Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

The Greath Game part 6: Taken

"Why hasn't he phoned?" Sherlock asked from inside the cab. He was patting his knee impatiently, without much rhythm. "He's broken his pattern. Why?" He clenched his jaw and glanced at Clara. "Waterloo Bridge, please."

"Where are we off to now? The Gallery?"

"In a bit." Sherlock replied.

"The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it? Why do they want an Old Master in their collection?"

"I don't know." Sherlock replied. "It's dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data." He reached into his pocket for his notebook and pen.

"From how I understand it from the gallery director, they were the highest bidder." Clara mused. "I'm friends with her wife." Sherlock nodded.

"Oh, so she is a lesbian. I thought so."

"You had no idea who I was talking about." Sherlock had no reply for that. Then again, he called for the cab to stop. He clambered out of the car, and turned to speak to the other occupants.

"Clara, you wait here. I won't be a moment. John-"

"Coming." got out of the car, leaving Clara alone with the driver. Sherlock had jumped over the railing that separated the side walk from the street, and then climbed a flight of steps. He approached a homeless woman, who had all of her possessions spread out on her lap.

"Spare change?" She asked with a smile.

"For what?"

"A cup of tea, of course." The woman replied, holding out a metal cup. A few coins clambered within it.

"Here. A fifty." She smiled.

"Thanks, sir." Sherlock smiled back and headed back down the stairs. John was right behind him.

"What were you just doing?"

"I was Investing, John. Now we're onto the Gallery." He hopped the railing and opened the door. He looked back at John as he got into the cab. "Have you got any cash?"

"Here, take my card." Clara said, flicking over the piece of plastic, printed with the faces of her kids.

"Code?" She enumerated it, and then gave Sherlock a not-so-cryptic warning about not losing the card or it would bankrupt her.

"Oh, your offshore bank accounts can provide you with as much as you need." Sherlock scoffed, but made a mental note to watch his wallet very closely. The distance between them and the Hickman gallery began to close. "Clara, after this, I want you to go back to Baker Street."

"Excuse me?"

"Lock yourself in the building with Mrs. Hudson, and don't leave until I'm with you. And, no, that's not a question."

"Why?"

"The Bomber hasn't contacted us. We have to assume that someone has been rigged with explosives, but there's still the possibility of having someone that he's looking to target specifically. It's not going to be me, and it's not going to be John. If you haven't noticed, he thoroughly enjoys torturing you. You might just be the person he's after, and I would rather not put you in such a... precarious situation. It will be better in the long run to act with caution." Clara looked taken aback, but didn't question him as they pulled up to the gallery. John moved to get out of the car, but Sherlock stopped him.

"No. I need you to find out everything you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address."

"Right." John replied, patting Clara on the shoulder as she got out of the car. She shut it behind her and stepped up onto the curb with Sherlock.