This is my first Sherlock Fanfic, any feed back would be appreciated. When I don't get reviews I begin to wonder if anyone's reading. It doesn't have to be anything special, even a :) will do. Disclaimer: Any who, I don't own Sherlock (only in my dreams, lol) that is the intellectual property of BBC. Please enjoy. And sry for any spelling just let me now if u see any.

aandm20: I'm glad I'm not the only person who get frustrated with that aspect of fanfiction. Here's some more awkward moments :D

Bored411: Don't worry she doesn't take it personally as she hasn't fully opened up to Sherlock since she has to remain guarded around him due to his observant eye. Now if John were to snap at her it might hurt her feelings as she naturally finds his presence calming and reassuring, reminding her of Monroe in that aspect. And as for her figuring out Sherlocks might have "feelings" for her and that's why he snapped, well she's pretty clueless. Even after really big in your face observations. She want actually know of his intentions or feelings until they're literally in her face (i.e his lips crashing onto hers, and yes that is foreshadowing...eventually TT_TT).

Chaosrachel: Those handcuffs will one day come back into the picture. And as to how...well i'll let you use your imagination for now :D

88dragon06: The curator part just seemed right, after all how is it that they were allowed to stay in the museum after hours? Certainly not with Andy's help considering his superiors didn't care that Soo Lin was missing, which is why Ollie made sense. After all she done lots of jobs eventually they're going to intersect in some way with Sherlocks career. I so happy you liked all the other stuff as well. And as for you suggestion I have already figured out where that'll work into the story, but sorry not in this chapter. But soon! I just have to finish the damned blind banker! It's taking so long TT_TT but that's what I get for having her go on side quests.

NerySierra XP: You're update milady *bows*. Sorry no kissing yet TT_TT but something equivalent will happen as soon as the blind banker is over.

Sorry for any grammar mistakes as I rushed it a bit ( I had to finish it or i'd never get started on my creative writing homework) anywho hope you still enjoy it. Also hope you like the new cover. That's what I imagine Ollie to look like in my head. :D

FYI there is a poll on my profile page for this fanfic on wether Sherlock should find out Ollies secret before or during the great game.

"Fake. Authentic. Wrong dynasty. Authentic. Authentic. Replica. Ah ha!"

Ollie sprung up holding a faberge egg against the light as she stepped away from a wooden crate, examining it with fondness. She hummed a tune quietly to herself as she was in a particular good mood. After all, she'd gotten twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep and not once had Sherlock bothered to break into her place. For what ever reason he was upset with her for, she didn't care, it worked out in the end. Her peace of mind had never been better. She smiled down at the rose cut diamonds adorning the rim of the egg, admiring the opaque white enamel coating the gold, "We meet again."

"Excuse me, but that is a priceless piece from the Vekselberg collection on loan from Moscow. Do you have any idea how valuable that piece is! It's the first ever faberge egg created. The hen's egg, commissioned by Tsar Alexander the third for-"

"His wife Tsarina as a gift for easter. Yes, I know the story. And as for how much it's worth well that depends entirely upon the buyer. But if I had to make an educated guess I'd say on the current US market you could get about four million dollars. On the European market about two and a half million pounds. Now this here," Ollie revealed grabbing a different egg with her left hand, "is a well made fake. Though the gold lacquer is real, the material it's painted on is totally worthless. Watch."

Ollie curled her fingers around the egg with hardly any added pressure causing the specimen to crumble in her hand. The ridged brunette looked on appalled rushing over to the broken bits on the floor freaking out, "Oh my god what did you do! You've destroyed a priceless work of Russian history! Do you even know what they'll do when-," she was cut off with a light slap across the face. The consultant rolled her eyes as she placed the first egg back in it's comfy container, "Sorry but you were getting hysterical. Now use that PhD for something other than a paper weight. Taste the material. The white part mind you. Go on."

The woman stared at her stunned and furious, ready to rip into her but something in the way the consultant held herself halted that action. The blonde before her was poised with a deadly kind of elegance that demanded obedience, her yellow eyes cutting into her very soul. For some odd reason she found herself doing as she was told. Tentatively she touched her tongue to a broken chunk and immediately retracted it, staring at the shard in confusion and disbelief, "It tastes like candy!"

"Of course. It's the signature of a thief known as the Candyman. I know awful name, but I didn't pick it. Mostly likely he snagged it during the transportation of the collection. Probably hid himself as an employee, I'd check the subsidy you hire to transport your antiquities. If you're quick enough you just might catch him before he fences it on the black market," Ollie informed as she poked an Egyptian statue nearby, scrutinizing it. The woman bristled at her candor. She turned to the curator upset, who until then had been just a spectator, "Who exactly is this woman you've brought me?! I don't mean to challenge your judgement but she's not exactly what I expected when you said you'd bring down an expert to look over the collection."

Creegan smiled politely, amusement dancing behind his soft grey eyes, "I assure you doctor Lerner she's more than qualified. She's helped folly many a theft, recover quite a few historical pieces, and revealed an astonishing amount of fakes in her time as a private consultant. And though I admit her methods are unusual I'd trust this woman with the crown jewels if we had them at our facility, so I think we can trust her with authenticating our newest collection. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I need you to go and alert the proper authorities of the theft while I have to make an uncomfortable call to Moscow."

"Fine, but I'll hold you personally responsible for any damages she causes," Miss Lerner huffed as she pointed at the other woman. She gave her one more scathing look before turning in a huff, strutting away from the loading bay. As she disappeared into a corridor Ollie pouted, regarding Creegan with confusion, "Why is she upset? I thought she'd be happy to find out it's a fake before it was put on display to the general public and have to suffer the embarrassment."

The man shook his head chuckling, "I see your colloquial tact hasn't improved since I last clapped eyes on you. Good to know somethings are the same. Though I am a bit surprised that Monroe wasn't accompanying you on this particular endeavor. Usually your attached to the hip. Did you two end up having a row?"

Ollie grew ridged as her face fell. She shifted uncomfortably looking away, "...yeah...something like that."

Creegan tutted patting her shoulder reassuringly, "I'm sure you two will make up in no time. I don't think he's the kind of man to stay mad forever."

Eyes starting to water she quickly blinked it away, recomposing herself with a strained lopsided grin. She couldn't, wouldn't, correct him—inform him of the events that had transpired seven months prior. She couldn't face the pity that would come with the it. Or the questioning and sad looks that would follow. So, she stuffed down the feelings welling up. "You're probably right. Now if you could hand over that all access pass please," Ollie requested wiggling her open hand at him. Creegan rummaged through his tweed jacket pulling out an ID badge, smiling as he handed it over, "Here you are. Now I expect everything to be in tip top shape when I return in the morning. And please leave your findings with Dr. Lerner before you leave."

"Wait, you were actually serious when said I was here to authenticate the collection. I thought that was just a cover story to explain my presence here at night."

The curator chuckled to himself as he waddled off, "It would be inadvisable of me not to take advantage of your skills while I have you here."

Ollie scoffed half heartedly calling after him, "Calculated opportunist!"

"Curious eccentric," he yelled back laughingly. She restrained herself from doing the same and re-covered the crate. After all, she could examine the box later. Right now she'd make her way back to the Chinese floor and work her way from there in search of Andy. Maybe then she could get her answer and move on with life. Since her mind kept returning to one particular item, the teapots. Ollie wondered how many Soo Lin had worked on before she had disappeared. And if it was a smaller number than the one shining in the case, then who'd been taking care of the teapots? The reason she had to ask was because of what Andy had told them about Soo Lin This morning they'd told me she'd resigned. Just like that. Just left her work unfinished. And yet she still put the other tea set away. Even after she must have spotted the threat on the statue. Either she was a very calm and collected woman or those tea pots were her life's work, in which case she wouldn't just leave them. Threats be damned.

So Ollie—after checking her phone for any missed messages—wandered around the facility till she once again found herself in the Egyptian room. As she glided over to the Chinese antiquities she spotted her target. When she approached him however she noticed she wasn't the only one ready to ask questions. John and Sherlock had beat her to it. Beautiful.

The army Doctor looked up noticing her approach, "Oh, Ollie what are you doing here?"

"Had a few follow up questions for Andy. Though I didn't think I'd see you two here," She shrugged casting a glance to the teapots. The source of her obsession. Her eyes slightly widened as she noticed that there were now two shining in the case. A smug smirk made it's way onto her features, apparently her staying at the museum just might not prove to be a wasted effort.

Sherlock scowled at her presence but she ignored it. After all, Ollie wasn't there for him, she was there for Soo Lin—to stop her from becoming just another set of crime scene photo's in a file. The consulting detective begrudgingly, but curiously, followed her line of view—noticing the glass case. John waited for Sherlock to make a comment about her presence but only heard his silence. Something odd for the man who had something to say about everything. He noticed the far away stare, "What are you looking at?"

"Tell me more about those teapots," Sherlock pointed as he strode over to them. Andy shifted scratching the back of his head, he walked up to the case, watching the pieces with sad nostalgia—most likely lost in a memory of the woman he cared for working dedicatedly on them. He sighed, "Those pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out then the clay can start to crumble. Apparently you just have to keep making tea in them."

"Yesterday only one of those pots were shining," Sherlock informed leaning down eye level to the objects, "Now there are two."

The other men appeared confused by the information, not understanding the implications. John glossed over the fact, "So. Just means someone been taking care of them. I don't see what this has to do with the Soo Li-"

"Andy has anyone been assigned to take care of them since she resigned," Sherlock interrupted questioning the young man. He shook his head, "No. You have to have a certain degree to work on them, which I don't have. They're still searching for qualifying candidates."

Sherlock sent a smug look to John, "Then who's been taking care of them if not Soo Lin herself?"

"Wait! You think she's still here?"

"Of course. Have you not been paying attention," he returned his scrutiny back to the submissive man, "We'll need to stay after hours if we're to find her."

Andy shook his head meekly, twisting his hands together, "I'm sorry but I don't exactly have that authority. And my superiors aren't really that understanding."

Sherlock growled softly in agitation as very few people denied him. Standing back to full height he began pacing, calculating another way to gain the access he needed. When something started to agitate his thoughts till he could no longer ignore it. Suddenly he turned on Ollie marching up to her, "Why exactly are you here?! I told you I'm more than capable by myself, and thus I no longer require your assistance. So why are you here at the exact time I'm investigating?! You're presence is distracting, you'll have to leave."

Ollie managed to keep calm not rising to his baiting as he bore down into her, nonchalantly shrugging at his accusing tone, "Collecting empirical data."

Agitation and something unknown flash beneath his sharp eyes. Gracefully he bent down, lips close to her ear. "I don't need you," he whispered harshly before he pulled away. Slowly she leaned up. Taking her time as she did. Then, as she exhaled next to his ear, she whispered confidently, "Good. Because I'm not here for you."

A shiver worked down his spine as she pulled out of reach. Ollie cocked an eyebrow in challenge to which he just swallowed, his adams apple bobbing up and down. Suddenly John's voice cut through the tension, "Right...so um anyways. Ollie, why do you have an employee badge?"

Sherlock mentally shook himself out of his self created haze and inspected the ID badge clipped onto the lapel of her blue pea coat. Olivia Knight. Visiting consultant. Level Three Access. He squinted at the card, upset with himself for not noticing it sooner, then turned his attention onto the smug lilt of her pale lips. "Yeah, see funny thing. I happen to know the curator of this museum. Helped him out a while back with an art theft. So when I asked if I could stay here over night he was pretty happy to accommodate my needs," She spoke sashaying backwards from the men, pluck and satisfaction oozed from her ever pore.

It was at that precise moment Sherlock really took inventory of her, realizing the woman he had been interacting with till then was just a pale copy. Whatever trauma she had endured before had taken more than just a close friend. No, what ever it was had left her hollowed—functioning only at half capacity. And he wondered if she was even aware that. But the one standing before him now? She was a woman who might be capable of besting him. And that fact for some reason sent his mind and pulse racing with anticipation, excited for the possibilities that it would produce, and longing for the stimulus of the challenge. He only hoped she wouldn't revert to her previous incarnation.

But, as he noted her poise, the unruffled swagger, and that mischievous quirk of the mouth Sherlock couldn't help but feel offended that she had masked this self from him. He found it incredibly and insulting rude that she held back. It's why he couldn't stand it when she played dumb. But he could wait to voice his complaint later, as of that moment she had something he needed. Unfortunately he'd have to figure out a way to gain her cooperation after he'd just callously brushed her off. Of course had he not been so preoccupied by her presence and noticed the badge then he wouldn't be in that current predicament.

Johns flexed his jaw uncomfortably at the silence, mentally berating Sherlock for his lack of social grace and his own need to apologize on behalf of the consulting detective welled up. With a sigh he braced himself for damage control, "I'm sorry Ollie. You'll have to forgive him, it's just that the case has gotten to him-"

"The case hasn't 'gotten' to me."

"Dammit Sherlock! Would you just keep quiet for five seconds I'm trying to fix the situation."

"I'm not a child John. I'm quite capable of doing things for myself. Besides I don't believe she would be so petty as to not allow us access to save another woman's life."

"You obviously don't know women. And in any case you've definitely gone and hurt her feelings and since you're about to ask for a favor the correct thing to do would be apologize and as you not capable of completing such a feat I have-," John abruptly cut off as Ollie stifled a snort. Both men turned to look at her as she waved them off, "Sorry, it's just that in order for him to hurt my feelings I'd have to care about his opinions."

Annoyance briefly flashed across Sherlocks features as John cringed. Immediately realizing they would get that it wasn't meant as a personal jibe she felt the need to speak up and explain, even if it was rather poorly, "Oh don't feel bad. I stopped caring about others opinions long ago. Life's much more bearable that way."

Though admittedly there were a few words that still got to her but she'd never outwardly show it. She frowned as she caught John gazing at her with pity. Ollie cocked her head to the side trying to figure out why he was giving such a look. "Then will you gain us access to the facility," Sherlock inquired emotionlessly. She moved her attention over to him and shrugged, "Well I will...if you give me back what you stole."

She smirked as the consulting detectives eyes widened when he registered the trap he'd walked into. Just a little thing she'd cooked up when he had noticed the second pot. The right leverage can get you almost anything now a days. Weighing his options for a few seconds he begrudgingly conceded, "I left it in the safekeeping of Mrs. Hudson. Ask and she'll hand it over. Now procure my access."

She scowled. How come she hadn't thought to check there?! Damn him. Pulling out her phone she hit redial, tapping her foot impatiently waiting for the line to pick up. "Hey, it's me again. I just need two more passes," she informed.

"Oh good you two made up."

Ollie cast a wary look at the others, checking for eavesdropping. And wouldn't you know it Sherlock was doing just that. Careful picking her next words she returned to the conversation on the phone, "No, sorry. They're for my temporary assistants."

The line paused, "Well, alright but I'm holding you responsible for their actions. I'll leave the IDs at the front desk, just send me their pictures."

"Sure. Thanks again Creegan," she smiled hanging up. Shoving the phone back into her jacket she turned to John, "Hey can I borrow your cell?"

"Uh, sure," he hesitated as he pulled it from his coat, handing it over. Flipping it open she quickly snapped a picture of his face, "Say cheese!"

"What are you-."

Cutting him off she turned to Sherlock, "And for you, there. Aaand Send. Here you go John. Thanks."

Ollie threw the phone back to him which he stumbled to catch. He opened it, checking his recent pictures. He grimaced, "Really? I'm blinking in this."

The museum lay silent as statues stood vigil, frozen voyeurs to the bleeding night. A lone light, the only beacon in the darkness, strewn naked shadows across all in it's path. The rustling of paper straw was the only reminder of the human life within. Ollie was perched upon the edge of a large wooden crate peering into it, scratching her observations onto the clipboard held on her arm. John sighed for the fifty-ninth time that hour, causing her to pause in her findings, restraining herself from snapping at the man. He sighed once more and she had to stop herself from physically breaking the pen between her fingers—his sighs pounded onto her mind like Chinese water torture. At first it wasn't noticed but soon it had become painful upon the ear.

Sensing he was about to let out another one she immediately slapped her hand over his mouth halting the action. He stared wide eyed from his spot leaning against the shelving behind her. "I'm sorry John, but your bored sighs were getting to me. It was either this or knock you out by smashing this priceless antique over your skull."

Retracting her hand she returned to cataloguing the collection, jotting down authenticity. "Sorry. I hadn't even realized I was doing it. It's just, I don't particularly enjoy waiting around for Sherlock to call," he apologized. Ollie absently nodded her head in agreement as she moved onto the next piece. Oh, she understood perfectly about waiting for a call—instinctively she glanced at the cell given to her by the professor—yeah waiting definitely wasn't her favorite thing either. Especially as of late. For some reason she felt revitalized, newly invigorated by some unknown force—almost as bright and shinning as she once had been. Yet, there was still a shadow, a black inky stain upon her soul. Just as there was now a shadow cascading over her physical being.

Looking up she caught John leaning over her, watching her progress, his face only inches from her own. A slight flush made it's way onto his cheeks as he swallowed uncomfortably. He repositioned himself beside her clearing his throat, ridding himself of what ever feeling their proximity had provoked. "So," he started, "what exactly are you doing?"

She briefly looked up before returning to the clip board, "I'm authenticating the collection before it's viewed by the public. As of right now everything's pretty much as it should be. Well, except for a couple pieces from the wrong dynasty—this is supposed to be the imperial collection, not grama's brickabrack set. Though I did uncovered a fake earlier, the bits from that are all over the floor right there. It's made of candy so if you get hungry feel free to have a lick. Just don't digest the gold part as that's real and'll kill you. Also there is a replica which I suspect is due to untrusting officials-."

Ollie abruptly ceased her nattering realizing most of what she was saying probably held no meaning for the man. That and he was regarding her with an unnerving stillness. She rubbed the nape of her neck, "Um, John, you're staring…"

He shook his head, "What!? Oh, sorry. It's just its amusing to watch you talk so amicably about something."

She rolled her eyes, "Well I'm glad you find my conversation topics amusing. Though I suppose it's better than you finding them dreadfully boring."

"No, no, thats not what I meant. It not a bad thing. It's actually a very cute and endearing quality," he sputtered out trying to explain, assuming she'd taken offense. Ollie pouted, her bottom lip jutting out slightly, "Cute and endearing. Why would you say that?"

"Because you are," he reiterated. But all he got in return was a confused bewildered look out of her. He sighed exasperatedly, "Oh come on, you have to know what you do to a bloke."

"What do I do?"

His mouth fished open as he momentarily lost his voice, "Uh...wha-well you have to have noticed what you've been doing to Sherlock. Though I'm not entirely sure if he's aware of it."

She smiled mischievously, "Yeah, I know I'm annoying him. And he is most definitely aware of it. Did you see his face when I called him an assistant, ha! Priceless."

What? John watched as she chuckled at Sherlock's earlier frustration not understanding how she didn't get what he'd been implying. Were his sentences being lost in translation or something? He was being pretty clear. Staring at the grown woman before him in disbelief he accidentally said what was on his mind, "Are you really that clueless?"

Ollie stiffened. Frowning she stared at the floor, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she shifting in her spot uncomfortably, "Umm...John since we're on the topic of cluelessness there's something I'd like to ask you. And keep in mind that you don't have to agree."

"What that you like me," he joked sitting down next to her. She perked up, "Actually, yes, but that's beside the point."

What was an innocent answer with no romantic context to her had different meaning entirely to him. He instantly jumped up away from her as if she burned. "Oh. Oh! You're-oh Ollie I'm flatter. Really I am. I mean I'd love to, trust me your quite the lovely woman, but I couldn't do that to Sherlock. I have a feeling your the first person he's ever found himself interested in. And I don't think he could handle...us. I mean-what I'm trying to say…," John flustered looking to find the appropriate words. Yet none came to him. Luckily Ollie picked up the conversation where he left off.

"What are you...? I'm not sure what you're getting at but I've come to realize from a young age that there are certain social interactions and etiquette that I don't understand. Which brings me to my question. You see...I had this...friend, who used to tell me when I would say something that others would find offensive. Or he'd explain something for me that a normal person would automatically understand so I'd have it for social reference. You see I had an….odd childhood which I'm told is the reason for lack of connection with other and-anyways what I'm asking is if you'd do the same for me?"

He was silent for a moment. Taking in what she was asking. He quirked an eyebrow in question, "You don't seem socially inept? You come across as a little weird but other than that you appear normal interacting with others."

"Oh, I've become very adapt at hiding it. But don't let that fool you, I'm definitely totally clueless when it comes to navigating the social norms. Once I had asked a victims family why it mattered wether their loved one had suffered or not since the guy was dead. It wasn't meant as cruel, I generally wanted to know since I didn't understand. As you can imagine that did not go over well," Ollie grimaced as she rubbed her left cheek, remembering the slap the mother had dished out. John smiled sympathetically at her, guessing that this was why she was so closed off at times. He imagined other kids probably wouldn't have been very understanding of her comments when she was younger.

As the quiet slowly ticked by Ollie wondered if admitting her fault had been a terrible idea. She started regretting opening her mouth, figuring she must have over stepped her bounds with the army doctor. She was aware that it was selfish of her to ask someone fill in for Monroe, that it was wrong to both men, but she needed something familiar. She wouldn't have asked if she thought he'd say no, but his silence was causing her slight doubt in her profile. Maybe she had missed a variable, or a habit, or something that didn't lead to her original conclusion of John being the kind of person that liked helping others. Maybe-, "Sure."

Pulling away from self doubt she popped her head back up, blinking in confusion, "Really?"

"What did you think, I'd say no?"

"Welllll…," she'd faded off looking into the darkness, twisting her hands in front of her persons. It had always been a possibility. John opened his mouth to say something when his phone went off. Flipping it open he read the text. He replaced his awareness back to his odd profiler, "How about we finish this another time. Right now Sherlock wants to meet us in the restoration room. Do you know where that is?"

Ollie suddenly shifted back to her normal charm, that little quirk of her lips returning as well. She tapped a finger to her skull, "Always."

Thoughts, comments, concerns?

P.S. sorry if the last part between Ollie and John seemed corny or out of character (though i hoped he at least retain half his character during their heart to heart...well as heart to heart as Ollies willing to get)

P.P.S. THe first Hen is an actually antiquity (I did a little research just for this :D)