Why Fireflies Flash

Just Take a Look

Shad Sanderson Investment Bank

“So,” Sherlock says conversationally, “you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot.”

Seb shrugs. “Well, some. Not nearly as much as Annie-belle there, I assure you.”

“I've been in London for the past six months,” Anabeth quips with some spite. She never did like that nickname. “And before that I was strictly in Virginia. Family business and all.”

“Flying all the way around the world twice in a month,” Sherlock continues.

Sebastian scoffs. “Right. You're doing that thing. Yeah, we were at uni together,” he says to the other two. “This guy here had a trick he used to do.”

“It's not a trick,” Sherlock breathed.

“Annie-belle did something similar. No where near as impressive as this guy.” Anabeth rolls her eyes. “This guy could look at you and tell your whole life's story.”

“Yes,” John says, nodding once with a glance at Sherlock. “I've seen him do it.”

“Put the wind up everybody,” Seb continues. “We hated him. We'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night.”

“I simply observed.”

“Go on. Enlighten me. Two trips all the way around the world. You're quite right. How could you tell? You're going to tell me there's a stain on my tie from a certain kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?”

“No. I-”

“Bet it was the mud on my shoes.”

“Actually,” Quinn snaps harshly. “We were talking to you secretary just outside. She told us.”

That wiped the know-it-all smile off Seb's face. Embarassed once again.

“I'm glad you could make it over, we've had a break in.” He stands and leads the out of the office. “Sir William's office. The bank's former chairman. It's been left here like a sort of memorial. It was broken into last night.”

“What did they steal?” John asks.

“Nothing,” Seb says stopping briefly. “They just left a little message.”

Anabeth nods as she looks around. Keycard entry.

Seb stopped in the middle of the office with that same tight-lipped know-it-all smirk (how did Anabeth find him attractive?) flanked by John and Sherlock. Anabeth took her time coming into the office, pausing briefly when she saw the message; a squiggly almost eight topped with a straight line on the wall and a straight line over the eyes of the painting.

The men left a moment later leaving Anabeth alone. After a glance around the office, she sits in the plush rolling chair, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together save for her forefingers which she pressed to her lips.

That's how Sherlock found her upon his return.

“Bored?”

“Thinking.” Her icy eyes flashed open to catch his intrigued gaze.

“What do you see?”

“Let us start from the beginning, yes?” Quinn stands and goes to the floor length windows, openind one and stepping onto the balcony. “Keycard entry. Seb did not mention any unusual late night visits, so the intruder came in through the window. Obviously. Meaning he is athletic, it is a pretty high climb.” She leans over the edge a slight smile on her face.