Chapter 9:

Mercy was bored. Sherlock was bored…the two people in the world you really did not want getting bored, were bored.

It was the morning after Mercy's 'welcome home and good luck' party and Mercy and Sherlock had without speaking of it, agreed to put the tenseness of Sherlock's comment in the past. It was only 9 am and already the two were dying of boredom. Sherlock had tried doing experiments in his 'lab' in Mercy's living room but nothing was really entertaining him. He had decided he needed something more, a cigarette. Sherlock had checked in his last hiding place and discovered that the secret tear he made in his mattress was empty.

"JOHN!" Sherlock screamed in frustration, but he knew John wasn't there, he was out going for a walk. Sherlock crouched on his floor for two minutes and hit his head repeatedly against his mattress while pulling at his curls in a tantrum. He grumbled and eventually got up to go back down to Mercy's place downstairs.

When Sherlock entered her flat he was surprised to hear singing. He walked through the living room and peered into the kitchen to see if she was listening to music or if it was actually her singing. To Sherlock's pleasant surprise it was in fact his daughter who was singing so beautifully. She sang like an angel with a beautiful deep cello-like quality to her voice when she sang low and when she sang high notes it was softer and clear and angelic. She was singing Josh Groban's You Raise Me Up, a tune Sherlock actually didn't know. Even though Mercy knew it was such an overdone song, she was just in the mood for singing it that day and she could sing it extremely well.

Mercy (to her annoyance) is a bored eater and she was craving fresh homemade bread. She knew she could have hinted her craving enough to Mrs. Hudson and she would have probably eventually make some bread (and think it was her idea) and knowing Mrs. Hudson she would want to share it. But Mercy was not Sherlock. She wouldn't do that to the kind woman upstairs so she was making her own bread, on her own. She kneaded the dough as she sang, her back to Sherlock, seemingly taking no notice of his presence. Sherlock thought to himself,

She never heard me come in, I guess she is deaf

but then she sang,

"*Hello, Sherlock…*"

"Hello." Sherlock said grumbling and he walked past her into the kitchen and sat down at her small kitchen table and sat watching her kneading the bread, still bored.

Mercy sighed and turned to him, rubbing her flour covered hands together. Her expression was blank as well.

"Bored too?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

Sherlock groaned and looked pained as he responded,

"So bored I could punch something…"

His fists clenched suddenly and he gritted his teeth then he slammed his fists on the table angrily. Mercy raised an eyebrow and deduced he was probably just about to punch through her wall so she intervened and took off her apron and handed it to him.

"Want to take it out on the dough?"

The idea grabbed some of Sherlock's attention and he got up and quickly washed his hands then he put the apron on, which made Mercy chuckle because it was a white skirted woman's apron with pink pockets shaped like cupcakes. He then proceeded to violently beat her lump of dough on the floured counter with his fists, yelling in a hissy fit. Luckily Mercy already had another batch in the oven so at least she would have one good loaf. She really wasn't sure about the batch he was beating.

She supervised him for a little while until she lost interest, then she went to her fridge with a fork in hand and grabbed her jar of dill pickles and carried it with her to the couch and sat down and turned on the telly. She began to spear the pickles and crunch down on them as a fashion show came onto the screen.

Mercy wasn't a preppy, fashion obsessed girl, but she did occasionally watch a fashion show if she happened to stumble upon it. In this instance however; she was just too lazy to get up to fetch the remote 'clicker.'

Soon Sherlock grew tired of punching her dough so he washed his hands, put away the apron and slumped onto the couch, joining Mercy. He sighed and closed his eyes and didn't bother to look at the TV.

"What's on?" He asked lazily.

"Fashion show."

"Ugggghh…Change it to the News or something."

"You can get up and change it if you want." She stated in a scolding tone.

Sherlock sighed in defeat, "Never mind…"

He groaned as he opened his eyes now and was about to look at the TV when a loud crunch of Mercy's dill pickle distracted him. He looked at the girl in horror as she took another bite out of the pickle.

"What in the name of sanity are you snacking on?" He demanded with a shudder. His eyes were open wide revealing the white like a spooked horse.

Mercy looked at him weirdly and raised an eyebrow at him.

"…Dill Pickle…"

Sherlock gave a disgusted face and shuddered overdramatically again.

"… Don't like dill pickles?"

"No. I believe the art of pickling should be reserved for science only, not for human consumption. I'd sooner pickle a human toe than eat a dill pickle!" Sherlock stated with his nose scrunched up and held high in the air, like a child refusing to eat his vegetables.

Mercy looked at him skeptical and unamused.

"Sherlock, have you ever actually eaten a pickle?" she asked as she reached her hand into the pickle jar to grab him one. Sherlock had his eyes closed in an attempt to be more theatrical to prove his point.

"Of course I have! My mother once tried to force me to eat one because she liked them, by hiding it in my sandwich for lunch in elementary school. After taking a bite I realized her crime and then I refused to eat for two days until she apologized and bought me three bags of cotton candy. She had to drive far into the city to find some. I refuse to eat a pickle…what?...WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Sherlock's eyes shot open and he grimaced with repulsion when he suddenly smelled the strong smell of garlic and saw Mercy holding a large lumpy pickle five centimetres away from his face. He gave a little cry,

"No! No! I won't eat it! It's green. It's lumpy! No!"

He shrieked and whined like a child. He thrashed against the back of the couch trying to get away from the pickle in her hand. She wasn't even pressing it nearer to him. His freaking out just continued to escalate.

"AHHH! NOoooooo!"

"Wow," Was all Mercy could say. "This is truly pathetic."

"Don't touch me with it!" he pleaded as he managed to bring his feet up and he escaped by crawling over the back of the couch.

"Ok. Ok. Sheesh…" Mercy said laughing. She ate the pickle and Sherlock whimpered then calmed down. He kept staring at Mercy from behind the couch, not trusting her until she screwed the jar lid back on and placed the jar on the floor. Sherlock sat down again.

"Dill pickles are the work of the devil. They are evil little turds," he stated.

Mercy rolled her eyes.

"The Great Sherlock Holmes…Afraid of a wee dill pickle…"

Sherlock protested,

"I'm not afraid of a stupid pickle, I just don't like them!"

Mercy laughed, and challenged him, "You don't like most people but you don't react like that around them."

"Shut up! Don't tell me that you, a little girl, do not have fears or dislikes?" He crouched his feet under him, pouting angrily.

Mercy shrugged. "I am abnormally paranoid of mosquitos and leeches. But other things like bats, bugs, snakes and spiders don't scare me. Bats and spiders eat the mosquitos. However like most people, I'm not overly comfortable with the idea of swimming in a piranha tank or waking down dark sketchy alleyways. When Mike Birch tried to kill me I was terrified for my life, although I didn't let him see my fear. I'm also afraid of what would happen to me if the Black Lotus found me…"

Sherlock's face softened for a moment while pondering this. He grunted as he got up to change the channel, bored of small talk. He grabbed it and was just about to change the fashion channel when a sudden flash of yellow caught his eye. He froze and fixated on the screen. It was a close-up of a young, attractive, dark skinned woman's face. Painted across her eyes in makeup there were a series of yellow polka-dots which brightly glowed against her brown skin.

"The Blind Banker…" Sherlock whispered to himself then chuckled, dismissing the thought.

Mercy sat up confused. "What did you say? The Blind Banker? Is that one of your old cases?"

"Yes," Sherlock said chuckling, as he waved the remote in his hand toward the TV, gesturing, "The makeup on that model reminded me of it… It's just a coincidence, though…"

"Life is not as lazy as most people think to have created such a coincidence," Mercy pointed out, interrupting him. This comment caught Sherlock momentarily off guard because for a second he thought he had heard Mycroft's voice instead of Mercy say that statement.

"What reminded you?" Mercy asked curiously, trying to get him to entertain her with a story and kill her boredom. Sherlock knew she wanted to hear about the case and he, being a show off, happily obliged.

"In that particular case I had to crack a code that the Black Lotus had been using to communicate with their 'foot soldiers' who were smuggling valuable antiques into London from China. Our first clue was a portrait in a high security bank that had been spray painted in what appeared to be just a yellow line across the eyes and what looked like a scribble beside the painting to the left of it. Turns out that line and 'scribble' were actually a pair or old Chinese Hangzhou numerals as a book cypher which would refer to a certain book.

Turns out it was the London A-Z Street Atlas and the cypher referred to the number of pages and the number of words such as page six and then the first word you see. All the messages the Black Lotus left were written in the same yellow and same brand of spray paint. I was just reminded of the case by the model's makeup because she had the same yellow painted almost in a line over her eyes…" He chuckled again and sat down on the couch with the remote in his hand.

"But as you can see it was just a fashion choice of yellow polka-dots, not Chinese numbers…" he said as his finger moved to change the channel.

"Wait!" Mercy said suddenly as she stopped his hand.

"What? Do you see some hidden message or something?" Sherlock asked skeptically joking.

"Maybe…" Mercy said slowly as she got up to get a closer look at the TV screen. She watched closely as each model walked down the runway.

The fashion line looked to have a polka-dot theme either on the garments themselves or painted on the model's body as decoration for the sake of repetition. Not every garment had the same yellow highlighted dots. There were others that had a mix of blues or purples or oranges but whenever the garment had yellow, it was the only colour against black. Every model with the distinctive yellow had two pairs of polka-dots, some painted on their body and some on their clothing. But what language is written in dots?

"OH!" Mercy exclaimed growing excited. She turned to look at her father, grinning ear to ear.

"What? What?!" Sherlock demanded, confused and concerned that he had missed something and that she had found it first…

She gave him a mischievous look, "You're right Sherlock, there is no Chinese lettering on these models or their clothing…" She said, milking the suspense for dramatic effect.

Sherlock groaned impatiently, "OH, GET ON WITH IT!"

Mercy giggled like a mad woman, enjoying her father's annoyance.

"…There is however, a message even still. The Polka-dots are actually braille."

She crossed her arms and smiled smugly at her (consulting) detective father, completely self-assured of her analysis.

Sherlock's frown suddenly disappeared and his face lit up with curiosity. He got up and bent over the TV to look closer. Soon he could see it too.

"Oh! …That's very intriguing… Brilliant!" He whispered excitedly.

The two of them sat sitting in painful silence until the designer came out to bow and be announced at the end of the show so they could learn their name. The fashion designer was a young Asian woman, named Li Na Wang. She was a petite woman and she wore a red and black full length dress with a Chinese styled seaming and fastenings. She wore big broad rimmed bright red 'hipster' glasses.

"Well…" Sherlock began when the program was over, "Looks like we will have to pay miss Wang a little visit."

He got up from the couch and began to make his way towards the front door. Mercy stared at him shocked, and then she burst out laughing,

"How are we supposed to get a fashion designer, who has been on TV, to make room in her schedule for us or even talk to us?" She laughed at her father's rash actions and eagerness.

Sherlock raised one finger and ran into Mercy's bedroom and grabbed her laptop and came back into the living room.

"Hey, don't go in my room!" Mercy complained.

Sherlock ignored her comment and sat down again beside her on the couch and opened the laptop. He thought for a second then typed a password in the password bar.

INNCORRECT PASSWORD.

The computer stated then it went back to the locked screen.

"What?" Sherlock said confused," I thought that it would be One Direction for sure."

Mercy snorted and waved one finger back and forth.

"No, no no no no. I am definitely not a One Direction fan girl…"

Mercy chuckled again, shaking her head and took the laptop from his lap and placed it on hers.

"You'll never guess my password." She teased giving him a look from the corner of her eye then she turned the laptop away from him so he could not see her typing in the password. Sherlock noted from the number of clicks of the keys that the password she typed in was eight characters long. Mercy turned the laptop towards him again and looked expectantly, waiting for instructions.

Sherlock gave an annoyed look but shrugged it off, it was her laptop after all.

"Check to see if Miss Wang has a website and see if there are posted photos from her show and when her upcoming shows are."

Mercy nodded and Google searched the designer and quickly found her site. Under 'events' they discovered to their luck, that there was another show scheduled three days away at the Somerset House. Sherlock and Mercy reserved seats to the show for themselves and John. They planned to watch the show and photograph any models with the braille on their clothing and afterwards sneak into the after party that Wang was known to have after every show and try to get a chance to talk to her.

Mercy handed the laptop to Sherlock and he searched through all the photo albums and made a document of all the garments or models with the yellow Braille and then printed them off.

Sherlock then went upstairs to his room and used his own laptop and to search up the Braille alphabet and got to work decoding the garments from the latest show.

After a half an hour, Sherlock heard a knock on his bedroom door and Mercy popped her head inside.

"It just occurred to me that we will have to dress up for this particular fashion show since it's all going to be evening wear to blend into the crowd… I know I have a few dresses or gowns I could wear, I suppose even my prom dress would do. I'm assuming since you dress so nicely all the time that you have a decent suit… but does John?" Mercy asked unsurely.

Sherlock went through a quick memory scan of all the clothes he's seen John wear and he could come up with nothing. He groaned and rubbed his forehead then sighed.

"Looks like I'll have to take him shopping then." He stated annoyed, knowing that taking John out to a suit store may look a little questionable to the outside eye.

Mercy fidgeted awkwardly in his bedroom door as she was trying to pluck up the courage to ask Sherlock a question. She tilted her head and looked away and cautiously began,

"What if… I took John instead?"

Sherlock raised a quizzical eyebrow at her then he suddenly tensed as if he had realized something. He looked suspiciously at his daughter.

"Mercy… do you have a crush on John? Why do you want to spend time with him and watch him pick out and try on suits?" Sherlock asked accusingly.

Mercy's eyes widened and she was shocked speechless for a moment then suddenly she burst out laughing.

"Pffttt! No! no no no, I don't have a crush on John, no. EW! He's like- what?- at least ten years older than me? Ew, no. My maximum ages for dating guys are at least three years younger or older…"

She clutched her gut in pain from laughter and Sherlock just stared at her blinking, and confused.

"He's approximately twelve years and thirty two days older than you." Sherlock stated.

Mercy calmed down and began to catch her breath again,

"Yeah, That is quite the age gap don't you think? I'll admit he's a great guy and he's good looking too and I'm sure plenty of girls his age would be interested but I'm not. We are just friends, In fact, I think of him more as the fun uncle who takes his niece's side."

She smiled warmly at Sherlock who was beginning to calm down internally from his worry. Sherlock was relieved, he could not imagine how much more awkward the situation could have been in their home if Mercy tried to flirt with his roommate and best friend.

Mercy sighed and slid down his door frame to the floor and sat looking up at her dad at his desk.

"I don't know I guess, I just wanted to get to know him a little more. I feel like he still isn't completely used to my staying here and he doesn't really know all that much about me. Plus Sherlock, I think if he needs an honest opinion of how a suit looks on him, I think it would be better coming from my mouth than yours. We both know that I am more sensitive towards others feelings when it comes to things like that."

Sherlock nodded, taking in her point and shrugged,

"Sure, why not? But I wouldn't feel offended if I were you if he says he'd rather go alone…"

Suddenly they could hear the sound of John coming in the front door downstairs. Sherlock and Mercy shared a quick look and then Mercy got up from the floor and went downstairs to meet John as he came up to the top of the stairs.

"Good walk?" Mercy asked casually as she leaned in the doorway, with crossed arms and a smile on her face.

John glanced up at her as he climbed up the last step and then exhaled before smiling back at her.

"Yeah, the weather is beautiful out. You know what?," he asked pausing for a moment as a grumpy Sherlock came into the living room, not looking at his friend, "I think we should all go outside for the rest of the afternoon…maybe even have a picnic!... It's better than you two moping about here, bored out of your minds. What do you say?"

John looked around expectantly to his roommates and his smile faded when Sherlock strode toward him and glared down at him.

"Secret stash, Mattress, Gone." Sherlock stated through his teeth, clearly ticked off.

John looked sternly at his friend as if he was about to discipline a child.

"Sherlock, you know it's for the best. Remember I'm the doctor and I know what's best for your health. Besides, you've been doing so well for the last five months- only the occasional nicotine patch, why give it up now? Just because you are bored? Really Sherlock? How much could smoking a couple of cigarettes really entertain you?"

Sherlock smoldered and looked away from John like a scolded dog. Mercy chuckled under her breath and shook her head at John.

"Hasn't used a patch in months my butt!…I agree that he hasn't actually smoked in quite a while, his teeth and fingers and smell show no indication however…" She teased as she looked towards her father, "He's wearing four patches right now on his left arm. Two on his biceps and two on his inner forearm." Mercy stated with a sly smile on her face.

"Shhh!" Sherlock hissed at his daughter annoyed, he scowled in her direction.

John frowned at Sherlock and waved his hand in a gesture as if to say, 'let's see it then.'

"Show me now Sherlock."

The detective groaned loudly then grudgingly unbuttoned the sleeve of his dress shirt and rolled it up the length of his arm to reveal the several nicotine patches. John looked disappointedly at his friend and shook his head. Sherlock fixed a cold stare at Mercy who was grinning stupidly. She nodded her head towards Sherlock while keeping her gaze on John.

"Want to know how I deduced that?" she chuckled as she mocked her father's abilities.

"Shut up! No need to rub it in."

"No, no…" John encouraged her, clearly enjoying his friend's prided abilities being used against him. "Please, enlighten us." He grinned.

Mercy smirked then lazily waved her hand gesturing towards her father and spoke in a bored tone.

"We both were witnesses to his irritability and twitchiness this morning as he was both suffering from overwhelming boredom and an itch to smoke. Once you went out for your walk this morning, I've been around him until about half an hour ago when he went back to his bedroom. Seeing him now, he's suddenly much more calm and docile than before. I also noticed that he changed his shirt since then, to a much looser shirt than what he usually wears with noticeably looser sleeves. I noticed just a second ago that he was scratching and pulling at his arm because the sticker part of the patches were pulling at his arm hair and sticking to the fabric of his sleeve. I guessed four patches because there's nothing normal about him when it comes to things like this, either four patches or none. Go big or go home."

John continued to grin proudly and began to clap enthusiastically.

"Bravo! Bravo!" he cheered then he nudged an elbow into Sherlock's side, "She is definitely your daughter."

Sherlock cringed for a moment then looked intensively at his daughter with an intrigued curiosity. Eventually, the evidence of a small, hint of a pleased smile graced his lips.

"I must say, I'm impressed." He said after a long awkward silence. Mercy looked up at him with joyful and hopeful eyes and beamed proudly.

"Learned the techniques from your website."

Now Sherlock's face lit up with excitement and he twirled around to John and pointed at Mercy.

"See? See John? People do read The Science of Deduction and find it valuable!" He stated to his friend feeling victorious over an unresolved debate about their websites that John honestly couldn't remember having, but he gave in and nodded while rolling his eyes.

"Ok, ok whatever," John began, then he changed the topic, "So what do you two say? Are you up for an afternoon in the local park?"

Mercy and Sherlock both suddenly remembered their possible new case.

"Actually, we did find something of interest for us to do for the next couple of days. We might have a case! My first case!" Mercy explained excitedly.

"Oh?" John asked surprised, his eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together. He looked at Sherlock as his friend took out his cell phone and showed a picture of one of the models with the braille message.

"Remember the Blind Banker case involving the Black Lotus using old Chinese script code in that particular yellow spray paint?" Sherlock began, making sure his friend was following.

"Yeah…" John said slowly, waiting for Sherlock to finish explaining.

"Well, Mercy and I were watching a fashion show on the telly when the yellow designs and makeup suddenly reminded me of the pairs of Chinese text. I shrugged it off at first, believing I was so bored that I was seeing things and also because it wasn't Chinese text, but Mercy pointed out that it was braille, the writing for the blind. Not many seeing people can read braille and I don't need to really point out why the blind can't so most would assume it was simply a design choice. We looked up the designer and, not to sound stereotypically racist, but the designer is Chinese and many of her fashion lines include these yellow braille markings. We have booked seats at an upcoming show to go and investigate, but its formal so… John, you need a suit."

John looked insulted for a moment and was taken aback.

"I have a suit! I have my military uniform!" John stated annoyed.

Mercy and Sherlock exchanged a glance and both had a doubtful look on their faces.

"John, that would be too formal. It's a fashion show, not a military graduation. You know what, if it makes you feel any better you can wear your badges to the show if you think it may increase your chances of models hitting on you. But you need a new suit and I'm going to take you shopping right now!" Mercy grinned mischievously and then grabbed his arm and began to playfully tug him towards the stairs. John stayed put and didn't allow himself to budge, he was still sorting through all the information.

"Might increase my chances with the models?" he grumbled under his breath slightly insulted.

Mercy sighed annoyed and still tugged at his sleeve,

"I meant if it made you feel more confident or something like that…come on!" She kept tugging when suddenly John shook his head and looked at Sherlock and began to laugh.

"Wait! Sherlock watched a fashion show with you Mercy?" he teased, looking at his friend and then to his nodding daughter. Sherlock sighed annoyed and shrugged,

"Yes John, that's how bored I was."

"I would have paid to see that! Ha!"

"You should have seen the other funny and pathetic display he did earlier today…" Mercy began when Sherlock interrupted her by pushing them both towards the stairs to leave.

"Shh! Ok, Bye now!"

John shrugged then let Mercy tug him down the stairs and out of the apartment.

AUTHOR NOTE TO READERS:

Hey Guys (And Girls)! Thanks so much for reading my first ever Fan-Fiction (Well… first posted online fan-fiction)

I've noticed that I've had at least 1,513 views to Sherlock's Mercy… BUT ONLY 1 REVIEW! ?

GUYS! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YA'll THINK!

I'm super, super proud of my story so far and what I have planned for its future and I want to see how you guys share in the excitement. And please, give me honest and constructive criticism… I misspell stuff and I have no one to edit so if I missed something, or something doesn't make sense… or especially if you are British and you could point out the appropriate terms of the UK. It seriously helps a lot!

Also, I'd like to apologize about not posting new chapters as often as I would have liked. I've been trying to finish my first year of college so I had to put writing aside for a while. And then after college (and unfortunately through college too! SUCKED SOOO MUCH!) I had all kinds of problems with my one year old HP (so done with HP! Didn't even buy this, it was a guift) laptop. Seriously… If there is a problem to be had with any laptop… its pretty much had them all.

I'm out of school now… Obviously… its MAY! And I'm now getting back to my job but I will still try to squeeze in time to keep writing.

YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE LATER CHAPTERS! RIDE OF YOUR READING LIFETIME, HOLD ON!

:P

Sincerely; YoungDreamerOfBigThings

Ps. It was my 19th birthday yesterday !