Fate Without Time

Chapter 35

As we sat in the back of the cab, Sherlock and I were looking at the pink phone in frustration. "Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern. Why?" asked Sherlock. Suddenly, a thought came to my head and I leaned forward to the taxi driver. "Waterloo Bridge," I said. As the cab started moving, Sherlock praised me by giving my hand a little squeeze. "Where now? The Gallery?" asked John. "In a bit," said Sherlock. "The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it? Why have they got hold of an Old Master?" asked John. "Dunno. Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data," I said. Sherlock took his notebook from his pocket and wrote something on a page before tearing it out and folding a bank note inside it. He put the paper into his pocket, then a few seconds later called out to the driver. "Stop!" he yelled. The cab pulled over to the side of the road. "You wait here. I won't be a moment," he said. As Sherlock got out of the cab, John and I sighed as we followed him. Sherlock ended up giving some money to a homeless girl and I noticed that it was the same bank note that he put the paper inside. I smiled. The Homeless Network, of course! Sherlock had told me about it. "What are you doing?' asked John as we walked away. "Investing," said Sherlock as he went to the railings and jumped over them. Sherlock looked at me and waited for me to do it. "Oh, what the heck?! I'll have a little fun," I said as I jumped over the railing. Sherlock was there to make sure that I landed safely. "You two are so weird," said John. "Thank you," I said as I gave a mock bow. Then, Sherlock opened the rear door of the cab. "Now we go to the Gallery. Either of you got any money?" he asked. John nodded as we got into the cab.

A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up at Hickman Gallery and Sherlock and I got out. John was about to follow us, but Sherlock stopped him. "No. We need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address," he said. "Okay," said John. And as the taxi drove away, Sherlock turned to me. "I assume you remember our plan to get in?" he asked. "Yeah. Let's get us some disguises," I said as we walked into the gallery.

Sometime later, Sherlock and I were dressed as security guards and were looking at the Vermeer painting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an elegantly dressed woman walk into the room. We still had our backs to her, though. "Don't you two have something to do?" she asked. Eastern European, judging by her accent. "Just admiring the view," I said, still not looking at her. "Yes. Lovely. Now get back to work. We open tonight," she said. We looked over our shoulders and turned, slowly walking towards her. "Doesn't it bother you?" asked Sherlock. "What?" asked the woman. "That the painting's a fake," I said. "What?" she asked again, becoming a little angry. "It's a fake. It has to be. It's the only possible explanation," said Sherlock. As I got closer to her, I looked at her ID badge. "You're in charge, aren't you, Miss Wenceslas?" I asked. "Who are you?" asked Miss Wenceslas. Sherlock got into her face and stared into her eyes. "Alex Woodbridge knew that the painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?" he asked. "Golem? What the hell are you talking about?" she asked. "Or are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?" I asked. "It's not a fake," said Miss Wenceslas. "It is a fake. Don't know why, but there's something wrong with it. There has to be," said Sherlock. "What the hell are you on about? You know, I could have you two sacked on the spot," she said. "Not a problem," I said. "No?" asked Miss Wenceslas. "No. We don't work here, you see. Just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice," said Sherlock. "How did you get in?" she asked. "Please," Sherlock said scornfully. "I want to know," she said. "The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight," I said as we began to walk away, taking off our caps. "Who are you?" asked Miss Wenceslas. "Sherlock Holmes," said Sherlock. "And Alissa Harrison," I said as we dropped the caps onto one of the railing posts and continued onward. "Am I supposed to be impressed?" she asked. "You should be," said Sherlock as we dropped our jackets to the floor on purpose and flamboyantly opened both of the doors, almost dancing out of the room. "Have a nice day!" I yelled. And as soon as we were out of the Gallery, Sherlock and I couldn't stop laughing.