I'm really sorry for any mistakes made. The Ninja part is connected to The Geek Interpreter on John's blog. More notes at the end.
Summer.
There was something...not quite right about the house. It wasn't something she could put her finger on. She just knew, instinctively (despite not having lived there for a few months) that there was something off about it.
Perhaps it was that she knew that her Mother definitely wasn't going to be in the living room passed out on the sofa, or stood at the kitchen window biting at her fingernails. The house was empty, and though the last time she had been here it had been empty too, there was something rather eerie about knowing, with one hundred percent certainty, no one else would be there this time. At least she hoped that was the case.
Perhaps it was to do with the fact that the last time she had been in this house, it hadn't been as empty as she had thought. Someone had been hiding away from her in order to stick a needle in her and knock her unconscious.
Or maybe it was just that she couldn't bear to stand in it any longer than necessary anymore.
Whatever the reason, she shook it away and continued on into the rest of the house. Taking her time in checking all of the downstairs rooms. Making sure there really was no one else in the building with her.
She was unsure why she had come here in the first place. For the past few weeks, she had been thinking about the fact that her childhood home was just sitting there, empty. Devoid of life when really it should have had small children running around, parents chasing after them. Maybe even a dog to play with.
She would have to do something with the place and since she was unsure exactly where her Mother was, the only thing she could think of doing, was to come here and go into the woman's room and search for any paperwork she could find. Emily could count the number of times she had been in that room on one hand and wasn't exactly thrilled that she was having to venture in there now.
She ascended the stairs, taking a quick peek out of the landing window into the garden. What a state. She thought to herself. There had once been a time when she was keen to tidy it up and grow flowers. But she had put if off more and more until it had got to the point where it had been so messy, she hadn't known where to start and so had left it to become all the more overgrown. It didn't help that there were - certain things - that had pushed the idea of a pretty garden from her mind. She would need to sort that out if she was ever to do something with the place.
Emily fought the urge to knock on the woman's door and simply threw it open.
Surprisingly, the place was marginally tidy, with only the odd empty bottle and dirty glass here and there.
Her phone pinged from the pocket of her shorts and she reached into it to retrieve it as she knelt on the floor to check under the bed.
Where are you? X
She decided she would reply to John when she was on her way home so she wouldn't have to explain what she was doing in her old house and switched the torch on on her device. Lighting up a whole load of nothing.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and stood back up. Now that she noticed, the bed had no covers on it. It was just a bare mattress waiting to be used. She moved over to the wardrobe and opened the doors.
Empty.
The drawers, surely they would have something in them?
But Emily pulled them all open, even managing to pull the bottom one out completely. Nothing. If it hadn't been for the empty bottles and dirty glasses, she would have said there was no trace of her Mother here whatsoever.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. What the hell was going on here? She needed to get out, if only to be free of this feeling of creepiness that had overcome her. She would bring someone with her next time. John would know what to look for. Even Mike.
She swiftly descended the stairs and just as she was about to yank the front door open, she paused. There was a pile of post that she had missed upon her arrival. It looked as if it had been there for a while, there was quite a build up of it. Though it was mainly fast food leaflets, there was one that caught her eye.
But she couldn't open it here. She couldn't stay here a second longer. Tucking all the post into a neat pile, and placing them under her arm, she finally left the vicinity. Making sure to lock the place up.
It wasn't until she was halfway down the road that she realised what it was that had felt so off to her in the first place.
Though she hadn't lived there in months, and apparently neither had her Mother, there wasn't a single trace of dust. No spiders webs. The place looked clean and new. Much cleaner than Emily had ever managed to make it when she had been living there.
So why wasn't the place in need of a spring clean?
She had managed to ignore them until now. But the unread text message notification that kept popping up was driving her mad. She didn't have to read it to know it was from Jim either.
She wondered what on earth he could want but didn't want to give in and read the damn thing. While the curiosity was eating away at her, she also felt that if she read it she would feel undeniably guilty.
It wasn't as if the boys had made her promise to not keep in contact with her childhood friend. But she felt they already knew - or at least Sherlock did anyway - that she had received the message and that was bad enough.
In an attempt to not spend her day off thinking about what to do about a simple text message on her phone, she had volunteered to go shopping. Not only that, but it was a cloudy day, so she couldn't exactly sit outside and read and she didn't fancy sitting in on her flatmates interviewing people about their potential cases.
The crowds of the supermarket had caused the message to slip from her mind completely but instead she felt as if she had lost all of her patience.
She had definitely come at the wrong time, judging by all of the whining children and screaming babies. Not to mention the idiots that had stopped for a chat with one another right in the middle of the aisles.
She tried very hard not to release the sigh she could feel building up inside her at the speed with which the staff member was using to scan the items for the woman in front of her. If she went any slower, she would be going backwards. But thankfully she had managed a smile when it had finally been her turn.
Now as she returned home she could hear the unmistakable sound of a third, unknown voice.
She had attempted to avoid being home when the boys had spoken to their potential clients but she hadn't successfully managed this all of the time.
She briefly made eye contact with the Detective who was pacing behind the clients chair as he listened to the man occupying it, before quickly moving into the kitchen to begin packing everything away.
With nothing better to do while she manoeuvred around the kitchen, she eavesdropped.
"She's been replaced - I know she has. I know human ash."
"Leave."
Slightly alarmed by what she had just heard she muttered to herself, "How does someone know human ash?"
"You don't want to know." Sherlock answered her from the next room, making her jump. "Leave." He commanded again. This time the sound of footsteps could be heard growing fainter as John joined her and began to help.
"No interesting cases then?" She teased.
"Not according to his Lordship there isn't." John muttered.
Emily snorted. "At least I wasn't the only one wondering how that guy knew human ash."
"If you're sure you want to know, I'm sure Sherlock wouldn't actually mind telling you. Or you could just pester him enough. Since it's you it won't take long. Be sure to tell me if you do find out."
"Huh, sorry?" Thankfully, Emily had missed most of John's words.
"It's not important." John sent her a smile, receiving a perplexed one in return. "How was your day?"
"Oh, you know," She thought back to spending most of her morning in her room, sulking at the bad weather and ruminating about a text message. To the overcrowded supermarket that had just left her feeling all the more stressed. "Nothing special." She tucked the yoghurts she had purchased into the fridge carefully, hoping Sherlock would not bring any body parts home and put them on top of them before she could eat them.
John was interrupted from asking what else she had done with her day as Mrs Hudson bought up a tray of drinks. Much to Emily's relief.
"Oh Emily, I never heard you come back. You must have crept in love, did you want a cup of tea?"
"That's alright, thank you though."
Mrs Hudson nodded as she emptied her tray onto the kitchen table. "Some letters for you boys and really do you have to be so rude to those people that come here, I won't have any stairs left soon with the way they stomp down them. It's like a heard of elephants."
Sherlock, who had entered the kitchen began his reply, but Emily was too lost in her own thoughts. Letter. Where had she put that letter she had bought back from her Mother's the other day?
She placed the loaf of bread down on the counter and absentmindedly left the kitchen to head to her bedroom.
As she began to scan her room for the obvious places she wondered if she had accidentally thrown it in the washing machine? But then she would have noticed since it had been her turn to put some washing on last time and she always made a thorough job of checking every pocket of every item.
All her obvious places for where she might put a letter bought up nothing, and after a few moments searching the not so obvious ones, she was still left empty handed.
She admonished herself for not actually reading it as soon as she got home. It hadn't looked like a bill of any kind and she sincerely hoped it wasn't. She reasoned that if it was important enough, she would receive a second one soon enough. Even if that did mean going back to that house.
"What's the matter?" John asked her as she re entered the kitchen, a deep frown on her face as she thought to herself.
"Did I leave a letter anywhere?" She moved into the living room to check the mantle piece, even looking at the envelopes that had been speared by Sherlock's knife. Nothing.
"That pile you bought home the other day?"
"Yeah, does anyone know what I did with them?" She came back into the kitchen now and waited for an answer from John.
"You went through them barely paying them any attention and threw them in the bin." Sherlock responded.
"Why did I throw them away?" She lifted the lid from the bin, only to find a fresh black bag with only a crumpled tissue in it.
"The dustmen have been this morning love, they're probably long gone by now." Mrs Hudson watched worriedly as Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. How could she have been so stupid!
"You were trying to watch a Midsomer Murders, but you were getting fed up with Mr Know It All trying to explain everything to you." John provided. And suddenly, the memory of throwing the pile of post, including the letter that had looked important that she had never got round to even opening came back to her. "You were sure it was someone else that had committed the murder so you two were having a bit of an argument about it."
Emily sighed to herself and took a seat at the kitchen table, John began to rub her back gently as he stood next to her.
"Nothing important was it?" Mrs Hudson asked.
"That's just it, Mrs H. I have no idea. The one that I never opened was the whole reason I'd bought everything back in the first place. It looked important." Her leg was beginning to bounce.
"If it was important, there will be more of them." Sherlock informed her in an attempt to stop her nervous habit before she could start fiddling with her hair. "Or a phone call."
"Where did that pile come from anyway?" John inquired.
Without even thinking about any possible consequences of answering that, the words left her mouth. "Mum's house."
She felt John stiffen beside her, the hand rubbing her back ceased movement altogether.
"You went back there?" She nodded albeit reluctantly. "By yourself?" He didn't exactly sound too pleased with her.
"It's not that big of a deal." She tried to say but Sherlock spoke over her.
"Any sign of her?"
She shook her head. "No. I checked every room. No one but me. Not even any of her things." She answered absentmindedly as she watched their landlady begin to help put shopping away.
"Hmm."
"Well - hang on a minute." John sat down so he could face her, his face matched his tone. He most definitely wasn't pleased with her. "Why were you going back to your Mum's, the place where someone made you unconscious the last time you were there, all by yourself? While we're at it, why did you not text me back to tell me where you were? If something had happened to you, we wouldn't have known where to even start looking."
"Yeah, alright Dad, I'll make sure to message you back next time." It took everything in her to not roll her eyes. "But do remember, that you have the world's only Consulting Detective as a flatmate and friend, who I have no doubt would be able to find me before anything serious happened."
"Even so," John sighed, thinking carefully about his next words so he wouldn't make her even more fed up. That was Sherlock's job after all, not his. "I just don't like the idea of you going there by yourself."
"He's right Emily." Mrs Hudson spoke up from in front of the fridge. "We don't want to control your life, but we'd like to make sure you're alright."
"There, you see. Mrs Hudson can clearly use words better than I can." John reached out for Emily's hand that had been resting on the table and gave it a squeeze.
She nodded, remembering how she had felt somewhat fine one moment to suddenly...well, not fine when she had been in that house the other day. "Will one of you come with me next time then? Maybe one day soon to see if another letter's turned up?"
All three of the other occupants of the room replied as one: "Of course." (John.) "Obviously." (Sherlock.) "We'll make a day of it Sweetheart." (Mrs Hudson.)
"Thanks." Emily mumbled, somewhat embarrassed having to ask someone to go with her.
"Oi." Mrs Hudson had apparently, suddenly come to her senses and stopped moving about the kitchen. The three flatmates looked at her as she stood with her hands on her hips. "I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper. Why am I putting all this away?" With that she stormed off back downstairs as John and Emily quickly rose form their seats, making eye contact with one another when Sherlock never bothered to.
"Sherlock." They spoke together. They waited for him to look over at them. "Help."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and stood from the chair, he managed to annoy Emily even more as he kept getting in her way. That was until she ran downstairs to give their landlady the new bottle of bubble bath she had bought for her.
Emily didn't rush back upstairs and ended up having a cup of tea with the woman.
If there was one thing that Emily loved about the Summer, it was getting to sit outside in the sunshine and read.
She would admit (but perhaps not out loud) that that particular day might not have been the best one to sunbathe. It was swelteringly hot and she had to keep popping back inside every half hour to have a cool drink from Mrs Hudson's fridge. But it was her day off and she was going to make the most out of it.
Donned in a red bikini top and a pair of loose fitting shorts that she was sure were actually pyjama bottoms, sunglasses and cap she had ventured to the small back garden to bask in the sunlight with an Agatha Christie book.
John had taken to shouting out of their kitchen window every now and then, reminding her to reapply sun cream. She wondered why her flatmates were home but reasoned it was either because it was far too hot to go out and solve crimes, or (more likely) Sherlock still hadn't picked out another interesting case from their potential clients.
The last of the days rays that could actually reach into their back garden had finally inched itself away. She had been in denial for the past hour that the day was ending but had felt the irritation growing at having to move her chair so she wasn't sitting in the shade. With a sigh, she rose from her seat, dragging it back over to the back door so she could use it next time.
"All done dear?" Mrs Hudson heard her coming back in again. "I don't know how you managed to sit out there for so long, it's been far too hot out there."
"The reading takes my mind off the heat."
"You're not burnt are you?" The landlady had begun to make herself some dinner and was milling around the kitchen.
"I hope not. Covered in factor fifty."
"And some sweat I should imagine."
"I'm just off for a shower. I dread to think what I smell like." She chuckled to herself.
"Come back down for some supper when you're ready love, we can eat it outside now it's cooled down a bit."
"If you insist. I'll be back in a few then. Do you want the boys down as well?"
"Ask them if they want to. Send them down if they do."
"Alright then, won't be long." Emily exited her landlady's flat into the hallway and up the stairs. She slipped her cap from her head, shaking her hair down as she did so. Placing her items onto the kitchen table she opened up the fridge for one more drink before going into the shower. "Mrs Hudson says if you want dinner you should go down now." She called out to the flat over her shoulder.
"What's she making?" John called back from the living room.
Emily stood straight, bottle of water half raised to her lips. "I never actually asked." She replied and began to gulp the water down.
"You've been drinking whilst you've been outside haven't you?" She heard John ask from a doorway, Doctor's tone firmly in place. She turned to him and nodded as best as she could as she kept drinking. "Hmm." John uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the room, heading towards the stairs. "I'll go see what she's making." With that, the Doctor was gone and Emily continued to drink her water in peace. With half of it still left, she replaced the cap and put it back where she had found it, closing the fridge door gently she turned to go to the bathroom but jumped at the sight of the Detective in her way.
He had stood frozen, eyes widened slightly as he stared at her.
"Alright?" She asked, picking her things back up from the table.
"Youshouldn'tdrinksomuchwaterinonego." He mumbled out incoherently, causing the blonde to frown.
"I...didn't understand a word of that." She shook her head as she spoke. "Could you repeat that, maybe a little slower?"
"You shouldn't drink so much water in one go." Sherlock stated again. It seemed he was determined to keep his gaze on her own.
"Any particular reason?"
"You can drown."
"From drinking too much water?"
"It's rare but if you drink too much in a short period of time it can be an accidental cause of death."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." She cautiously moved around him. "Mrs Hudson says if you want dinner then you should go down now." She repeated and closed the bathroom door behind her before realising she was still holding onto her items. Quickly, she abandoned the room and ran upstairs to deposit them on her bed, running back down again hoping Sherlock hadn't gone in to use the loo.
But he was still standing where she had left him.
"Are you alright?" She clicked her fingers in front of his face. It seemed as if he was in a trance. He blinked and focused back on her. It was only then that she realised how dark his eyes had become. The Detective took a step closer to her, reaching out a hand to take hold of her own. She allowed this, but when he took another step closer, she reluctantly placed a hand on his chest, making him stop before he could get too close. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm. Was it her imagination or was it beating faster than it should have? He frowned down at her now, waiting for an explanation. "There is no way that I don't stink right now. Whether it's of sweat or sun cream I'm not really sure but I wouldn't want to put you off."
She waited for a moment for him to say something, but received nothing but silence. Her breath caught in her throat as he started to lean down, his face getting closer. She allowed her eyelids to flutter closed, after seeing his do the same.
"We're having Omelette and salad down here if you want any Sherlock." John shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Emily bit her lip to stop the amused smile from breaking out across her lips at the frustrated sound that escaped Sherlock's throat.
"Coming." He snapped back, not bothering to hide his frustrations.
Emily giggled to herself, stood up on her tip toes, leaning forwards she pecked him on the cheek. "Later." She mumbled into his ear before moving past him to the bathroom once more. Clearly, despite all her efforts, the sun had still managed to get to her.
Emily had been finishing her dinner in front of the telly, splayed out in an attempt to keep cool when both her flatmates had entered the room. Dressed head to toe in black clothing. The mouthful of food she was currently chewing ended up just sitting in her mouth as she stopped moving altogether to stare. Surely they were sweating in their get up?
She swallowed her food. "And, pray tell, whose funeral is it you're attending?" She teased.
John had gone to give her some sass back, but Sherlock beat him to it. "We're dressed as ninja's Emily. Do your research." He informed her gently.
"Right." She nodded slowly as if she finally understood, but rose an eyebrow at John. He shook his head as if to tell her not to bother. But she was going to. "Why?" She smirked as John deflated.
"For a case obviously."
"Obviously." She was a little excited about whatever was going to happen. "Can I come?"
"Are you going to take the piss?" John questioned.
Emily scoffed, placed a hand on her chest as if she was offended by the Doctor's words. John raised his own eyebrow at her in disbelief. "Well, yes, maybe."
"Only maybe?"
"Alright then, yes."
"Then no." John finally answered. He sent her a satisfied smirk as he watched her now deflate.
"Will you write about it on your blog at least?" She whined.
"Probably." He answered at the same time as Sherlock said "Obviously."
Apparently that was the word of the day.
Emily was playing Solitaire. In fact she had been playing Solitaire most of the morning. On her way into work, the clouds had dispersed and the sun had shone brilliantly, causing her to pout the entire way down to her office. She truly didn't feel like doing much work today.
She had had to dispose of her cardigan to keep cool since she had wanted to keep the door closed. The sound of the handle turning would alert her to anyone entering and therefore give her a few more precious seconds to rid her screen of the card game and her tally chart for the amount of rounds she had won.
As she wafted her shirt in an attempt to create a slight breeze to cool herself down, she was glad she had done so. The handle began to turn and with haste, she minimised the game, bringing up her work page, and stuffed the tally chart between the chair and her legs.
She managed this in time and made herself look busy. "Yes Mr Roid?" She asked mindlessly, not even bothering to check who had entered her office. When she didn't receive an answer she looked round. "Oh." She visibly relaxed and bought up the tab for her game again. "It's just you."
"Just me." Sherlock sounded fed up somewhat, causing her to look back around. She indicated he should close the door and she waited for him to do so before talking again.
"What you sulking for?"
"I'm not sulking."
"You're sulking and we both know it." She looked him up and down. "How are you wearing a coat? It's summer!" She exclaimed. "I bet John's got his on as well."
"If it's summer why are you sitting here boiling with the door closed?" He snapped. Now she knew he really was sulking.
She gave him a look that suggested she was right and turned back to her screen. "In the hopes that it will put Roid off coming in here. So that I don't have to hear the mindless chatter of everyone that walks by - "
"And most importantly so no one can see you playing your game." Sherlock finished for her.
She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him a cheeky smile. "What brings you down here to my humble abode? Apart from you sulking?" She was met with silence. "Alright then, what brings you here to St Barts?"
"Body of a woman in the morgue." He immediately responded.
"Oh?" She encouraged him to continue, but she had to turn and face him when no other words came. She observed him standing in her office space. Hands in his coat pockets (he was even still wearing his scarf! A scarf! In July!) looking everywhere around him but at her. She waited for him to zone back in, though carried on playing on the computer as she did so.
Finally after what felt like a good hour had passed, but really it was probably only a few minutes (Emily had managed to add another tally to her chart) he inhaled loudly and asked, "Do you know how many types of tobacco ash there are?"
"It says on your blog, doesn't it? Two hundred and forty-three." She answered without even really thinking about it. "Why?" She turned back, but he was already halfway out the door, mumbling to himself about someone reading it.
What an odd question, she thought to herself as she started a fresh game.
A few days later, and as usual, Emily was running about the place trying to get ready for work.
All had been fine until she had got chatting to Sherlock as she made him some toast while he read the newspaper. Only after she had finished did he bother to mention the time to her.
She had stuffed her own slice in her mouth, almost choking as she attempted to chew it, and began flapping around in an attempt to get ready.
She slipped a cardigan on along with her heels, and started tying her hair up.
Sherlock made his way into the room, watching her whilst pretending to carry on with the paper.
"I'm off then." She came over to John, sat at the table typing up a case for his blog. "Oh! A new entry! I look forward to reading that later."
"What, when you should be working?"
"Shh." She smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"Have a good day." He said, continuing to type.
Almost mindlessly, Emily moved over to the Detective, stood on her tip toes and placed a kiss on his cheek too. "Enjoy the toast." Before he could even react she had moved off to the top of the stairs where she paused to make sure she had everything. His attention turned to John so he wouldn't call her back and make her even later.
"Oh, for God's sakes!" He spoke with his mouthful.
"What?"
"'The Speckled Blonde'?!"
Emily, seated opposite John, still in her pyjamas was bored.
She had planned on going out in the sunshine again while she could but figured she shouldn't be sat out there all day. It wouldn't hurt to hang out with her friends for a while.
Sherlock had shut himself in the kitchen and Emily was dying to know what he was up to in there.
"Emily." The kitchen door suddenly slid open and her head perked up at the sight of the man that had spoken her name. Perhaps her wish would be granted.
"Yeah?" Her eyes widened. His hands - covered by heavy protective gloves - was carrying a blowtorch in one and a glass container with some sort of green liquid in it in the other. Safety goggles shielding his eyes.
He moved closer and she stood to meet him, curious as to what he may say next, though cautious of him getting too close since he still had the blowtorch on.
"Do you think you could - No, no, no, don't mention the unsolved ones." His tone had changed from deep and seductive (a clear sign he wanted something from her) to indignant. He had even turned the blowtorch off.
"People want to know you're human." John defended the current case he was working on, despite he and Emily often wondering if he actually was.
"Why?"
"'Cause they're interested."
Emily rolled her eyes at seemingly being forgotten and moved to sit back down, bored again.
"No they're not. Why are they? No," He pointed the blowtorch at her, "Don't sit down, I need help with an experiment. Come into the kitchen."
She stood once again and moved into the room she had been sent to, feeling like a teenager being sent to their room for talking back.
"Look at that." John spoke. Emily certainly wished she could look at whatever John was talking about, but she was too busy looking at the mess that covered their kitchen table; More glass containers with various coloured liquids, (she felt she was in the lab at Bart's again) what looked like another blowtorch, (that she was more than a little tempted to have a go with) and another jar of eyeballs. Or maybe it was the same jar from all those months ago. He never had shown her what happened when you microwaved them.
She reached over for the other blowtorch, after placing a spare set of gloves on, and moved back into the living room to hear the tail end of John's words. "Not two hundred and forty types of tobacco ash."
"Two hundred and forty-three." Both Sherlock and Emily replied at the same time. Though while Emily sounded distracted (she was too busy examining the tool in her hands) Sherlock had sounded sulky.
"You know how many different types of tobacco ash there are?" John asked as the two men looked over at her.
"Well...yeah." She managed to turn the flame on, a proud smile lifted her lips after jumping at the sudden action. She looked back up at the men. "Don't you?"
John flicked his gaze between the pair. He waited for it, for he knew it was coming. He didn't have to wait long. Sherlock turned back to him, a smug smile on his features now.
He fired up his own blowtorch again, placing the goggles back to protect him and headed back to the kitchen.
"Uh, excuse me." The Doctor called to them before they could vanish. They both stopped and turned back to look at him, questioning looks on both their faces. "Make sure she doesn't burn herself yes?"
She looked shocked that he would even suggest that she would manage to do such a thing. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, twenty seconds ago, you didn't know how to turn a blowtorch on, and now he's getting you to help him do only God knows what in there. Him, I trust with that equipment. You, not so much." He sent her a look that told her he wasn't stupid.
"I'll make sure she wears the correct protective clothing if and when she needs to. I'll make sure she doesn't burn herself with the blowtorch or any liquids I may or may not have in here." Sherlock sounded bored. "Satisfied?" But he didn't wait for an answer, just ushered her into the next room
John, who was definitely not satisfied, mumbled to himself as the door slid closed behind them, "Hope that's not your idea of a first date."
In the kitchen, Emily had turned the tool off and slipped the gloves off, putting them back where she had found them. "Will you finally show me what happens when you put eyeballs in the microwave please?"
"Yes."
"That was easy."
"After you help me here."
"What do you need me to do?"
"First tie your hair up and put some goggles on."
Emily quickly slipped into the living room, doing her hair into a messy bun as she grabbed a hair band from the mantle piece.
"Bored already?" John asked, but was only greeted with the door closing again. "Evidently not."
Throughout the morning, he occasionally heard instructions from Sherlock and answers to Emily's questions. At one point he got up to peer through the crack in the door to see them standing vey close together. John was most definitely going to count this as a date. Even if they didn't.
Later that afternoon, Emily had to be careful to hide her wrist from John and Mrs Hudson.
Somehow, and she really had no idea how she had managed it, as she had been pouring the freshly boiled kettle to make them both a drink, the water had caught her wrist. She had hissed, but managed to not allow herself to be loud about it. If John found out she had burnt herself, no matter how tiny it had turned out to be, she was certain he would never allow her to help Sherlock in his makeshift lab again. Even if she wasn't technically helping him at the time.
Sherlock had quickly come over to her side, turning off all the equipment and checking her injury. He had wasted no time in taking her over to the sink, hands gentle on her skin, and running it under the cold water, instantly soothing her pain. He informed her quietly so as not to alert the Doctor that he had seen a lot worse injuries from scolding and to consider herself lucky.
When he had finished treating her and bandaging her up (though really the injury was so small it only really needed a plaster) he had held the injured wrist between his hands and softly let his fingers stroke over the skin around the injury, "Ready to continue?" She had nodded dumbly as words had failed her. She finished making the drinks before coming back round to help. "Tell me if it starts hurting too much." He had told her as he continued, head down focused on what he was doing, but gazed up at her suddenly to add, "Let's not tell John about your wrist. Even if it was only from making the tea."
"Our secret." She winked at him, turning back to tidy the mess she had made. At least now they wouldn't have to wait for the drinks to cool down and inevitably get forgotten about.
Sherlock smirked to himself, still watching her from where he had sat down. He rather liked the idea of having a secret between them. Even if it was just not telling John about her accidentally injuring herself.
Emily finished opening the windows just as the first rumble of thunder sounded outside. The mini heatwave they had been suffering through was coming to a stifling end. For the past twenty four hours, the air both outside and inside had been sticky and humid, leaving Emily with a headache and certain a storm was on it's way.
She breathed a sigh of relief. While she loved the summer, she loathed the heatwaves it bought, and now the storm was here, the air would finally - hopefully - cool down.
Mrs Hudson had come up to spend the evening with them and while they had started out watching the telly (much to Sherlock's displeasure) the pouring rain had caused them to lose all signal, leaving them to switch it off altogether when none of them could agree on a DVD to watch.
"So now what?" Emily asked without really expecting an answer. She had moved over to the window again to watch the rain fall, the sound helping her relax if only slightly.
"We could - "
"No." Sherlock instantly interrupted the Doctor.
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"Still no."
"What about a game?" Mrs Hudson asked excitedly.
"Do we have any?" John questioned as Sherlock huffed.
Emily watched the mad pedestrians that were still out and about dash down the street, umbrellas raised over their heads. One couple were even running as they hid under a denim jacket that was already soaked. She wondered if it had cooled down yet and was very tempted to trek down and find out.
"Scrabble?" Someone suggested.
"Scrabble's boring." Emily mumbled.
"Monopoly?" Mrs Hudson asked.
"No, we are not playing Monopoly." John vehemently shook his head.
Emily's interest was piqued and she turned back to face the room, "What's wrong with Monopoly?" She asked.
"Monopoly always ends in an argument of some kind. Or a fight."
"Not if you play fair." Sherlock stated.
"We're not playing Monopoly."
"Do we even have it?" Mrs Hudson queried.
"I think I have it." Emily took a seat on the sofa.
John didn't believe her. "Do you?"
"Mhmm." She nodded enthusiastically. The three of them looked over at John expectantly.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. And I'm the banker."
"Actually..." Now it was her turn to be watched as she took a moment to think.
"Are you about to tell us you don't have it?" John had rested his head in his hand as he waited for her to finish her thought.
"Oh no, I have it," She began cheerfully. "It's actually a collector's edition. It's a Star Wars Episode I edition. I know not many people enjoyed that film, but I loved it. I didn't get to play much though, no one in my house really liked board games and - "
"Em." John, though amused, gently interrupted her before they ended up listening to her all evening.
"Right," She deflated. "Sorry. I have it, it's just...not here."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if you want to play it, it's not a problem, I just have to go back to Mum's and get it."
Another rumble of thunder, this time much closer, boomed as if to remind them the storm was still raging. "So it is a problem if we want to play it?"
"A bit yeah." She fiddled with the ends of her hair somewhat embarrassed with herself.
"Problem solved!" John looked ecstatic. "We're not playing Monopoly."
"Can't we just try the telly again?" Emily all but begged.
"What about Cluedo?" It was Sherlock's turn to be stared at. "What?"
"You actually want to play a board game?" Emily couldn't help it, she had tried to hide her disbelief, but it clearly hadn't worked.
Sherlock shrugged casually, "It's a mystery game, yes? We all enjoy a mystery. It's a game we have in the house. Why not play it?" John and Emily shared a look of doubt.
"It think that's a wonderful idea love." Mrs Hudson encouraged, smiling brightly at them all. "Where is it, shall I go and get it?"
Half an hour later (After Mrs Hudson and Emily had prepared cool drinks for themselves and John and a coffee for Sherlock, an argument had broken out over who wanted what colour token and who should shuffle the cards) the group were finally playing. They had pulled the coffee table in between Sherlock's and John's chairs, the two men occupying them respectively. Emily had opted to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace and John had pulled a chair over opposite her for Mrs Hudson.
Things had started off well and three of them found they were enjoying themselves. That was until it was Sherlock's turn to make a suggestion on who the culprit was. "Dr Black faked his own death."
"Sherlock, not now." John scolded, sounding fed up.
Sherlock opted to ignore him and continued anyway despite the uninterested looks that adorned the women's faces. "He's faked his own death and is trying - rather unsuccessfully - to pin it on someone else."
"That makes no sense." Mrs Hudson sounded offended.
"And as I've said before, it's not very likely. Maybe even impossible." John added.
"You've had this conversation before?" Emily wondered why she was surprised.
"It might be improbable, but nothing's impossible." Sherlock explained as the rain was finally dying down outside, though the thunder still grumbled from a few miles away. "Your turn, Mrs Hudson."
"No, no, wait." Emily put her hand over the dice so no one could pass it over. "Is that it? Is that your go?"
"Yes." He raised and eyebrow at her, telling her it should be obvious.
"Is that going to be your go every time?"
His facial expression never budged. "Yes." The other three players sighed, but attempted to continue the game. Emily wrote down on her notepad 'Never play a board game with Sherlock again' that John caught sight of and sniggered. Mrs Hudson accused the pair of cheating and during her tirade Sherlock once more began his speech on how Dr Black had faked his own death.
By the sounds of it the rain had stopped and so, ignoring everyone else (John had joined in the discussion stating how they should have just let Emily leave to collect her edition of Monopoly) the blonde had switched the telly back on, thrilled that the signal had returned. It was only when Sherlock threw the tokens and dice away from the board that Emily paid attention again and watched him stab the board into the wall next to the mirror.
"Another round?" She joked over her shoulder.
"NO!" The three other people yelled at her and went their separate ways. None of them spoke to one another for the rest of the night.
I'm sorry I missed Christmas and New Year's. I hope you all had a lovely time.
Thank you to everyone who has followed and clicked the favourite button and anyone that left a review. Please do let me know what you think of this chapter, even if it is just one word. It really does encourage me to keep going.
The next chapter will be back to the plot of Scandal. I really hope you guys can forgive me for no kiss yet between Em and Sherlock. I promise it will happen.
I hope you're staying safe and well and kind.
Stay Strong.
Much Love. Always.
FB