221B

Chapter 5 - The Blind Banker

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." Sherlock says in the restaurant.

Sebastian turns to us. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?"

"I don't think this can wait." I say.

"Sorry Sebastian-one of your traders, someone who worked in your office, was killed." Sherlock informs him.

"What?"

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." John answers.

"Killed?" Sebastian repeats, shocked.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion." Sherlock says sarcastically. "Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, 9:00 at Scotland Yard suit?"

Sebastian puts down his glass of water and nervously runs his finger inside his shirt collar.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Wait outside the restaurant until you three come back out."

Sherlock nods. "Okay. We'll tell you anything new we learn, alright?'"

I nod. "See you in a few." I turn and walk out of the restaurant, stopping by one of the front windows. I casually lean against it and go on my phone, unsure of what to do.

The few minutes Sherlock, John, and Sebastian are in the men's bathroom feels like hours as I wait in anticipation. Finally, they come out. Sebastian sits back down at the table and Sherlock and John continue on to leave the restaurant.

"So," I say, walking with them. "What did you find out? Anything?"

"Van Coon worked in Asia for awhile, so Sebastian gave him the Hong Kong accounts." Sherlock says.

"Then Sebastian's Chairman texted him and said that the police were telling him it was a suicide. We kept telling him it was murder, but he won't believe us."

"Damn it, Dimmock!" I mutter.

I come back to 221B after going back to Van Coon's flat. I don't know what I expect to find, I just look. As expected, nothing new comes up.

I walk into the living room of 221B, where I see Sherlock has printed out photographs of the graffiti and has stuck them all around the mirror hanging above the fireplace. He sits on one of the dining chairs with his back to the table. He has his hands in their usual position under his chin, and he stares at the photos.

"I said; 'could you pass me a pen?' " Sherlock speaks up without looking away from the photos.

"Talking to me?" I ask.

"Obviously."

"When did you say that?"

"About an hour ago."

"Clearly you didn't notice I was gone." I say, then pick up a pen from the small table beside the door and carelessly toss it in his direction without looking.

"Clearly." He answers, catching the pen with one hand without looking as well. I walk over to the mirror and look more closely at the photos. "Nevermind. Don't need it." Sherlock says, and tosses the pen in my direction without looking. I catch it, not taking my eyes away from the photos. I look at him.

"Then why'd you ask for it?"

"Thought I needed it."

I heave a sigh and put the pen back where I found it, then sit in the armchair across from Sherlock's staring back at the photos.

After a few moments of silence, John comes home and climbs up the stairs, stopping in the living room.

"I said; 'could you pass me a pen?' " Sherlock says without looking away from the photos.

"Who are you talking to?" John asks, looking from Sherlock to me.

"You. John." Sherlock answers without looking away.

"When did you-?"

"About an hour ago."

John sighs. "Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." He says, then picks up the same pen from the table by the doorway and tosses it over to Sherlock without looking. Again, Sherlock catches it with one hand without taking his eyes away from the photos on the wall. John crosses over to the mirror and stands, looking at the photos.

"Why'd you just ask John when you asked me for the pen not too long ago?"

"I asked you both." Sherlock answers.

"And I gave you a pen and you said you didn't need it..."

"Yes, but I changed my mind." Sherlock replies.

"Yeah, well, I went to see about a job at that surgery." John speaks up.

"Oh, how was it?" Sherlock and I ask in unison. I look at John.

"It's great. She's great." John replies absently.

"Who?" Sherlock and I ask in unison again.

"The job." John answers, looking at both of us.

"'She'?" Sherlock repeats.

"It..." John says.

Sherlock looks at John suspiciously for a moment, and then jerks his head to the right.

"Here, have a look." Sherlock says.

"Hm?" John asks, then walks over to look at a web page which is on an laptop on the table which shows a headline reading, "Ghostly Killer Leaves a Mystery for Police". I walk over to read it, standing next to John. I see that next to the headline is a picture of a bald man. I scan quickly through the article.

"The intruder who can walk through walls..." John says when he's done reading the article.

"Happened last night." Sherlock says. "Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside-exactly the same as Van Coon."

"God. You think..." John trails off, straightening up and looking at Sherlock.

"He's killed another one." Sherlock finishes.