Darkness Follows...(BBC Sherlock Fanfiction).

Chapter 15- 'A British Bank Is Run With Precision'...Yeah Okay.

Darcy's POV.

"Tower 42, Old Broad Street." I stated as we approached the extremely tall building, "I've never hung around this part of London. Never really appealed to me."

John snorted from the other side of Sherlock and I leant forward, glaring at him as we walked and he just smirked back, "I thought it would be perfect for you."

"How so, Blondie?"

He glared at me and then chuckled, "Well, you could pickpocket the rich, businessmen of London."

My mouth widened in shock, "How dare you!" I feigned shock for a few brief moments but then smiled, "Too difficult anyway, they always figure you out and chase you for a bit. Not worth the effort of running."

Sherlock chuckled, his low voice echoing in the revolving door he had lead John into. I dashed into one compartment and had to fight the urge to continuously spin around in it, when I got to the other side I darted out and hurried to catch up with the other two.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank..." John trailed off as he admired the foyer of the place, a bit showy in my opinion but exactly what I expected it to look like I suppose.

Sherlock was already on an escalator that would lead us up to the second floor of many, I hopped on behind him just before John could and smiled at him innocently, earning another glare.

I looked all around me and noticed how everyone had a security card, and all the doors on this floor, at least, worked on a card swipe system to open the doors. So basically, no card, no getting in. Anywhere.

We reached the top and all stepped off the escalator, John and I followed Sherlock who was walking purposefully towards the reception desk. As soon as we got close enough the receptionist glanced up and did a double take, giving me a disgusted look. "Sherlock Holmes." He addressed the very scantily dressed receptionist.

She glared at me slightly, "Take a seat, he's in a meeting and will be out shortly." She told us, gesturing to a row of seats outside an office door. I rolled my eyes and walked over to the seats, sitting on one of them roughly and crossing my arms. I continued to narrow my eyes at the receptionist. Who was she to judge me? I've probably got more brain cells than she has different types of lipstick.

Sherlock sat to my right and John sat next to him, I didn't acknowledge either of them and continued staring in the direction of that woman. "Um, is there a problem?" Sherlock asked, more of a slight joke than an actual question.

I glanced at him and then went back to glaring at the receptionist, "Yes, there is. I mean, just because I don't dress like a proper girl should, doesn't mean I'm any less of a human being."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Sherlock was looking a bit confused as he said, "But she didn't even say anything to you."

"It was her eyes, they were judging me all the time like, a... judgemental hawk."

"And you care because?" Sherlock questioned and I shrugged in reply, he nodded, "There you go then."

We sat for a couple of minutes before the same receptionist was stood in front of us, "If you'd like to follow me." We stood and followed her up a couple of flights of stairs, through a few corridors and through a door into a lavishly decorated and modern office.

There was a desk with a comfortable looking office chair behind it and two computers, I'll repeat that two computers, on the desk. A television screen was on the back wall and seemed to be playing some kind of stock programme system, thing. I don't know, this was all new to me, okay?