Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

The Blind Banker part 3: Deceased

"Ah, Clara. You stayed put." Sherlock said as he walked into the room, tossing his coat to the side.

"You asked me to." she said calmly, running her fingers over a leather bound copy of Jane Eyre that she had found in the bookcase.

Sherlock began to scribble across several pieces of paper, and taping them to the cork board and the mirror above the fireplace. It was almost silent, except for his hurried footsteps and the occasional fluttering of paper. Clara simply watched with fascination as the detective whirled around, hands moving near his head as he constantly made connections, like a bloodhound sniffing out a trail. Sherlock, in turn, was well aware that Clara was watching him, eyes glued to his every step. He really didn't mind, honestly; John often did the same thing. He was slightly surprised that she wasn't looking at her phone, which had gone off three or four times in her purse, although the ringer was on silent, so she probably hadn't noticed. John waltzed in a short time later, looking quite annoyed.

"You took your time." Sherlock remarked.

"Yeah, well custody sergeants don't really like to be hurried." John bit back angrily. "Just the formalities; fingerprints, charge sheets, and I've got to be in magistrates court on Tuesday."

"Mmm, what?" Sherlock said.

"Me, Sherlock! in court! They're giving me an ASBO!" Clara harrumphed.

"What were the arresting officer and judges names? I can have them audited, if you like. Of course-" she chuckled, recrossing her legs. "-since you're on my dollar, I could get you a simply fabulous-"

"Don't worry about it, Clara." Sherlock said. "But you may want to answer your cellphone. It's been ringing for a while." She grabbed her phone, and saw that Eloise had called her twelve times in the last half hour.

"Damn. Give me a minute." She said, stepping into the kitchen to take her call.

"Eloise, this had better be good-" Sherlock drowned her out for a moment, although normally he would be listening to himself and Clara.

"The cipher. I need to figure out what it means." he said, tapping Clara's handwritten cipher, which, luckily for her, was inscribed with such accuracy that it was almost shocking to him. He grabbed John by the shoulder, beginning to push him out of the door.

"I need you to go to the police station-"

"No, I was just-" John began to complain.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" they heard Clara shout. "AND Please tell me you're lying. I was just there!" Sherlock and John turned around, a bit disturbed by the tone of voice Clara used. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Goodbye Eloise." She slapped her pricy-looking smartphone on the table so hard that it shattered the screen.

"What's changed?" Sherlock asked, eyes dark as he stepped into the room.

"I have to go." she said, hand bleeding from where a shard of glass had sliced her finger open. Sherlock quickly noticed her emotional state; angry and distraught. He caught her by the shoulder, looking into her eyes.

"What's happened?"

"I have to leave." She said darkly, tears pooling in her eyes and fists clenching. She shook him off, running out of 221B without her Prada jacket. The door slammed behind her.

"What was that about?" John asked. Sherlock had already walked over to the kitchen table, where her phone lay shattered. He gently moved his thumb across the intact bottom of the screen, careful not to cut humself, and he found a text message that explained everything.

"Her therapist died." He replied curtly, as his mind began to whirl. He drew back a curtain, over where another pin board was placed. To one side was Clara's family, in age order, with Clara's staff connected to her own portrait. Three portraits carried the tag "Deceased". Another (Ryan's) owned the tag "Missing." Slowly, Sherlock placed another "Deceased" tag on a picture of Susan.