The Ballad of Mona Lisa

Chapter 4- Wasting Time

The bullet was a dead end.

The whole case was. Scotland Yard had all but given up and Sherlock was obsessed with solving it. He hardly slept or ate, which was normal when he was on a case. His kitchen table was covered in lab equipment and the far wall opposite his chair was covered in pictures and notes that related to the art thefts. He was consumed by this unsolvable case day and night.

It had been several months since the last reported art theft. Everyone at Scotland Yard, excluding Lestrade, had basically forgotten about the whole thing. They were busy with other things. Sherlock, however, was busy with only this. It was during this time of hush in the criminal community that Sherlock received an invitation.

There came a knock at his door.

"It's open!" He called. The door creaked open and a member of his small, but growing, homeless network stepped inside the door. It was a woman, probably mid thirties or so. She walked cautiously further into the small flat. She found Sherlock, pajama-clad and slouched in his chair, staring at his wall covered with papers and pictures.

"Mr. Holmes?" She asked, barely above a whisper. She stood in the doorway to the living room.

"Hm?" He didn't even look at her.

"I have a letter for you. A large man gave it to me and said it was imperative you get it immediately." Sherlock looked up at this and in an instant he was on his feet. He took two large steps, his bare feet silent on the wood floor, and stood before the woman. She held out the letter. Sherlock took it from her and she turned and quickly left. As soon as he heard the door click shut, Sherlock tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of folded paper. He brought it closer to his face and inhaled.

Secret Sunshine

His new favorite smell. It had faded from his flat months ago, and oh, how he missed it. He unfolded the paper.

You're wasting your time, but this letter won't convince you of that. Meet me at the London Eye tomorrow at exactly two o'clock.
~Mona Lisa

It was written in the same flawless cursive as the first letter. Sherlock smirked at the paper.

"Finally."

***

1:57 pm The next day

Sherlock stood near the line for the London Eye, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a purple-grey button-up shirt with a sport coat over it, and his black vans for footwear. He was leaning against a street pole, knowing he would be found when She was ready for him. To pass the time, he was deducing things about the people that walked passed. Finally someone approached him. It was a very large man, likely the one who delivered the letter yesterday.

"Mr. Holmes?" The man asked.

"Obviously," Sherlock replied.

"Follow me."

The man turned on his heel and walked briskly toward the front of the line waiting to get a turn on the London Eye. Sherlock followed the man to the very front of the line. When the next pod reached the bottom, Sherlock was guided into it. A few protests could be heard from people in the line, but a few small words from the man standing there ended that. The pod door closed behind Sherlock and the pod started to move. In the far end there was a woman standing with her back to him. Sherlock noted the things he saw about her.

5'5" without the black heels.
Slender build.
Light brown hair, flowing down to her mid-back in loose curls.
Adorned in a long black coat.

After a moment, the woman turned around. She stared at him, drinking him in. He was busy adding to his mental list of things he noticed.

Green eyes.
Skin tanned to the shade of honey.
A few freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Fingernails, long and carefully painted a shiny black.