Secrets (Sherlock)

Blind Banker Part 11

After being interrogated and patted down at the London Eye for any more weapons, Quinn finally got to go. But, of course, she didn't go home. No, she went to Baker Street, because she knew she would destroy her wall even more if she were to go home. After several minutes in the cab, she finally made it to the building. Paying the cabbie, she jumped out and ran towards the apartment. She leaped up the steps, and nearly fell backwards when Sherlock ran past her.

Her balance started wavering, but Sherlock quickly grabbed her hip and shoulder and pulled up. His wonderfully lopsided grin smirking at her, she shot him a questioning glance.

"The book, Quinn. The book - the key to cracking the cipher!" He proceeded to shove the photo right in her face, still looking dreadfully excited. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."

And, just like that, he was gone. Quinn looked back at him, but decided she didn't really want to bother him, so just entered the flat. She walked in, greeted by john and Sarah laughing. She smiled at them, her nod signaling a silent hello.

"Hey, Quinn," John said. Quinn nearly engaged in an actual conversation, but was already upside down on the couch by the time he spoke. She closed her eyes, and started thinking about the case.

What book did she see on Soo Lin's desk, Van Coon's flat, and Lukis's apartment? There was a ton of books riddling Lukis' flat, so she would cross match the books in Van Coon and Soo Lin's places. Bible- Checked. Dictionary- Checked. To Kill a Mocking Bird- Checked. London A-Z- Not Checked.

Quinn snapped her eyes opened. London A-Z. Lukis had one of those too. All three of them. That was it. It had to be. She heard John go downstairs to get the Chinese food, but she was searching the bookshelf for the London A-Z. Quickly scanning over them, she found it, and pulled it off the shelf. She turned, only to be met with the butt of a gun hurdling towards her head. Then she saw darkness.

"Ebb? Ebb, are you here?" I asked. The door was slightly ajar, so one could understand my worry. He had gone through a lot, so had I, in the past week. Mycroft given me an assignment, my first in a few weeks, and it resulted in a bullet graze on my left arm, and a dead man. Not my first kill, and certainly not my last, but painful nonetheless. Just watching the color drain from a mans eyes, and knowing it was you who caused that, it sparks both success and shame at how easily it was done.

"Ebb! Are you here?" Ebbe was always here. He rarely left his apartment, and I would know. I had been trying to get him to go with me to the park for weeks now. And he refuses every time.

I looked around the flat. The door was ajar, a scuffmark on the frame. Leading out. More specifically, towards the roof. "Oh, god no."

I ran up the steps, two by two. Hell, three by three. He was all I had left. I had no one else left. No mom, dad, friends, brother.

I finally reached it to the roof, breaking open the jammed door in the process, and saw him on the ledge. Looking down at the streets below. Watching. Waiting.

"Ebbe," I started, my voice cracking with emotion. "What are you doing?"

"I never look at them any more." My face was mixed with fear and confusion. "The stars, that is. They're so beautiful, so... shiny. Like paint splattered across the sky. Shining, bright, big. But, no matter how important you are, there is always an end. Whether it's the universe itself or a relationship, everything has its time. Everything ends. Even the stars."

"Ebbe. Please," I croaked, my voice barely audible through the tears cascading down my cheeks. "I don't know where I'd be with out you. Please."

He turned around to face me, and I saw the glossiness of his eyes, and knew he didn't want to; he needed to.

"I cant stop this. He will get to me in the end. No matter how fast, or how hard I run, I wont win. This is the way it ends. This is the way I go."

"No, please," I begged. "I have no one. You are the only brother left."

"I will miss you."

And he fell.

"Nine mill for jade pin dragon den black tramway." It dawned on Sherlock right there. He ran back down the street, and into his flat. "Quinn! John! I've got it! The cipher, the book! It's the London A-Z..."

He stared at the scene in front of him. The symbols are painted on the windows, it's fluorescent yellow paint lit by the lamps. Several books are on the floor, all surrounding Quinn, who was lying there, unmoving. The long gash on her forehead was bleeding, the blood flowing down her face, yet she looked oddly peaceful. Still hanging limply in her hand was the London A-Z, still unopened due to the fact that she never got the chance to read the cipher and translate it.

Sherlock ran to the limp woman before him. He gently placed his index and middle finger ring under jaw, and breathed out in relief when he felt the fain tapping of her pulse. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and shook lightly to wake her up.

Quinn's eyes fluttered, and, out of instinct, punched the man in front of her as hard as she could. She heard him grunt as he hit the floor, and tried her hardest to get up.

"I thought you said you would cut yourself if you slapped me?" she heard, but quickly sat up and looked at the man on the floor next to her.

"Oh, god. So sorry, again. I react quickly to confrontation, and its usually violent," she said, helping him up. He got up, and quickly went over to the shelf. "It's the London A-Z."

"I know."

"John has been taken."

"I gathered, from the wound on your head, the paint on the windows, and the state of this apartment."

"No, the apartment is always this messy."

"Oh," he said, ripping the map off the shelf, and placing it on the table. The pressure of his friend in danger caused him to falter, but he quickly pointed his finger on a point in the middle of the map. "There."

He was about to run out, but Quinn grabbed his arm. "Do you have a gun?"

"The shot could very well ricochet and hurt... someone."

Quinn smirked ever so slightly. "Oh, Sherlock. I never miss a shot."

Sherlock looked at her, her expression tainted slightly by the blood trickling down her right cheek bone, blending nicely with her deep red hair. Dyed, obviously, but why was a different story.

He reached behind her, and pulled a small gun out of the drawer on the table. "You better not miss."

"I never do."