S⃞ h⃞ e⃞ r⃞ l⃞ o⃞ c⃞ k⃞ H⃞ o⃞ l⃞ m⃞ e⃞ s⃞ x⃞ F⃞ e⃞ m⃞ a⃞ l⃞ e⃞ O⃞ C⃞
Ivy Liu takes a slow drag of her cigarette, watching Sherlock with those sharp, unblinking eyes that seem to s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
GSW
As Ivy, John, and Soo Lin settled onto their stools, the tension in the air was thick. Sherlock stood at the end of the table, his posture rigid, eyes scanning Soo Lin with that familiar intensity. The dim lighting in the room cast long shadows, adding to the palpable sense of fear emanating from Soo Lin. Ivy sat across from her, her sharp eyes narrowing as she observed every movement, every flicker of emotion on the woman's face.
Soo Lin's voice wavered as she finally spoke, her fingers fidgeting with a small object in her lap. "You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me."
Sherlock, his gaze never faltering, responded with his usual detached calmness. "You've been clever to avoid him so far."
But Soo Lin didn't seem comforted by his words. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm exterior she tried to project. "I had to finish... to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."
Ivy, who had been leaning slightly forward, now spoke, her voice clear and laced with curiosity. "Who is he? Do you know him?"
Soo Lin's face darkened, and she nodded. "When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognize his... 'signature.'"
"The cipher," Sherlock interjected, more to himself than anyone else.
"Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu."
John, who had been following the conversation silently until now, furrowed his brow in confusion. "Zhi Zhu?"
"The Spider," Sherlock explained, his voice low and precise, sending a chill down Ivy's spine as the weight of the name settled in the room.
Soo Lin, with a resigned sigh, bent down, untying the laces of her shoe. Ivy watched, intrigued, as the woman slowly removed it, revealing the black tattoo of a lotus flower encased in a circle on the underside of her heel.
"You know this mark?" Soo Lin asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," Sherlock replied without missing a beat, his eyes locking onto the tattoo. "It's the mark of a Tong."
John tilted his head slightly. "Hmm?"
"An ancient crime syndicate based in China," Sherlock explained briefly.
Ivy, picking up on the specific detail, added, "That particular mark belongs to a very specific Tong in China. They're known for their smuggling operations and other illicit activities."
Soo Lin nodded again, her face haunted by the memories she tried so hard to suppress. "Every foot soldier bears the mark; everyone who hauls for them."
"Hauls?" John asked, the confusion still evident in his tone.
Ivy raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly, her usual sharpness showing through. "Haul means to transport goods or carry out tasks for the syndicate, John. Usually illegal activities. It's a term for the foot soldiers' role in the organization."
