Sherlock: Chasing the Dragon 17

Sherlock: Chasing the Dragon

Chapter Seventeen, Hollywood


John marveled at the scenery as he walked down a deserted street in the slums of Bangkok.  Small shops spilled their trinkets and treasures out onto the dirty narrow sidewalks on rickety tables, but none of the stores had merchants to go along with them.  Everywhere were signs of a busy population with the exception of the actual population itself.  The only noises came from the clicking of the blinking faulty neon signs that flickered in grotesque colors.  He walked past a food cart that was proudly displaying whole raw fish that didn't have any smell in ice that never melted.  

"This is amazing."  John commented as he touched the wax fish.  "It all looks so real."

As if noticing the surroundings for the first time Sherlock glanced around at the complex movie set they were walking through.  John could tell that Sherlock wasn't nearly as impressed with the fake version of the Thai city street.  

"It would take me less time to list the things they got right than all that is wrong with this."

"How about you keep both of those lists to yourself?"  John asked hopefully.

Sherlock just made a huffing sound before reaching up and rubbing at his upper arm compulsively as he continued down the street set.  John kept a keep medical eye on his friend as an expression of pain flitted across Sherlock's face.  Muscle and bone pain was common with heroin withdrawal, but John knew it was pointless to ask Sherlock if he was alright.  Despite the chill in the airconditioned studio Sherlock's hair was damp with sweat.  Sherlock glanced over at John and knit his brow together.

"Stop looking at me like that."  Sherlock demanded.

"Like what?"

"Like you think I'm going to pass out at any moment."

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"No."  Sherlock said firmly.  "Although I am finding the sweating a nuisance."

"That should stop in a day or two."

"Good.  It has already ruined two of my best shirts." Sherlock remarked sourly as he suddenly turned and pushed open a section of wall that swung open freely.   

John didn't bother to ask Sherlock how he knew where the door to the back of the set was.  Stepping to the far side of the facade was disorienting.  The store fronts weren't much more than a single sheet of wood thick in most places.  A few had been built to have actual rooms, but from here they were little more than bare plywood boxes.  All the details were on the other side.  

"What are you two doing here?"  A tired American voice demanded.  

John turned and saw a man in his early thirties who looked like he hadn't slept in days approaching them.  He had a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand that he knocked back as he made his way over them.  Wearing a pair of faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt he certainly didn't look like he was in charge.  However Sherlock took a step forward and offered his hand for the man to shake.

"Director Yearling."  Sherlock greeted with more respect than he usually gave people.  

"You must be the lawyer."  Yearling sighed.

"I suppose you've had a lot of trouble with lawyers since St. Claire's death."  Sherlock said sympathetically.  

"They've been circling me like sharks...no offense."

"None taken."  

"This movie has been a curse right from the beginning.  I guess looking back I shouldn't be surprised that it ended up being the death of one of us."

"How much do you know about the circumstances around St. Claire's disappearance and death?"

"None really, your Scotland Yard hasn't been very forth coming."

"Did St. Claire have any problems that you knew of?"

"None, other than being an arogant prick.  But honestly his death came as a complete shock."  Yearling confessed.  "I thought Neville had just run off to sulk, in traditional actor fashion."

"Why did you think he was 'sulking'?"  Sherlock asked pretending to be only casually interested.  

John was always amazed by how well Sherlock could so easily fake any role that he decided to slip into.  He had never openly lied to the director, but he wasn't doing anything to correct the misunderstanding.  Clearly grateful for an ear to listen to his woes the young director chattered on.

"I had just informed him that we weren't going to be able to film on location in Thailand due to budget constraints.  He was almost frantic about the change, insisting that we had to go.  But we had lost our biggest backer and just couldn't swing it.  He even offered to help pay for it.  However when I told him how many millions it was going to take he just turned and left.  I figured he'd be back."

"Do you think he could have afforded to pay for filming in Bangkok?"

"Hell no, since he had no family his estate was left to the studio, which unfortunatly I now own.  He didn't even own the flat, he still owed over a hundred thousand pounds on it.  I'm selling it jus to keep out of forclosure and to try and pay for the debt this disaster of a movie has sunk us into.  In fact, I have all the papers in my office."  Yearling gestured towards a hastily constructed room at the far side of the studio.  "Come on in."

"Oh, I'm not a lawyer."  Sherlock suddenly confessed.

"What?"  Yearling asked in shock.  "You're not a tabloid writer are you?"

"He is Sherlock Holmes,"  a familiar voice entered the scene  "the world's only consulting inspector.  Worth every penny, he's very good."

"Consulting detective."  Sherlock corrected.  "And you never paid me, you simply  threatened to grievously injure my friend if I failed to solve your case."

"A harmless prank."   The lawyer smiled.

John automatically took a step back from the lawyer who had first come to Sherlock with the tattoed John Doe case.  He had his ever present body guards with him, one of which still had a deep purple butterfly bruise across his face from where Sherlock had broken his nose.  

"Harmless?"  Sherlock repeated calmly.  "The tattoo artist died because I successfully saw past his efforts to hide St. Claire's body in plain sight.  Very clever, it almost worked.  It was a good idea of you to test it out on that first nobody first."

"What's going on here?"  Yearling demanded.  

"Nothing to worry about Director."  The lawyer assured.  "I heard that you have the papers ready to sign?"

"Buying St. Claire's flat are you?"  Sherlock asked knowingly.  

"I am."  The lawyer answered.

"I suppose you're buying it 'as is', furniture and all."

"Just trying to make the transaction easy for everyone."  

"Have you told the Director about the millions worth of art up on the walls?"

"Art?"  Yearling asked.  

"Mr. Holmes is just trying to confuse the issues, he has no proof of anything."  The lawyer said confidently.  "Director, I believe you have some bills to pay, I'm simply here to help you pay them.  The flat is costing you thousands everyday you keep possession of it."

"Don't sell that flat, Director."  Sherlock advised.

"My client's offer is more than fair.  Don't let St. Claire's debut ruin your career, Director."  

John held his breath as he waited for Yearling's response.  He looked conflicted for a moment, but eventually he sighed.  He looked a decade older than his young age from the stress of all that had happened.  

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."  Yearling said before turning to the lawyer.  "Come on in to my office, I'd like to get this over with."

"Who is the client buying the flat?"  Sherlock asked.

"That's none of your concern."  The lawyer answered for Yearling.  "I believe the Director asked you to leave, you're now trespassing.  I could help him sue you."

Sherlock readied to defend himself when the lawyer's goons stepped forward menacingly.  Having his nose broken didn't seem to make the lead bodyguard fear Sherlock in anyway.  Before a fight could break out Sherlock put his hands up peacefully to let them know he would leave on his own.  Yearling was already retreating to his office, he clearly didn't want to get into any of this he just wanted the flat off his plate.  The lawyer stepped up to Sherlock and smiled in triumph.

"Would you like my advice?"  The lawyer asked.

"Is it free or do I have to pay you by the half hour?"

"It's free.  Go home, take pride in the fact that you got close."

"What if that's not good enough for me?"

"No one catches the Dragon, Mr. Holmes, not even you."

"We'll see about that."