#BlindBanker

[shemsuhor]

Did we miss something? Was there a second, second episode? The blind baker?

Did they really misprint a dvd ... Oh my BBC ...

[sophiaholmes221b]

Sophia Holmes and the Blind Banker

Chapter One

Dad backs away carefully and ducks to avoid the blow. The client-turned-attacker advances on dad, pushing him back against the sofa. I grab the attacker's arms as he slashes his scimitar down onto dad, and dad ducks under the sword in time and drops into a sitting position. I jump out of the way as dad kicks out his leg, striking the assailant's chest hard before the robed figure can bring the scimitar back down. As he stumbles backwards, dad jumps back up and straightens his jacket once more before charging across to join my fight with the attacker.

"Duck!" he yells, and I crouch in time for the blade to pass over my head then kick out my leg so he buckles to the floor.

The man growls at me and I bounce back up. He mirrors me and brings the sword down upon me. Dad pushes me out of the way and grabs the mans wrists tightly, but the man pushes dad towards the kitchen with his sword held horizontally in both hands and pins dad onto our kitchen counter. He pushes down, the blade resting on dad's neck, threatening to cut. Dad grimaces under the weight of holding the scimitar away, so I charge forward and kick the attacker in the popileta fossa. He bends a little from the impact but doesn't fall, however it's enough to distract him and dad tilts the scimitar sideways and out of harm's way.

The point of the blade marks the counter as dad repeatedly kicks the swordsman in the side and as he begins to loosen his grip, dad is able to force himself upwards again. The sword tip slides across the countertop, making a large scratch that will no doubt come out of our rent if Mrs Hudson sees it.

I replace dad in the fight as he catches his breath and I bring my leg up, repeatedly kicking the swordsman in the stomach and pushing him out of the kitchen once more. I jump the scimitar as he swings it low and land on the blade, pulling the robed man down with - at the very least - a sprained wrist. As I leap out of the way to dodge his low kick, dad replaces me.

The swordsman jumps back up and takes another swing at dad, who ducks under it.

"Look!" dad shouts, pointing to a place just over the man's shoulder.

Already turning, the attacker is distracted by our reflections in the mirror for just long enough for dad to take the opportunity to swing a powerful hit to the assailant's chin, knocking him unconscious before he even lands in dad's chair.

Dad straightens up immediately and checks his reflection in the mirror, re-adjusting his cuffs and brushing the dust from his jacket before sending the unconscious man a look of hatred for ruining his suit.

I give dad a sly smile and he and I lift the body, carry it through the kitchen and throw it out of the window and out onto Mrs Hudson's bins. I listen with delight as he lands on the safety of the bags. He won't be seriously injured - he just won't want to come back.

I check out my own appearance in the mirror as we walk back to the living room. My white, sheer blouse is all ruffled and dusty and my black jeggings are torn from the blade, but on the bright side - no cuts!

"All this over a damn God," I groan.

Dad laughs and takes his phone out. "Quite." He looks me up and down. "John'll be back soon. To stop him fussing, you might want to change."

It's my turn to chuckle, but I turn and head upstairs to my room to change.

I am Sophia Elizabeth Holmes, and you may have heard of the last case we cracked - A Study in Pink, as John prefers to call it.

I dress myself in another white, sheer blouse and black leggings, and leave my others in the increasingly large pile of other clothes that Mrs Hudson hasn't washed yet. By the time I've finished getting changed, I hear the front door slam shut, and the footsteps of Doctor John Watson coming up the stairs.

Joining dad back down in the living room before John reaches the top, I lean against the doorway and give him a wave as he comes up the last set of stairs. Dad is also acting casual by resuming the book he was reading when John left.

John frowns as he walks in, suspicious that something has happened whilst he's been gone. Curiously, he doesn't seem to have any shopping with him, which is what he supposedly went out to get.

"You took your time," dad says, not looking up from his book.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping."

Dad looks over the top of his book indignantly. "What? Why not?"

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine," John answers, tetchily.

Dad lowers his book a little to look at John with surprise whilst I attempt to stifle a laugh. "You ... you had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of," John replies, still angry. "It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?"

Dad smiles, amused at John's normal human troubles, and nods towards the kitchen. "Take my card."

John hesitates for a moment before walking towards the kitchen but he stops as he reaches me and turns back to dad indignantly.

"You could always go yourself, you know," John says, angrily, and being so very, very ignorant to dad's own troubles with machines. "You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left."

I put on an innocent face and walk over to dad to grab a book. It's best just to let John make his own assumptions; it stops the waste of several tedious minutes of explaining.

John rummages through dad's wallet to find a suitable card to use. "And what happened about that case you were offered - the Jaria Diamond?"

"Not interested," dad says and I smirk. Using a piece of paper as a bookmark, he slams his book shut. My eyes lower to his feet where the scimitar lies in plain view. I cough slightly, and dad looks at me, questioningly. I indicate to the scimitar, and he quickly slams his foot onto the edge and sends it further under the chair. "I sent them a message," he continues firmly. My smirk grows larger as I remember the uppercut which ended the fight.

John seems to have found a card he can use, but pauses to look at the new scratch in our counter. He sighs as he runs his finger along the top to see if it can come off. "Ugh, Holmes," he says in an annoyed whisper and looks across at us, tutting pointedly.

Dad shakes his head innocently and John turns and leaves the flat again as dad smirks at me knowingly.

"I think we need to get rid of the scimitar," I say quietly as I hear the door slam shut downstairs.

Dad nods in agreement and squats down to fetch the blade from beneath his seat before tossing it out of the window and on top of the bins.

As he comes back, he sits down at the living room table and opens up John's laptop. Oh the days where he had to get up and fetch his own laptop.

This has been our routine for the last two weeks: Client, computer, emails, repeat. Nothing decent has come up on the website for months, and I'm starting to believe the emails are a long shot too.

Dad lets out a sigh of delight and I spin around. The computer has fired up already, and dad has a new email. A potential client? He opens it up and raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Sebastian Wilkes?" I question, scanning through the email from over his shoulder.

"University," dad says, narrowing his eyes. "Never liked him."

I roll my eyes and read the email in its entirety.

Sherlock,

How're things, buddy? Been a long time since we last met.

I hear on the grapevine that you're now a consulting detective? There's been an 'incident' at the bank - something interesting. I'm hoping you can sort it for me.

Please call by. Needless to say, I'll be relying on your discretion.

Sebastian

"Buddy?" I snigger.

"See what I mean?" dad replies, smirking.

"Anyway, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know," dad replies, putting his hands into a praying position as he thinks. Sighing, I turn away to get my laptop from my bedroom. He's not going to be talking for a while.

***

"Don't worry about me. I can manage," John says sarcastically as he climbs the stairs, laden with several bags of heavy shopping.

"Don't worry, we aren't," I sing back.

Dad chuckles quietly but John just sighs and shakes his head at my remark. Dad folds his hands in front of his mouth, and I can see his brain still trying to figure out what to do.

John dumps the shopping on the kitchen counter and frowns as he sees the computer dad's using. "Is that my computer?"

"Of course," dad replies simply, beginning to type his reply. From what I can see, he's agreeing to come.

"What?!" John says in disbelief.

"Mine was in the bedroom."

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up? Sophia ... Sophie, why couldn't you get it?"

"Couldn't be bothered," I say, smiling sweetly at him. "I've been doing it for about ten years, I've earned my rest." Dad snorts at my retort.

"It's password protected!" John shouts indignantly, not taking any notice of me.

"In a manner of speaking," dad replies calmly, still typing. "Took me less than a minute to guess yours," he glances up at John with a smirk. "Not exactly Fort Knox."

"Right, thank you," John says, annoyed, and coming over to slam the lid down. Dad pulls his hands away in disbelief and holds them there for a minute before he puts them into the prayer position again, resting his elbows on the table and looking thoughtful. John takes the laptop across the room and puts it down on the floor beside his armchair as he sits down. It's not as if he's using it though, is it? So why can't dad use it?

John picks up the small pile of bills I brought up earlier and frowns. "Oh," he mutters quietly as he sifts through them. I know at least one of them requires urgent paying, and the rest are just escalating in price. John shakes his head in surrender to the fact he's about to say. "Need to get a job."

"Oh, dull," dad mutters, half-listening as John puts the letters back onto the table and looks across to dad for a moment, before he looks back at the letters.

"Listen, um ..." he begins, leaning forward awkwardly, "if you'd be able to lend me some ..." he fades off as he realises we're not listening properly. "Sherlock, are you listening?"

Dad doesn't look around, but he seems to have concluded what to do. "I need to go to the bank," he says quietly, getting up and heading towards the stairs and throwing me my coat from the hook, before putting on his own and heading outside.

John frowns at my dad's sudden change of attitude but then jumps up to join him, following behind me.

The bank that dad leads us to is certainly not the one he uses, and neither does it look very welcoming to children of my age. The name of the bank is the Shad Sanderson Bank, I notice, as I follow dad through a set of revolving glass doors into the foyer. John looks up, impressed at the sight of all the white walls and glass ceilings. They must have a very exclusive clientele.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank ..." John fades off as he steps onto a large escalator behind us.

Dad and I look around, observing the level of security this bank contains. It seems everything in here is secure, and they've obviously spent a lot of money insuring it stayed that way. I don't see how anybody could have walked in without being noticed, unless it was an employee. Other than that, I have no idea, and I don't think dad does either, although he won't admit it.

We reach the top, and dad walks over to the reception desk. "Sherlock Holmes," he says confidently to one of the women.

"Yes, of course, sir. Mr Wilkes was expecting you, but I'm not sure if your..."

"They're with me," dad interrupts.

"Of course sir. I'll send a message through to Mr Wilkes. If you can just wait through there, please." She indicates to a room to the left, and dad walks directly over to it. I leave her a small smile of thanks before I follow after dad.

A little while later, we're shown into Mr Sebastian Wilkes' office by his secretary.

"Sherlock Holmes," the man greets, smiling broadly.

"Sebastian," dad says, his face emotionless towards the man as they shake hands, Sebastian clasping dad's hand in both of his own.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"

Dad ignores him but looks back with dislike which is barely disguised. Sebastian turns to look at me and John. "This is my daughter, Sophia Holmes," dad introduces me, and I step forward to shake Mr Wilkes' hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," he smiles at me, but I ignore him, my attention focused on his watch.

"... And this is my friend, John Watson."

"Friend?" Wilkes queries, latching onto dads emphasis on the word.

"Colleague," John corrects him, also looking pretty emotionless.

"Right," Sebastian says, looking curiously at John as they too shake hands. "Right." He throws dad a quick look of surprise at his ability to gain a friend, then smiles unpleasantly as he scratches at his neck, his watch on full show. I think dad might have noticed the watch as well.

As Sebastian turns away, John purses his lips, seeming to take an immediate dislike at this man. I can't say I like him much either, but if it results in an interesting case, then I'm all for it, and I think that was the only reason dad took up the offer as well.

"Well, grab a pew," Sebastian smiles, gesturing us to some seats. "D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

Dad and I shake our heads, wordlessly, but John voices our answer. "No."

"No?" Sebastian questions, turning to his secretary. "We're all sorted here, thanks." As the secretary leaves behind us, Wilkes sits down behind his desk, and we take the seats in front of him.

"So, you're doing well," dad states. "You've been abroad a lot."

"Well, some," Wilkes lies, modestly.

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" I see John frown in confusion, but I just smile innocently, enjoying the scene.

Sebastian just laughs and points at dad. "Right. You're doing that thing," he chuckles, looking to John. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick," dad says quietly, obviously annoyed.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story," Wilkes continues to John.

"Yes, I've seen him do it," John says, joining in on the conversation.

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him."

I turn my head to see dad's eyes filling with pain from the memories. I smile sadly to myself at how alike we are - I'm going through the same at the moment at school.

"You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall," Wilkes continues, "and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

"I simply observed," dad says quietly, his confidence completely knocked around Wilkes. They must have put him through hell.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world - you're quite right. How could you tell?" Dad opens his mouth to speak, but Sebastian continues to lower my IQ by talking.

"You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan," he continues, smugly.

I can tell you exactly how I know, but if I know dad, he won't explain it now.

"No, I ..." dad starts, but Sebastian begins to talk over him.

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!"

Dad looks back at him for a second before attempting to speak again. "I was just chatting with your secretary outside," dad lies, convincingly. "She told me."

John frowns at dad, confused by the fact that we didn't speak to the secretary at all. In fact, dad ignored her for the most part.

Wilkes laughs humorlessly, and dad smiles back with an equal lack of humour. Sebastian claps his hands together and becomes more serious. "I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in."

"That statement was clearly stated in your email," dad says.

"Yes, of course," he says, reddening a little. "Yes, so do you want to see it?"

"Naturally," dad says, standing up and walking towards the door.

I stand up with him, and Wilkes leads us across the trading floor and towards another door.

"Sir William's office - the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night," he explains as we walk.

"What did they steal?" John asks.

"Nothing," Sebastian Wilkes says. "Just left a little message." He holds his security card against the reader by the door, and the door clicks open. That rules the door out as an entry-point.

Hanging on the whitewashed wall behind the desk is a framed portrait of a man in a business suit, perhaps the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall to the left of the portrait, someone has sprayed some yellow graffiti into the form of the number '8', but the top of the number has been left open and above is an almost horizontal, straight line. Across the eyes of the portrait, the graffitist has sprayed another almost horizontal, straight line, and the paint trickles down in trails down the painting. Could it be a disgruntled employee?

Sebastian leads us towards the desk, then steps aside so that dad and I get a clear view of the wall. John moves to stand on the other side of Wilkes, who looks at us expectantly as if we're about to spout a conclusion already. Maybe not, but I think I've seen these symbols before; I just can't place where I know them from.

"Could you show us the security footage from last night, around the time of the break-in?" I ask him, not turning away from the wall.

"Yes, yes, if you'll come back to my office..." He trails off as I turn and walk to the door, now aware that I'm not listening.

Back in Wilkes' office, he opens a tab to show us the video footage of last night.

"Sixty seconds apart," Sebastian tells us, flicking to and fro between the images taken at 23:33:01 - which shows the office as it should be - clean and tidy - but then, sixty seconds later at 23:34:01, it shows the wall and painting covered with paint. "So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute," Sebastian concludes.

"How many ways into that office?" asks dad.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting. Come with me, I'll show you our security system. Only the receptionists have control over it because there will always be someone at that desk." He leads us back through to the reception. "Mandy, yes," he greets one of the reception girls. "I need you to work with Heather for a minute - I need to show these guys something."

'Mandy' nods and leaves us with Sebastian. He taps into her computer systems and brings up the layout of the trading floor and the offices surrounding it. Each indicated door has a light against it, showing it's security status.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night," dad states, correctly.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you - five figures," Sebastian says, reaching into his breast pocket, and pulls out a cheque. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way."

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian," dad mutters, before walking away. I follow him, but I can hear John stop to collect the cheque we urgently need to pay the bills.

[ledbytheunknown]

Oreordered abd it arrived today #sherlock #blindbanker #manga #timetoread

[disapprovingsherlock]

Had a late lunch at Green Dot Stables. The restaurant has this dark hallway with a Blind Banker vibe. The food is cheap and good btw and they usually broadcast horse racing on the TVs 🐎 #giddyup #sherlock #sherlockbbc #blindbanker #tbb #benedictcumberbatch #martinfreeman #johnwatson #markgatiss #horseracing #greendotstables #disapprovingsherlock #michiganyellow #spraypaint #thoroughbreds

[randem-n-tandem-blog]

WHY DOES NOBODY TALK ABOUT THE BLIND BANKER!?

I have rewatched this episode countless times, and each time I feel like there is something I am not getting. I feel like we look so intricately at the details we are missing something huge, something sitting and staring at us. Something hiding in pain sight. You might even say we are blind.

[shooting-the-walls]

Headcanon

I reckon that Sherlock and Sebastian from the Blind Banker dated in uni. I mean, look at the language Sebastian uses in the email. And the fact he calls him “Seb”

[sherlockfansusa]

Find more collectables at https://sherlockfansusa.net/ #sherlock #sherlockbbc #sherlockcollection #johnwatson #sherlockholmes #martinfreeman #benedictcumberbatch #comics #collectables #studyinpink #blindbanker

[coldplay-kid]

My adventure of a lifetime 💕

Hey, guys, it is only me Alycia. I thought I would write up my Coldplay Cardiff experience. Please be warned that I am fairly exhausted and it would be impossible to write every little thing that happened. My mind is racing, with so many happy vibes shooting off here, there, and everywhere. I’ve tried to write as much as I could about things that happened to me so I can look back on it. However, it is kind of brief, and I will probably write more about this subject later!

So, ladies and gentlemen, here I write about the happiest days of my life. Though words are insufficient to express my happiness, please find some sort musings below.

Most of you may know this already but my life has been defined by Coldplay. Ever since I can remember they have been by my side, through the good times and the bad. Bigger Stronger is one of the first things I can ever remember listening to, and I even waltzed into nursery during the AROBTTH era with a book of Coldplay things and a Jonny hat. I would scream “DON’T TAKE MY JONNY HAT” if anyone touched it or told me to take it off inside. I’ve loved this band my whole life and they honestly mean everything to me. I fondly remember racing back from Primary School to catch the Viva updates and live interviews and Roadie 42/Matt’s blog posts. For my entire life I have adored this band with my every being, however being lucky enough to do what most hardcore Coldplayers do has not been a smooth ride.

You see, I was born with a pretty complex physical disability. Though I often seem fine, with no visible or obvious signs of being disabled, my legs easily collapse and I can barely walk or climb hills. I have malformed muscle, splitting spinal disks, malformed kneecaps, abnormally short hamstrings, and many more physical ailments. In response to having this condition, I’ve faced many challenges. I have faced them bravely with Coldplay by my side even in my loneliest hours, but nevertheless, it took a lifetime to get where I am today.

It kind-of sucks because had I have been able-bodied, I would have probably had more success persuading my parents to let me see Coldplay at a much younger age. I am not complaining, as I was lucky enough to see them on the MX tour, but to have missed the earlier tours will always be a bit devastating.

A dream of mine, since the Live 2003 DVD was in my small child hands, was to be close enough to the band, to my boys, and to be at the barrier of a gig. Much of my life has been spent feeling envious of those who got to do it, I hope understandably so, and to overcome this I have spent my whole life up to this point in intensive physiotherapy. I may never meet my heroes, but I had to see them up close, and I would not let my disabilities stop me!

A lifetime of hard work, however, has recently paid off MASSIVELY. If you had told child Alycia in the X&Y era that any of this would have happened, she would probably furrow her brows and ignore you, quickly returning to watch Live 2005/How we saw the world, or Austin City Limits, for the tenth time that day.

Armed with a crutch and a friend, I managed to see my favourite people in the whole world up close TWICE. Cardiff has been everything I could have ever have wished for, and gone above and beyond my wildest dreams.

11th July 2017

After a fairly long (but worthwhile) journey, myself and two friends (@jonathanbuckland and @blindbankers ) met up and queued for a few hours in the pouring welsh rain. Though the weather conditions for the first gig were not ideal, they were soon forgotten about when we finally went to the stadium. I remember the awe and wonder when I realised I was on the floor (previously I was always in the gods) and Coldplay would be stood right there. Instantly, I was ecstatic, and honestly I still am. We managed to snatch the most perfect position at the C-Stage, and passed the time with party rings and chatting to a very kind steward. The first gig was, as always, phenomenal. The confetti, the xylobands, and the joy akin to electrical charges. We even serenaded Hoppy (Chris’ guitar tech) with Fix You! Though we got hit with beer bottles (some drunk guys were aiming at the stewart, who had told them to not sit on each others shoulders for security reasons) it was still one of the BEST days of my life (joint only with night two).

It got pretty crazy when the band got to where we were stood. I distinctly remember, holding up my sign with crazy joy, and seeing Hoppy and Jonny discussing something. Though I didn’t hear it word by word, I do recall Jonny pulling something out of his trouser pocket after speaking to his technician, and the next thing I knew Hoppy (with a wink and a huge smile) placed a scuffed plectrum into my hand. It was just crazy! I wasn’t the only one to receive a plectrum, with @jonathanbuckland also being lucky.

The C-Stage was filled with laughter (we had awesome signs, especially @blindbankers having a “There’s nothing wrong with jazz” sign backed onto cardboard) and tears of joy. Honestly, it was just incredible, and our group of friends (five in total) was even invited to the A-Stage barrier by Hoppy after the gig to get even more plectrums (sadly there weren’t enough to go around during the C-Stage).

Surely, I couldn’t get any luckier could I? I had waited my whole life to be so close to a band that has meant everything to me since I can remember. I was one of two people be chosen to get an actual Jonny plectrum. I had met up with some of the greatest friends ever.

I was sure it couldn’t get any better, and I couldn’t get any more lucky.

Boy... I was wrong!

12th July 2017

For the second night, it was only myself and @jonathanbuckland . We both had VIP, and after a hearty Pizza Express, we stood in a queue chatting to some really nice Coldplay fans. I even met one of my oldest and dearest fandom friends, @nathanr38 , which was just fantastic.

After a very rough descent into the stadium, we managed to snatch the A-Stage and had the most perfect view. Again, there was a very nice steward opposite us, who even admitted he was a huge Coldplay fan and he wished he could turn around, clap, and cheer! It was very kind of him, but he somehow snagged me Embrace’s drumstick and plectrum, realising how much these gigs meant to me.

Once Coldplay came on stage a series of insane things happened. First of all, and straight away, Jonny smiled at @jonathanbuckland and I, and that was only the start. We appeared soon (during Yellow) on the big screen, screaming and just being ecstatic as hell. Jonny repeatedly smiled towards us throughout the gig, and I melted inside whenever he did. During Charlie Brown, Chris read my sign, smiled at me, and gave me crazy eyes (this was also a fabulous moment I will discuss in a moment). I couldn’t believe, and still struggle to, the interactions I had with my absolute favourite people in the whole wide world! Within moments of Chris noticing me, I was handed a third plectrum, meaning I somehow now have four plectrums from the best days of my life.

So already I had Jonny’s plectrum from (I am certain) the A-Stage, another plectrum from Hoppy, Embrace’s plectrum, and their smashed drumstick. Surely my luck ended there right? If it had, I would be absolutely content with life. All I wanted was to see my heroes live again at any cost.

Nope. I still had four more crazy moments left. During the latter half of the show, I was given a folded up setlist. I didn’t even ask for one, knowing they give them out sparingly. Apparently, there had been some commotion at the runway barrier with so many people ‘bothering’ the roadies with their requests for a setlist. To be chosen to receive one was just... breathtaking, and two days later I am still beaming.

As the show was coming to the end, Coldplay did their usual wave, claps, and thank-yous. Amongst all of the screaming and flashing phones, I mouthed “thank-you” to Will Champion. We locked eyes, and he mouthed “and you too” back to me. He beamed at me and clapped me and I just cannot believe this actually happened. I also thanked a roadie, who said it was “fans like me who make their jobs worthwhile”.

Do you want to know what else happened to me? Well, I’m going to tell you anyway, because it is another thing I cannot stop freaking out about. So earlier, if you have stuck with this giant textpost, I mentioned that Charlie Brown was a key moment I am to return to later on. Well, you see, Roadie 42 was around when Chris smiled at me. He snapped this photo:

Which can be found on their Twitter and their Instagram (Photo credit: @coldplay crew legend Roadie 42/Matt Miller). Now, I had no idea of this until I saw my groupchat blowing up asking for us to fill them in. I finished the gig with a bundle of supportive and lovely messages. When I was termed “their Aly” by several fellow Coldplay superfans, I just felt so amazed, and even an update account said “congratulations” to me. I am just still freaking out. THEY CHOSE A PICTURE OF ME TO REPRESENT THE WHOLE GG! THEY COULD HAVE CHOSEN SO MANY OTHER PHOTOS! Honestly, I just can’t believe my luck. I was called the “luckiest girl in the world”, and though that is quite true (I certainly feel like the luckiest girl in the world), I think I am also the happiest girl in the world right now.

Sitting back at home, I don’t think life can get any better. I think, or at least I hope, that I impressed them because I was stood at the barrier on a crutch having the absolute time of my life. It must be known that this is only the start. I proved to myself and to my family that I can be barrier even with a collapsing musculoskeletal system. I am immensely grateful for all that happened, but I have really fought to be where I am now. Honestly, I have had the best week of my life. I am so thankful for all of the lovely people I met, an amazing crew and band who made all my dreams come true. 3/4 Coldplay interactions, a ton of random gifts, and featuring on their Instagram and twitter pages? What did I ever do to deserve this!?

PHOTOGRAPHS

I hope you all enjoy my small gallery, most photo credit to @jonathanbuckland:

NIGHT ONE --

NIGHT TWO --

My Coldplay stuff (not including merch/VIP package but I can post that later if anyone wants to see it):

Embrace’s plectrum and the second Coldplay embellished guitar plectrum that was given to me on the 12th June 2017 (second gig).

Two plectrums. The top one was given to me indirectly by Jonny Buckland, and placed into my hand by Hoppy. The second was given to me after the gig at the A-Stage barrier by Hoppy again. Both were given on the 11th June 2017 (first gig).

This was the drumstick used by Embrace at the second gig.

This is my set list given to me by a roadie during the second gig.

Excuse the grammar and stuff. I am still so hyper and everything I am absolutely freaking out!! Though I do wish I was going to Paris, I am so lucky for all that has happened to me and I will definitely try to follow them around the continent next time they tour. Thank-you Coldplay. Words don’t do justice what you mean to me, and what the last few days have meant. I will do whatever it takes to be back at a Coldplay concert, and I am immensely proud to be a lifelong fan.

💛💙💜💚❤️ Thank-you Coldplay, thank-you for everything. 💛💙💜💚❤️

[he-a-romantic]

Has this been noted already?

[thespeedoffandom]

Has anyone ever noticed that the only time anyone ever mentions the blind banker is when we talk about how we don't talk about it?

[sophiaholmes221b]

Sophia Holmes and the Blind Banker

Epilogue

The news of Amanda's luck hits the papers the next morning, and I return from the shops with the Sunday papers for us to go through.

Dad comes in from his bedroom wearing his dressing gown over his shirt and trousers as he sits down at the dining table, and John emerges from upstairs a little while later and sits opposite him, picking up his newspaper as dad begins to read.

"'Who wants to be a million-hair'," dad quotes the lead article as he folds the paper in half, lying it down on the table before picking up his second. "I think the journalists have been taking notes from your blog, John."

John scowls at him before opening up his paper and reading the story. "Over a thousand years old and it's sitting on her bedside table every night." He shakes his head in disbelief.

"He didn't know its value; didn't know why they were chasing him."

"Hmm," John replies. "Should've just got her a lucky cat." He gestures to the awful ornament on our fireplace and I smirk.

"Hmm," dad replies, his gaze becoming distant as John looks him over critically.

"You mind, don't you?"

"What?" dad answers, looking over to him.

"That she escaped – General Shan," John continues. "It's not enough that we got her two henchmen."

"It must be a vast network, John; thousands of operatives," I answer. "We barely scratched the surface."

"You cracked the code, though, Soph; and maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it."

I shake my head, smiling sadly as I flick through dads abandoned paper. "No. No. I cracked this code; all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book."

The room grows silent as I scan the pages before my eyes narrow.

A middle-aged woman, thought to have been visiting London from China, has been found dead by her son in her hotel room. The cause of death is unclear, although early investigations are showing that Shan Ling, 46, was shot.

I show the article to dad, and his own eyes narrow.

"It looks like we won't need to worry about them anymore," dad says, handing the paper over. "She's dead."

"What, really?" John splutters, taking the newspaper.

"A shot to the head," I mutter. "No doubt her employer killed her for not returning the pin."

"Do you think it's -"

"Moriarty," dad interrupts. "Very likely. I think we can expect something to happen very soon." John nods.

"Well, I'm off. Got to sort things with Sarah at the clinic." He leaves quietly, whilst we continue to flick through the papers for a new case.

"More disappearances," I mutter quietly, looking at the pictures above the article. I look up, smiling, as the phone rings.

Dad answers it immediately, slipping the phone from his pocket.

"Lestrade," he greets, pausing and allowing the DI to speak. "Brilliant, we'll be there in five." He drops his mobile back into his pocket.

"Good news?" I question, closing the paper.

"The best. We're going to the graveyard."

[boomerangmouth]

#blindbanker (at Sherlocked Convention)

[dorotheemcshane]

Me after finding out the VIP sherlock con tickets are £2995

[ayayforgay]

Can someone please make an edit where Sherlock pops up on john and Sarah's date in blind banker and says "pip pip de doodily do!" And is dressed all hebrew just like drake and josh were when they did were spying on Megan's date with that blonde dickwaffle?

[just-sort-of-happened]

[intheeyesofthemarni]

*Watch The Blind Banker*

*Suddenly appreciates Moffat*