The Soldier and Consulting Detective

Soo Lin Yao

Italics is other language

~~~~~

"When was the last time you saw her?" Sherlock asked the young gentleman in front of us. We arrived at the museum, looking for Andy to gain any context about Soo Lin's whereabouts.

Looking around the domed structure, I see different artifacts; centuries of history in one place that anyone with the want for knowledge could study.

"Three days ago. Here, at the museum. This morning, they told me she'd resigned. Just like that. Left her work unfinished." He replied, disbelieving.

"What was the last thing she did? Before she left." I ask.

He leads us to a secured room and opens the door to a room full of broken artifacts.

"There." He said, pointing the teapots. "She does this demonstration for the tourists- a tea ceremony. She'd have packed her things and put them here."

I look around once more and notice a statue covered with a white cloth. However, the rope securing it was on the floor, the dust disturbed.

Strutting over there I grab the sheet and yank it off for everyone to see. The yellow ciphers.

~~~~~

"We have to find Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock says, rushing out of the museum, John and I hot on his trail.

"If she's even alive. That cipher- it means he's planning to kill her next!." John says, struggling to keep up a bit.

"That's why we found him in the flat," I interject. "He was waiting for her."

"Sherlock!" A voice called out.

'Well look who it is." John says irritated.

"I've found something you'll like." Raz says slightly out of breath. We follow him in a place decorated with graffiti. He leads us to a wall, showing us what he found.

"There." He stops, pointing at the wall.

"Well I'll be damned, they were here." I mutter out, looking at the yellow ciphers covering the heavily decorated wall.

"John go up the rail line. Look for the same color. If we're going to decipher this language we're going to need more evidence. Hazel come with me." Sherlock ordered.

~~~~~
Its night now and Sherlock and I were looking up and down the rail line with our torches for any clues. Stopping, I notice a yellow can tossed by a line, empty of its contents.

"Sherlock, look." I call out, handing him the paint can.

He examines it and then sniffs it like a dog.

"Its still fresh." He states throwing the can away.

We continue south, the moon shining bright above us. We come to an area decorated with flyers to gigs and clubs. One catches my eye, causing me to snatch it and pocket it. However, Sherlock sees what's underneath and begins to tear more away. More yellow.

We continue on until we hear shouting. Looking up, I shine my torch to see my brother running towards us.

"Gah, Hazel my eyes." He cries out, shielding his eyes from the blinding light.

"Oh right, sorry." I say, putting it towards the ground.

"I found it." He says and bolts back to the direction he came, Sherlock and I following closely.

We arrive to see a bare brick wall, but it looks to neat for my taste.

"I don't understand it was right here." John whispers in complete disbelief.