221B

Chapter 6 - The Blind Banker

"Brian Lukis. Freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat..." Sherlock says, typing on a computer as Dimmock sits at his desk with his arms folded. He turns the computer around to show Dimmock. "Doors locked from the inside." He finishes.

"You've gotta admit, it's similar." John says.

Dimmock scowls at the laptop.

"Both men were killed by someone who can...I guess...walk through solid walls...?" I say without trying to sound like a total lunatic to Dimmock.

"Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another city suicide?" Sherlock asks.

Dimmock squirms in his seat, not meeting Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock looks up, clearly exasperated, and sighs pointedly.

"You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?" Sherlock guesses.

"Mmm." Dimmock answers.

"And the shot that killed him-was it fired from his own gun?" I ask.

"No." Dimmock answers reluctantly.

"No. So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel." Sherlock says.

Dimmock looks at Sherlock silently, and Sherlock leans forward over the desk and speaks quietly, yet a bit intensely, into Dimmock's face.

"I've just handed you a murder enquiry." He says. "Five minutes in his flat." He says, louder and nodding towards the picture of Brian Lukis on the laptop.

Sherlock ducks under the police tape at the bottom of the stairs inside the door of Lukis' flat. He goes upstairs, and Dimmock, John, and I follow him.

We walk into the living room. There's an open suitcase on the floor which is empty, and nearby on the carpet is a black origami flower which is very similar to the one that Sherlock found in Van Coon's mouth. There are books everywhere-on the desk, bookshelves, scattered all about on the floor. There are also several open newspapers lying on the floor. Sherlock walks over to the kitchen and looks through the window at the nearby rooftops of lower buildings. He pushes the net curtain back for a better look, and I see him smirk.

"Four floors up." He speaks up. "That's why they think they're safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable." Sherlock walks over to the middle of the living room again. "They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." He turns back towards the stairs and then sees a skylight above the landing.

"I don't understand." Dimmock says. I tap him on the shoulder and point up to the skylight. "I still don't understand."

I roll my eyes and look at Sherlock, who looks back at me and nods as if saying, 'Yeah, I know'.

"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock says, going over to the landing. He hops up onto something to get a closer look at the skylight, which is high up on the angled roof.

"What are you doing?" Dimmock asks.

"He clings to the walls like an insect..." Sherlock says, ignoring Dimmock. He unhooks the latch and pushes the window up. "That's how he got in." I hear him say softly.

"What?!" Dimmock demands.

Sherlock heaves a sigh. "Please explain, Kate?" He asks me.

I look at Dimmock. "He climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, and dropped in through this skylight." I point to the skylight again.

"You're not serious?!" Dimmock says to me. "Like Spider-Man?!"

I look at him. "Yes, Spider-Man is real and he lives in London." I say sarcastically, then drop the sarcasm. "No. He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, and jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon."

"Oh no, ho-old on!" Dimmock says, laughing in disbelief. He looks at Sherlock. "Are you sure she's not crazy?" He points to me.

"Absolutely." Sherlock shoots him a look which makes Dimmock seem to crawl back into his shell. "That's also how he got into the bank." Sherlock says. "He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." He steps down onto the landing and looks around again. "We have to find out what connects these two men."

He looks at down at the pile of books scattered up the side of the staircase. Sherlock jumps down a few steps and picks up a book which had fallen open on it's front page, showing that it had been borrowed from a library. He slams the book shut, then takes it with him as he heads off down the stairs.

We end up in the library, John and I following Sherlock as he searches for the aisle where the book in his hand came from. Eventually, he does find it.

"Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died." Sherlock says, checking the reference number stamped to the bottom of the book's spine. He goes to the correct place in the shelves and starts pulling out books, examining each of them.

John and I look at each other. He shrugs his shoulders, then goes to the other side of the aisle and starts pulling out books from a nearby shelf. I take the hint and start doing that as well, and it's just then that I find what Sherlock's looking for.

"Sherlock." I say, staring at the yellow line of graffiti I see in the gap of books I had taken out. John looks at me and they both walk over to me. When Sherlock pulls out a large amount of books with just one hand, I realize just exactly how small I am compared to him. He pulls out another large amount of books with the other hand, making a gap large enough to see the entire graffiti sprayed at the back of the shelf.

It's the same exact symbols.

Photos of the shelf have been added to the collection of photos stuck around in the mirror in the living room. We stand at the fireplace in front of the pictures.

"So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon, Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in." Sherlock sums up. "Hours later, he dies."

"The killer finds Lukis at the library, he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it'll be seen, Lukis goes home." John continues.

"And late that night, he also dies." I finish.

"Why did they die?" John asks softly.

Sherlock runs his fingers over the line sprayed across Sir William's face.

"Only the cipher can tell us." He answers.