One more sign on the wall, identical to the ones they found upstairs. Sherlock checked the corridor, expecting another sign; no sooner did he find one behind the umbrella. Mrs Hudson covered her face, holding John tightly in her arms.

"Sherlock?" she called out with hesitation.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied without looking her way, his gloved fingers carefully scratching the wall.

"He's broken into our house hasn't he?" she asked in horror.

"Who?"

"The one who made those doodles."

Sherlock let out a cry of frustration. "It could be a she- we don't know that yet, Mrs Hudson."

Mrs Hudson spoke again, her voice soft and weak. "It's a he, Sherlock. I saw him- I saw it."

"What? You saw what?" Sherlock jumped to grab her shoulders. John jumped out her arms, looking scared as Sherlock stared at her with his eyes filled with angst.

"That...man, I saw him running into the bushes in the backyard." She yelled as Sherlock ran into the backyard, "Get back, Sherlock! He must be gone by now!"

John walked towards the backyard door, and watched curiously as Sherlock stabbed into the bushes with a funny looking stick. Is that what a detective does? Stabbing the bushes with a funny stick? But Sherlock soon ended his search, groaning and running his fingers through his messy hair.

"I've told you he's gone!" Mrs Hudson shouted from behind.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, thank you so much!" Sherlock shouted back sarcastically. John frowned at this.

"Oh... John. You're always so nice." Sherlock showed a twisted smile before he stepped back into the house. "Come on, John." He called to the boy softly, and watched him go into the house before he closed the door.

"Now what?" asked Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock sighed. He took off his gloves and threw himself into that familiar, comfortable armchair.

"You don't already need cocaine just now, do you?" Mrs Hudson asked, arms crossed.

"No, Mrs Hudson. Will you give me a cup of coffee please? Black..."

"Two sugars." Mrs Hudson shrugged and went into the kitchen. "You better remember that too, John." She turned to look at the confused boy, raising one eyebrow.

"And I thought she was scared." Sherlock sighed, but smiled fondly when his eyes found John.

"What's going on, Sherlock?" John walked towards him and sat at his feet. Sherlock suddenly felt the urge to touch the boy's face, but he fought it back, knowing it would make the boy jump. He sighed again.

"I don't know, John, and that is rare. I should've got a few things clear by now, but today my guesses are wrong."

"What are your guesses?" John asked, looking innocently at Sherlock.

"I thought they were fortune telling symbols used in ancient China- one symbol is usually made up with three or six symbols layered together. If a sign consists of six symbols, it should be regarded as two parts, the lower half and the upper half, each consisting of three symbols. If my guesses are right, Moriarty-"

"What's that got to do with Moriarty? Was he the man who ran into the bushes?" John interrupted.

"No, I don't think so, John, but I think he's the man behind all this." Sherlock stared at John for a while. He could tell from the boy's look that he didn't understand a thing, maybe it was all too much for him. He reached down to comb through the boy's hair soothingly. The boy looked up.

"I don't think I understand all this, Sherlock. Am I stupid?"

Sherlock was shocked by the hurt in John's eyes. Did it hurt him that much? The thought that Sherlock was far, far more intelligent than he was? But he never meant to hurt John with his intelligence. In fact, he never meant to hurt anyone with his intelligence. His intelligence was always a treasure for those stupid beings, especially those from Scotland Yard. Perhaps they never even wanted to posses such wisdom.

"You're not stupid, John." He locked eyes with the boy sincerely, "You're an intelligent kid, and that's why I'm telling you all this. But it takes time and training to understand- I couldn't have become a detective without training myself and all my experience, either."

John nodded and gave him a smile. That was enough for Sherlock.

"Can you...go on about your guesses?" John asked shyly, as if he had just asked a silly question.

"Okay." Sherlock smiled and sat back into his armchair. "If my guesses are right, whoever left those doodles here separated his sign into two parts- one part downstairs and one part upstairs. Then there should be three symbols downstairs too, but there were only two, so my guesses are wrong. I'll have to come up with new guesses- or hypothesis, you'll impress any teacher if you used that word in your writing."

Sherlock stood up from his armchair to grab his coat. "I think I'll have to consult someone who's familiar with the signs. Do you-"

He suddenly stopped, realising that taking a kid on case was simply too dangerous. He took his coat off, it would kill him to leave John at home when he was out.

"Nevermind. Maybe I could ring her- John?"

Sherlock went closer to John, who was staring at the space behind Sherlock's coat in horror.

"John?" He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and stared, only to be stunned by the last symbol on the wall, an identical symbol to the rest, only in scarlet. It hadn't dried, and the paint fell down from the symbol, looking like a dreadful warning.