Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

The Blind Banker part 2: Carbenicillian

"Dead maybe twelve hours, give or take." Clara said, measuring the man's internal body temperature with an ear scan.

"D'you think he lost a lot of money? Suicide's common with city boys." John asked, looking solemnly at the body of Edward Van Coon.

"We don't know if it was suicide." Sherlock responded snappily.

"Oh, come on, the door was locked from the inside. You had to get in through the balcony." John said. Sherlock crouched down by an open suitcase, snapping his medical gloves on.

"Away three days, judging by the laundry." he noted a deep indentation in the clothing. "Something's missing... There was something tightly packed inside it." He said.

"I'll take your word for it." Clara said, still checking the body, when she noted something interesting; calluses on the left hand. She glanced back at Sherlock, who gave her a confused look.

"Problem?"

"I'm not exactly thrilled to be rooting around in some bloke's dirty underwear." She replied, stripping off her gloves.

"Those symbols at the bank... Why were they put there?" Sherlock muttered.

"Some sort of code?" John offered.

"Obviously. Clara, are you sure you dont remember anything about what those symbols might be?"

"Nothing." she said. "Not even a hint."

"But you'll know it now."

"Oh, for sure." Sherlock carefully flicked open the man's coat.

"But why paint them? Why not use email?"

"Maybe he wasnt answering?" John asked.

"Oh, good, you follow?"

"No." John replied, looking thouroughly bemused. Sherlock looked at the man's hands, discovering the same thing that Clara had several minutes earlier.

"What kind of message would anyone want to avoid?" He said, looking up at John with sharp eyes. He just shrugged. "What was that you were looking at this morning?"

"Bills?" John said, looking even more confused. Sherlock gently opened Van Coon's mouth.

"A threat." Clara said, thinking back to the family crest that had been inscribed into the floor of her home.

"Yes. He was being threatened." Sherlock said as he gingerly removed a black peice of what looked to have formerly been oragami from Van Coon's mouth. He slipped the paper into an evidence bag, stripping off his medical gloves. Suddenly, a man several years younger than the other three walked in, looking very proud of himself.

"Ah, sergeant. I don't think we've met." Sherlock said, holding out his hand for the officer to shake.

"Yes, I know who you are, and I would prefer if you didn't tamper with my evidence." Sherlock, looking very sour, handed him the evidence baggie and motioned for Clara and John to join him.

"I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"

"No, He's busy." The younger man sneered. "I'm in charge. And it isn't sergeant, it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock." Sherlock looked like he was about to laugh aloud, but, for once in his life, held his tongue. "We are obviously looking at a suicide-"

"No, we're not." Clara said. Dimmock's eyes flicked to her.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

"Clara Evangeline, Billionaire and not your problem right now." she said in an extremely condescending voice, not used to being spoken to in such a disrespectful tone.