You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Blind Banker: Chapter 10

You and Sherlock made it safely back to the flat, but John wasn't anywhere to be found. Not worried, you and Sherlock continued to try and place what the symbols might mean.

You were far into concentration when you heard the door to 221B slam close and glanced back to see John, before you turned back to the mirror, taping another picture to it for visuals.

"You've been awhile." Sherlock stated, not looking away from the mirror.

"It looks as if he's been taken under custody, Sherlock." You stated, studying John's extremely annoyed features and stance. You also noticed the slight red marks on his wrist where handcuffs had been placed.

"Yeah, well, I have been. Custody Sergeants don't really like to be hurried, now do they? Just formalities, fingerprints, charge sheet, and I've got to be in magistrates' court on Tuesday!" John paced angrily around the apartment as Sherlock paid no care in the world. You just didn't understand why he was so upset, it was kind of his fault anyway for not running.

"What?" Sherlock asked, grabbing a picture from your hands to study it. You let him look at the picture as he taped it up onto the mirror with the others.

"Me, Sherlock! In court, on Tuesday! They're giving me an ASBO!"

"Good, fine." Sherlock shrugged, not really listening to John.

"You wanna tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up anytime." John said angrily, starting to pull off his jacket.

"You didn't run, it was kind of your own fault." You told John blankly. He gave you a killing look that warned you not to say another word. You shrugged, not really caring. It was his fault. You had no empathy for him.

"This symbol... I still can't place it... have you had any luck, Y/n?" Sherlock glanced towards you and you shook your head, mind back on the case. Sherlock turned, shutting a book he'd picked up from the floor and when he spied John slipping off his coat, he quickly stopped him.

"No, I need you to go to the police station and ask about the journalist, his personal effects would've been impounded. Get hold of his diary or something that will tell us his movements." Sherlock ushered John out of the flat, and you followed behind Sherlock, curious to see where he was headed. You thought it would be a good idea to talk to VanCoon's PA, try to figure out more about his actions the day he died.

"Where are you going Sherlock?" You asked, pulling on your coat and zipping it up as the three of you climbed down the stairs. You wanted to see if he had the same idea as you. Sherlock seemed to think awhile before answering.

"Say on three?" He questioned, not wanting to give you something to keep you ahead in the case. You nodded as he counted to three. "VanCoon's PA." You both spoke simultaneously.

"Guess we're on the same page." You nodded. This was going to be a tough competition when you and Sherlock always seemed to be thinking the same thing.

You finished pulling your coat on, taking a long breath. The air outside was cold and crisp. You shivered pulling your jacket tighter around your body. Sherlock then looked to John, "If you can retrace their steps, somewhere they'll coincide." John nodded, before you and Sherlock took off down the street.

***

"Flew back from Dalian Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team." Van Coon's PA, Amanda, told you as she leaned over a computer, scrolling through Van Coon's old schedule. You studied her, taking in her elegant blonde hair, twisted into a bun, much like the woman at the desk you saw this morning. She wore a crisp, tailored jacket that was a bright shade of white and a low-cut black tank top beneath it. She also wore a knee-length pencil skirt that showed off her curves well. To complete her look, she wore a simple golden necklace around her neck and a beautiful hairslide that resembled a snake in her hair.

"Can you print me up a copy?" Sherlock asked, studying it, his hands tucked behind his back. She glanced back at him.

"Sure." She nodded, turning back to her computer.

"What about the day he died? Could you see where he was?" You asked as she scrolled through his schedule. She pulled up the day he died and shrugged.

"Sorry, I've got a bit of a gap." She sighed, showing the two of you that on the day he died, there was no information on his calendar. "But, I have all his receipts." She told the two of you as you both looked disappointed. You perked up at this, asking her if she could show them to you. She agreed and opened her desk, pulling loads of receipts out of one of the drawers. You watched as she did this, glancing at Sherlock. Once she had all of them laid out, she stepped back so you and Sherlock could examine them.

"What kind of boss was he, Amanda, appreciative?" Sherlock asked, his eyes scanning over the receipts.

Amanda crossed her arms formally over one another as she shook her head slightly. "Um, no. That's not a word I'd use." She chuckled slightly, looking towards her feet. "The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag." She sighed and in your mind you immediately remembered an expensive hand soap at Eddie's apartment and as you glanced up you saw the same exact brand of hand lotion sitting on Amanda's desk. Hm...

"Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn't he?" You asked, bending down to take a look at a couple receipts. Sherlock glanced up and saw that you were indeed right. Amanda scratched her head, gazing at the hand lotion before she looked at you for a long while. You and Sherlock sifted through receipts, looking for anything on the day he died. Sherlock stopped, picking up a receipt and holding it out to you.

"Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died, £18. 50." You scanned it nodding before handing it off to Amanda.

"That would get him to the office." She stated as if it was nothing unusual.

"Not rush hour. Check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as. . . "

"The West End. I remember him saying." Amanda said excitedly, holding the receipt in her hands. You picked up another receipt, holding it up to Sherlock.

"Underground, printed at one in Piccadilly." You stated as Sherlock took it from your hands. Amanda looked confused as Sherlock handed her the second receipt. She studied it, not fully understanding.

"So he got a Tube back to the office." She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Why would he get a taxi into town then the Tube back?" She said, not understanding. You thought back to when you were at Van Coon's apartment and pictured Van Coon's suitcase and how his clothes had been forced down to make room for something big. He must've delivered something that was too heavy to carry somewhere then just taken the Tube back.

"Because he was delivering something heavy. You wouldn't lug a package up the escalator." Sherlock vocalized your thoughts and you nodded promptly, still rummaging through the receipts.

"Delivering?" Amanda asked, looking more confused than before.

"To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it, and then. . ." Sherlock trailed off, throwing another receipt aside.

"Stopped on his way," You quickly held up a receipt to Sherlock and he took it, quickly scanning it.

"He got peckish." Sherlock looked up, thoughts seeming to cloud his mind. He quickly grabbed your arm pulling you from the bank.

"Hey, Sherlock! Slow down!" You gasped as he pulled you down the street.

"Can't! We have a lead!" He said as the two of you made your way to find the restaurant Van Coon had stopped at the day he died.