The Laws of Attraction - The Blind Banker

The Blind Banker

     It was dark by the time they left the National Antiquities Museum, and a chill had set in.  Leanna buttoned her jacket as she descended the steps with her neighbours.  They had met the Andy character who'd left the note that led them here; apparently, Soo Lin had resigned last-minute.  Now, she was missing.  Clearly it had something to do with the cipher they had found, sprayed on a statue in its traditional yellow paint.  Just as in the bank.  It had to have been for her, hence her disappearance, hence the assassin who'd attacked her and Sherlock.

     "Sherlock!"

     A young boy who looked to be in his late adolescence - and entirely a punk - stopped them on the museum steps.

     "Look who it is," John muttered.  Leanna guessed that this was the boy who'd framed him for the spray paint.  Apparently, he'd found something they'd like.

     He led them through town, down several blocks, until they reached the kind of neighbourhood she could guess the boy spent most of his time in.  The four of them came to a skate park, and kids with bikes and skateboards zipped past.  When I was young, I sat on the sofa and read a book, Leanna thought to herself.  And, it had saved her several scrapes and broken bones.

    "If you want to hide a tree, then the forest would be the best place to do it, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock commented.  "People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message."

     "Over there."  Leanna pointed to a post.  Under several layers of bright paint, there was a smear of yellow.  "I see it."

     "They've been here.  And that's the exact same paint?" Sherlock asked the artist.

     "Yeah.  I'm sure of it."

     "John, if we're going to decipher this code we're gonna need to look for more evidence."  The detective began to take off.  "John, take Leanna.  Follow the train tracks east.  I'll go west."

     The last they saw of Sherlock, he was pulling a flashlight from his pocket and rounding a corner.  John gave Leanna a shrug, and the two of them turned to leave.  John turned on his own flashlight.  As they left, he looked back over his shoulder at the young man.

     "Tuesday!"

     Leanna grabbed his arm, turning him 'round and pulling him along with her.

     "Seriously," John mused, "he's okay with letting me take the fall for this?  Kids these days..."

     "Well, you know the elusive artist type.  They'll do just about anything in the name of art - hold on," she said, suddenly stopping dead in her tracks, "elusive young artist who'll do anything in the name of art, friend of Sherlock Holmes..."

     "Yeah?"

     "You don't think..."

     "What?"

     "You don't think Sherlock actually managed to track down him?"

     John stared the way the came, his look shifting between looks of doubt, confusion, and contemplation. 

     "No, it can't be.  No one's seen him."

     "This is Sherlock we're talking about."

     They stood in absolute, baffled silence.  Leanna broke it with a laugh, clapping John on the back.

     "You know, if it were me, I'd go to court for Banksy."

     She walked off ahead of him, leaving John to his thoughts.