You're An Idiot, Sherlock Holmes (OC x Sherlock)

The Police Will Listen To A Pretty Face

"Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died," Sherlock states as we walk over to a shelf stocked of books. Still holding the book from the flat in his hand, he starts looking through other books and I do the same, though not as quickly as him. I decide to get three books out at once to possibly make the process go faster, but what I find exposed on the shelf leaves me flabbergasted. 

"Uh . . . Sherlock?" I say, trying to get his attention, not taking my eyes off of the familiar symbol. He continues going through books. "Sherlock, you're gonna wanna take a look at this," I say a little louder. This gets his attention and he stands beside me and follows my gaze. His eyebrows furrow and he removes more books from the shelf. The second half of the cipher is revealed. 

~

"So," Sherlock starts as we concentrate on more photos of the cryptograms around the mantle mirror. "The killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher at the bank. Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in. Hours later, he dies." 

"Then the killer finds Lukis at the library and writes the symbols on the shelf where he knows it's going to be seen." I press my knuckles against my mouth in deep thought. "Lukis goes home . . . "

"Late that night, he dies too," Sherlock finishes. 

"Why did they die, Sherlock?" I ask, shaking my head. He picks up one of the pictures and examines it closely. 

"Only the cipher can tell us." 

~

"Jane, the world runs on ciphers and codes," Sherlock states as we walk past a fountain. "From the million-pound security system at the bank to the PIN machine you took exception to." Must I be reminded of that again? "Cryptography inhabits our every waking moment. but it's all computer generated. Electronic codes, electronic cyphering methods." We walk up the stairs leading to the museum. "This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods won't unravel it." 

"So why are we going into the museum?" I ask, nimbly skipping up the stairs.

"I need to ask some advice." 

"Advice?" I question, looking up. 

"You heard me perfectly. I'm not saying it again."

"What? That the great Sherlock Holmes is asking for some advice?" 

"On painting, yes," he answers calmly. "I need to talk to an expert." 

~

We enter the back alley and walk over to a man in the middle of some vandalization work on a museum wall.

"Really?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Was this not what you were expecting?"

"Was kinda hoping we'd run into Van Gogh." 

"Part of my new exhibition," the guy says, not looking up. 

"Interesting," Sherlock comments, looking at the spray paint. 

"I call it . . . Urban bloodlust Frenzy," the guy chuckles.

"How catchy," I comment. 

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes around that corner." He turns to Sherlock. "Can we do this while I'm working?" he asks.

Sherlock pulls out his phone, goes to the photo of the codings, and shows it to the guy. He stops spray painting and looks down at the photos. He quickly tosses me a spray can he was holding, which I catch out of sheer impulse, as he takes the phone with both hands to get a better look.