I realise this isn't really much of a chapter, but hey, it means that The Blind Banker is finally finished.

Emily didn't remember much.

Didn't remember how Sherlock had all but carried her out of the tunnels, as she had giggled about villains in sunglasses, didn't remember how Dimmock had been waiting outside of the tunnels and asked if she was alright. So, naturally, she didn't remember losing consciousness, or Sherlock gently lifting her onto an ambulance and listing off all her recent injuries with just a hint of urgency.

She did however, remember waking up in a private room of St Bart's. The lights had been dimmed and a gentle snoring noise next to her had indicated John had fallen asleep waiting for her to wake up.

She also remembered, hearing an argument on the other side of the door. Mr Roid, was apparently kicking up a fuss about not being able to see a member of his staff, while a Doctor was adamant he was not, under any circumstances, to enter her room. According to John, everyone knew all about Mr Roid and his wandering eyes, and had agreed amongst themselves, much to Emily's delight, that she was to have as much time as they could allow her off and away from her awful boss. They had waited a whole three days (a whole two and a half days later than they needed to) before allowing her to go home, where she was to have a full week off under the supervision of Doctor John Watson.

She couldn't help smiling whenever she thought of this and had to keep reminding herself to buy a box of chocolates for them all, just to say thank you.

Now, her week was almost over and the thought of going back to work filled her with dread.

John had also delighted in telling her all about the pin and who had had it all along; her shock in discovering how much it had been worth and her joy as she had all but run around the offices jumping with joy. Emily noted the dejected look on John's face as he told her this however, and couldn't help but sympathise with him.

If only they had that kind of money...

It took Emily a while to get the energy to leave the warmth of her covers. It was her last day off before she had to go back to work and face the questions of Mr Roid and his wandering eyes. Sherlock had all but promised her he would be in the lab at some point during the day and would take her out for lunch. If she was lucky. Which meant she would have to go and find Sherlock when she eventually got hungry and annoy him until he left the building with her.

She could hear her flatmates voices now. Or at least the faint mumblings of them down below her, and wondered briefly what it was they were talking about. The end of the case? Or maybe even the start of a fresh one?

Her mind wandered at all the possibilities. And before she knew it her eyes were falling shut again. Images of John, of Sherlock, Jim and Sebastian. And Timothy Pecker with that stupid smirk of his.

Timothy Pecker with the look of shock on his face when she had pushed him.

Timothy Pecker falling to the floor, his laughter still ringing in her ears for the last time as the awful crash sounded like an alarm to the whole house.

Emily's eyes snapped open, blinking furiously against the little stream of light that her curtains allowed to seep through. A light sheen of sweat covered her body and she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. This was all the encouragement she needed to throw the covers off and climb out of bed.

Slipping her dressing gown on over her pyjamas, she quietly padded down the stairs hoping the boys wouldn't take notice of her if she slipped into the bathroom.

"Morning sleepy." John called from the kitchen. She had just got to the doorway, which in her haste to get to the bathroom she had not realised the door to be wide open. Bringing a smile to her lips, she stepped into the room. The boys were busy making tea and in Johns case breakfast.

"Good morning."

"What's the matter with you?" Sherlock was suddenly next to her, his eyes roaming everywhere.

"What do you mean?" She questioned.

"You never say that. Your smile so clearly fake. Did you have a bad dream?" His voice was slow and deep, and she noted, held a hint of concern.

"Christ Sherlock, let her breath, she's just woke up." But John was looking at her, his serious Doctor face taking over. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"No dizziness, no headaches?"

"No John. Just gonna nip to the loo."

"Yeah. Yeah, ok. I'll save you some toast." With that she spun on her feet and left the pair to their morning ritual. She could have sworn she heard someone following after her but didn't bother to turn around to check.

With both doors firmly locked, (she was always more concerned about the door to Sherlock's room opening rather than the one to the corridor) she splashed her face with cool water before dabbing it dry with the hand towel.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Noting that while John had been worried she would have a scar from her adventures, nothing remained to prove of the story. And for some reason that she could not fathom, she felt saddened by this fact.

Deciding to hurry herself, she did not want to boys thinking she was getting dizzy again, she flushed the toilet to keep up with the charade and exited the bathroom. The boys were no longer in the kitchen but sat at the table next to the windows. Sherlock with his paper in front of him, John with his breakfast. A plate of toast next to it just for Emily.

"You cracked the code, though, Sherlock; and maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it." John was saying as Emily perched herself on the arm of his chair, reaching over and taking a slice of the toast.

"No. No. I cracked this code; all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book." But Emily was no longer listening, she was too occupied with the outside world. Or more specifically, the young man outside. She nudged John gently with her elbow.

"Look." She nodded her head at the window.

The young man had checked his surroundings before he lifted a spray can to the parking ticket box.

A thought tickled her mind. A thought that she had seen this symbol somewhere before. It looked almost Egyptian, practically an eye. So it didn't surprise her that she would recognise it. Emily had always been partial to her history lessons in school, but only when it had been about the Egyptians. Or the Tudors. And she had heard about a school that had learnt about the Victorian era and more specifically Jack the Ripper. Her jealousy of this school had almost outshone her love of the other two eras. Almost.

But there was still something about this symbol that was making Emily think. And the thoughts were not the good kind.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She was bought back to reality by a hand touching her forehead, checking for a temperature no doubt. Now that she focused back on the inside world, she realised John and Sherlock were staring at her as if they'd been trying to get her attention for a while.

"Hmm...? Yeah, yeah, just still a bit tired that's all."

"Tired? You've done basically nothing but sleep since you got home from the hospital." John all but scoffed taking a bite of his breakfast. Sherlock still watching her curiously. "It's your last day before you have to go back to work - " Emily groaned and slouched, as much as she could, against John, almost falling in his lap in the process. "It's your last day before you have to go back to work," He pulled her up gently so she was sitting properly on his lap. "Do you want to do something today?"

"Like what?" He rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist as she nibbled on her toast. Sherlock now hiding behind his newspaper so as not to see their actions.

"I dunno. Anything. We could go to a museum." She shook her head at that. She had had enough of museums for a while. "Or we could...go shopping...?" He sounded uncertain on this option.

"No. No shopping. But you must promise me you will tell me where you got this jumper from." She picked at the sleeves that were wrapped around her.

"Deal. What about... -"

"John, if it's all the same to you...can we just watch some TV together, maybe a film. And if the mood strikes me, perhaps we can go for a walk around the block?"

John pretended to think for a moment as if her answer hadn't been exactly what he had wanted to hear. He sighed with exaggeration. "Yeah. Alright. I suppose."

Emily giggled before placing a crumb covered kiss all over his cheek. "I'll get us some snacks!" She all but jumped from the Doctor's lap and raced to the kitchen, her dressing gown blown out behind her like a cape.

"Where's the remote Em?!"

"You're sitting on it." Sherlock answered from behind his paper.

"Oh."

FB