Fic for Goldvermilion87: The Adventure of the Kerimov Jewellery
Title: The Adventure of the Kerimov Jewellery
Recipient: goldvermilion87
Author: thesmallhobbit
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes, OMCs
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: There are times when a consulting detective is needed to solve the case.
Author's Notes: Neither Merrywood House, nor the Kerimov Jewellery exists apart from in my imagination. For American readers a coach is equivalent to a Greyhound bus.
John Watson woke to the sound of an incoming text message: Lestrade collecting you at 7.30. Make sure you’re ready for him. SH
He groaned. Trust Sherlock not to leave him much time to get ready. On the plus side at least Greg was likely to fill him in on whatever they would doing, unlike Sherlock, who would decide to give him any important information five seconds after someone chose to attack them.
He shaved, downed a mug of tea and looked around for something he could have for breakfast on the move. It quickly became apparent that there was nothing suitable in the kitchen, so he grabbed the half packet of jaffa cakes he had hidden in his bedroom and quietly left the house so as not to disturb Mrs Hudson. He was just shutting the door when Lestrade drew up outside.
John waited whilst Lestrade negotiated the start of the London rush hour before asking for details of the case. Once they had made it to the M4 and were heading west, he said, “Okay, what are you able to tell me?”
“Sherlock didn’t say anything?”
“First I knew about it was a text this morning saying you were picking me up in half an hour.”
“Why does that not surprise me? Sherlock bloody Holmes: if your tiny brain isn’t able to keep up with my gigantic one why should it be my problem?”
They both laughed and Lestrade continued, “You’ve heard about the Kerimov jewellery?”
“You’d have had to be living on Mars not to have done. The adverts did my head in.”
They sang in unison:
If you go down to Merrywood today
You’re sure of a big surprise
Priceless jewellery you will see
You’ll never believe your eyes
It’s lovely down at Merrywood today
But you’d better not wait too long
If you can’t make it very soon
The jewellery will all be gone
“All of which is correct,” Lestrade said. “And guarded by top level security. Except one of the bracelets is now gone, and not in the way the advertisers meant.”
“What?”
“Two days ago it was stolen.”
“There’s been nothing on the news.”
“No. There’s a replica copy of the complete set, so the owners’ have substituted the missing bracelet with its replica.”
“How come you’re involved?”
“The man the powers-that-be suspect would have acted as the courier, getting the bracelet out of the country, was murdered yesterday evening. I was summoned by the Chief Super and told to get myself down to the house first thing this morning. And until we find Sherlock that’s all I know.”
With Lestrade unable to provide any more information, the conversation turned to rugby and the likely outcome of the various Six Nations matches that were due to be played at the weekend.
On arrival at Merrywood House Lestrade made himself known to the security guard at the gate and they were directed down a side route where they were met by a further guard and shown into an office situated at the back of the house. The man sitting behind the desk introduced himself as Charles Brundell, but did not provide any title. The other occupant of the room continued to look out of the window and ignored the new arrivals.
Brundell explained that visiting arrangements were such that no-one was permitted to view the jewellery twice and all names on the coach parties had to be submitted in advance; only coach parties were admitted and if someone on a group’s list was unable to attend no substitution was permitted. In that way it should have been impossible for anyone to have long enough to work out how to breach the security.
“Couldn’t a group have been put together specifically so that each member observed a part of the system?” John asked.
“All groups applying were checked to ensure they were bona fide,” replied Brundell.
“So, no Wormwood Scrubs Women’s Institute then?” Lestrade added.
John choked back a laugh, but Brundell merely glared at him.
“Wouldn’t it be possible for a few people to come in separately and then confer afterwards?” John sought to disperse the obvious hostility between Lestrade and Brundell. He was starting to pick up on undercurrents of which he had no previous knowledge.
“No, this has all the hallmarks of one man having done all the reconnaissance and then stealing the bracelet by himself,” the fourth man said. “And this is where we were hoping your Sherlock Holmes could assist us. Contrary to all instructions he has been permitted to make two tours of the collection.”
John and Lestrade silently mouthed “Mycroft” at each other.
“However, so far he has failed to provide anything useful and I doubt that he will do so in the future. His only request has been that we provide him with a number of Cornish pasties and packets of crisps. And since, gentlemen, neither he nor you have anything to add I suggest that you leave now.”
Brundell opened the office door and called to the guard who escorted John and Lestrade back to their car and then gave them directions to the main car park.
Once they had parked Lestrade reached over to the back seat and picked up a flask.
“Coffee?” he asked. “Long experience of working with Sherlock has taught me to be prepared.”
“Jaffa cake?” John replied with a grin.
They sat and ate and drank in companionable silence, whilst watching a coach making what would best be described as a pig’s ear of parking.
“I’m glad I’m not travelling on that coach,” John remarked.
Shortly after that the visitors started to return to the car park. Lestrade and John watched as they milled around, trying to work out which coach they were supposed to be getting on. The various drivers got out of their vehicles and attempted to retrieve their passengers, whilst ensuring that they didn’t acquire any additions.
John pointed out one of the drivers, who appeared to be both taller and thinner than the others. “Does he look familiar to you?”
At that moment a rather more rotund driver came up, shook hands with the taller one and proceeded to collect the rest of his charges. The other gave a brief wave, opened the rear door of Lestrade’s car and slid in.
“Driving a coach not one of your skills then?” Lestrade asked.
“It’s surprisingly more complicated than I thought it would be, although I’m sure that with only a little more practice I would be completely competent. However, since there is no requirement for me to drive an extremely boring party of elderly people around, I see no need to acquire the skill.”
They all laughed and Sherlock added, “We might as well head back now. You can tell Brundell to check out the list of coach drivers and follow up which ones began their employment just under a year ago, when the Kerimov exhibition was first under discussion.”
Lestrade would have asked for more details, but Sherlock declared motorway driving tedious and proceeded to go to sleep.
#####
Late that same day Lestrade hurried up the stairs to 221B, keen to tell Sherlock that they had apprehended the murderer of the presumed courier and that the man had indeed been employed as a coach driver. As he entered the flat he discovered that Sherlock and John were not alone. They were sitting with Mycroft and the unnamed man from Merrywood House.
“Ah, Inspector, so glad you could join us,” Mycroft greeted him.
John grinned and passed him a bottle of beer. “Sherlock’s only just begun his explanation. I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to start again so we can all admire his brilliance.”
Sherlock scowled, but didn’t make any objection. “It was clear from the outset that whilst there were a number of people involved in the process of arranging for the bracelet to reach its final destination, to avoid any suspicion only one person could have arranged to actual theft. Therefore whoever took the bracelet had to be invisible. I eliminated the security staff; they would have been the first to be suspected and if it had been a member of the staff there would have been no need to involve me.”
“Clearly.” So far Mycroft appeared unimpressed.
“So therefore it had to be someone who could obtain entrance to the exhibition more than once without raising any suspicions. Even attempting to go twice under different names had a certain risk to it.”
“Get on with it.” Mycroft’s companion was growing restless.
“Which left the coach drivers. Most of them didn’t visit the exhibition at all. However, with the aid of some pasties and crisps I was able to find a couple of drivers who were happy to share an early lunch and who confirmed my thoughts. Firstly, occasionally a driver would push one of the passengers who was wheelchair bound, perhaps just to give them a hand at the beginning and nobody thought anything of it. Secondly, as evidenced by the confusion with the parties returning to their coaches, very few recognised their own drivers. This meant that if a friendly driver came up and asked the wheelchair user if they would like some help they were never even aware that it wasn’t the driver of the coach they had come in. In essence it was another case where the uniform rendered the wearer for all practical purposes invisible.”
Mycroft nodded; the other man looked furious.
“What happened to the bracelet? Has it been found?” John asked.
“Fortunately for us the courier decided to double cross the gang and was killed for his trouble,” Mycroft said. “Otherwise he would have left the country before we had any idea of who his was. Had we been informed earlier of the theft we could certainly have taken steps to forestall him. However, we have benefitted from the thieves falling out, so to speak, and I anticipate an imminent arrest when the replacement courier arrives in France. The bracelet should be returned to its rightful owners by the early hours of tomorrow morning.”
With that Mycroft stood up and left the flat, the second man following close on his heels. Once they had heard the outside door shutting John went back into the kitchen to fetch some more beers from the fridge.
“Sherlock, it’s your turn to order the takeaway,” he called. “What do you fancy, Greg?”
Recipient: goldvermilion87
Author: thesmallhobbit
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes, OMCs
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: There are times when a consulting detective is needed to solve the case.
Author's Notes: Neither Merrywood House, nor the Kerimov Jewellery exists apart from in my imagination. For American readers a coach is equivalent to a Greyhound bus.
John Watson woke to the sound of an incoming text message: Lestrade collecting you at 7.30. Make sure you’re ready for him. SH
He groaned. Trust Sherlock not to leave him much time to get ready. On the plus side at least Greg was likely to fill him in on whatever they would doing, unlike Sherlock, who would decide to give him any important information five seconds after someone chose to attack them.
He shaved, downed a mug of tea and looked around for something he could have for breakfast on the move. It quickly became apparent that there was nothing suitable in the kitchen, so he grabbed the half packet of jaffa cakes he had hidden in his bedroom and quietly left the house so as not to disturb Mrs Hudson. He was just shutting the door when Lestrade drew up outside.
John waited whilst Lestrade negotiated the start of the London rush hour before asking for details of the case. Once they had made it to the M4 and were heading west, he said, “Okay, what are you able to tell me?”
“Sherlock didn’t say anything?”
“First I knew about it was a text this morning saying you were picking me up in half an hour.”
“Why does that not surprise me? Sherlock bloody Holmes: if your tiny brain isn’t able to keep up with my gigantic one why should it be my problem?”
They both laughed and Lestrade continued, “You’ve heard about the Kerimov jewellery?”
“You’d have had to be living on Mars not to have done. The adverts did my head in.”
They sang in unison:
If you go down to Merrywood today
You’re sure of a big surprise
Priceless jewellery you will see
You’ll never believe your eyes
It’s lovely down at Merrywood today
But you’d better not wait too long
If you can’t make it very soon
The jewellery will all be gone
“All of which is correct,” Lestrade said. “And guarded by top level security. Except one of the bracelets is now gone, and not in the way the advertisers meant.”
“What?”
“Two days ago it was stolen.”
“There’s been nothing on the news.”
“No. There’s a replica copy of the complete set, so the owners’ have substituted the missing bracelet with its replica.”
“How come you’re involved?”
“The man the powers-that-be suspect would have acted as the courier, getting the bracelet out of the country, was murdered yesterday evening. I was summoned by the Chief Super and told to get myself down to the house first thing this morning. And until we find Sherlock that’s all I know.”
With Lestrade unable to provide any more information, the conversation turned to rugby and the likely outcome of the various Six Nations matches that were due to be played at the weekend.
On arrival at Merrywood House Lestrade made himself known to the security guard at the gate and they were directed down a side route where they were met by a further guard and shown into an office situated at the back of the house. The man sitting behind the desk introduced himself as Charles Brundell, but did not provide any title. The other occupant of the room continued to look out of the window and ignored the new arrivals.
Brundell explained that visiting arrangements were such that no-one was permitted to view the jewellery twice and all names on the coach parties had to be submitted in advance; only coach parties were admitted and if someone on a group’s list was unable to attend no substitution was permitted. In that way it should have been impossible for anyone to have long enough to work out how to breach the security.
“Couldn’t a group have been put together specifically so that each member observed a part of the system?” John asked.
“All groups applying were checked to ensure they were bona fide,” replied Brundell.
“So, no Wormwood Scrubs Women’s Institute then?” Lestrade added.
John choked back a laugh, but Brundell merely glared at him.
“Wouldn’t it be possible for a few people to come in separately and then confer afterwards?” John sought to disperse the obvious hostility between Lestrade and Brundell. He was starting to pick up on undercurrents of which he had no previous knowledge.
“No, this has all the hallmarks of one man having done all the reconnaissance and then stealing the bracelet by himself,” the fourth man said. “And this is where we were hoping your Sherlock Holmes could assist us. Contrary to all instructions he has been permitted to make two tours of the collection.”
John and Lestrade silently mouthed “Mycroft” at each other.
“However, so far he has failed to provide anything useful and I doubt that he will do so in the future. His only request has been that we provide him with a number of Cornish pasties and packets of crisps. And since, gentlemen, neither he nor you have anything to add I suggest that you leave now.”
Brundell opened the office door and called to the guard who escorted John and Lestrade back to their car and then gave them directions to the main car park.
Once they had parked Lestrade reached over to the back seat and picked up a flask.
“Coffee?” he asked. “Long experience of working with Sherlock has taught me to be prepared.”
“Jaffa cake?” John replied with a grin.
They sat and ate and drank in companionable silence, whilst watching a coach making what would best be described as a pig’s ear of parking.
“I’m glad I’m not travelling on that coach,” John remarked.
Shortly after that the visitors started to return to the car park. Lestrade and John watched as they milled around, trying to work out which coach they were supposed to be getting on. The various drivers got out of their vehicles and attempted to retrieve their passengers, whilst ensuring that they didn’t acquire any additions.
John pointed out one of the drivers, who appeared to be both taller and thinner than the others. “Does he look familiar to you?”
At that moment a rather more rotund driver came up, shook hands with the taller one and proceeded to collect the rest of his charges. The other gave a brief wave, opened the rear door of Lestrade’s car and slid in.
“Driving a coach not one of your skills then?” Lestrade asked.
“It’s surprisingly more complicated than I thought it would be, although I’m sure that with only a little more practice I would be completely competent. However, since there is no requirement for me to drive an extremely boring party of elderly people around, I see no need to acquire the skill.”
They all laughed and Sherlock added, “We might as well head back now. You can tell Brundell to check out the list of coach drivers and follow up which ones began their employment just under a year ago, when the Kerimov exhibition was first under discussion.”
Lestrade would have asked for more details, but Sherlock declared motorway driving tedious and proceeded to go to sleep.
#####
Late that same day Lestrade hurried up the stairs to 221B, keen to tell Sherlock that they had apprehended the murderer of the presumed courier and that the man had indeed been employed as a coach driver. As he entered the flat he discovered that Sherlock and John were not alone. They were sitting with Mycroft and the unnamed man from Merrywood House.
“Ah, Inspector, so glad you could join us,” Mycroft greeted him.
John grinned and passed him a bottle of beer. “Sherlock’s only just begun his explanation. I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to start again so we can all admire his brilliance.”
Sherlock scowled, but didn’t make any objection. “It was clear from the outset that whilst there were a number of people involved in the process of arranging for the bracelet to reach its final destination, to avoid any suspicion only one person could have arranged to actual theft. Therefore whoever took the bracelet had to be invisible. I eliminated the security staff; they would have been the first to be suspected and if it had been a member of the staff there would have been no need to involve me.”
“Clearly.” So far Mycroft appeared unimpressed.
“So therefore it had to be someone who could obtain entrance to the exhibition more than once without raising any suspicions. Even attempting to go twice under different names had a certain risk to it.”
“Get on with it.” Mycroft’s companion was growing restless.
“Which left the coach drivers. Most of them didn’t visit the exhibition at all. However, with the aid of some pasties and crisps I was able to find a couple of drivers who were happy to share an early lunch and who confirmed my thoughts. Firstly, occasionally a driver would push one of the passengers who was wheelchair bound, perhaps just to give them a hand at the beginning and nobody thought anything of it. Secondly, as evidenced by the confusion with the parties returning to their coaches, very few recognised their own drivers. This meant that if a friendly driver came up and asked the wheelchair user if they would like some help they were never even aware that it wasn’t the driver of the coach they had come in. In essence it was another case where the uniform rendered the wearer for all practical purposes invisible.”
Mycroft nodded; the other man looked furious.
“What happened to the bracelet? Has it been found?” John asked.
“Fortunately for us the courier decided to double cross the gang and was killed for his trouble,” Mycroft said. “Otherwise he would have left the country before we had any idea of who his was. Had we been informed earlier of the theft we could certainly have taken steps to forestall him. However, we have benefitted from the thieves falling out, so to speak, and I anticipate an imminent arrest when the replacement courier arrives in France. The bracelet should be returned to its rightful owners by the early hours of tomorrow morning.”
With that Mycroft stood up and left the flat, the second man following close on his heels. Once they had heard the outside door shutting John went back into the kitchen to fetch some more beers from the fridge.
“Sherlock, it’s your turn to order the takeaway,” he called. “What do you fancy, Greg?”