How Sage Became a Holmes//book the first (A Sherlock BBC Fanfiction)

Graffiti and Gun Shots

Our story picks up again after a few months of John and Sherlock (and me, when I could) living in 221b.

After the incident I described to you in Entry Seven, I jumped into one of the most memorable cases of ours in my mind. An epic tale of blackmail, smugglers, strange graffiti, extreme danger, and very little sleep; meaning large amounts of coffee consumption. (John says to stop elaborating and just write the damn story. Gee, tell me how you really feel, John Watson.)
Anyways, after I arrived at the flat and found the head in the fridge, we were off on an expedition; i.e. Sherlock sent John and I out the door to the police station to get some dead blokes diary or something? I don't even know. I just like the word "expedition", alright?
As John and I rode in the taxi to Scotland Yard, he filled me in. Apparently an "old friend" of Sherlock's hired him for a simple break in and vandalism case, which soon escalated to something to do with blackmail, weird symbols, and a guy getting murdered in his flat; a guy named Eddie Van Coon, a trader of some kind.
When we arrived at Scotland Yard, where we were met not by Lestrade, but by some dick named Dimmock, who had a very low opinion of Sherlock and was highly against us working the case. I ignored him, and looked over John's shoulder as he collected the information he needed, since I really didn't know what we were looking for.
We later bumped into Sherlock (literally bumped into him) just outside a restaurant somewhere near Picadilly.
"Listen, John, I've been able to gather information from Van Coon's secretary and papers in his office..." He rambled on before John could cut him off.
"Sherlock! That building, over there. That's where the deliveries where made." Sherlock stopped abruptly.
"How do you-"
"Diary. It has the address."
"Oh." We went next to a small Chinese shop, and I badgered Sherlock about what actually was going on and what we were looking for. He ignored me for the most part, as he glanced wildly about the small shop.
John strode over to a shelf with teacups, and picking one up, he looked at the label on the bottom.
"Sherlock? Look at this." He said. Sherlock and I both moved closer, and I saw a strange symbol written in pen. "It's the same cipher." Said John.

"It's an outdated Chinese number system." Explained Sherlock as we left the shop. "One used only by street marketers." He ran over to a vegetable stall, studying the price tags with the Chinese symbols and corresponding Arabic numerals. "The one we just saw on the bottom of the teacup, a Chinese number fifteen. And the horizontal line at the bank is a one." He held up the two price tags. "We've found it, John!"
We went to a small restaurant on the same street so that John an I could eat. As we waited for our food, Sherlock and John went over what information they'd collected.
"So, two men return from China and head straight to the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?" John said.
"It's not about what they saw." Said Sherlock. "It's what they had in those suitcases. Think about what Sebastian told us, about Van Coon. Lost five million,"
"And made it all back in one week." Finished John.
"He was a smuggler!" I said. Sherlock nodded, just as the waitress brought our food over.
"A business man making frequent trips to Asia, and Lukis, a journalist writing about China. It was the perfect coverup."
"But why did they die?" Said John. "It doesn't make sense." Sherlock pondered this.
"What if one of them stole something?" I asked. Sherlock nodded.
"Nicked something from the hoard..."
"And the killer doesn't know which of them took so he threatened and killed them both." Finished John.
"Remind me..." Said Sherlock staring out the window. "When was the last time it rained?" He suddenly got up from the table and strode over to the door.
"But I haven't gotten to eat hardly anything!" I called to him as I ran after him, with John right behind me.
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Much later that night, we found ourselves at the National Antiquity museum. Long story short, after abandoning our lunch, Sherlock broke into a random person's flat, almost got choked to death (he told me later), John shouted sarcastic insults at Sherlock through the door since he wouldn't let us in, and we found a clue leading us to the National Antiquities Museum. We went there to inquire about the random person who's flat we broke into, and learned that she'd left her job three day ago for seemingly no reason. Sherlock and John determined we needed to track down the random person (who actually wasn't so random after all.) because she was probably being threatened by the same people who killed the trader and journalist. We then ran into someone in Sherlock's homeless network who showed us more Chinese symbols he found. The three of us then split up to look for more evidence to decipher the code with.
After about half and hour of wandering around a shady part of London in the dark and cold all by myself, I got a text from Sherlock telling me John found something and to meet up with them. I got there last, just in time to watch Sherlock grab John's head in both hands. I was highly puzzled, and bit back a grin and watched the scene unfold. (Sherlock is interrupting me and saying this part isn't essential to the plot or the case, but it's funny so I'm telling you anyway) Sherlock lowered his hands to hold John by the upper arms (ok, out of context that sounds reeeeealy wrong. Haha.) And then started to spin him around, spewing something about how humans only remember 62% of...oh never mind. It was funny. Anyway, John had been smart and taken a picture of the wall full of ciphers, so Sherlock stopped doing whatever...weird memory ritual he was performing.
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The next morning I unfortunately had school, which went horribly since I'd spent the night searching for yellow Chinese graffiti. I then had theatre rehearsal, so I didn't make it back to 221b till about 5:00 in the afternoon.
When I arrived back to the flat, Sherlock had printed out different parts of the photograph of the symbols and pinned them up on the wall, and was studying them intently. John was falling asleep on the table, and I threw myself on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling and realized I could probably do the same.
"God, I need to sleep." John mumbled.
"Why did he paint so near the tracks..." Sherlock wondered aloud.
"Just twenty minutes..." John yawned. Sherlock pulled three photographs off the wall and ran out the door and down the stairs.
"We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao." He exclaimed loudly, halfway down the staircase.
"Ah yes. The not random lady." I muttered, heaving myself from the couch and tiredly following John down the stairs after Sherlock.

We arrived at the museum and met with the same guy as the day before, Andy. John and Sherlock explained Soo Lin Yao's dangerous situations, but to out dismay, Andy hadn't been able to track her down. Sherlock however didn't seem to be listening to anything Andy was saying. He was staring at a display case of clay teapots.
"What are you looking at?" Asked John.
"Tell me about those teapots." Sherlock said to Andy, ignoring John.
"Um-well, the pots were her obsession. If you don't keep making tea in them, the clay can dry and crumble apparently, so they need urgent work-" Sherlock cut him off.
"Yesterday, only one of those pots was shining...now there are two."
Fast forward seven or so hours; a take out dinner and four cups of coffee or so later. Andy let the three of us back into the museum very late, where we waited for Soo Lin to appear.
When we found her, we sat down and had a lovely chat about Chinese smugglers. There was a group, Soo Lin told us, called the black lotus that she and her brother worked for when they were children living in China. She left and came to America, but her brother stayed and continued working for the Black Lotus. He was the one threatening her, because she refused to help track a stolen item.
She also said she could decipher the symbols Sherlock brought with him.
"Here, the one across the man's eyes is a number one-"
"Yes, and that one is a fifteen." Said Sherlock. "But what is the code?"
"All the smugglers know it. It's based on a book-" the lights cut out. Soo Lin gasped, and I jumped.
"It's him!" She exclaimed. "Zhi Zhu he had found me." Sherlock raced off, and John softly called after him, but Sherlock was gone. John told Soo Lin and I to hide in a near by cupboard, but there was no way I was hiding in any cupboard.
"I'm coming!" I whisper-yelled. John rolled his eyes.
"There's no way you're going to stay here, is there?" I shook my head indignantly. He sighed, but gave in.
"I have to go help." He said to Soo Lin Yao. "Bolt the door behind me." She nodded, and we were off. As we ran through the dark corridors, gun shots rang out and we made our way to one end of the foyer, ducking behind columns. Sherlock yelled at whoever was shooting to "be respectful since we were in a museum" and something about really old skulls. The shots ceased, and John and I cautiously made out way from out behind two pillars and started towards Sherlock, but another gun shot stopped us in our tracks. I turned towards the sound, with what I'm sure was a look of pure horror on my face.
"Oh my God." Murmured John. He looked at me, and raced back to the stairs, with me close behind him. We entered to see Soo Lin lying dead on the table, a black lotus flower in her outstretched hand.