Hello, sorry it took me so long! I know this is a short chapter but I promise I will try to make the next one a long one. Thank you for staying with the story.
Since breakfast was a silent affair, John was able to muse alongside Sherlock. Who knew what Sherlock was deducing about the girl who was currently munching on a corner of a nice looking scone. Sherlock had settled with silently ingesting his breakfast while solely concentrating on burning a hole on the girl's forehead. He was definitely not over the little surprise from earlier in the morning.
John thought it to be quite endearing. It was clear that the girl had found solace in the detective, however, from what he had observed; well, he had guessed mostly, but he had made those guesses based on his own observations and the very few deductions Sherlock had decided to share with him; the girl did not strike him as someone who would normally and so easily show such blatant displays of affection. True, she had clung to Sherlock every time she had been in distress, yet, John had thought; and if he was been honest with himself, hoped so too; that it was no more than that, a safety-blanket of sorts. A tall and bony safety-blanket.
Nonetheless, as unnerving and hilarious as the small lets-cuddle-with-Sherlock-times had been, there was a more pressing matter buzzing constantly around John's head, prodding him until he could not ignore it anymore no matter how hard he tried. How did the girl managed to say stop? Did she actually speak but had refused to do it before because of whatever happened to her? Did she understand English? Was Sherlock wrong then? He had said that the girl didn't know how to speak and yet she had done it, so Sherlock had to be wrong, and well, that was something. Would she speak again?
"Are you going to simply sit there and make faces at the girl or are you going to ask?" Apparently Sherlock had noticed John's silent dilemma and could not take any more of it.
"Oh sorry. It's just…You…I still don't understand. She said stop earlier, but how?" John wasn't sure where to start so he supposed that was as good a start as any.
"Finally John! You are asking the right questions, not where would she sleep or what is she going to eat? It doesn't matter! But how?! Oh, that's a good start!" As Sherlock spoke he stood up abruptly form his chair and continued to gesticulate madly indicating that John's attempting at explaining the fog inside his head had been understood by the detective. "I told you before she didn't know how to speak, and I was right. She didn't. But she does now. How? She observed. Stop. She caught on to that one word. She heard and saw me say it, so she mimicked it. Did you see how she struggled at the beginning? Well, it clearly wasn't because she is shy, it was because she did not know how to form the word. She had never attempted to say anything before but she has now. She discovered she can communicate and so she will do it again, all we have to do is wait for her to find another word. It could be anything. Oh, this is finally becoming a bit fun!"
"So this is your great idea Sherlock?"
John could not help feel as disillusioned as he did right now. A few minutes before, Sherlock had announced that he had a magnificent way through which they would be able to teach the poor girl sitting on the sofa in front of John a couple of new words. They way this new and mysterious activity had been announced had John believing that it would be, at least to some miniscule degree, fun. The tone was almost identical to the jollity in Sherlock's voice once a new case came up and released him from his incessant boredom.
He was wrong.
This was in no way or manner fun at all.
The plan was to hold a series of books and read words at loud to the girl. According to her body language Sherlock would judge the level of interest she had in each particular word. He would then repeat the words until the girl learned them.
When Sherlock pronounced the order of business John could not believe it and had to corroborate for himself, but when Sherlock handed him the first book he barely held back a groan as he pictured the next couple of hours of his life reciting every word found in; the book was a, a, a dictionary!