The taxi stopped in front of a fancy restaurant.
"Isn't it a bit early for dinner, Sherlock?" John asked.
I tutted at him.
"Sorry to burst your bubble but we aren't here for food." He replied.
We went inside and I spotted Sebastian sitting with three men. Sherlock was making his way over.
"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant."
"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary." Sebastian said, sniggering at us.
"I don't think this can wait, sorry Sebastian. One of your traders -someone who works in your office- was killed." I retorted.
"What?"
"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." Sherlock informed.
"Killed?" He wasn't so arrogant anymore, he and his colleagues were all stunned at the news.
"Sorry to interfere with everybody's digestion. Still want to make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" I said sarcastically.
Sebastian put his drink down and rubbed his neck - that seemed to be a nervous habit with him. "Shall we?" Sherlock asked. He got up and we followed him over to what looked like the men's toilets.
"I can't go in there." I emphasised.
"Why not?" Sherlock asked.
"Because it's the men's toilet. Obviously." I hissed.
"Oh, it doesn't matter."
"It matters! What if someone sees me?"
"Right, drama queen. Here." He took off his coat and threw it to me. "Put it on."
"Can't I just stay out here?"
"No. Hurry up."
I pulled the huge jacket on, it drowned me. I put the collar up high to hide my face and then followed after them.
I sighed. "Really?"
John and Sherlock chuckled at me but Sebastian just stared, he was still shaken by the news we had brought him.
I walked past, hitting Sherlock as I did.
We spoke a bit about Van Coon, filling Sebastian in. He got a call and had to walk away to answer it.
"That was my chairman. The police have been onto him. Apparently they're telling him it was a suicide." He said, looking slightly relieved.
"Well they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered." Sherlock stated.
"Well. I'm afraid they don't see it like that. And neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don't get sidetracked."
"And I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards." John said, as the man was leaving.
I laughed and Sherlock just growled.
"Can we get out of here then?" I said. I was pretty eager to leave, since at any moment a random man was going to walk in and start peeing infront of me.
"Yeah. We need to go back to Baker Street."
"Actually, Sherlock, I've got a job interview today. I, uh, have to go now." John said awkwardly.
"Oh, that's- um, that's fine." He said, storming out of the bathroom, closely followed by me.
We got in a taxi, leaving John behind.
•
-221B-
Sherlock had pinned lots of photos to the wall. He printed out the symbols and photos of the victim - Van Coon.
"Looks Chinese." I interupted the silence that had nestled its self in the flat. We were both sitting in our mind palaces, trying to work out what it meant.
"Yes. No...no, YES!" Sherlock shouted, he was getting excited about something.
"What?"
"It is Chinese! You got it! Chinese symbols!" He smiled.
•
Some time later, John was back.
"I said, could you pass me a pen." Sherlock stated.
"What? When?" John replied as he put his jacket on the hanger.
"About an hour ago."
"Didn't notice I'd gone out then. Why couldn't you ask Jasmine?"
"She was in a shower."
At that moment I came out of the kitchen with my hair in a towel wrap. "Hey John. How was the job?"
"Great. She's great." He smiled.
"Who?" Sherlock asked.
"The job."
"She."
"It."
I was grinning at him, "What's her name?"
He cleared his throat. He probably knew he wasn't going to be able to hide it from us.
"Sarah."
"Doctor?"
"Yes."
He ended the conversation swiftly.
"Did you get anywhere with the symbols?"
"Yes, ancient Chinese numbers." Sherlock said, "Courtesy of Jasmine."
I smirked at him.
"Anyway, we're going out." He said, swooshing past John and into the hall.
"Ughh." John said, picking up his jacket again.
•
-Scotland Yard-
"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat ..." He turned the laptop he was using around to show DI Dimmock. "... doors locked from the inside."
"You've gotta admit, it's similar." John said.
Dimmock scowled at the computer.
"Both men killed by someone who can... walk through solid walls." John continued.
"Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another City suicide?" I asked.
"You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?" Sherlock asked.
"Mm." Dimmock nodded.
"And the shot that killed him: was it fired from his own gun?" I asked.
"No."
"No. So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel. I've just handed you a murder enquiry. Five minutes in his flat."
He nodded and we left.
"I like Lestrade better." I admitted to Sherlock as we went. I knew he was going to say something rare soon, so I set up my phone and recorded our voices.
"Me too." My brother said.
"You don't even know his name, Sherlock!" John laughed.
"I still like him better."
"You should tell him once in a while. Same with Molly Hooper, Mycroft and Mrs Hudson." I said.
"They all know that they mean something to me." Sherlock said.
"But what do they mean, brother dear?"
"They're my- um, friends." He muttered.
I grinned and pulled my phone from my pocket. I sent the video to Molly, Mycroft, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson.
Sherlock likes you, really. Keep for further reference, when he's a jerk. -JAH
Attachment:183R529EF19073KH
I smiled to myself.
"You recorded that didn't you?" He snapped.
"Yep."
•
-Lukis' Flat-
"Four floors up. That's why they think they're safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable." Sherlock said.
"They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." I said.
"I don't understand." Dimmock said.
"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock smirked.
"He clings to the walls like an insect." I said.
"That's how he got in. Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight."
"You're not serious. Like Spiderman?" John said, sarcastically.
Sherlock gave John a look of annoyance, "He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon."
"Oh, ho-hold on!" Dimmock laughed.
"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." I understood.
"We have to find out what connects these two men." He stated as his eyes caught a pile of books on the staircase.
•
-West Kensington Library-
"Date stamped on the book is the day he died." Sherlock said.
I pulled some books from the shelf and noticed yellow graffiti behind them.
"Sherlock, look." I said pulling some more away from the shelf. "It's the same symbols."
He took a picture, "Come on, we need to go talk to someone."
•
-National Antiques Museum-
"Where are we headed?" John asked.
"I need to ask some advice." Sherlock replied.
"What? Sorry?" He said, surprised.
"You heard me perfectly, I'm not saying it again."
"You need advice?" I laughed.
"On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert."
We walked past the museum and into a back street, where a young man was spraypainting a sidedoor.
"Part of a new exhibition." The boy said.
"Interesting." Sherlock replied, utterly disinterested.
"I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy."
"Catchy." John said.
"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round that corner. Can we do this while I'm workin'?"
"Tell me what you know about this." Sherlock demanded, showing the guy his phone.
"Nah, I don't know anythin'." He continued painting.
My brother obviously wasn't getting anywhere with this punk, so I stepped forward and pulled out my badge. "Jasmine Holmes, MI9. This is a murder investigation: if you withhold information I'll be compelled to arrest you on the spot. But if you help us, I'll forget I saw you doing this." I pointed to the graffiti, "Okay?"
"Oh- yeah, sorry ma'am." He stuttered.
"Miss Holmes." I corrected.
"Sorry, Miss Holmes."
"Well done. Now, have you got any ideas?"
"This- This paint. I recognise it. It's Michigan: hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc."
"What about the symbols? Have you seen them anywhere?" Sherlock asked.
He squinted at the picture. "No, I don't think that's even a proper language."
"Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them."
"What, and this is all you've got to go on? Hardly much, now, is it?"
"Are you gonna help us or not?" I hissed.
"I'll ask around." He said, going back to his painting.
"Somebody must know something about it." Sherlock mumbled to himself.
"Oi!" A voice came from the other street. I turned and saw two policemen running at us, full force.
I knew the one person who wouldn't know to run away - John. "John, just run!" I shouted, grabbing Sherlock's sleeve and dragging him away with me. Raz was already out of sight by now, he'd had more practise at escaping.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? This gallery is a listed building!" The man shouted down at little short John.
"No, no, wait. It wasn't me that did this!"
"I was just-" He turned to realise that we'd run away, leaving him on his own. He sighed quietly.
"Bit of an enthusiast, are we?" The other man said to John.
•••