Chapter 24

I opened the door, finding John and Sherlock waiting for me. "Sup, assbut," I said.

Sherlock sneered at me. "I would ask you to refrain from hailing me in such a manner a third time, but I doubt you would comply with what I'm sure you would consider a weak request. Perhaps if I bring to your attention the redundancy of such a statement, you'll be sufficiently horrified to employ its usage once more."

"You know what else is redundant?" I asked, unperturbed. "Your cheekbones."

"I'll take that as a no," Sherlock said, grabbing his coat. "And my cheekbones are not redundant," he told me indignantly as we walked out of the hospital and climbed into a cab. On the ride home he explained about Karl Powers and his death. I kept quiet. I still didn't know what he thought about my involvement. Surely he must have suspected I did something? He knew I knew about Moriarty, and the shoes were in my flat. But yet he hadn't treated me any differently. Was he planning on waiting to catch me unawares about the topic, or...

"Helen, henceforth you are temporarily barred from entering my flat." I looked at him in confusion. "Don't worry, it's a simple matter of I still know virtually nothing about you and at this moment in time it is unwise for myself and John to let you into our flat as we investigate this string of bombings. I'm sure you understand."

I sighed. "Funny enough, I do understand this time Sherlock. Can't say I blame you. If I were in your position, I probably would be doing the same exact thing. Must be nice though, knowing you won't have me butting in with my useless commentary."

"I wouldn't call it useless," Sherlock said. "Superfluous, maybe." He looked at me with that small smile of his.

I punched him. "You're a jerk you know that. An adorable little jerk."

"Did you hear that John?" Sherlock said, turning to his friend. "Helen thinks I'm adorable."

"That is not what I said you heathen," I protested.

"No, I'm pretty sure he's right," John said.

"Don't you go siding with him now." I looked at the two of them, both smirking at my expense. "Okay, I see how it is." We pulled up in front of the flat. "Well, if I'm banned then I might as well get out of your way." I went inside and headed downstairs. "Have fun looking through articles!" I said. "I hope they give you no answers!"

I opened the door to my flat and saw a small note tacked across from the entrance. I walked toward it cautiously. This didn't happen in the show. Anything that deviated too greatly from canon unnerved me, because it meant that I had caused it. Generally speaking, things I caused to change were unintentional. Which meant that they were out of my control, and that my sole advantage of knowing everything before Sherlock was gone. That advantage was everything. Without it, well, I'm guessing my dream would have woken me up because Sherlock would surely have discarded me if I hadn't been so obviously mysterious.

I held the note right in front of my eyes. It held two words:

Tick tock.

This had to be Moriarty. It had him written all over it. It had double meaning, no, triple meaning. Currently it could be referring to the bombs and the countdown of time until they were set off. Or, it could be referring to the countdown of when Sherlock and Moriarty have their first in person meeting. But it could also be referring to the nursery rhyme, and he did seem to have an affinity for that sort of thing. So many meanings, so many warnings, so little time...

"Helen, what are you doing?" John appeared from behind me. In a panic I shoved the piece of paper in my mouth, and turned around, the wad clearly visible in my cheek.

"Nuffin," I managed. It's a lot harder to eat paper then they make it look in movies. It gets all hard and turns into a small ball of gross. Forget chewing. It's almost like a rock the way your saliva condenses the fibers. Really it's more awkward then anything. "Whad are you doin?"

He looked at me in puzzlement. I hoped my weird quirkiness would make up for my unusual behaviour. "I was just looking for you. Sherlock was having me go down to see Mycroft and he suggested that you come with."

"Abfolutely," I said. I tore off bits of the note and began swallowing them one by one. "Shall we go then?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure."

We hopped in a cab and rode down to wherever the bloody hell Mycroft works. I wasn't paying much attention when John gave the address. A piece of the damn paper got stuck in between my teeth, and I had a hard time wrangling it out. We got there in no time, and the two of us were directed to his office. There was only one chair, which was awkward. I didn't sit down in it, and John was too much a gentlemen to take it. Bless his soul. We waited around for a few minutes until he finally came in.

"John, how nice. I was hoping you wouldn't be long." He had his head buried in some report or another.

"No greeting for me?" I asked innocently. "How ostensibly rude Mycroft." He turned around to see me standing next to John.

He grimaced. "I was not aware that you would be coming along. Forgive me, Helen." He noticed the lack of an extra seat. "Feel free to take my chair," he told me, pointing to the one behind his desk. "I can stand for the time being."

I smiled back at him. "Why thank you Mycroft. That's incredibly kind." I walked around to the other side of his desk.

"Yes, you can move it..." He trailed off, taking note of how I simply sat at his chair rather then moving it next to the one in front. The look on John's face was priceless. He kept trying to hide his laughter. It wasn't working out well.

"Problem?" I asked, propping my feet up on his desk.

He didn't reply.

"Yes, well, I was wanting to ... um, your brother sent me, that is, us," John started, trying to break the tension, "to collect more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans."

My mind began to wander. Mycroft seemed less then pleased by my appearance, but that was to be expected. I was, after all, not exactly the easiest person to get along with. Must have been my penchant for teasing people on an almost constant basis. That's the thing about cynicism. You rarely make friends unless the other person is a cynic as well. Then again, if you are a cynic, you don't exactly care what others think of you.

I shook my head and returned back to the present.

"And he's completely focused on it," John said, lying through his teeth like the loyal friend that he was.

Mycroft smiled. "Is there anything else I can provide for you?"

John looked at me, and I shrugged. "No, I think we have everything." He stood up. "Thanks for meeting with us." I stood to. "See you later, Mycroft." I followed him out the door.

"Wait just a moment," Mycroft said. The both of us turned back. "If I could speak to Helen for a minute please. Alone." John looked at me for the okay, and I nodded, coming back in and closing the door behind me.

"I feel like I'm about to be scolded by the headmaster," I joked. He didn't laugh. He just stared at me. "Are you gonna say something, or were you intending to act like a nervous teenager unable to talk to his crush?"

"Your analogy is faulty, Ms. Richardson," he commented.

"How so?" I asked.

"You implied that I retained an air of silence because I liked you," he said. "When in fact, although I don't dislike you, I cannot bring myself to think of you in a positive manner."

"Wow, you really know how to woo a girl." I said sarcastically. "Nothing gets my heart beating faster then being told I can't be thought of positively. Please, whisper more sweet nothings in my ear Mycroft. I promise you I won't punch you in the face if you do."

He frowned. "You trouble me, Ms. Richardson."

"Careful now," I warned him. "That's dirty talk right there. Unless you want a smack on the bottom for being naughty, you shouldn't say things like that."

"Are you capable of taking anything seriously?" He said, just a touch of anger showing.

"Are you capable of saying what the bloody hell it is you want in less then ten words?" I countered.

His face grew more displeased. "How is my brother doing?"

"He couldn't give two shits about your case," I informed him. "But you already knew that, didn't you?" I smiled as he shifted position. "John really is a terrible liar. Don't worry though, he does intend to solve it, eventually. There's just some other stuff on his plate now. Is that all, or do you have something else you'd like to say?"

He rubbed his chin, pain obvious. "So he will solve it?"

"Course he will. It is a puzzle, even if it came from you."

"Well that's less then encouraging, but I suppose I'll have to take it." He went round to the other side of his desk and opened up a drawer. "I have something for you."

"A gift? For me? Awww, Mycroft you shouldn't have!"

He smiled painfully. "It's actually two somethings. Here." He handed me a normal looking credit card and a phone. "This phone has my number and Sherlock's already programmed in. You have unlimited texting and minutes, so you have no excuse for not keeping me updated." He pointed to the card. "Now this, is much more important."

I looked at it. "Uh, it doesn't look important." It really didn't.

"Of course it doesn't look it," Mycroft explained. "However, looks can be deceiving. This card is government issue, only used for, less then public reasons." He looked at me with narrowed eyes. "The lack of documentation and records concerning you made this necessary, albeit a bit drastic." I smirked. "It has a balance of five thousand pounds already loaded. This amount will continue to be added monthly, and should cover all expenses."

"That's pretty sweet," I said, holding it up to the light. "And I can buy anything?"

"Within reason," he said. "For obvious reasons I have made it impossible to buy tickets that allow you to leave the country, not that you would anyway due to your lack of a passport. It is also impossible to overdraft the amount you possess. You can withdraw cash, but no more then five hundred pounds at a time. If you attempt to do any of these things, I will know." He smiled at me devilishly.

"It can do all that, but it can't look cool?" I complained.

"What were you expecting?" He asked.

"I dunno, something sleek and shiny. Possibly black or silver. This is kinda pedestrian don't you think?"

"Ms. Richardson, this is not a James Bond film. If it is too dull, I can always take it away so you can get a real job instead." He held out his hand expectantly.

"Like hell I'm giving this up," I said, pocketing both it and the phone. "Well, if that's everything then I'm off." I turned to leave.

"Wait," he said.

"What now?" I turned back to him.

"Don't get emotionally close to Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Falling in love with him will do you no good. It will be disappointing at best, and heartbreaking at worst."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Fuck you too," I said, then opened the door and walked away.

I said I'd update next Friday, today is next Friday, and Star Trek Into Darkness was fucking epic. I could not stop staring at the cumberbooty. In other news, I'm watching Hannibal.

Update next Wednesday! Sooner if I get more reviews. I love you all you make me so happy!