When the three of them returned to 221B, John instantly went to make tea. It helped him think, especially when he had to keep up with two overly excited geniuses. "Those numbers, a one and a fifteen. They represent something else." Sherlock said, settling down on the couch in his usual position, fingertips resting on his chin almost in prayer as he stared at the ceiling. Felicity, on the other hand, settled down cross legged on the floor in what looked like the classic 'meditation' pose. Her braid hung perfectly down the center of the back as she sat up in what looked like a painfully straight manner, her eyes fixed on the wallpaper as she started to think.
"Were they instructions? Something to do with the stock exchanges, maybe?" John thought out loud, sitting in his arm chair to watch the two with fond fascination. Usually, one little prompt got Sherlock going for hours and that was John's main intention in speaking. He knew that he would be pretty much useless for the next few hours; he had ideas, but they were always fifty paces behind Sherlock's if not completely wrong. However, if he could help Sherlock think faster, then by all means he was willing to help.
"The symbols were a threat- remember the origami flower, John. It was a message, a warning, not a business proposition." Sherlock reminded him, tone surprisingly calm. It would have been very like him to snap at John, but he didn't. He must have been on his best behavior. John mentally praised the effect of Felicity's presence on Sherlock. She really was good for him, and John was suddenly very glad that she was there.
"Cryptography, maybe? It would be a very short message, but it could have had personal meaning for Van Coon." Felicity mused so quietly John almost didn't catch it. Her eyes were closed now, her reddish brown lashes almost resting on her cheeks. "No," she disagreed with herself after a moment. John looked away from her to see Sherlock looking at her with fascination on his face, apparently not at all bothered with the fact that she'd stopped his thought process, which was usually a deadly offense.
"Why not? That makes sense to me," John said, and a ghost of a smile crossed Felicity's face in response to his question, bust she kept her eyes closed.
"If the numbers were meant to be used in cryptography, they would have been posted in the standardized number system, not with Chinese symbols. The type of cryptography that would be applied to such a short message is a modern math practice and would not be applied to ancient numbers." She said in that same, soft voice, almost as if she was in a trance. Sherlock knew she was in her mind-skyscraper, flicking through possibilities, through data she had on hand. It made him inexplicably happy. "It's a code, then. Decode the numbers, find the message. The message is a threat, tied into Chinese culture, ancient Chinese culture. A society then? A gang? But what would they want with Van Coon?" Her brow furrowed as she continued to murmur under her breath, trying to understand.
"Money? He did trade exclusively with Hong Kong." John said, glancing at Sherlock for confirmation. Sherlock had a crooked grin on his face as he watched Felicity deconstruct their puzzle, a strangely proud expression in his eyes. It was like watching a father watch their child make a major milestone in their life, like learning how to walk or tying their shoes for the first time. The expression seemed to fit on Sherlock's face, making the whole situation even more odd to John.
"It's part of the equation, but I don't think it comes from stocks. Too modern." Sherlock said, getting up and going for his laptop, skirting around Felicity to avoid bothering her.
"From what then?" John said, confused, knowing that the answer was probably right in front of him. He just couldn't see a connection to money and ancient Chinese culture. Was Sherlock referring to old Chinese money?
"Van Coon returned recently from China," Felicity almost whispered. "He did something there to earn the threat- but what?" She opened her eyes slowly and then blinked a few times, blushing when she noticed that John was openly watching her, looking amazed. "Is being a detective always like this?" She asked, standing up and glancing at Sherlock as his eyes whizzed over his computer.
"Like what?" Sherlock prompted, not looking up, his mind only half paying attention to her. It took him very little time to figure out his own theory into what happened and he was now doing research to back up that theory. However, since he was Sherlock Holmes, he tended to be 98.2% right the first time and the research was nominal backup.
"It's so…exhilarating. It's fun." Felicity said, sounding almost confused as she put a label on what she thought about Sherlock's profession and the mystery right in front of her nose. Sherlock was jerked back to focus on her completely at her comment and he practically beamed at her over the top of his laptop. A smile spread over her face in response to the obviously happy and pleased expression on Sherlock's. "But I have more thinking to do." Felicity seemed to remind herself, and she settled back down, smoothing her skirt before assuming her previous position. In seconds she was gone again, a half smile lingering on her face from Sherlock's approval of her thoughts on the subject.
"It worries me that it took her that long to realize that it is possible to have fun." John told Sherlock in an undertone, looking over the detective's shoulder. Sherlock was researching old Chinese societies in an online book. He looked up at John, the happiness leaving his face. He glanced at the motionless little girl again and seemed to swallow, just once.
"When I was her age it was very hard for me to have fun, especially with other people. It is difficult to keep a mind of her size entertained whilst keeping company that contributes to the exercise. I can understand her confusion." He admitted, looking away from John as he did so.
"Maybe it's a good thing that she's here." John said, half to himself. He settled down in his armchair, careful not to disturb Felicity with his footfalls.
"Yes," Sherlock said absentmindedly, his mind no longer on the case. He was now trying to recall positive childhood memories, memories where he was having fun. His mental search through the database of his memories was coming up empty, for the most part. He could remember horse-back riding lessons with Mycroft (always enjoyable), but he'd only been amused at his brother's expense. When he had played pirate was fun, certainly, but the game was so lonely and based so much on fantasy that Sherlock couldn't call it 'fun'. It was more like a desperate dream to find a new world where he could have fun. Frowning, he gazed at Felicity. Should he encourage her to pursue something she found fun so early on, or should he dissuade her from joining in a profession where most people found you to be a freak? He knew that it would ultimately be her decision, but his words and actions would hold great sway over Felicity, especially because it was obvious to him that Felicity counted John and himself as some of her only friends. He didn't want to crush her when she was just starting to grow.
Felicity eventually emerged from her mind skyscraper, unwilling to admit that she had taken the time to do something other than think about the case. Instead, she had been creating three more floors to her rapidly growing skyscraper. The first one she created was in the section of the skyscraper she had devoted to 'Places'. It took up about a hundred floors. Some floors were mostly empty, containing only a few facts. Some, on the other hand, were stuffed full of minute and exact details of just about everything. In that section she placed a new floor dedicated to the city of London. It was slightly embarrassing that she hadn't had one beforehand, but because of her situation with Charley the two of them hardly ever traveled. She'd read about the city, but that information had gone into the floor devoted to England because it was too insignificant and not unique enough to get its own floor. Now she had a large wealth of information on the subject, and it needed to be stored before it was forgotten. Into the floor went pictures, sensations, smells, road maps, layouts, architecture, people, anything. She had to adjust the size and organize a few things, but the first room on London was finished rather quickly once she got all the information into one place.
The next room was for John Watson. This kind, patient army doctor had more than earned his place to be recognized. He cared for her well-being, didn't treat her like a child, and didn't look down on her for being smart. He was a treasure trove of information when it came to anatomy; his experiences as a doctor made him invaluable to any sort of question about the human body and how it worked. John was also a soldier, like her brother. While her brother had provided her with the knowledge about the military and its functions, John gave her more accurate information about higher ranking officers, how wounds affected soldiers, and how being in the military affected your everyday mannerisms and life. Charley never brought the war home with him whereas John lived the war every day. His mannerisms, his expressions, his never ending coolness under pressure- it was all fascinating to Felicity. John was also her reminder to be a bit more normal. He was a grounding, gentle presence that made her want to curl up in one of his jumpers and eat jam with him instead of studying the theory of relativity. John was nice, sweet, and like a father to her. She already loved him. His floor went down towards the bottom of the skyscraper. Her 'People' section came first in the structure itself, but the most important people in her life were represented in the first few floors. Charley was obviously number 1, followed closely by the memories of her parents. A nice teacher was spliced here or there, but there were no friends there until she put in the floor for John.
Right below John's floor was one for Sherlock. The man made her mind go into overdrive, and she loved it. He stimulated such thought in her that she loved his presence. Sherlock was brilliant, quick, and always nice to her, even when he was presenting her with a challenge. He was refined, like she was, and was the only person she had ever met who was more than her intellectual equal. His job inspired her. He inspired her. Sherlock was a friend, a guide, and a mentor. He always listened and never shot her down; he was letting her stay with him for a whole week. Sherlock was a friend, someone she had admitted feelings to without being crushed in return. She could trust him, and that's where his role as a guide came in. He was a role model for her, an example that things did get better. He was guiding her through the horrible sense of not belonging anywhere and showing her that things would be alright in the end. Sherlock was proof that her mind was not a punishment and wasn't anything to be ashamed of. No one had been able to do that for her before, and because Sherlock could, he was very special to her. His advice had struck a chord deep inside her and she loved her new change of heart. Finally, he was most obviously a mentor. By having her accompany him on this latest case, she got to see a job that interested her. Sherlock had prodded her in the right direction, showed her what evidence to look for and what questions to ask. He was like a father figure, but he wasn't necessarily the perfect fit for the stereotypical father role. She would rely on him like he was her father, trust him like he was her father, and probably love him just as much.
Felicity stood up, ignoring how her knees made cricking sounds as the joints straightened after being bent for so long. She was very pleased with her progress on the case (considering she had very little data) along with her organization in her skyscraper. Now that she was free for interaction, she was curious to see what John and Sherlock were doing. She wanted to observe how they solved cases so that she could someday do it on her own.
John was sitting calmly in his armchair, sipping at his cup of tea as he watched Sherlock research furiously on John's laptop, eyes darting around the screen. John seemed very at ease, very patient. He had an almost fond expression on his face as he watched his flat-mate and friend crack another case. It appeared to Felicity that John did very little during this pivotal period in a case. John was important, not to be overlooked in any way, but when it came to doing the deep, incredibly complex thinking, that was Sherlock's department. And thinking Sherlock was; Felicity could practically envision a machine to replace Sherlock's grey matter as he thought and researched furiously, oblivious to the outside world. At some point, Sherlock would find some data that would fit with a deduction and a theory in his head and then boom, he'd be off to investigate, to solve the case. The idea sent shivers of excitement up Felicity's spine.
While Sherlock worked, Felicity and John curled up on the couch together to watch telly. Felicity wanted to pester Sherlock with more questions and watch every step of his research, but she knew that doing so would slow him down at a time when they couldn't afford any delays. She wanted to learn, but Sherlock needed to work. To stop herself from hovering in an annoying fashion, she stayed on the couch with John, drinking tea and watching reruns of Doctor Who.
From where she was half sprawled, half curled up on John's chest, she could hear the steady beat of his heart under her ear, which was nice; it reminded her of the nights were she would do the same thing with Charley. The longer they sat through boring commercials, the more her mind wandered. She wondered what John and Sherlock were like as kids. She wondered how they ever learned to trust and love each other (because in her mind, two people who were best friends and accepted each other unconditionally loved each other). Deep down inside, she hoped that she would be allowed into the friendship that John and Sherlock shared- Felicity wanted that more than anything. Daydreams of solving cases with her two best-friends started to lull her into sleep. She got so drowsy curled up next to John that she almost missed him going to change the channel. "Wait- what are you doing?" Felicity asked, looking up at John and plucking the remote from his fingers.
"All the reruns are old. I thought these were from more recent episodes. I mean, look, for god's sake that's the fourth doctor." John said, gesturing to the TV. Felicity sat up a bit, affronted that John would dismiss her favorite doctor so easily.
"What's wrong with the fourth doctor?" Felicity demanded, scoffing when John wrinkled his nose.
"He's weird," John complained, and Felicity gaped at him. "Come on, Felicity! How can you like that-?"
"How can you not like the fourth doctor? The scarf? Sarah-Jane? Is all that brilliance lost on you?" Felicity talked over him, ignoring how Sherlock shot them a dirty look for being loud. While Sherlock represented work and unparalleled mental prowess in Felicity's life, John was definitely the human part, the more relax side. She enjoyed both immensely but couldn't focus on Sherlock right then. John was insulting her favorite doctor!
"Felicity, nine is much better, he really is." John said earnestly, and Felicity rolled her eyes.
"What, with his big ears and-,"
"He has Rose, one of the best companions-!"
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you- would you like a jelly baby?"
"Felicity- seriously, come on-"
"Shut up, K-9!" Felicity insisted, starting to giggle uncontrollably at the frustration on John's face. Every time he tried to speak she interrupted with a reference from the fourth doctor.
"No! The ninth doctor is fantastic!" John shot back, starting to chuckle himself.
"How could you possibly think-!" Felicity started, but Sherlock cut her off.
"Honestly, is it so hard for the two of you to be quiet?" he snapped, exasperated, shutting his laptop. "Your interrupting my research on Chinese artifacts sold at auction!" He looked very close to sulking, as if he would never work again thanks to this recent interruption.
"If you don't stop wallowing in self-pity; I'll bite your nose." Felicity managed to say with a straight face, only bursting into giggles at Sherlock's expression as he processed what she'd said. His half angry half incredulous look was just too much, especially because he couldn't appreciate the Doctor Who reference. John joined in, unable not to laugh when Felicity was laughing. In the end, both of them were gasping and wiping tears of mirth from their eyes, ignoring the sulking and scowling detective.
"Right, ok, dinner time. Who's up for take-away?" John asked, getting up and going into the kitchen for the menus. Sherlock grunted, turning his face away. He wouldn't admit it, but he was slightly jealous of the banter going on between Felicity and John. It was annoying at all, if anything, it made Sherlock feel out of place because for once in his life, he couldn't join in. He had never been good at social interactions, at letting himself relax and be himself when he wasn't working. He wanted to banter with Felicity about nonsensical things and Sherlock had never wanted to be nonsensical in his entire life.
"Ooh, me! How about-," Felicity suddenly stopped talking, freezing where she was half risen from the couch in her attempt to follow John. Sherlock's words flashed through her mind; Chinese artifacts sold at auction. Why was that important? How did that pertain to the case? Her mind ran through several possibilities, calculating the probability of each theory being correct at the same time. She wanted to know why he was searching for ancient Chinese artifacts, but she wanted to figure it out herself. There had to be connections somewhere…
"Felicity?" John asked curiously, sticking his head around the kitchen doorframe to investigate what had made her stop talking so quickly. Her eyes were slightly far away as she stared at the television without seeing it. Sherlock instantly recognized that she was thinking- she'd just received a new idea and had to process it before she did anything else. Those moments were a bit unfortunate at times (you had to stop what you were doing right away to calculate), but the time taken to think was always beneficial. It made him proud that Felicity was having those moments; it meant that she was learning and growing at an incredible rate.
"OH!" Felicity let out in a long breath, blinking a few times as she narrowed her ideas down to two. Because she hadn't been in the victim's flats, she couldn't be sure if they were killed for a hobby or something more sinister. The fact that she'd narrowed it down to two possibilities made her very excited, however. She wondered if this was how Sherlock solved his puzzles; if she was starting to become more like her idol. "Sorry, yes, never mind." Felicity jumped to her feet, shooting John and Sherlock a bright smile, acting as if she hadn't just frozen for a few seconds. Her ideas were interesting, but they were now safely stored away in her skyscraper for later revision and musing. Now was not the time to continue- it would take her a while to form new conjectures.
"Felicity, are you ok?" John asked, still worried. Felicity waved a hand dismissively. If John didn't know better, he would have thought that Felicity was exhibiting symptoms of a seizure. He didn't like the coil of unease and worry that had appeared in his gut; his protective nature of Felicity was rearing its ugly head and with nothing to focus it on, the feeling made him want to hug her and keep her safe when his actions weren't necessary. John squashed the emotion, trying to get a grip.
"Of course! Sorry, I was just thinking about the case; won't happen again. Ooh, how about Indian food for dinner? I love it but Charley hates it so I never get to have any." She changed the subject so fast that John didn't have time to think about her response to his previous question. He figured that Felicity wouldn't hide anything that was life-threatening or incredibly important, so he decided to do as she wanted and ignore it.
"Indian sounds lovely. Sherlock? What about you?" John prompted, glancing at the detective, who sent him a stern eye roll in return.
"I don't eat on cases, John." Sherlock reminded him in an 'everyone loves to discredit and annoy me' sort of voice. John sent him a look, trying to mentally tell his flatmate that he needed to set a good example for Felicity. It was obvious that Felicity was learning a lot from the detective, and John didn't want her to pick up Sherlock's atrocious eating habits as well. Turns out, John needn't have bothered.
"He'll have the Tandoori chicken," Felicity said artlessly, walking into the kitchen to follow John, stretching lightly as she did so.
"What? How did you know- that's all he'll eat when I make him eat takeaway!" John spluttered, and Felicity sent him a shy but undoubtedly happy smile.
"On the menu in your hand there's a spot where the laminated covering is thinner. It's been eaten away by acid in a thumb shaped print- Sherlock most likely had gloves on while working on an experiment and gestured impatiently at the menu to tell you what takeaway dish he'd promise to eat." She rattled off with a shrug.
"Mm, bravo." Sherlock murmured to his computer screen, and a delicate flush brushed Felicity's cheeks at his compliment. "Yes, fine, the Tandoori will do." Sherlock added, along with a dismissive gesture.
"For you then, Felicity?" John asked, digging out his cell phone to place the order.
"The Malai Kofta if you wouldn't mind." She said, climbing up a bar stool to sit at the kitchen table, her eyes passing briefly over the science equipment and chemicals. John placed the order, along with chicken Tikka Masala for himself. While they waited for the takeaway to arrive, Sherlock got up off the couch and joined Felicity at the table. They prodded at the bacteria dishes, John watching with an amused expression from afar. Usually he would yell at Sherlock for not cleaning off the table when they needed it to eat on, but he found that he didn't care. Seeing Sherlock coming undone made John happy- and he wasn't about to interrupt such a good change that was occurring in the detective.
He thought back to Lestrade's comment about Sherlock one day becoming a good man and had to grin to himself as Felicity wound herself around Sherlock's leg and foot and refused to let go, forcing him to walk like a sasquatch to go and get the takeaway when it arrived, chuckling to himself the whole time. With the changes he was seeing so far, John was sure that his flatmate was well on his way to the good man that Lestrade and John knew that he could be.
OoOoOoO
A/N: So, now you've seen a bit of character development fluffy cheesy goodness- I hope it was ok. :/ I promise that there will be good casefic action in the next chapter! It's hard to re-write the Blind Banker in a way that is true to the original plot and yet lets me work in another character without making it boring or fake. (At least, I hope that's what I've done!) I also apologize for mixing the fandoms (I had a brief Ghostbusters inspired day dream: 'DON'T CROSS THE STREAMS!'). I've never watched Doctor Who (I don't have time with school and everything) so I had to do a lot of research to hopefully get my references right. I wanted to add DW to this so BAM! Here's some Doctor Who for you.
Your reviews blew me away- thank you all so much! I appreciate it so SO much you have no idea. To quote Arthur Shappey, you guys are 'BRILLIANT'! If it's not too much to ask, could you guys answer me this question- would you lot kill me if I started to sneak in some johnlock-ish stuff? I don't actually ship them so I'm a bit nervous doing it but I could see how a johnlock pairing would work in this story.
Finally, ALL HAIL LOUISUPERWHOLOCKED THE EDITING QUEEN! You are an awesome beta. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. :')