by some of her possessions, was ‘HOMELESS’.

“Change? Any change?” She asked Sherlock. (I read her lips.)

“What for?” Sherlock asked. It seemed as though it was a code.

“Cup of tea, of course.” She replied, smiling as if it was obvious. I raised my eyebrows. In front of me the cabby sighed, frustrated.

“Sorry, mate. Just a moment more.” I said to him. He looked back to me and nodded, turning back.

“Here you go – fifty.” Sherlock said, handing the girl the piece of paper from his pocket.

“Thanks.” She thanked, smiling sweetly. Sherlock immediately turned and walks away again. John looked at him in bewilderment before turning and following, pointing back towards the girl.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“Investing.” Sherlock answered.  John looked back to where the girl was unfolding the note and reading it. Sherlock went to the railings and easily leaped over them again. He opened the door of the cab.

“Now we go to the Gallery.” He said, looking at me and smiling. He stopped and then looked back at John. “Have you got any cash?” He asked. Before John could answered, I did.

“I’ll cover it.” I spoke for only the second time that day. Sherlock got into the cab, making me scoot over and John after him. Now I was by the other window next to Sherlock, who was now imbetween.

HICKMAN GALLERY

 The taxi pulled up and Sherlock stepped out. John was about to get out as well but Sherlock stopped him.