"I just need to go to J's office hours," John grumbled, breaking Sherlock out of his reverie. He was feeling impatient. The letter he had responded with, filled with every deduction he could make based on the two notes he had received, had disappeared a week ago. Ever since then, he'd been unable to sleep or eat or do anything at all, really. John had given up speaking to him a few days back. But the frustration in John's voice had been enough to make Sherlock's head go up and look to his roommate. He was laying on his stomach on his bed, staring angrily at a textbook with his fingers tugging his hair in irritation.

"J?" Sherlock asked.

John looked up, obviously extremely annoyed. "Oh, are you speaking now?" he snapped. Obviously just as cranky as Sherlock was feeling.

And Sherlock knew it was his fault, which made him feel a little bad. A little. "I've been thinking. I apologise for being rude. Now who is 'J'?"

John looked at Sherlock a moment, and then sighed, as if unable to stay angry, before looking at the book again and throwing his pencil down on his notebook in irritation. "My calculus professor," John said absently. "I don't understand this homework."

"J as in a name, or just the letter?"

"The letter."

"What professor goes by just a letter? What's the point?"

John looked up again, still too frustrated to deal with Sherlock's personality, apparently. "To be relatable, Sherlock, something you wouldn't understand."

Sherlock, not insulted by the comment like John intended, just replied, "I don't need to relate to other people."

"Of course. You don't need people," John said in a mocking voice, pissed off again.

"No," Sherlock agreed, "I just need one."

This made John look up to Sherlock and smile in the way that made the genius' heart swell. How he could turn John from frustrated to happy with just a sentence.

Sherlock, in the sentimental moment, stood and sat on the edge of the bed. John turned on his side, leaning his head against his hand. "I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to get out of that trance," John mentioned.

"I apologise," Sherlock said again, hating the feel of the words on his lips, but knowing they were necessary. "I wasn't meaning to ignore you."

John sighed. "It's alright. At least I got some homework done. I've been worrying over it too. You think the only reason he's taking so long is to freak us out?"

"That's a possibility I've considered. One of seventeen."

John rolled his eyes, about to speak. Then, suddenly, came a gasped, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock, who had been looking at his lap, knew what the exclamation meant without looking up or waiting for John to say something else. He immediately rushed over to the door, picking up the papers he had a feeling would arrive today.

There were three this time.

He must have done fairly well then, to get three clues.

"Tell me," John said quickly.

Sherlock opened the one on top and read it aloud for John's benefit. "There's a name nobody says."

"What?" John asked. "What's that even mean?"

Sherlock ignored him and opened the second, reading it to himself.

"Read that one too, Sherlock."

Sherlock considered disregarding him, but sometimes speaking aloud helped him to think, so he read this one too. "Every crime the Yard couldn't figure out, I was the answer. Every time your dear John asked how an idiot could get away with murder, I was the answer."

Before John could say anything to that, Sherlock opened the third and read it aloud without being asked. "To know me, you must know them."

"What the hell," John muttered. "So much for hints. None of those make any sense."

"To you," Sherlock retorted.

"You know?" John scoffed.

"Not yet, I only just read them. But give me a moment to think."

John rolled his eyes, but also didn't speak again, so Sherlock looked through the letters, reading them one more time so they were memorised, and then he continued to think about what they could mean.

The next time Sherlock looked up, it had been an hour. John said he had just gone to see his professor called J and he had helped him with his homework. Sherlock had only half heard it, as he was still thinking.

Then John spoke again. "What I don't get," John said, "is why he's giving you clues. What, does he want to be caught? I know he asked you to 'come and play', but that's really rather stupid, getting a teen genius on your tail."

"I think he doesn't think I can catch him, at least not yet."

"But when you can? Because if he keeps giving you hints, you'll figure him out. Two the first time, three the second. What'll you get next time?"

"Maybe he's bored," Sherlock said with a smile. Bored geniuses. It was just brilliant.

"But if you don't figure it out," John added. "If the three sets isn't enough and in your third response, you still can't say who he is or where to meet him. What will he do then?"

"I already told you, I don't know."

"But what if he hurts people?"

"That's a possibility."

"Then you need to figure this out, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked to John angrily. "You think I don't know that?"

John huffed. "I don't mean for your own ego, Sherlock! People's lives could be at stake!"

"My reason for figuring it out doesn't matter," Sherlock said. "Whether it's for my ego or for their safety, they'll be saved when I figure it out."

"But it should be for them," John complained.

Sherlock ignored it and continued looking at the letters.

"Have you figured out anything from those riddles?" John sassed.

"Of course," Sherlock scoffed. "This man—I'm assuming man, because it's statistically more likely in the criminal world—he helps people commit crimes. That's obvious. We caught the person who committed each crime, but not the one who organised them. So… to know me, you must know them…" he read absently, "his clue is to solve more crimes."

John looked exasperated. "And what will that do?"

"Someone knows who they're working for. Someone must. There's a name nobody says… but somebody will say it. If we try enough times."

"So… your solution is that we keep solving crimes and wait for someone to know something about the guy they've got helping them?"

"Precisely."

John obviously could think of nothing better, because he just nodded. "So you don't respond until you get a name."

"Exactly. He made us wait, so we make him wait. A week."

John nodded. "So we start now?"

"We start now."

Alrighty guys, so if you can guess where to find the mysterious note-writer before Sherlock figures it out, then you can have a cookie/biscuit. I am hiding teensy clues in the story, but I don't know if they are obvious or not... We'll see.

Anywho, please review.

Pretty please, review.

Pleeease.

(I think that counted as two, not three, so 23)

Oh, and I am posting two chapters at once tonight because they're both done so why the hell not? So happy reading!