"Carruthers. Martin Carruthers, look on the VIP list." He tried not to be too irritated at how long the stocky bouncer took to find the name out of a relatively short list. Eventually the man gave a gruff nod and lifted the rail to allow him through however, and Sherlock slipped past with an air of haughty confidence that would befit the stature of the man who’s name he routinely borrowed. He left his distinctive coat and scarf at the desk, figuring they cut a far too easily recognisable silhouette and you could never be too careful. Not that he anticipated trouble.. it was just good practice to never take anything for granted.
The club stank of sweat and stale bodies, mixed with alcohol. Sherlock wrinkled his sensitive nose against the repugnant cacophony, wishing that todays ‘big bad’ could have picked a classier establishment to frequent. Alas it wasn’t to be.. could he really have expected anything more of a man dumb enough to kidnap a girl who had already filed a restraining order against him?
He didn’t apologise as he elbowed his way through the crowds, intent on reaching the private lounge where he knew his mark spent most nights gambling at cards and drinking himself into oblivion. There was the distinct possibility of course that after his latest crime, Mr Bert Andrews would be holing up away from the public eye, and this trip would be a wasted journey. Sherlock doubted it though, even a particularly stupid criminal knew that any change to his normal routine so soon after a well publicised crime would throw suspicion immediately over them.
Ah the curse of always being right… there he was. Sherlock was beyond disappointed. It was all far too easy.
His mark was leaning back in his chair, tipping it under his weight as he stared down his opponent. Sherlock could see it was a bluff even from a distance of ten meters, but he doubted his man would be losing, not after having caught a glimpse of the opponents cards. He knew a thing or two about this game himself, and figured it was as good a way as any to gain the confidence of the kidnapper, so he could get him to divulge just where he was hiding his victim. Nobody would thank Sherlock for calling in the boys without first getting the girl to safety.
"Mind if I join?" He pulled a wad of cash from his jeans pocket and flashed it to the two gentleman, knowing they wouldn’t refuse, and invited himself to the table.
Re: Complications Part 2
The club stank of sweat and stale bodies, mixed with alcohol. Sherlock wrinkled his sensitive nose against the repugnant cacophony, wishing that todays ‘big bad’ could have picked a classier establishment to frequent. Alas it wasn’t to be.. could he really have expected anything more of a man dumb enough to kidnap a girl who had already filed a restraining order against him?
He didn’t apologise as he elbowed his way through the crowds, intent on reaching the private lounge where he knew his mark spent most nights gambling at cards and drinking himself into oblivion. There was the distinct possibility of course that after his latest crime, Mr Bert Andrews would be holing up away from the public eye, and this trip would be a wasted journey. Sherlock doubted it though, even a particularly stupid criminal knew that any change to his normal routine so soon after a well publicised crime would throw suspicion immediately over them.
Ah the curse of always being right… there he was. Sherlock was beyond disappointed. It was all far too easy.
His mark was leaning back in his chair, tipping it under his weight as he stared down his opponent. Sherlock could see it was a bluff even from a distance of ten meters, but he doubted his man would be losing, not after having caught a glimpse of the opponents cards. He knew a thing or two about this game himself, and figured it was as good a way as any to gain the confidence of the kidnapper, so he could get him to divulge just where he was hiding his victim. Nobody would thank Sherlock for calling in the boys without first getting the girl to safety.
"Mind if I join?" He pulled a wad of cash from his jeans pocket and flashed it to the two gentleman, knowing they wouldn’t refuse, and invited himself to the table.