The four were now squished into the back of a taxi, on it's way to Scotland Yard. Though frankly all Emily wanted to be doing was lying in bed with an ice pack for her head as she watched a film. Perhaps with some Wotsits. For now however, the coolness of the window she currently had her forehead pressed against would have to do. It did nothing for the throbbing pain in the back of her head, but it seemed to ease the headache she could feel developing.
Carefully, she looked over at John who appeared to be attempting to restore his date. Talking to Sarah about anything he could think of whilst trying to avoid the subject of Sherlock's case and the events that had just occurred. Sarah, for her part tried to look interested in what he was saying. Though Emily could tell she was itching to ask questions. She still had a tight hold of Emily's hand from beside her. It felt as if the woman would not let go until she had given her a thorough check over.
Without even glancing at Sherlock, Emily knew he too would be busy, though for an entirely different reason. He would be locked away somewhere in his Mind Palace, adding new pieces of information or putting together new clues he had discovered behind that curtain.
As the sign for their destination grew closer, the thought of moving took any ounce of good mood Emily had left in her. She groaned out loud in frustration and was met with a questioning look from John. As the three left the taxi, John turned to help her out of the vehicle, though after noticing her head still resting against the window, he decided against it.
After a minute or two of him arguing with the Consulting Detective, it was agreed that he, Sherlock and Sarah would head into the building, while Emily stayed in the car. While Emily was rather happy with their decision, even if they had not come up with that idea, she would not have moved for all the money in the world, and would have stayed seated until they had returned home to Baker Street.
She watched as her friends disappeared from view as they entered the doors and smiled to herself. John had just given her strict instructions not to fall asleep as he wasn't one hundred percent sure she did not have a concussion, and had all but threatened the driver not to let her fall asleep.
"Is everything alright Miss?"
"Hmm?" Emily turned her head slowly to the driver who was watching her in the rear view mirror.
"Do you need a hospital? I can take you." She was touched by his kindness.
"I just had a bump to the head is all. Might have a concussion. Nothing too serious." She shrugged as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. "Two of my friends in there are Doctors. If it were serious I think I'd already be in a hospital." She smiled to him as she retrieved her mobile. "Thank you anyway."
The driver nodded in understanding. "You've got some good friends there Miss. They obviously care." She unlocked her phone without really looking at it as her smile grew.
"Yes. Yes, they do." But her smile disappeared when she noticed the number that had texted her. It was, again, an unknown number. Yet, it did not look at all like the number that had texted her the other day.
Hope your head feels better soon.
There was nothing malicious in the words, yet Emily could not control the shiver that raced through her spine. Who was this person, and why were they texting her? The thought of them having the wrong number briefly flashed through her mind. After all, her name had not been written this time around. But something told her that was not the case.
She jumped again as the car door opened and John took the space next to her. Quickly, she hid her phone back in her pocket and rested her head against the window once more, acting as if she had never moved in the first place.
"Everything alright?" John questioned, though she wasn't sure who he was asking; her or the cab driver.
As Sarah and Sherlock got comfortable in their seats, it was the driver who answered after seeing the blonde roll her eyes in slight annoyance. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to get home.
"Of course. Where to?"
"Baker Street. 221B." Sherlock replied.
"Please." Emily spoke the last word for him with all the sarcasm she could muster.
"Hmm. Yes, what she said."
Emily rolled her eyes once more as the driver released the hand brake and started off towards home. Emily's mood lightened at the thought.
The warmth hit her as soon as she entered through the doorway. With a smile, she took her coat off and headed up the stairs, slipping her shoes off as she went, not bothering to pick them up for fear of creating more pounding inside her skull if she bent down.
As she turned to head up the other flight of stairs to her bedroom, she was stopped by Sarah taking her hand and turning her round gently to the sitting room.
"Sit Emily, I want to make sure you haven't got a concussion." She led her through the stacks of boxes to the settee, crouching down in front of her as she went to work. So focused was she on the Doctor before her, that she never heard a word of the conversation that was occurring between the boys.
"Emily, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"Twelve." Emily responded childishly. The smirk that turned the corner of the Doctor's mouth told her she knew what she was doing, but the look in her eyes told her to be serious. "Three."
"Thank you." Sarah responded and continued to make Emily follow her finger with her eyes as she moved it around in the air.
"I see no signs of a concussion." The good Doctor continued. "But let me feel the back of your head, see if there's a bump." With one hand resting beside her leg, she reached the other to the back of her head. Careful not to tangle her hair she gently felt for any bumps and was not surprised to find one waiting there. With her face only inches away from Emily's, she looked her in the eye, placed her hands on her shoulders and informed her gently. "There's a bump. Nothing too big so there's no need to worry."
"I wasn't worrying." Emily insisted quietly, but she was of course ignored.
"Should disappear in a few days time. You're not bleeding which is excellent news. I'd feel better if you didn't sleep for a little while longer though. Just to be certain."
"Thank you Doctor." She saluted her before standing up beside Sarah to find Sherlock and John staring at the pictures on the wall.
"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it." The female Doctor spoke up next to her, gaining the attention of the two males in the room.
"No, no, you don't have to go...does she? You can stay."
"Yes, it would be better to study if you left now."
"Please don't leave yet, at least try and salvage what's left of you date."
The three spoke at the same time, causing a look of utter confusion to cross the female Doctor's face.
"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John had attempted to hide the slight anger he felt at Sherlock's words, but to Emily he had failed miserably.
"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?" Emily, smiled at the friendly approach, though Sherlock apparently felt different about it.
"Ooh, God." He sighed and Emily knew his eyes more than likely closed in exasperation, the thought of annoying him caused her to giggle to herself, her good mood returning.
"Actually, now you mention it, I am rather hungry." Sherlock turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised as if to tell her he knew she was doing this on purpose. She sent an innocent smile back at the Detective and skirted her way back through the boxes and headed towards the kitchen. "I'll see what's in the fridge." John followed her and leant against the counter as he watched her open the fridge door and promptly shut it again. He was fairly certain he heard her mumble a faint "Absolutely fuck all." Before shutting it swiftly again. She turned and jumped when she found him just standing there watching. "What are you looking at me for?"
"Were you on a date with Sherlock?"
"One: The answer to that question is no. Two: Are you really asking me that question now of all times? Three: There's no food in the fridge, I'll go down and speak to our lovely Landlady." With that, she left the room and descended the stairs once more, gently knocking on the door of Mrs Hudson's rooms when she reached it. She wasn't sure if she could watch the awkward tension that hung between Sarah and Sherlock. Or stand the questions John was asking her.
"Oh, Emily dear." Mrs Hudson dressed in her usual colour of purple was standing in her doorway, her kind smile crinkled her eyes and Emily couldn't help but think of her Gran. "What can I do for you?"
"Mrs Hudson, I know you're not our housekeeper but we have no food in the fridge and while me or John would usually go out and get ourselves a bite to eat, he sort of has a date with him and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind making a bit of something for us please?"
The smile had disappeared to be replaced with a knowing look.
"You don't even have to make us anything, just a bowl of nibbles will do?"
"Just this once Emily. But only because you asked so nicely."
"Oh Mrs Hudson, you really are an angel." She took hold of the woman's forearms and swiftly kissed her landlady's cheeks.
"Enough of that dear." Mrs Hudson swatted her away, but judging by the blush on the older woman's cheeks she was only teasing. "You go on back upstairs, I'll be there in a minute." Emily turned to head back upstairs but not before receiving a fond pat on the cheek.
She moved as fast as she dared back to the kitchen to find John emptying a bag of Wotsits into a bowl.
"Oooh, Wotsits, yes please." Emily reached out a hand to pick one up, only to have it slapped away by her friend.
"No, they are for me and Sarah."
"But they're my Wotsits." She protested. "And besides Mrs Hudson is bringing up some nibbles for you."
"Who paid for them?"
"Sherlock probably. You don't even like them that much." This time when she reached out, her hand managed to snag a snack from the bowl.
"Ooh-ooh!"
"Told you." Emily insisted around her current Wotsit as she took the bowl out of the reach of John and continued to empty it.
"I've done punch, and a bowl of nibbles." She whispered as Emily cast her eye over the tray she was carrying as their Landlady revealed a jug of punch, some sliced fruit floating on top of the liquid, two glasses and some dip for the bowl of crisps from underneath the tea towel.
"That was quick Mrs H."
"Well, I couldn't let a date of John's go hungry now could I?"
"Mrs Hudson, you're a saint!"
Still whispering, Mrs Hudson continued, "If it was Monday, I'd have been to the supermarket!"
"No; thank you! Thank you!"
"Why are you both whispering? We live here? What punch is it John?"
"I'll leave you all to it, let you get back to your dates."
"Have a good night Mrs H." Emily called after her landlady as she went to dip her finger into the punch for a taste, only for it to once again be swatted away by John.
"Eat your Wotsits."
"Hang on, did she say dates? I'm not on a date!"
"Eat your Wotsits."
"Well what does it taste like then?" Emily had watched as John had tried the drink.
"Hmm, it's good. Really goo-"
"John." Sherlock interrupted from the living room.
"Mmm?" John looked round from the table and started to move back towards the other room, Emily followed him with her eyes before rushing to the jug to try the drink.
"Emily." Sherlock called her too.
"Damn." Forgetting about the drink, but taking the bowl of Wotsits with her, she too entered the living room to see what the Detective had found.
"Look at this." He had stood from his seat as the two neared him. "Soo Lin at the museum - she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" Sure enough written in fine pen a word had been written neatly across the first two sets of symbols. "'NINE,' 'MILL'" Sherlock read out to them.
"Does that mean 'millions'?"
"As in 'nine million' pounds?" Emily almost choked on her Wotsit.
"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock spoke to himself thoughtfully, before folding up the paper and turned to where he had dumped his scarf and coat. "We need to know the end of this sentence."
"Where are you going?"
"To the museum; to the restoration room." He answered as he slipped his coat back on, grimacing as he realised something. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"
"At-at what?"
"The book, John. The book - the key to cracking the cipher!" He wielded the photo at John. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, whilst Emily was probably day dreaming, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk. Emily are you coming?"
"Ah, Emily isn't going anywhere, she had a nasty bump to the head tonight, I'm not risking her hurting herself anymore." John answered sternly for the girl who wasn't even paying attention. A quick glance at her showed she was too busy studying the Wotsit she was currently holding in front of her face. For a moment John wondered if she had hit her head harder than he thought. He turned back to the Detective to add more reasons why Emily was not leaving his sight for the next few hours, but the man had already left with a huff. "Em, you alright?" John asked her now.
She turned to him, with a look of slight wonder in her eyes. "Think of all the Wotsits you could but with nine million pounds." The Doctor's were unsure who she was talking to, and so, decided to leave her to her thoughts and moved into the kitchen to finish their date.