Sophia Holmes and the Blind Banker (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Two

"We need to take photos," dad explains as we walk away. "The average human brain only remembers 62% of visual matters - and even I can only remember around 96% - so we need to collect the evidence now before it's removed."

I nod in agreement and pass dad the card I swiped from Sebastian in the reception. He slides it through the scanner and the door clicks open.

"Sophie, search the room for anything that looks out of the ordinary," he orders, pulling out his phone as he approaches the wall.

"Got it, but what do you mean by 'out of the ordinary'?"

"Something that looks out of place in an office which has been untouched for several months," dad says as he takes the first photo. "Start in the corner, by the window."

Nodding, I stride over to the far corner and take my pocket magnifying glass out. A thin layer of dust lies untouched in the corner but, as I move closer to the windows, the dust disappears as if someone or something has stepped on it.

"Over here!" I call.

Dad pockets his phone and walks over. "What is it?"

"The artist came through those doors. I believe they lead onto a balcony of sorts."

Dad looks up and out of the window, taking in the stunning view of London and the Swiss Re Tower that stands before us. Frowning, he walks over and pulls up to blind to reveal the door that I mentioned lead onto a balcony, and he steps outside.

He gazes around at the spectacular view without taking in any of the beauty, before he looks down. Just the sight of him leaning over the edge is enough to make me feel dizzy. He looks along the balcony before biting his lip thoughtfully and coming back through.

"You're right, the graffitist certainly entered through that door, but he would have had to climb up the building to get up here."

I nod, thoughtfully. "So what's our next plan?"

"We need to see who the message was aimed at," he says thoughtfully. "See the way the desks are arranged?" He points through the interior window to the workers on the trading floor. I nod, silently. "The pillars mean that only a handful of people can look into this office, and that can tell us a lot. Our next job is to find the spots that workers can see the graffiti, from that, we will be able to deduce who it was for."

I nod in agreement, and we exit the office. On a silent agreement, I take one half of the trading floor and dad takes the other, and we immediately begin ducking and weaving between the pillars. I keep my eyes fixed on the office as I move through each desk, but all of the angles seem slightly off. I can see most of the room, but the graffiti is in my blind spot.

Moving across to the other offices on the side of the main trading floor - the rooms for the Japanese, Hungarian, Russian and French employees - I do the same, but the view from these rooms completely cuts my line of vision off from Sanderson's office.

Dad smiles at me as he enters the room, holding a slip of paper naming a man called Edward Van Coon.

"Found him?" I ask, rhetorically. He nods and we file out of the office. Some of the traders send us some dirty looks for disturbing their work, whilst others smile in amusement after our little dance around the room.

Soon after, we meet John at the reception and I pull out my phone to look up the address of our next lead.

"Two trips around the world this month," he says as we travel down the escalator. "You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him." Dad gives him a small smile but doesn't respond. "How did you know?"