Thank you Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan on livejournal for the transcripts. They help so much.
You guys can find her transcripts at: .
Here is the start of The Blind Banker.
I own nothing, except Calliah
I woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast. I smile and look up. Mycroft was still asleep. I smile and close my eyes. This was rarity for us. Mycroft was usually up by this time. "Stop thinking." I hear under me. I look up and see Mycroft looking at me. "You are thinking too much." He says and plays with my hair.
"Sorry Croft." I say and sit up and stretch. I get up and go to the bathroom. I needed to get home soon. John was probably worried. I go to the bathroom and go back out. Mycroft is sitting up and looks at me. "I need to go home after breakfast. John will be worried." I say. He nods and gets up. "I should feel privileged. I get to see Mycroft Holmes in yesterday's suit." I walk over and fix his tie. He smiles down at me.
"Yes you should." He says and runs a hand through my hair. "I usually an up and changed by now." I nod. He leads me to the kitchen. I sit down in my spot and start eating the pancakes in front of me. I look at Mycroft and see that he is eating oatmeal. We finish and I get up and go over to him. I wrap my arms around him. He pats my arm and looks at me. "I will have 'Anthea' take you home."
I nod. "I will be back soon. I'll call you." I ruff up his hair and go to leave. I stop and turn and look at him. "Oh, you will be happy to know that Sherlock is clean and isn't smoking. He is using nicotine patches." He nods. I leave and go to the house. I just hope the boys haven't blown it up.
I go up the stairs and see Sherlock sitting in his chair, reading a book. I look around. "Good. I was hoping you guys wouldn't ruin the place." I say and sit on the couch.
He looks up. "How do you know my brother?" He asks.
"He helped me. I helped him." I say and shrug.
He frowns. "He helped you?" He asks. I knew he wouldn't believe me, but I didn't care.
"Sure did." I get up and walk over to him. "You don't have to believe me, but you will do one thing." I lean down and get in his face. "You will not make fun of him anymore about his weight. If you do, I know things that will turn your world on its side." I stand up and walk back to the couch. I sit down and look at him. He was glaring at me. That made me laugh.
I hear someone coming up the stairs. I turn and see John coming up the stairs with several bags. I rush up and help him. "Let me help." I say. John nods and gives me a bag.
"Thanks." He nods to me. I go to the kitchen and see that Sherlock has moved to the kitchen and is on a computer. John and I put down our bags and John looks at the computer. "Is that my computer?" He asks.
"Of course." Sherlock says and he starts typing.
"What?!" John yells.
"Mine was in the bedroom." Sherlock explains. I roll my eyes.
"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John asks. Sherlock doesn't reply. "It's password protected!" John yells indignantly.
"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." Sherlock says and looks up at John. "Not exactly Fort Knox."
"Right, thank you." John says. I can tell he is annoyed. He walks over and slams the lid down as Sherlock pulls his fingers out of the way. John walks over to his arm chair and puts the computer down on the floor. Sherlock clasps his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth as he props his elbows on the table and looks thoughtful. I sit down back on the couch. John picks up a small pile of letters from the table and frowns. "Oh." I look over in worry. "He flocks through the letters and shakes his head. "Need to get a job."
"Oh dull." Sherlock says.
John puts the letters back on the table and looks to Sherlock. He looks at the letters and awkwardly sits forward. Oh I am going to love this. "Listen, um… if you'd be able to lend me some…" He stops. He looks at me. "He isn't even listening." He looks at Sherlock. "Sherlock, are you listening?"
"I need to go to the bank." Sherlock says and gets up. He heads towards the stairs and grabs his coat and goes down the stairs.
John looks at me. I shrug and get up follow. I hear John jump up and follow.
Sherlock leads us into the foyer of an impressive building. "Yes, when you said we were going to the bank…" We all get on the escalator and I notice that Sherlock was observing everything around us.
We got to the top of the escalator and Sherlock walks over to the reception desk and address one of the receptionists. "Sherlock Holmes."
We are lead to an office. A man in waiting inside and gets up when we walk in. "Sherlock Holmes." The man says and grins.
"Sebastian." Sherlock says.
They shake hands and Sebastian clasps Sherlock's hand in both of his own. "Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian asks. Sherlock looks at Sebastian with only marginally disguised dislike. I laugh and Sebastian turns and looks at John and me. He raises his eyebrow and smirks. "Who is this?" He walks forward.
"These are my friends, John Watson and Calliah Mullen." Sherlock explains.
"Friends?" Sebastian asks.
"Colleague." John says. Sebastian nods and looks at me.
"I'm his friend." I say and frown at him. I did not like him.
"Just friend?" He asks. I glare at him. He turns away and John purses his lips. I look at him and frown. "Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?" Sebastian asks.
Sherlock and I shakes his head. "No." John says.
"No?" He turns to his secretary. "We're all sorted here, thanks." As the secretary leaves, Sebastian sits down at his desk. Sherlock offers me one of the two chairs and I nod. I sit and John sits in the other chair.
"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot." Sherlock says.
"Well, some." Sebastian says and shrugs.
"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" Sherlock asks.
John and I look at Sherlock in confusion. Sebastian just laughs and points at Sherlock. "Right. You're going that thing." Sebastian looks at John and then me. He winks at me and frown. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."
"It's not a trick." I tell him.
"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story." Sebastian explains.
"Yes. I've seen him do it." John says.
"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him." Sebastian says and laughs. I look up at Sherlock and see that he is looking away. I can see his face momentarily fill with pain. I turn in my seat and takes his hand. He looks at me and nods. "You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night." I turn my head to glare at him.
"What did you call him?" I practically growl.
"I simply observed." Sherlock says softly and places a hand on my shoulder.
"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell?" He asks. He had a slight fear in his eyes. Good, he was afraid of me. Sherlock goes to answer but Sebastian continues. "You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan." He says smugly. John smiles.
"No, I …" Sherlock tries to say.
"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!" Sebastian says, talking over him.
Sherlock looks back at him. "I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me." He explains. John frowns at Sherlock.
Sebastian laughs humorlessly and Sherlock smiles back at him with an equal lack of humor. Sebastian claps his hands together, then becomes more serious. "I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break in." He stands up and leads us across the trading floor towards another door. "Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like some sort of memorial. Someone broke in last night." Sebastian explains.
"What did they steal?" John asks.
"Nothing. Just left a little message." Sebastian says.
Sebastian leads us to the office. He holds his security card against the reader by the door to unlock it. Hanging on the plain white wall behind the large desk is a framed painted portrait of a man in a suit – presumably the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall to the left of the portrait someone has sprayed what looks like a graffiti 'tag' in yellow paint. The tag looks vaguely like a number 8 but with the top of the number left open, and above it is an almost horizontal straight line. And across the eyes of the portrait another almost horizontal straight line has been sprayed. Sebastian leads the way towards the desk and then steps aside to allow Sherlock a clear view of the wall. John moves to stand on the other side of Sebastian, who looks at Sherlock expectantly as the detective stares in fixed concentration at the graffiti. We go back to Sebastian's office after Sherlock looks around. Sebastian shows the boys the security footage of the office. I didn't care about it so I was sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk. "Sixty seconds apart." Sebastian explains. "So. Someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, and then left within a minute."
"How many ways into that office." Sherlock asks.
"Well, that's where this gets really interesting." Sebastian says and motions them to follow. He leads us down to the reception area. Again I sat down in a waiting chair. I really don't care. I don't know why I was there. After a minute I see Sherlock walk away. I get up and follow him. "Where are we going?" I ask.
"Back to the office." He says and grabs my hand. As we go up the escalator, he turns to me. "Thank you for standing up for me. It-It means a lot." He says softly. I nod.
"Any time." I say.
We get to the office and he takes some photos with his phone. He looks to the right where the floor-to-ceiling window. He frowns and looks away. He walks to the window and pulls up the blonds which are covering what is revealed to be a door onto a small balcony. He opens the door and goes out onto the balcony. He looks down at the drop and bites his lip. He heads back inside. I frown at him and he shakes his head.
He rushes to the trading floor and I follow him. He has ducked down behind a desk and now rises slowly upright, staring in concentration at the glass doorway to Sir William's office. He then ducks sideways and hurries across the floor, to the bemusement of a trader. Sherlock continues to scamper around the floor, frequently scurrying sideways and ducking down behind desks before popping up again and peering at the doorway. He dances across the floor again and twirls around a column before backing towards an office on the other side of the floor. Stopping in that doorway, he wiggles about, his eyes still fixed on Sir William's office, then turns and goes into the office and heads to the other side of the desk. Standing directly behind the chair of whoever works in that room, he sees that he has a clear view of the top of the painting and the new yellow slash across the portrait's eyes. He dances sideways across the room before coming back to his previous position, confirming that this is the only place on the trading floor where the damaged portrait can be seen. Looking around the room for some identification, he eventually goes to the door where two signs are attached to the outside, one showing that this is the office of the Hong Kong Desk Head, and the sign above it giving the name of that person – Edward Van Coon. He slides the top sign out of its holder and heads off. I watch all of this from the side lines. I am laughing at him. He smiles at me and grabs my hand as he walks past. We meet up with John and we go down the escalators.
"Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him." John says. Sherlock smiles but doesn't respond. "How did you know?"
"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock asks.
"His watch?" I ask.
"The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it." Sherlock explains.
"Within a month? How'd you get that part?" John asked.
"New Breitling. Only came out this February." Sherlock explains.
"Okay. So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?" John asks.
"Got everything I need to know already, thanks." Sherlock says.
"Hmmm?" John asks.
"That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and ..." Sherlock stops to see if John or I would finish.
"…they'll lead us to the person who sent it." I say.
"Obvious." Sherlock says.
"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John asks.
"Pillars." Sherlock simply stats.
"Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot." Sherlock explains.
"Does it?" John asks.
We walk out of the revolving doors and out onto the street. "Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. The message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." He holds up the name card to show John and me. "Not many Van Coons in the phonebook." He spots something and calls out loud. "Taxi!"
We reach a block of flats and get out of the taxi. Sherlock walks to the door buzzers and presses the one marked 'Van Coon' and releases it. He looks into the security camera above the buzzers, waits a couple seconds, then presses the button again. There isn't a response.
"So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John asks.
Sherlock looks at the buzzers on the wall and steps back and looks up the front of the building. He comes back to the wall and looks at us triumphantly. "Just moved in."
"What?" I ask.
"The floor above. New label." Sherlock explains and pulls me to him. I frown and look at him.
I look at the wall and see that the one of the labels is handwritten and says 'Wintle'
"Could have just replaced it." John says.
Sherlock presses that buzzer and looks at John. "No-one ever does that."
"Hello?" A woman's voice comes over the intercom. I assume it is Ms. Wintle.
Sherlock turns to the camera and pulls me close to him. "Hi! Um, we live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." Sherlock says, his voice a little higher. I smile into the camera.
"No, well, um, I've just moved in." Ms. Wintle says.
Sherlock gives John a 'told you so' look and turns back to the camera. "Actually, we've just locked our keys in our flat." He grimaces and bites his lip plaintively.
"He always forgets them. Men right?" I add and roll my eyes.
"Do you want me to buzz you in?" Ms. Wintle asks.
"Yeah. And can we use your balcony?" Sherlock asks.
"What?" Ms. Wintle asks.
We go up to Ms. Wintle's flat and try to explain that we can drop from her balcony to ours. She agrees to let us use it. Sherlock stands on her balcony and looks over. He climbs over the side of the balcony. I rush over and see that Ms. Wintle's balcony is only halfway across and the balcony below was full length. "Come on." Sherlock calls up to me.
"Maybe I should go round." I suggest.
"Just come on." Sherlock rolls his eyes.
I slowly climb over the side and drop down. I sigh and check to make sure I didn't hurt myself. Sherlock is already inside the flat. I get up and follow him into an apartment of a wealthy man, with white leather furniture, shiny black tables and minimal clutter. He looks at everything as he goes through the room, and glances at a pile of books on a table. He walks through the kitchen, looking at the work surface before opening the fridge to reveal that it's full of nothing other than bottles of champagne. The front door to the flat buzzes. "Sherlock." John calls through the door. Sherlock and I move into the hall. "Calliah, are you two okay?" I frown and go to open the door. Sherlock stops me and opens the door to a small bathroom. I sit on the couch and frown. "Yeah, any time you feel like letting me in." I hear John. I hear Sherlock bang down a door. I rush to him and see a man in a suit and overcoat lying on his back on the bed, dead. There is a pistol on the floor, and the man has a small bullet hole in his right temple.
"Oh God." I say softly.
Later, the police have been called. A photographer is taking pictures of Van Coon's body lying on the bed. A forensics officer is dusting for fingerprints on the nearby mirror. Sherlock takes his coat off and puts on a pair of latex gloves. John stands beside him.
"D'you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys." John offers up.
"We don't know that it was suicide." Sherlock says.
"Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony." John said.
Sherlock squats down by a suitcase on the floor bear the bed. He flips open the lid and looks at the contents. "Been away three days, judging by the laundry." Sherlock says.
"Thanks – I'll take your word for it." John says.
"Problem?" Sherlock asks.
"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear." John says. I laugh and he looks at me.
Sherlock walks to the foot of the bed. "Those symbols at the bank – the graffiti. Why were they put there?"
"What, some sort of code?" John asks.
"Obviously." Sherlock says and rolls his eyes. Sherlock moves up and carefully opens the man's jacket to look at his inside pocket. "Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not e-mail?"
I look around and let the boys talk. I go out of the room and bump into a man. "Sorry." I say and smile.
He looks down at me and smile. "It's alright. Are you with that man? Um, Sherlock?"
"Yeah, I am." I say and smile.
"Well I should get in there. Death and all." He says and I nod. I go and sit on the couch. After a little while, the boys and that man come into the living room. "We're obviously looking at a suicide." The man says.
"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts." John says.
Sherlock takes off his gloves and turns his back to the man. "Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts." He turns around to the man. "You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."
"Like?" The man asks.
"The wound was on the right side of his head." Sherlock says.
"And?" The man asks.
"Van Coon was left-handed." I say. Sherlock looks at me shocked. I shrugged. I had learn a couple of things from Mycroft.
Sherlock pretends to try and point a gun to his right temple with his left hand. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."
"Left-handed?" The man asks.
"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." Sherlock points to the table beside the sofa. "Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left ... Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Sherlock explains
"No, I think you've covered it." John says tiredly.
"Oh, I might as well; I'm almost at the bottom of the list." Sherlock says and looks at John and me. I shrug. Sherlock points to the kitchen "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." He turns to the man with an impatient look on his face. "It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts." Sherlock smiles.
"But the gun: why…" the man
"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened." Sherlock interrupted. He walks away and starts to put his scarf, coat, and gloves on.
"What?" The man asks.
"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning." John explains.
"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock explain.
"And the bullet?" The man asks. I get up and put on my coat on. I go outside the room to wait for the boys. I was getting bored. I lean against the wall and close my eyes. I'm glad I had some clothes at Mycroft's. I had put on a pair of jeans and a Harry Potter ravenclaw shirt on. It wasn't the most fashionable, but it wasn't my dirty sweats. Sherlock comes out of the room and looks at me. "Come on." He says and walks off.
We go to a restaurant and walk in. We walk to a table and I notice Sebastian and grimace. "…and he's left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course can never be done!" Sebastian says and laughs.
We walk to the table. "It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." Sherlock says.
Sebastian looks up and frowns. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?"
I look around and see Mycroft at one of the tables. I smile and pull on John's sleeve. He looks over at me and I point to Mycroft. He nods and I walk over to the table. "Hello Croft." I say and sit. He looks up and smile.
"Calliah." He nods.
"Why are you here? Are some important people coming to meet you?" I ask.
"No, just felt like having a lunch out. Would you like to join me or do you need to get back to my dear brother?" Mycroft asks.
I look over and see the boys following Sebastian into the men's bathroom. I look back and smile. "I'm all yours." He smiles and looks at him menu. "You have better clothes in your closet my dear." He says softly.
"Are you saying I am dressed ugly Croft?" I ask and fake pout.
He looks up and frowns. "You know I am not."
I laugh and pick up my menu. "I know Croft. Just giving you a hard time." A waiter comes and gets our orders. "So did Sherlock tell you about his uni days?" I ask.
He thinks and looks at me. "Not really." I frown. "We started to drift apart after I went to uni. He thinks I left him. I couldn't stay in the house any longer. I needed to get out and explore the world but Sherlock didn't understand." Mycroft says. I take his hand in mine. He looks up.
"I understand." I say and smile.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up to see John. "Calliah. We are leaving."
"Oh you two go ahead. I'm going to have lunch with Croft." I tell him. I see Sherlock frown but I ignore him. John nods and goes to Sherlock. I turn back to Mycroft and smiles. He smiles back and looks down. "What?"
"No one has ever pick me over Sherlock. I was the cold unmoving one. Sherlock at least showed some compassion. I was nick named the 'Ice Man'." Mycroft explains to me.
I frown and move my chair closer to him and place my hand on his arm. "Well I will never call you that." I say and rest my head on his arm. I feel a slight kiss to my head and he pats my hand. Our food arrives but I don't move. I sit up and start eating. I feel Mycroft looking at me. He was expecting me to move back, but I definitely wasn't going to do that. We eat our meal in a comfortable silence. He pays and helps me up. He leads me to the car and helps me in. He gets in after me and puts my legs on his lap. I lay my head on his chest and he wraps his arm around me. We got to Baker Street and I look up at Mycroft. "Thank you for sharing your lunch time with me." I say and kisses his cheek. He looks at me and nods. I get out and bends down to look into the car. "I will call you later Croft. Don't do too much damage." He laughs and I smile. I close the door and rush up to the door. I turn back and wave. I see Mycroft waves and I go into the building. I go upstairs and hear John and Sherlock talking. I go inside and see Sherlock is sitting at the dining table. John is by his chair.
"Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." John says. He picks up a pen from the table beside his chair and, without even looking at Sherlock, tosses the pen in his direction. Sherlock lifts his left hand and catches it without looking away from the photographs on the wall. I laugh at them and how well they worked together. John looks at me and smiles. I nod back at him. John walks over to the mirror to look more closely at the photos. "Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery." John tells us.
"How was it?" I ask.
"It's great. She's great." John says absently. I laugh.
"Who?" Sherlock asks.
"The job." John says and looks back at him.
"'She'" I tell him.
"…it." John says.
Sherlock looks at me and I laugh. Sherlock looks at John suspiciously for a moment and then jerks his head to his right. "Here, have a look." Sherlock tells us.
I walk over to him. "Hmm?" John asks.
John comes to my side and we look at the web page on the open computer. The lead article on the 'Online News' page is headlined, 'Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for the police'. Next to it is a photograph of the bald man, and the article reads:
An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in...
"The intruder who can walk through walls." John says.
"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock says.
"God. You think…" I ask as John and I straightening up and look at Sherlock.
"He's killed another one." Sherlock says.
Okay guys. This is a long chapter.
Hope you guys like it.
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