My Genius Rival

Chapter 5

Sherlock lets out a quick little hum of amusement "He's a ninny, I needed to know what he had on you." He twirls his pipe in his hand and I furrow my brows at him. "Give him some respect, Mr Holmes, that small, awkward man practically idolises you.' Grinning, I turn to Enola and point to him unimpressed "Is this how he usually is?" Sherlock scoffs and shakes his head whilst hiding a small smile.

Enola walks up to him with wide eyes, waiting for him to start giving details, to which he sighs "Money. Unaccounted transfers going in and out of government offices. My theory is either bribery, extortion, or blackmail." Hesitantly, I walk over to stand beside him and Enola by the map, once again taking a look at the pinned points he showed me yesterday with the letters attached to each number.

"And what have you found?" His body is used to block me from being involved but I slink in, earning an annoyed side eye from him, but I can still see a hint of a smirk.

"Separate filings from five different accounts going via the treasury into one private bank." He reaches his arms across me to point at the map. I didn't notice how close I stood to him, he smells pretty nice actually. But that's irrelevant.

"So, someone is getting rich from this?" Enola's face screwed up, scandalised by the very thought.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure exactly, all I have is an Alias, Moriarty. I visited the bank and inquired, but the money disappeared, arriving at another bank, and then another, and then another, and then another, and another." He points at each location with haste, aggravation in his voice. He finishes his tour and rests his arms on my shoulder subconsciously. "Every one of them is hidden using different account numbers. Twenty-seven in total, which I found to be the language of the dance, which then led me to believe they shall attend the ball this evening."

"Well, what else can you deduce?"

"Three things. Firstly, the man's a game player, perhaps a genius in mathematics, capable of covering his traces at every turn. Secondly, the sources are varied. Five banks, south of the river, but no clear link between them. All anonymous. All going into one pocket."

"All this 'he, his, man' we have no reason to assume it is a man." I finally brush his arm off me and we just stare at each other, trying to read the other person.

"Hm, I suppose there is no solid evidence. It's just habit." I roll my eyes away from him, Enola is still thinking and continues as if there was no tension at all.

"And the third thing?"

"He knows I'm onto him." Sherlock's mouth curls into a smug smile before he turns around and starts walking back to his desk, pipe back in his mouth. A gross habit of his might I say, though I suppose it's better than the fairy dust I can see near his coat pocket.

"What? How?"

"Rearrange those letters and they spell out 'Good to meet you, Sherlock Holmes' He knew I was on this case. Every time I have pulled a thread it loosens vanishes and then reappears somewhere else. He's leading me a merry dance, it's... it's infuriating."

"So glad to be included in your process" I mumbled under my breath. He gave an odd huff while deeply setting his eyes on me, almost like he was apologetic. Which he is not capable of being, demons have no guilt, I am god. Continue.

"So no leads? Just an alias of Moriarty?"

"There is one. A week before the transfer, there was a break-in at the treasury office by a man in a taper crown hat." While they continue their riveting discussion on my case that I am for some reason not included in, I take a step back to think for myself. Sherlock's fixated gaze followed me.