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Ivy Liu takes a slow drag of her cigarette, watching Sherlock with those sharp, unblinking eyes that seem to s...
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Code
The police had already been called by the time Ivy Liu arrived at Van Coon's flat. A forensic photographer snapped shots of Van Coon's body lying on the bed while officers dusted for fingerprints and searched for evidence. Distant voices echoed from the hallway, suggesting more forensic personnel scouring the rest of the apartment.
Sherlock Holmes, already in the room with John Watson, had taken off his coat and was putting on latex gloves. John stood beside him, his eyes scanning the scene.
"D'you think he'd lost a lot of money?" John asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and sympathy. "I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys."
"We don't know that it was suicide," Sherlock replied coldly, always a few steps ahead in his thinking.
Just as John was about to respond, he felt a presence behind him. He turned sharply to see Ivy Liu, standing directly behind him, her usual stoic expression on her face. They were almost the same height, so her appearance had startled him.
"Ivy!" John exclaimed, shaking her hand warmly. "Missed you."
Ivy's lips curved into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. "I missed you too, John. A lot."
Sherlock, crouched by Van Coon's suitcase, glanced up at them with his trademark snark. "She's lying. She didn't miss you at all."
Ivy rolled her eyes and switched the topic. "What makes you think it wasn't suicide?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she scanned the room.
John shrugged. "I don't know what he thinks. Come on, the door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony."
Sherlock, now fully focused on the suitcase, continued his investigation. "Been away three days, judging by the laundry," he deduced without missing a beat.
"Probably a business trip," Ivy commented, noting the professional attire packed in the suitcase.
"Exactly," Sherlock replied. He ran his hand over the clothes, stopping as he saw a deep indentation in the fabric. Straightening up, he turned to John and Ivy. "Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it."
John raised an eyebrow, trying to see what Sherlock was pointing out but not particularly interested in digging through dirty clothes. "Thanks – I'll take your word for it."
Ivy smirked. "Not everyone's keen on touching three days' worth of unwashed underwear, Sherlock."
John laughed. "Yeah, not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear."
Sherlock ignored them, his mind already shifting gears. "Those symbols at the bank – the graffiti. Why were they put there?"
"What kind of symbols?" Ivy asked, intrigued. Sherlock pulled out his phone, showing her the photos he had taken of the symbols. She leaned in, standing so close to him she could feel his breath on her head. As she examined the images, she muttered, "Looks like some type of code."
