Rose decides what she can trust Sherlock with.
Hugs for everyone for all the support and reviews. Seriously guys, you keep me inspired to keep going! Much thanks as always to veritascara, my beta the grammar goddess who's slowly teaching me better grammar. Lots of hugs and thanks to Elensari for her help and support.
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Rose groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. "Some people really don't like it when you say no to them. One minute m'facin' him down, then next I wake up here." "Who, Ms. Tyler, who were you facing down?" Rose looked over to Sherlock after he asked the question. She measured him intently, debating whether it was wise to tell him or not. "We need to know, Rose, if we are going to help you," John stated. Turning her head, she studied John's earnest expression. Letting out a sigh, she realized she owed him an answer. Her decision made, she turned to lock her gaze with Sherlock. "A bloke that said his name was Jim Moriarty."
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Their reaction told her that the two men knew instantly who she was talking about. Sherlock remained utterly still, but she could see, and almost feel, something dark about him. John opened his mouth, as if to give an exclamation, but halted, shaking his head and turning to look at Sherlock. "This is bad."
"Yes, it would appear so," Sherlock replied, his gaze still firmly locked on Rose.
John wheeled towards Rose, "How long has this been going on? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Whoa," Rose held a hand up, the other clutching her backpack to her chest. "For one, I didn't realize anything was going on until today when he started herding me into his trap."
"Herding you into . . ." he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you let him?" John's return was tinged with anger and exasperation.
"How else was I supposed to find out what he wanted?" Rose gave a small shrug, nearly all the movement she could manage at the moment. She could feel her mind shaking off the effects of the sedatives, but she didn't quite want to try walking yet.
"And what did he want?" Rose turned in Sherlock's direction as he asked the question.
"Me," she said simply. "He wanted me to work for him, most likely to show him all my little tricks and toys. He seemed rather displeased that I turned him down." She wrinkled her nose, her voice thoughtful. "Seemed rather insistent on me accepting a red balloon. Bit of a nutter, that one."
"A red balloon," Sherlock mused thoughtfully. "Interesting choice."
"Well, the first possible reference was pretty obvious–red in connection with the Bad Wolf," Rose pointed out off-handedly.
"Like you said, rather obvious with the color. There is also the film The Red Balloon, in which there were people who, when they could not possess it, destroyed it." Sherlock's gaze flicked back and forth, fitting this bit of information into the rest of the puzzle. "It is a warning to either join with him or be destroyed."
"You two are rather calm about this." John looked between them, askance.
"Should I not be?" Rose said in a light tone as she hugged the backpack to her stomach.
Sherlock's head moved a minute amount, studying her. "You are nowhere near as calm as you appear. The knuckles of your hand gripping that backpack are white, indicating your grip is tight." His eyes narrowed. "You were reluctant to give us the name of the person after you. Either you already knew something significant about him, or you knew his name would be significant to us."
A shadow of a smile crossed her lips before her expression sobered. "Bit of the first. Wasn't sure of the second." Shifting, she braced one hand on the edge of the bed. "Look, can we move this discussion to someplace easier for me to sit? Not that this isn't a nice bed, but this might be a bit easier if I could sit where m'not afraid of falling over."
John moved to her side, instantly putting an arm out to support her. "Maybe we should let you rest until the effects have worn off. How are you feeling? Dizzy still? Any nausea?"
"A bit, yeah. Lightheaded and not much in favor of eating anything at the mo'." Rose gave John a half smile. "Not much in want of a kip–rather just sit somewhere more comfortable."
With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock huffed, "Yes, fine. Move her to the living room, John, so we can continue."
Her smile deepened, observing Sherlock's irritation, and she glanced back to John. "Not very good with people, is he?"
"Not so much, no." John gave her a smile. "Well, if you want to move, you have to promise me if you get worse, you will tell me immediately."
Rose let John help guide and support her from the bed over to the couch. Once settled, he insisted on checking her over again. That done, Rose found herself pinned under Sherlock's intense gaze again. "Who is Idris?"
Her eyes widened a fraction, giving him a sense of satisfaction. "Someone helped you, sent messages, and worked to make sure we went straight back to the flat. You have a device behind your ear which you informed me was so that Idris could yell at you."
Idly, she reached behind her ear and removed it. "Not s'posed to be wearing it too long. Must have shut off." Pursing her lips, Rose considered her options. She could either make up a story, which he might see through, or trust them with the truth. When she started to get up, John put a hand out. "Whoa, where are you going?"
"I need my jacket."
"Let me get it. I don't want you walking around too much until we are sure everything is out of your system." John got up and headed into Sherlock's bedroom, returning with her jacket and handing it to her.
With a small nod of thanks, Rose reached into a pocket and pulled out a phone. Her gaze flicked between Sherlock and the device as she typed out an inquiry. Whatever the response was, it seemed to make her frown. Rose sat back and studied Sherlock openly. He remained unperturbed and returned her gaze steadily.
This was a big decision–how much to trust him with. She didn't know Sherlock–not really. Oh, she could extrapolate his behavior based on some of the things the Doctor did, but she didn't know him. So what did she know about him? The consulting detective helped people, but it was more about the puzzle for him and to keep him from being bored. He was almost inhumanly brilliant and had almost no people skills. According to John, while the detective could deduce the signs of emotional states, he frequently didn't understand why someone would react badly. Those two things rather made him like the Doctor, at times. Unfortunately, that just added another reason to question her judgment of him. Was she reacting because of how much she trusted and loved the Doctor . . . or on his own merits?
She turned to look at John, and then she knew. John was a good man with a good heart. Rose had seen that for herself. And John trusted Sherlock. Oh, he might complain at times and not always trust Sherlock's experiments in the kitchen, but John trusted the man. He had faith in him, the same way that she'd had faith in her Doctor. When someone good has that kind of faith in you, it can make you a better person because you don't want to let them down. Sherlock was also protective of John; she could tell from his actions and his suspicions about her. She found it ironic in a way, that her reasoning behind deciding to trust the detective originated in part from his initial suspicion of her. So she decided and made a leap of faith.
Rose turned to look back at Sherlock. "If I introduce you to IDRIS, you need to promise me that you keep it confidential. No one can know, especially not your brother. He would want to get his hands on it, and I can't let him."
"You do have dealings with him, then." Sherlock responded, his intonation flat.
"Yes, but they are not to involve either one of you. I was rather clear with him that I wouldn't take kindly to anyone trying to use John to get to me. "
"Wait, you told him about me, but what did you say about Sherlock?" John questioned.
A wry smile twisted Rose's lips. "That he was Mycroft's brother; he'd have to deal with Sherlock himself, if he tried."
The consulting detective's lips started to curve upwards in an involuntary response to Rose's statement. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately frowned. The twinkle of amusement in Rose's eyes grew stronger at that reaction. Clearing his throat, he sat up a little. "You have my word."
"Mine as well," John chimed in.
Rose clutched the backpack to her and then pulled it away so she could unzip it. Sherlock watched in utter fascination, trying to catch how she was doing that. "IDRIS is a what gentlemen, not a who." Her hand dipped into the opening and pulled out a slim laptop.
John gave her a startled look. "I could have sworn . . . Never mind. Go on."
Tracing her hands around the rim, Rose continued. "Individualized Detection and Response Information System. John, Mr. Holmes, this is IDRIS." She opened the laptop and set it next to her, tipping the screen so it faced the trio. With a few taps, she engaged the vocal interface. "IDRIS, say hello to Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."
"Hello!" The cheerful male voice that sprang from the computer made John's eyes open wide.
"Are you telling me that your computer was responsible for your escape and contacting us?" John jabbed a finger in the laptop's direction.
"Didn't Rose tell you? I'm brilliant." IDRIS replied, its voice filled with smug glee.
"Artificial intelligence. I wasn't aware anyone was close to making this kind of breakthrough, nor that it could be contained in a computer that small." Sherlock's voice held a healthy amount of skepticism. "How do we know that this isn't just linked to someone in another location?"
"Oi! I am the most advanced piece of technology the earth is likely to have for several centuries," IDRIS retorted indignantly. "I have no need to resort to someone sitting in a remote link-up."
To everyone's surprise, Rose just laughed. "I have no reason to lie to you, Mr. Holmes. What would be the point?" She studied Sherlock closely, before shaking her head. "Oh, I get it; we are back to you being an arrogant prat who thinks this is about a trap for you." Her eyes flashed. "Now I don't know what the hell happened to you to make you so suspicious of me. I haven't done anything to you."
"Haven't you? You've presented me with a puzzle, a mystery. Rarely do you offer any information; instead, you dribble it out by dribs and drabs. You oh-so-conveniently show up in my flat claiming that Moriarty is after you." Sherlock's voice mirrored the way he held his body–stiff, without any hint of flexibility.
"Sherlock you can't honestly think that–" John protested, but Rose interrupted him by reaching over to put a hand on his arm.
"It's obvious, Mr. Holmes, that you are having difficulty looking past your own overblown ego here. You are not nearly as intelligent as I thought you were. Since you are clearly uninterested in helping me, I will find my own refuge. I do not need your help, Mr. Holmes. I can help myself just fine," Rose informed him, her voice hard and her face expressionless.
"Eeer, Rose?" IDRIS interrupted apologetically. "You can't go back to the hotel, and I can explain how you ended up here."
Turning towards the laptop, Rose snapped, "Yes, please do explain what happened. As for the hotel, I can find someplace else."
"Moriarty used tranquilizer darts to inject the sedative in you. There were four darts, two in each leg, when I activated the emergency teleport to take us back to the hotel. Based on the number of darts and your reaction, he played a bit fast and loose with the sedatives. It must have been a mixture of a fast-acting one with one that would keep you out for a couple of hours. Additionally, the darts were equipped with a homing device."
John's eye widened. "So he anticipated you would disappear and prepared for it. By using the fast-acting sedative, he tried to knock you out before you could remove the homing beacon and change locations again. Mixing in the long-term sedative gave him time to locate and retrieve you if you went further away. You're lucky not to have had a bad reaction. He must have been confident he could mix the two, or he didn't care if it killed you." John put a hand over Rose's, his expression reflecting the concern in his voice.
"Exactly my conclusions, Dr. Watson," the AI replied.
"But that doesn't explain how I got here." Rose shot an annoyed glance at the laptop.
"Weeeeeeell, my programming has emergency protocols that activate if you are rendered incapable of acting on your own behalf. That includes access to your teleport to remove you from dangerous situations. You stayed awake just long enough so I could get you to remove the darts. I didn't have much time, just a few minutes really, to find a secondary location. Any public location or assistance was ruled out as I didn't have the time to make sure they weren't somehow compromised. Taking you to Mycroft Holmes was also ruled out; that would weaken your negotiation stance. I could have sent you someplace abandoned, but I don't have the ability to help you, Rose, if you had a bad reaction to the drugs. Dr. John Watson is your friend and has medical training, so I took the risk and brought you here."
Silence fell when the AI finished its explanation, broken a moment later by John: "I, for one, am glad you did. Thank you."
"Mr. Holmes," IDRIS started, "I can explain some of what might be engaging your suspicions about me. My programming was designed specifically to interact with Rose Tyler. To that end, I have the ability to develop personality profiles for my interactions with her. In this case, my default setting is that of my creator's, the late Doctor John Smith. His knowledge and intelligence superseded anyone else's on the planet. You will not find anything, or anyone, even close to managing what he could, which is one of the reasons why you couldn't open the backpack earlier." The AI explained, its voice at the conclusion of this statement a bit sly.
"Sherlock, you didn't," John exclaimed.
"I was attempting to gather information about how Ms. Tyler arrived in our apartment and any potential danger." Sherlock replied, his tone haughty and unapologetic. There was, however, just the faintest hint of a blush tinting his cheekbones at being caught.
"It's alright, John. I might have done the same thing in his place." Rose smiled at her friend before turning back to Sherlock. "My Doctor," a small, fond smile graced her face, "He would have had no problem doin' that. M'not going to take offense to that. Especially as m'not being very forthcoming. Makes sense to try an' figure it out. You don't dangle a mystery in front of someone like Sherlock Holmes and not expect him to investigate. An' that is exactly what I have been doing–daring him."
Eyebrows lowered, Sherlock stared at Rose. Only John seemed to understand him, and then not always. Mycroft didn't count. How was it possible that this strange woman did? It made part of him crawl with suspicion and something else. He ruthlessly shoved both away. Emotions should have no bearing on the facts that had been presented to him. Rose evenly held his gaze but stayed silent, giving him time to reach his own decision.
Sherlock's focus shifted over to the door, and he called out, "Mrs. Hudson!"
"It will be better if Ms. Tyler remains here. Mycroft already has my building under surveillance. We'll, of course, wait until your negotiations with him are completed before letting him be aware of the fact you are here. I'm afraid that means it may be best if you stay indoors until then," Sherlock explained to Rose and John.
The two of them gave him a puzzled look, but John's expression cleared just before Mrs. Hudson came through the door.
"Sherlock, you don't need to yell. You could always come down and knock on my door." She spotted Rose and smiled, "Oh, hello dear. You must be a new client, then."
"Actually," John started, "I think she's your new tenant."
"Precisely. The basement flat is still unoccupied, correct?" Sherlock queried, the barest hint of a smile audible in his voice.
"Oh, you know it is, but she hasn't even seen it, Sherlock. How do you know she'd want to take it?" Mrs. Hudson gave him an exasperated look.
Rose's lips quirked into a smile, "I trust their judgment. Besides, if you put up with this one," Rose waved a hand in Sherlock's direction, "you must have a great deal of patience." John tried not to laugh at Sherlock's slightly flustered scowl. "A good landlady is worth quite a bit."
"Oh, the stories I could tell you! He gets bored, and he shoots the wall. I don't know how many times I've told him to stop. And don't get me started on what he gets up to in the kitchen." Mrs. Hudson seemed almost gleeful to have someone to share stories with.
"Yes, yes, now why don't you go make sure the flat is ready and whatever else you need is set up." Impatient, Sherlock got out of his chair to herd Mrs. Hudson towards the door.
She swatted at him, intentionally missing. "I have to have a name, dear."
Rose's eyes danced with amusement as she answered the question. "M'name is Rose Tyler."
"Wonderful to meet you, dear. Any friend of John and Sherlock's is welcome here." She paused to ask thoughtfully, "Are you going to be sharing it with anyone, dear?"
"No," Rose answered politely, but her expression shifted to flat at the question.
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, dear. Well, if you do add someone as a resident, just let me know, so I can add his name. Or hers. Doesn't make a difference to me, obviously." Mrs. Hudson gestured towards John and Sherlock.
"How many times do I have to tell you, we're not a–" John sighed. "Oh, never mind."
Rose's lips twitched, and the sparkle of amusement relit in her eyes. "Thank you for that. Just let me know when you have the paperwork ready, yeah?"
"Of course, my dear. You will need furniture. It doesn't come furnished," she warned.
"No problem. I can arrange for some things to be delivered. That alright?" Rose inquired.
Sherlock made a slightly exasperated sound and started herding Mrs. Hudson towards the door again. "Yes, yes, we'll make sure Ms. Tyler is all set. Now off you go." He virtually shoved her out the door and then shut it firmly.
"If we are worried about Moriarty finding Rose, should Mrs. Hudson have that name?" John questioned.
"Yes, well, other than her proclivity to misinterpret one's preferences, and tendency to otherwise be domestic, Mrs. Hudson is protective of her tenant's privacy. This will be especially true since I plan on asking her to be discreet." Sherlock brushed a hand down his clothes, moving to sit back down in his chair.
"How are you going to explain that one to her?" John countered, skeptical.
"By giving her just enough of the truth–that Rose lost her family and husband. It was tragic, and she doesn't want anyone to trace her here and bother her about it. It will appeal to her tendency to mother everyone and make her protective of Ms. Tyler."
Rose swallowed and then nodded in understanding. "You are giving her a reason not to dig deeper, while still being honest. Works."
"We still need to furnish the flat." John pointed out.
"That I can assist with," IDRIS cheerfully offered. John must have forgotten about the AI, because he gave it a startled look. "I can arrange for it to have been ordered some time ago to help hide any suspicion. I'll just need Rose to approve the selection."
"Ta," Rose reached for the laptop to look over what the AI had picked out.
Sherlock cleared his throat. "I still have some questions about your encounter with Moriarty."
"I have an auditory recording of the incident, if that would be helpful," the AI offered.
"Yeah. Go ahead and play it. That way we can make sure I don't miss any details." Rose shrugged. Her eyes flicked up to meet Sherlock's and then flashed over to John.
The two men listened to the recording without comment. Sherlock remained perfectly still the entire time. John, however, made several aborted motions that indicated he was biting back comments. When it was finally over, he looked at Rose and shook his head. "That was either one of the bravest things I've ever heard or the stupidest. I can't decide which."
"What that was, John, was smart. Moriarty is an incredibly intelligent psychopath. If she bores him, he'll just kill her. What she did was keep herself interesting. Even angry, as long as she remains interesting, he won't kill her–at least not right away," Sherlock explained smoothly. The barest hint of admiration colored his tone, though he'd probably deny it. "Now shut up. I need to think."
John shot Sherlock a bemused look as the consulting detective began staring off into the distance. Experience told him that the other man would stay like that for a while. He might as well make sure that Rose was alright after everything she'd endured. And a cup of tea wouldn't hurt. More could be done later, after he and Sherlock made sure Rose was safe.