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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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Yixing Teapots
As Sherlock unfolded the envelope, he noticed the neat handwriting on the front corner.
"NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM," he muttered hoarsely, his voice still strained from the attack.
"Maybe we could start with this," Sherlock said, holding the envelope between his fingers, eyes scanning its surface for any clues. Without another word, he turned and headed out of the door, not even waiting for a response.
John sighed in frustration and trotted after him. "You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?"
"I'm fine," Sherlock replied curtly, coughing slightly as he kept his eyes forward.
Ivy, walking behind them, pulled out a small bottle of water from her bag and handed it to Sherlock without a word. "For your throat," she said, her tone neutral but with a small hint of concern. Sherlock, without breaking his stride, took the bottle, opened it, and took a quick sip before handing it back.
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Inside the National Antiquities Museum, Sherlock paced around a display area, restless energy barely contained. His eyes darted from one exhibit to the next, his mind already piecing together bits of information.
"When was the last time you saw her?" Sherlock asked, his voice still gravelly but forceful as he addressed Andy, the museum worker standing nervously nearby.
Andy hesitated before answering. "Three days ago, um, here at the museum."
Sherlock's gaze briefly landed on a display of clay teapots, some old and worn, others polished and pristine. Ivy, standing next to him, tilted her head as she examined them.
"I quite like these teapots," Ivy commented, almost absentmindedly.
Sherlock didn't even look at her before delivering his dry retort. "Really, Ivy? Teapots? I didn't realize you were here to decorate your flat."
Ivy rolled her eyes, not bothered by his sarcasm. "They're not just any teapots, Sherlock. But I suppose that detail's a bit too pedestrian for you."
Andy, seemingly oblivious to their banter, continued. "This morning, they told me she'd resigned. Just like that."
Ivy shook her head, her expression hardening slightly. "I doubt she resigned willingly. She seemed too dedicated to her work to just leave it unfinished."
Sherlock turned his attention to another display case, this time examining jade figurines and a piece of artwork, his keen eyes missing nothing. "What was the last thing she did before she left?" he asked.
The trio followed Andy down to the basement archive. The dim, dusty space smelled faintly of old paper and forgotten history, the faint hum of the lights adding to the eerie stillness. Andy turned the handle to open a section of the archive, the shelves sliding apart with a metallic clink.
