Chapter 35

John was still asleep in the bedroom, but Sherlock had been up, mucking about with an old, almost discarded experiment in the kitchen, for nearly an hour when he heard the doorbell. He hurried down the stairs and found to his relief that he had guessed right: it was a young Blackpool policewoman, who handed him the two books with a shy smile, trying not to stare too much.

Sherlock couldn't help himself. He flashed her a brilliant smile. "Thank you, dear," he said, and the woman blushed instantly. She muttered something, nodded her head and left in a hurry. Chuckling to himself Sherlock made it up the stairs, already busy examining the books in his hands.

John just came out of the bedroom, pulling his dressing robe around him, when Sherlock entered the flat. "Morning. What was - ah, the books?"

Sherlock beamed at him. "Yes," he said. "Finally." He brought them over to the table, cleared everything to one side with a single sweep of his arm and carefully laid the books down.

John sighed as everything dropped to the floor, but he was happy for Sherlock. After all he had given him a wonderful day, and it was only fair that he could work properly now. He stood close next to him to have a look at the books. "What are you going to look for first?" he asked, turning one of the copies around to admire the figures on the cover.

"The covers," Sherlock said. "And then of course I'll have to read them."

"Have fun," John said, pulling up his eyebrows at the thick volumes. "Do you mind if I go to the shop first? I guess I can't help you much right now..."

Sherlock shook his head and waved his hand in a sort of vague dismissal. He had put the two books next to each other and was studying the covers intently.

John pressed a kiss to the back of Sherlock's head and went for a shower. It would always be strange, how Sherlock could pin his full attention to John one day, and to a case on the next. John didn't mind, as long as the first kind of days would show up now and then. He got dressed and left to get some food.

When John returned, Sherlock was sitting at the table, one of the books open before him, his laptop next to him, taking notes with one hand as he read.

John put everything in the fridge, then sat down next to Sherlock, who didn't seem to have noticed his return. "Anything interesting?" he asked.

"Not even remotely," Sherlock answered. "It's about subtexts in ancient Greek drama. Very tedious. I don't understand why anyone would go through so much trouble getting their hands on them."

"What kind of subtext?" John asked a bit distractedly, as he was looking a little too much at Sherlock's lips while he was speaking.

"You know, reading between the lines. Looking beyond the actual words of the text for the true meaning." Sherlock frowned and made a note.

"Yeah." John shook himself. "Yeah, like the title indicates. Is one of the chapters perhaps called "The truth"? It could be a point to start looking..."

"No. No Veritas." Sherlock turned a page. "And no Aperto either. I'm beginning to think that Fitzroy was just a madman."

"He was a madman," John said thoughtfully, pulling the other book closer. "But even then he must have had a reason to make the efforts to steal both books, with five years of planning in between."

"Yes," Sherlock huffed. "You're probably right. I just wish I could have asked him what to look for."

John turned his eyes down to the table. "Then you wouldn't have had a mystery though," he said flatly.

Sherlock grunted in agreement, as he made another note.

"Alright. I'm going to have a sandwich and read a bit. Call me when you need me," John said, getting up from his chair.

Sherlock nodded and turned another page.

After eating, John snuggled into his chair with a novel. It didn't take long before he fell asleep in the comfortable warmth - after all, Sherlock hadn't given him much chance to sleep during the previous night.

Three hours later, Sherlock swooped down on John and pressed a very passionate kiss to his lips.

"Hm-mmm?" John blinked himself to alertness, putting a hand on Sherlock's neck in reflex.

Sherlock pulled back and smiled at John. "I got it," he said.

"Got what?" John frowned. "Oh, the books!"

"Subtext!" Sherlock said. "But it's not just reading between the lines. It's reading between the books!" He hurried back to the table and picked up both books, holding them up for John to see.
John rubbed his eyes and stared at the pages. "Er, can you talk me through it? I have no idea what I should look at."

"The books are not identical," Sherlock said, laying the books down on the table and pointing to a word in one of them. "I discovered it, because this sentence did not really make sense, when I read the first book. 'Quoddam verba habent multos fines'. Then I read the same page in the other book and it says: 'Quoddam inventa habent multos sensos'. Also nonsense. But then if you put them together it could be: 'Quoddam verba habent multos sensos'. And then further down on the same page, it happens again. One sentence does not make sense. There are two words that differ from book to book. But if you put them together, it becomes clear. It's scattered through the entire book. Not on every page, but there's enough for it to carry some kind of meaning."

John smiled at Sherlock. "That's amazing," he said sincerely. "So he really needed the two copies to find the meaning of it all. Have you already found many of those differences?"

"Ten pages," Sherlock said. "But we'll need to go through every single page of both books and compare them. And we need to mark the differences, which means we'll need copies. So I need you to go out and get a scanner. And a printer, with lots of paper and extra toner."

John nodded and stretched. "It's a good thing that at least some of our clients pay. I'll get the stuff. Unless you care to go with me to carry some of it?"

Sherlock snorted. "Oh, so now I'm allowed to go out?" He glanced at the cast. "Wouldn't be much use anyway."

John chuckled. "As if you'd come if you didn't have that." He reached up for a kiss. "Don't come complaining when it isn't the right brand or anything."

"Then get the right one," Sherlock chuckled.

"I'll do my best."

Sherlock gave him a quick kiss. "I love you," he said. Then he was back at the laptop.

"You too," John smiled, taking his jacket.

...

An hour later, John returned with the materials. Struggling with the boxes, he got them upstairs. "A little help on the stairs would have been nice," he said, giving Sherlock a look, but as expected the detective's full focus was on the books.

"Hook it up to your laptop," Sherlock said without looking up. "And then you can start scanning the Brazilian copy."

"Yes, you're welcome," John said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks," Sherlock said belatedly as he started a new search.

John sighed and put the kettle on before he started installing the scanner. He took a little break to pour them both a cup of tea and left Sherlock's with him, well out of reach from the books in case the genius would leap up a little too enthusiastically.

Once everything was installed, John started making the scans. He had to be careful - after all, Professor Gryffydd's blood pressure would get far too high if he ever noticed that someone had ill-treated a copy of the Abscondita. The job was nerve-rackingly boring and they went on all night, John clinging to far too many cups of tea to keep himself awake. When finally the last page had been saved on his laptop, he started printing.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock looked up from the screen.

"Shouldn't we take a break? There's not much we can do until both books are printed out, and I'd really like to get some air. It would do you some good, too."

Sherlock frowned and looked back at his screen. "I suppose..."

"Come on, you can't stare at your screen forever if there's nothing new to be found. It's printing one book at a time anyway, to make sure the pages won't get mixed up." John reached out his hand.

Sherlock sighed and then smiled at John. "Okay," he said and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze before getting to his feet with a groan.

John gave him a quick hug, then grabbed his jacket and handed Sherlock his coat and scarf. "It will be good to stretch our legs before we go into comparing texts all the time."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, you're probably right. Where do you want to go?"

"Just to the park or something. Or perhaps we could stop somewhere to eat, if there's anything open at this hour."

Sherlock's stomach chose this exact moment to growl and he grinned. "Eating sounds good."

John laughed.

They went outside and walked down the street, hand in hand, John walking closer to Sherlock as they got further from the flat because the cold got through his thin jacket. Sherlock let go of John's hand and instead wrapped his arm around him pulling him close.

John sighed contently. "There's this Indian restaurant that stays open late. Perhaps not as late as it is now, but we can go have a look?"

"Sure," Sherlock gave John a little squeeze and took a deep breath. "It is nice being outside."

"Yeah, better than dusty books. One day you're going to have to admit that breathing is more necessary than boring," John teased.

Sherlock huffed, but kept smiling. "Necessary and boring do not rule out each other."

"Fair point," John smiled. "I love this, though. London being at least partly asleep, so we can just walk here as if it is all ours. We should do this more often."

Sherlock considered for a moment. "I can think of better ways to spend our time."

John laughed. "Like you just said, one doesn't rule out the other."

Sherlock stopped walking, holding John back as well. "No?" he asked, looking down at him with a grin.

"It is cold though," John grinned back. "I was rather thinking of when we get back."

"Don't worry," Sherlock said with a grin. "I can keep you warm for a while." He let go of John and unbuttoned his coat. "Get in," he said and winked at John.

John laughed, but complied, snuggling into Sherlock's chest and reaching up for a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," Sherlock said. He wrapped the coat around John and bent down to kiss him back.

John laid his arms around Sherlock's warm back under the coat. It was nice to be completely enveloped in his scent. "I think I could fall asleep like this."

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," Sherlock chuckled. "But if you'd rather we went home..."

"No, food," John said, smiling up at him. "It's a bit of a shame that we can't walk like this."

Sherlock leaned down and kissed him. Then he let him go and took his hand again. "Let's get it over with then."

John chuckled. "At least I'm a bit warmer now."