The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I honestly would have ensured a Holmes/Watson relationship was properly established. I'm not sure about you, but the vehement denial of his orientation does make me awfully suspicious of our dear Doctor Watson.
"Who are you?" John asked, eyeing the woman in front of him warily. He had half a mind to fish out his gun at this point in time but decided to give her a chance. She didn't look all that threatening; she was shorter than he was.
"I apologise for alarming you. I am Carter. Sherlock Holmes requested my presence."
"Oh, oh right. You're the code-breaker?" He immediately flushed at the tone of voice he had used. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, well, I never really would have thought you were in that line of business."
"In all technicality I'm but a humble linguist but encryption is a language of sorts. You needn't apologise for anything. You are Doctor Watson, yes?"
"I am. Nice to meet you." They shook hands. "Please, call me John. Would you like a cuppa?"
"No thank you. I have to apologise again for inviting myself in. You may want to invest in some better locks by the way."
"No problem at all. You didn't look in the fridge did you?"
"He's still storing body parts with food?"
"Yes, it's a bloody nightmare sometimes." The chuckle that had made its way into the open dissolved rather quickly as what the woman had said finally sunk in. "Wait, what do you mean still?"
"I'm assuming I've never been mentioned before then. I'm an old acquaintance of Sherlock's; it's why he called me in. He knows how I work, I know how he works and therefore he won't have any reason to throw a tantrum or be overly irritating." Carter smiled warmly at John before she sat down on the sofa. "How has he been?"
"Uh, good at times."
"Never a dull moment is there? How are you? I was told that you were an army medic. How are you readjusting to civilian life?"
John was perplexed at the sudden direction of questioning. His eyes narrowed for but a moment before he realised that Carter looked completely sincere in her apparent concern for his welfare.
"I'm adjusting well. I've been assisting Sherlock on various cases actually."
"That's wonderful." She smiled so warmly, so invitingly that John honestly forgot that he had only been speaking to her for a matter of ten minutes or so.
The two talked for many hours, learning about each other, their work, their lives, Carter's mysterious connection to Sherlock; anything really. Of course, it all came to a halt when Carter mentioned that a car had pulled up outside of the Baker Street apartment.
"That will be him. He was down at the laboratory."
Sherlock walked up the stair to 221B but paused as he got closer to the door. He noticed a few scratches against the outer metal of the lock on his apartment door, could here John milling about inside along with another person. He could hear her; yes her, judging by the amount of pressure upon the floorboards and the very faint smell of vanilla. He swung the door open and waited until she came out of the kitchen before stepping inside, the door closing behind him.
"Fancy seeing you here Carter. I expect that you've read over the file carefully and have some information for me?"
John looked towards the man in disbelief. According to Carter, it had been years since the two had seen each other and worked alongside each other in person. Coincidently she thought the same thing too.
"Years have passed and that is all I get from you, Mr Holmes? An immediate demand for information? I can feel the love that's just emanating from your person, Sherlock." She smirked a little before extending her arms out in front of her in. "Do I have to come over there to you?"
"Must I?" Sherlock drawled. With a roll of his eyes he made his way over the woman and allowed her to embrace him. "You'll not be quiet unless I return the gesture, true?"
"You know me all too well Sherlock."
John watched as the man pulled a face, one which had him convinced that it was physically painful for the Consulting Detective to lift his arms a fraction and return the embrace. This was unexpected.
"How come he's listening to you?" He asked Carter. Clearly this woman meant something to the Detective if he so willingly called upon her for help.
"Don't be daft John. My willingness to acquiesce to her request is purely for my benefit. She will refrain from displaying her irritable habits of singing, spouting trivial facts and being all-around annoying whilst we work this case."
"He's such a nice fellow, isn't he John? Sherlock," the man in question looked to her, an eyebrow raised, "I would like to inform you that John is now my favourite person. As such," she turned her attention towards the older man, "I would like to take you to dinner. Will that be acceptable? We could continue our previous conversation?"
Sherlock shot a fleeting glare at the Doctor, who was a little unnerved at this point. He would admit that, during the last few hours, he had grown to like the woman who he had only just been introduced to. He'd describe her as sunny; she was warm, personable and seemed to be very human; a complete opposite to the company he had been keeping.
"Why not? I'm feeling rather peckish." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
Carter smiled at him again. She was quite amused by the man and he just looked so, well, adorable really. She wanted to give this man a cuddle. Not a hug, not an embrace but a cuddle.
"You may as well join us now, Sherlock, rather than going through all the trouble of selecting a disguise to eavesdrop on us." She said, not at all wanting to find Sherlock in a dress ever again.
''
"So how exactly did you meet?" John asked Sherlock. "And where is she going to sleep?" He thought he might as well make use of the time Carter spent in the bathroom.
"We met in person and she is going to sleep in a bed."
"You know what I mean Sherlock, stop being evasive."
"I'm not being evasive John. If you're unable to ask the right questions in order to get the answers you seek, why should I be blamed?"
"Asides from meeting in person, can you tell me how you met Carter? Where did you meet her? How long have you known her? Why did you invite her over?"
"We met during a case I was working years ago."
"What do you mean we need an expert? I'm the expert Lestrade."
"Look Sherlock, you are a brilliant detective, I'll give you that, but if we want any information out of this guy, we need someone a bit more, well, human; someone who can speak his language."
"Human? What good is that going to do?"
There was a knock on the door and it opened slightly.
"Sir, she's here."
"Bring her up."
"Yes Sir."
Sherlock did not turn around; not when he heard the door open for a second time, not when he heard footsteps approaching both he and Lestrade and not even when he heard her voice.
"It's a pleasure to see you again Carter. Thanks for coming by on such short notice."
"It was no problem at all and you know it. Now, where is he?"
"Just down the hall in the third room to your right."
Carter nodded before turning to the tall man next to her. She peered up at him, waiting patiently for him to turn around and introduce himself.
"I'm Carter, Sir. We obviously haven't met before."
When she was greeted by nothing but silence Lestrade shook his head and was about to introduce her to Sherlock Holmes himself when the woman poked him in the side. Sherlock reacted immediately: He all but flew backwards whilst casting an offended and horrified look at the woman, then his side before glaring at her.
"You saw that, Lestrade. I'd like to file a complaint against one of your officers. She just assaulted me."
Greg just shook his head in exasperation.
"She didn't assault you Sherlock. Shut up. We need to get a move on."
"Will you be observing, Mr Holmes?"
"Early twenties; mixed nationality but prominently of an English descent, middle class but more towards the poorer end of the spectrum. Works as a freelance linguist if the notes you carrying are anything to go by. Graduated from…Didn't graduate at all; doesn't even hold a recognised degree in any language, even English. Family? None. I wonder what happened to them. Estranged? No, no. As much as you may have pushed people away with your tendencies to invade personal space they would not have ostracised you for such a petty thing. Adopted? No, but closer. They're all dead; murder. No next of kin or other relations which is extraordinarily odd. What is it now Lestrade?"
Greg couldn't believe that he actually went to this guy for help every now and again. He just hoped that the woman would brush it off and get to work.
"Very well done Mr Holmes, but what of you? Mid-twenties, aristocratic English family with an older brother; the clothing screams designer and with the way it moves, I can tell it is no fake. Narcissistic qualities, anti-social behaviour: you must be a self-diagnosed sociopath, one of whom is high functioning. Intelligent; incredibly so. I'm assuming you harbour obsessive compulsive tendencies; it's a guaranteed trait of geniuses. Now, I have some work to do and you have done nothing but keep me from my job. I'll start now."
Lestrade looked gobsmacked. He'd known this woman for years and not once had she ever displayed that kind of intelligence nor had she ever been so upfront. Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the figure disappearing down the corridor, sneering before a small smirk unwillingly played upon his lips.
"Well come on Lestrade." He said, fixing his coat collar and waiting beside the door. "We best ensure that your human doesn't make a mess of things."
"She deduced you? How?"
"Not everyone in the world is as small minded as the rest of you, John, really. It wasn't that impressive anyway."
"Not impressive? How is that not impress-"
"What's impressive John?" Carter asked, as Sherlock, ever the gentleman, stood to help her back into her seat. "You must stop that Sherlock, honestly."
"I am but a simple gentleman." He replied in a monotonous drawl. He inwardly smirked as he watched a very familiar blush make its way up the woman's neck, dusting her cheeks as it always did whenever he pulled her seat out for her.
"Sherlock was telling me about how you met. Did you really deduce him?"
"It wasn't that hard to be perfectly honest with you. I may be a linguist but I do have a background in psychology and this man here just screamed certain qualities that had me reading him like an open book."
"Would you deduce me?"
She laughed, causing John turn a little pink himself.
"I'm not too sure. The most I can get from looking at you is that you're an older gentleman, you've worked as a marksman; army most likely judging by the way you hold yourself and that you are absolutely adorable. If ever I designed a teddy, it would be reminiscent of you, Doctor Watson."
"Oh do be quiet with your insane babble. I'd prefer if you didn't try to make a pass on my roommate Carter. It's highly unprofessional."
"Don't worry Sherlock. If I were to have Michelangelo paint me a picture, it would have been of the rebellious Angel Sherlock Holmes." She turned to John and stage whispered, "It's the cheekbones; makes him look villainous in divine kind of a way."
"Cheekbones can't look villainous Carter. Stop personifying physical traits."
"They can Sherlock. You be quiet."
John was perfectly content being ignored at the moment. He was absolutely engrossed in the interactions of his roommate and this woman. It was odd, but John could definitely tell there was more to the story than the two of them being acquaintances. In fact, the bantering, had one of the participants not been Sherlock Holmes, could be misconstrued as flirting.
The evening came to an end, Carter insisting on paying the bill.
"I invited you. Put your wallet away Doctor or else we'll have problem."
Standing outside of the restaurant they said their goodbyes.
"I'll be around early. I apologise in advance, John, if I wake you up. Good night and sweet dreams to you both." She gave each of them a hug and a peck on the cheek before walking off.
"Will she be alright?"
"You've known her less than twelve hours John. There's no need to worry. She's staying in a hotel two streets away; she will be fine."
John was surprised that Sherlock hadn't insisted she give up the information and felt the need to know. As they entered 221B, John asked him.
"She will tell me tomorrow. Do you think I should have insisted?"
"Well, no I was just wondering why you didn't. I mean, it's you." Sherlock raised an eyebrow to John at that statement. "You're not exactly the most, uh, kind person."
"Yes. I suppose so. Regardless, I can be a decent person, John, and you'd do well to remember that."
John shook his head. He's warning me to be mindful and to refrain from judging others? He thought.
"That's not what I meant Sherlock and you know it."
Sherlock flashed the Doctor a smirk before announcing that he'd be retiring to bed.
''
"You're kidding me." John said to himself as he made his way towards the living room. "It's four in the bloody morning. Keep it down will yo-" He stopped and stared, blinking occasionally and allowed his mouth to hang open in surprise.
Sherlock had Carter in an embrace, smiling ear to ear and had then promptly picked her up and spun her around, pulling her to him once again. Noticing John, Sherlock grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him.
"This is why I invited her John! She is simply wonderful! If there were to be a person who was almost as clever as me, it would be Carter."
"Would you like some tea John?" Carter asked him as he was finally released from Sherlock's hold.
"What…..What, exactly, did I miss?"
"We're going to the circus tonight John. You may want to invite that girl of yours, uh, Sarah I believe."
"Wait, what?"
"Oh do keep up John."
"Here you are John. It'll wake you up or at least get you functioning."
"Thank you."
"Where's mine?" Sherlock inquired.
"Oh hush you. Here is your awful coffee."
"Thank you."
"You're both welcome."
Sherlock smirked as John looked between the two, before looking at his tea and resuming his staring.
"She solved the case. The graffiti was a warning. The Chinese traders use a certain type of numbering system, Hangzhou; the symbols found in both apartments represented the numbers fifteen and one. The encryption was a simple book code. We find the book, turn to page fifteen and look for the first word. In this case, it turned out to be the visitors guide to London, conveniently available at almost every newsagent and tourist destination and it's free."
"How did you figure out all of that?" He asked the woman in wonder. "I mean, it could have been any book ever written."
"Both men had been out of the country so I figured there had to be a connection. Turns out they were both in China recently which led me to immediately recognise the characters on the walls. Since they had been visiting a foreign country it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that somebody may have followed them back here to London and what do people usually pick up the moment they land in a foreign country?"
"A guide book." John answered.
"Precisely. The message to those two bankers was 'deadman'. It was a threat. These two men obviously dabbled in a little something they shouldn't of: smuggling. With a little tip off from a friend of a friend, I found a few new characters. A jade pin was stolen and smuggled into London; a jade pin worth a hefty nine million U.S dollars."
"Where does the circus fit in?"
"Carter is a linguist, as I'm certain you know but her knowledge for languages goes beyond that of mere dialects." Sherlock began, sounding like a child showing off his new, expensive toy. "She is quite accomplished in the language of computer codes."
"You're a hacker?" John asked her incredulously.
"I'm not a hacker. Encryption is a type of code and code is a language."
"Yes, she's a hacker. She looked into the darkest reaches of Cyberspace to find the name of one General Shan."
"The woman is a well-known, well-respected and an ultimately feared individual. She's some old woman who is borderline psychotic. She's running the Chinese Circus that is town for this week only."
"The man who broke into Van Coon's actually climbed?! He's a circus performer?!" John once again exclaimed. "My God you are brilliant."
"I do have my moments but I wouldn't go that far." She replied modestly.
"When do we leave?"
''
"Why isn't Carter joining us?"
"She is Coulrophobic. She refuses to go anywhere near the vicinity of a circus, an ice cream van and avoids the court jesters at Medieval Fares."
John blinked. He wondered if Sherlock had ever tried 'curing' her of her phobia.
"You know you're very thoughtful towards Carter." He then said.
"She's a close acquaintance."
"Hmmm, yeah, so you say."
Sherlock shot him a look before changing the direction of the conversation.
"We need to go into the backstage area; there's surely something for us to find in there."
''
"How is Sherlock, my dear?"
"You've people following him around on a constant basis, Mycroft, but if you must know he seems to be doing alright. Mind you, I only got here yesterday."
"And to think of all the progress that may have been made had you arrived earlier."
"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you'd like me to try and keep your brother out of trouble?"
"If that wouldn't be too much trouble of course."
"Why on Earth would it be trouble? Sherlock only thrives on danger, Mycroft. Rest assured, I suppose, that I will do what I must to keep him away from the clutches of death." She said, lifting a hand to her heart theatrically.
"Thank you."
"No need to; I'm always willing to help."
"So, how have you been?"
She sent Mycroft a look, one that had him chuckling before he questioned her again.
"What happened that made you return to London? Last I heard, you wanted to avoid the city at all costs."
"It's safe for me to be here again."
"Ah, so you sorted them out?"
"All of them. Though there is one part of the puzzle that I just can't seem to connect. They were all 'sponsored'; well that's what they told me. It's such an odd way of phrasing it. These criminals were working in conjunction with an unknown benefactor, one who is much more powerful than I realised. This person…..this person has power that extend internationally; they literally hold the world in their hands."
"What makes you think it is a single person?"
"It has to be and it's more than likely a 'he'. Any more than one person would jeopardise any plans; there'd always be a conflict of some sort because there always is. 'The greater the power, the greater the fall': It's best to trust only yourself when dealing in the Underworld, Mycroft."
"That's rather worrying Carter."
"You know who it is. You know a name."
Mycroft paused, hand extended towards the glass of scotch he had poured for himself.
"You won't tell me." She waited for him to either confirm or deny and when he refused to answer she knew. "That's alright. Just make sure you keep a close watch okay?"
"If he becomes any more of a threat he will be eliminated. No harm will come to you dear."
"Of course it will but I appreciate your attempts at being assuring. May I leave now? I've some work to do."
"The car is downstairs."
"I'm going to walk. You can watch me on your screens. Night Mycroft and enjoy the cakes."
"As if I weren't able to Carter. Sweetest dreams to you dear." He was regretful for not telling her anything, but it was best this way. She'd dig, try her hardest to reveal the information she needed but she'd hi a dead end. She'd slowly turn her focus onto something more mundane, much less dangerous and Mycroft would rest a little easier knowing that Carter was no longer on Moriarty's radar.
''
"What did he want?"
"He wanted an honest answer as to how his little brother was."
"Really?"
"How did the circus go? You're neck's looking a little bruised. Didn't have too much fun without me?"
"There was not a clown in sight; you should have come."
"Did you sort it out though?"
"The case is closed, if that's what you mean."
"Brilliant. What are you up to now?"
"You didn't finish answering me. What else did my brother want?"
"Nothing." It was true, he didn't want anything else. She may have wanted something but Sherlock hadn't asked about her specifically.
Sherlock eyed her for a moment.
"Well I'll be off then. It was wonderful seeing you again."
"It's been refurbished; 221C. You'll be able to easily afford the rent. Mrs Hudson wants to speak with you in the morning to properly introduce herself."
"You better be joking Sherlock. I'm not living in this part of England; bad track record and all that."
"My brother informed me that it was safe for you to return. You will remain here, won't you?" His gaze was always piercing and the fact that he blinked minimally when holding eye contact always unnerved her a little; that being said, she had the habit of doing the exact same thing to other though her eyes always seemed to welcome others there was something that had people on edge when they realised she was looking at them.
"If I sta-"
"Brilliant. I'll see you in the morning. Do feel free to intrude but please keep your infernal habits to a minimum."
She laughed as she made her way downstairs to apartment 221C. There was no point in going against the wishes of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Those boys were a force to be reckoned with and the tantrums that Sherlock threw were infamous.
Sherlock smirked, knowing that he would get his way no matter what. He smiled as he thought about Carter and the days of old. If he were truly honest with himself, and would accept that he might not be a sociopath as he so vehemently claimed, he would admit that he might actually feel something for the woman. They'd worked with each other on numerous occasions, had known each other for many years and her presence was one that he didn't mind. In fact, he wouldn't mind if she were to always 'be there', so to speak. It wasn't too long after his last thought that he heard her voice carrying up the stairwell. Singing was one of the many habits that Carter had. He stood, collecting his violin as he made his way to the window and started to play, smiling softly when he heard her change tunes, singing along with the notes he played as he serenaded the night sky.
''
Authors Note: Okay, I admit this is cringe-worthy but have mercy please. As usual, the ideas I had for this fanfiction began at the end of the final episode of Season 1: The Game is On. Do feel free to leave your opinions. I hope I haven't written Sherlock too out of character.