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Brilliant Minds	By : FairyBean Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4811 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, I do not Profit from this writing and do not know or own Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson or any of the other characters used in this work. I also do not own Sherlock (BBC) franchise or anything related to it.

Chapter List
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Ok guys, another chapter. Just forgot to mention that this in un beta'd. It's all just me, so spelling mistakes being pointed out is a good thing. Cheers guys.
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Lestrade looked up when they entered the large office. His brow raised but he didn’t comment on the wheelchair.

“John, Sherlock. What are you doing here?” though he knew the answer, and was only in the office himself because Mycroft had dropped him off in a helicopter two minutes ago.

John stepped forward to explain but Sherlock’s long fingers stopped him from stepping away. Sherlock wasn’t looking at it, and if John didn’t know better he would say that it was unconscious. Greg smiled at him and shook his head.

“We haven’t had anything about any more bodies. But it seems whoever it is, is more interested in you two than us at the moment.”

Sherlock nodded, “Good, that means you can set up recon without being the centre of attention. He is watching somehow, though I doubt he had heard he may be able to lip read so make sure you are covering your mouth or turned away from everyone and windows if it’s important.”

Lestrade flicked his eyes up to John for a moment and they met, dark gaze meeting John’s blue-grey, slightly softer eyes and between them there passed an understanding. They had to protect Sherlock, especially in this condition. The young detective would act as he always did, following the deductions of that brilliant mind.

“Do you think it has anything to do with the young women? Or do we have a completely different case here?” he threw out, and the look Sherlock levelled his way made him almost step back.

“Of course it is the same man, he’s failed at getting my attention where he wants it with the first killings, and so now is starting to involve me instead. Though there is the possibility that catching this man will not flush out the main puppet master.”

John coughed then and shook his head. “You mean…someone behind all of this?”

Sherlock nodded. “That is the logical conclusion. These killings are linked to something. The discs that are left with the bodies form some kind of puzzle I have yet to solve because I don’t have all the pieces. If I just had one that I-“

He stopped as a man ran up to Lestrade with a small box. He was panting, and there was blood running down his face. “Jesus Dale, what happened?” the DI said quickly.

“I stopped them killing her, I did it Greg, but they got away and the girl had to go to hospital but look, its another of those weird medallion-“
He was cut off as Sherlock grabbed the box and opened it. Inside was indeed another small circle, and this one he recognised as easily as if it were written in English. He showed it to John, who frowned.

“Japanese?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow and Sherlock nodded.

“Shi, means-“

“Death,” Lestrade cut in. “Do you have the others, are they from Japan too?”

Sherlock snorted. “If they were Japanese I would have figured it out as fast as I figured out this one. But the point is, why is he putting these medallions on the women. Was the woman you saved Japanese?” he shot at the still panting policeman.

“Korean maybe, she was pretty shaken up.”

Sherlock looked to John with a huge smile, John understood its meaning, but the two coppers were looking at him as if he were insane.

“Inappropriate response,” John muttered as a small smile spread across his own face. “Greg. Can you find out the nationality of those who were already killed? Their real nationality I mean, not English, even if they were born here.”

“Of course. Donnovan, nationality of those dead women, and their parents too,” he said without so much as looking up at the woman at a desk a few feet behind him.

“What about the medallion you said you had before?” John asked, and when Lestrade looked at him with a strange look he added “You text about it…”

Lestrade shook his head, and there was a moment of silence before all three men stood up to make for the door, of course Sherlock doubled over, John caught him and Lestrade started to issue orders while he helped put the detective back in the chair.

“Oh and Dale, get seen to.”

There was another body to find, and they were sure as hell not going to find it sitting in here. Sherlock watched as the police cars fled the parking lot, everything they had was sent out to look for another body. Combing alleys, checking people who hadn’t shown up for work that day. That kind of thing even though it was a long shot. Something was niggling at Sherlock. He picked up his phone from John’s pocket and opened the text with the smiley face.

With deft fingers, and before John could see what he was doing he clicked reply and wrote,

Where is the body? – SH

He slipped the phone back into John’s pocket where it had been before without the man noticing. Until it started to buzz that is.

“Sherlock…” John breathed as he picked up the phone and handed it to the detective, who opened the newest text.

Under the Maple leaf, near the water in the breast of the bird

John, who was reading over Sherlock’s shoulder, stood and frowned. “That makes no sense. How does he know what we wanted?”

Lestrade read it too and furrowed his brows. “Near water in the breast of a bird?” he mused. “So along the Thames….or some other body of water?”

“What about a Maple leaf? The trees?” John asked.

“Well, Maple trees grow at the North-east of the Inner Temple Gardens…and it would fit, its near the water, on Victoria’s embankment.”

He stopped but Lestrade had gotten his phone out already and was ordering someone to go check it out, then he turned and started walking to his car, “Come on, I’ll give you a llift.”

John didn’t move. He knew the look that Sherlock wore. “What is it?” he asked softly.

Sherlock looked up at him with the most open expression John had seen on his face when he wasn’t asleep. “It doesn’t feel right. There are birds there for sure, but the wording is off. It says IN the breast. Unless it was alluding to the garden as a- no, that’s idiotic. What is it, it’s right here but I can’t see it! Damn this blasted chair! I need to pace!” he yelled suddenly and moved to get up. Instead John just grasped the handles and started to wheel Sherlock forwards, then turned and went in another direction. It was the best he could do as he wouldn’t allow Sherlock to get up.

Lestrade watched in a silent awe at the interaction of the two. He had known Sherlock a lot longer than the young Holmes knew of, and he had never seen him sit still, take direction or do anything as he did for John. Mycroft was right. There was something there that might need keeping an eye on, more so that Sherlock didn’t get hurt rather than John. Lestrade himself knew that the attachment Sherlock would make to John would be unhealthy for the both of them. Something told him it was far too late for preventative measures however. Now it was time for damage control.

However it seemed to work, as Sherlock was pushed around the asphalt he seemed to be thinking deeply as he muttered to himself. Suddenly John stopped.

Sherlock turned to him. “What?”

“Repeat that, what you just said.”

Sherlock concentrated for a minute and both John and Greg knew he was running his thought process backwards to find what John meant.

“Old news, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You said the Shard was declared the tallest building in London. Do you remember what held the title before that?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before a wide grin split his face. Yes this is what it meant that he had John. He was the best sounding board he had ever had, and he helped in ways without knowing it. “Brilliant!” he yelled and watched as John started to blush at the praise. “Lestrade, get us to One Canada Square. Its in Canary Wharf, next to water and if we think of a Canary as the bird then it has to be there.”

Lestrade nodded and started for the car, John pushing the wheelchair after him.

**

It was deathly quiet as they pulled up in Canary Wharf. The siren was off now, they hadn’t seen traffic since they left the main roads, though it had helped them navigate through central London to get here. Sherlock was antsy, bouncing and telling Lestrade to drive faster. They had been doing 90 miles an hour, which was definitely inadvisable on the best of days, but Lestrade had felt the need to do it too. They needed to get there. Then they would have four medallions, a picture from the flesh of the girl they saved, and four dead bodies.

The bottom of the normally busy building was deserted and Sherlock felt the hairs on his neck rise as he watched the ones on John’s arms do the same thing. There was something very wrong about this. Lestrade had his gun out, watching around corners. Sherlock held up his hand and John stopped. He started to push himself up, he needed to have freedom of movement to examine the place, but John made a slight whimper, barely audible but enough for Sherlock to turn to him.

“It will be alright,” he said quietly. He had never felt the need to reassure anyone before. It was new but right now there were more important things to be doing. He watched the police they had brought with them fanning out to cover the retail shops on the ground floor. The text had said beneath. His eyes alighted on the door to storage, staff only but he didn’t care about that and forced his feet to move. He was little better than earlier but it didn’t matter. He needed to be able to look at this. It was too important to miss anything.

A hand caught his sleeve. It didn’t stop his movement, but it rested there and didn’t leave. He looked at John and then continued on without comment towards the door. The chair left in the lobby of the huge building. John pushed the door open, and went inside first, shielding Sherlock with his body as it was all he had. Butterflies tumbled through Sherlock’s stomach at this but he pushed them down. John was ex-army, he would be fine.

Yes, so fine that he nearly broke down the last time you were hurt, what will you do if he is? His brain supplied as he followed John in and turned to watch the door close behind them. He just caught Lestrade’s eye, and the nod before he was shut out. He took a breath and looked at the corridor. It went only one way, and didn’t even have another way out until the end of it.

“Well, lets go.”

Sherlock nodded to John who started to walk forwards. He hissed with pain as he tried to keep up a normal pace and immediately John slowed.

“I can go back for the chair if you-“

“No, she’s here. I can tell. But she was killed here, and she put up a fight. We have to hurry. I don’t know how many he killed in total but this one was a while ago.”

“How do you know?” John asked, as always amazed by the things Sherlock could tell without a single piece of evidence visible to him. Sherlock looked away for a moment before pointing to scuffs on the wall. They were too high for things bumping the walls in normal everyday moving of products or people.

“She fought, there her shoes marked the wall, here her nails drew lines in the plaster. She was probably screaming which means he moved her when no one was here, early morning or late at night. Since it is mid afternoon, and that he knew of other things that could have had me out for days, I assume he killed her as soon as she was where he wanted her to be, then sent the message.”

“So this is all for those markings?”

They continued to walk as Sherlock drew the other medallions and the small torn photo of the markings from his pocket. He nodded. “I believe so but I cannot see the purpose. There is no chance of saving them, so it isn’t that kind of game.”

“Game?” John asked, looking sick.

“Yes, a battle of intellect. To solve the puzzle before the victim dies. It isn’t that because they are already dead. It has to be something else, but I don’t know what John.”

Sherlock was worried, and as they passed through the door at the end and descended the steps he realised why.

“Hello there Sherlock. Did you figure it out yet? Can your little mind comprehend what is happening here?”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, but more importantly to the young holmes right then was the fact that a man stepped from the gloom to his left and had a knife at John’s throat.

He met the eyes of his partner in crime-solving and the man smiled at him as the knife was pushed a little, and his feet forced backwards against the body that held him. Damn John for being so short, Sherlock thought irrationally as he was held motionless by indecision. Usually he would go after the voice.

Laughter filled the room and the voice came again.

“One choice Sherlock. The girl still lives, young little thing she is. She is safely upstairs, but your man is here, and they both hang on the brink of death.”

“Let them go. What do you want?” he yelled into the darkness. His eyes never leaving the calm orbs of John. The man had faith that Sherlock would come through. But he couldn’t think, something was happening to his body. His chest was tight as his mind was racing faster than usual, he couldn’t breathe and the only thought he seemed to have with any coherency was John.

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Vincent: Thank you very much :)
Kathyrn - Here you go. I shall try to update at least once a month, (tho I shall aim for once a fortnight) I cannot promise more than that. But I am so happy you are enjoying it.
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Brilliant Minds