I woke up early the next morning out of habit and realized that John was right. I was in a hell of a lot of pain. I managed to get up and grab some more Advil before going next door to ask if I could use Mrs. Hudson's shower since I hadn't quite finished fixing the bathroom in 221C yet. Thankfully, she readily allowed me to use it and I tried to shower for as long as I could stand, but it turns out I was only in there for half an hour. I never did take long showers, but this is just going to make the day last far too long for my liking. I sighed quietly and returned to my flat, digging through my bag to see if I had any leftover change lying around for some breakfast. Just then though, someone knocked on my door. I glanced up and saw Sherlock standing there, causing me to raise a brow.

"Can I help you?"

He held up his wallet. "Breakfast?"

I frowned at him. "And why would you be wanting to treat me to breakfast?"

He frowned back in response before tucking his wallet into his coat and turning away. "Just thought I'd offer, seeing as you only have a few pounds to your name at the moment and are unlikely to be cooking anything with a stove that hasn't been connected yet."

I scrambled up off the floor and put a hand on his shoulder. "Now hold on a minute, I didn't say I wouldn't eat with you."

He smirked and somehow, I felt like I was just duped. He did that on purpose. The git. Soon though, I had a thick coat on to battle the early London air, and we were catching a cab to some place. I had no say in where we were going, but as long as there was food and something to occupy me for the day to keep my mind off my aching body, I'd be fine with whatever Sherlock chose. The place we ended up at was decent enough though, and once we were seated and had ordered, I narrowed my eyes at Sherlock.

"You didn't order anything."

He glanced at me, turning from the window he had been looking out of. "I don't eat on cases."

"Alright, I'll take that. But why offer to pay for my food and drag me out here if you weren't going to eat anything?"

He gave me a look and returned his gaze to the window. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"We both know that's a lie. What do you want?"

He turned back. "Who said I want anything?"

I sighed in frustration just as my food came. The plate was set in front of me and I poured syrup on my pancakes before picking up my fork and knife, carefully cutting bite sized pieces and eating them. I stopped though, upon feeling eyes on me, and I gave Sherlock a look.

"What? Never seen a person eat before?"

His slightly surprised expression went back to his bored one. "I just never expected someone like you to have manners."

I rolled my eyes, eating another bite. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when your parents only use you to show off their wealth."

He turned away with an odd expression that I couldn't quite place, but I shrugged it off for now and continued eating in relative silence until Sherlock finally decided to do what he dragged me here for.

"You don't find me interesting."

I raised a brow, finishing a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "You? Hardly. Not to be rude or anything, but I could care less about what you do. It's nice and all that you go around solving crimes, but does that change the fact that I still have a flat to finish fixing? Or that my girlfriend cheated on me? Or that my parents disowned me? It doesn't effect me, so I'm willing to let you do as you want and not get in your way. Simple as that."

I ate a mouthful of eggs with a shrug, ignoring the frustrated look on Sherlock's face.

"You certainly live a dull life."

I nodded. "Yup. But I live a nice, quiet life. Well, other than the few mishaps here and there. I like what I do, just as you like what you do. To each his own."

Sherlock leaned forward, steepling his hands in front of his chin. "You certainly are an odd one."

"I'll take that as a compliment." I muttered, not sure what he was getting on about.

He suddenly rose then, his coat sweeping out behind him. "Shall we return then?"

I nodded, having finished my breakfast and feeling more than a little tired. Don't know why I'm so tired, other than my busy past few days. But might as well indulge myself since Dr. Watson put me on bed rest. I followed Sherlock out and back to Baker Street, however, instead of going back to my flat like I wished, Sherlock stopped and called out to me.

"Come upstairs. I need someone to bounce things off of other than my skull."

I scowled, giving him a look. "Really?"

He simply gave me a look in return and I sighed, doing as he asked in the hopes that he might leave me alone the rest of the day. Don't know how long I'll stay awake though. Oh well. Sucks for him if I fall asleep mid-lecture.

John had just returned from his job interview, which had gone quiet well, seeing as he had been overqualified to begin with. At least this will help me pay the bills a bit. As he walked in, he wasn't surprised to find Sherlock sitting in a chair facing the fireplace, hands steepled before him.

"I said, could you pass me a pen." Sherlock stated, confusing John.

"What? When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Didn't notice I'd gone out then." John muttered, finding a pen and throwing it his way.

He then looked around, spotting a sleeping figure on their couch, and gave Sherlock a glance.

"Is that Jess? What's she doing sleeping on our couch?"

"She went out with me to breakfast before we returned here and I spoke to her about the case seeing as you weren't around to do so and my skull doesn't speak back."

John furrowed his brows. "Wait, breakfast? And you did notice I'd gone out?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, John. And it is perfectly acceptable to invite a neighbor to a meal every once in a while."

John glanced between him and Jess, confused again, it seemed. "And the two of you… got along?"

Sherlock gave John a look. "Yes, John. We're not animals. We are both perfectly capable of having a civilized conversation when the need arises."

"Alright then. What did you chat about? Is she any more interested in you?" John asked with a chuckle.

Sherlock frowned, returning his gaze to the pictures above the fireplace. "Not in the slightest. The woman is stubborn in staying ignorant and cares only about living a dull boring life surrounded by plaster and books."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, everyone has something they enjoy doing. That's just what she likes."

"Ugh, but how?!How does one find enjoyment in doing something as tedious as fixing dry wall enjoyable? Even I can see that she has so much more that she can be capable of. There's actually something rattling around in that head of hers, but she refuses to use it in anything more than writing dreary novels and fixing up flats."

John gave Sherlock a look. "Are you… Do you like her, Sherlock?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Please John. You know I'm married to my work. I just can't fathom why she doesn't use her intelligence for something more… productive. Or why she doesn't at least acknowledge that there are other things of interest out in the world to occupy her mind. Even she must need something to do to occupy her time and keep her mind from wandering aimlessly."

"Well, maybe she does, but you just don't know it yet."

"I highly doubt that." Sherlock said, leaning back in his seat and glancing at the sleeping woman. "But she's definitely hiding something."

"Don't go poking around in her life if she doesn't want you to, Sherlock. God knows you've ticked her off enough times already." John sighed, going and grabbing a blanket from his room and lying it over Jess while Sherlock just scoffed. "I went to see about a job at that surgery."

"How was it?"

"Great. She's great."

"Who?" Sherlock said, catching John's mix up.

"The job."

"She?"

"It." John replied.

Sherlock watched John suspiciously, but went back to the matter at hand, nodding towards the computer sitting on the table.

"Here, have a look."

John headed over, glancing at the news article on the screen. "The intruder who can walk through walls."

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon."

"God, you think…"

Sherlock smirked. "Jess came to the same conclusion when I told her. He's killed another one."

Sherlock pressed his steepled hands to his smirking face, before standing and moving to put on his coat. John groaned.

"Already? Can't we just relax for a while? I just got home and Jess is—"

"No time to waste, John. Who knows when the killer will strike again and Jess is fine right where she is."

"We're just going to leave her here?" John said, slightly shocked. "Shouldn't we leave a note or something?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No need. She's not a child nor an idiot, John. She'll wake up, find us gone, and will probably head back on down to her flat. If we're lucky, she'll ask Mrs. Hudson to lock up after her. Now hurry up! We've got a flat to search!"

"Can we at least ask the police before we just go charging in this time?!" John hollered after him as they headed out, leaving Jess sleeping on their couch as they chased after a killer.

I wasn't too pleased to find that Sherlock had left me alone in his flat asleep, but I just figured he'd learned something new about the case and forgot I was here. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Once I was up though, I headed down to my flat, feeling significantly better than this morning, and asked Mrs. Hudson to lock up their flat for me before I decided I was okay enough to get some kitchen tiling done. It would keep me off my feet and shouldn't be too difficult, plus I could get some work done. After this though, I should check the paper for some jobs. Maybe even hit the bar and see if I can find anyone interesting. Anyone would be nice after what happened with Angel. I sighed just thinking about her and quickly shook my head out of my thoughts. After a while, I heard Sherlock and John return and head upstairs, before I heard John heading back down and knocking on the frame of my door.

"You in here Jess?"

"In the kitchen!" I called out, not really caring if he found me working.

I heard him come in and sigh the moment he spotted me and what I was doing.

"I told you strict bed rest, Jess." He complained. "As in no working."

I tilted my head back and whined childishly to him. "But I was bored."

He rolled his eyes and muttered quietly. "Just like someone else I know."

"Hey. You can't blame me. I'm used to doing something almost constantly." I said, turning back to my work. "Staying still and sleeping all day isn't something I'm used to at all. Part of the reason I didn't want to be a lawyer too. Too much sitting around and doing nothing."

"Yes, well, that doesn't mean you need to be working. You could be writing a new book or, um, painting. You said you did painting, right?"

I nodded. "Yup, but I don't have any supplies with me for that right now and I don't feel like writing. No… inspiration, I suppose."

John leaned against the door frame, looking curious. "Where do you get inspiration from?"

I hummed in thought, placing the last tile in the ground and cleaning it up. "Hm, depends on what I'm writing. Since I'm more into the whole crime thing right now, I suppose I get ideas from whatever I come across."

"Like crime scenes and news stories?" He asked.

I shook my head with a chuckle. "Not quite. It's more like seeing something and wondering how someone could die from it."

John paled, making me laugh some more as I got up and brushed my pants off.

"You can't tell me you didn't find some scenes from my books a bit gruesome, John. I have a particularly… psychotic mindset. I've had numerous critics comment about that kind of thing before. Even my ther—" I cut myself off, realizing what I had been about to say and shrugged it off before John could so much as comment. "But, yeah. I can be a bit twisted sometimes."

John followed me as I walked out, hands in the pockets of my jeans—having changed before I began tiling.

"I just, uh, assumed that you got the details from actual… well, cases." He commented as I grabbed my coat and keys from off a stool by the door.

"Nah." I said, glancing at him from over my shoulder. "I mean, I had a friend who worked in the police force back when I lived in the states. Uh, New York, to be more specific. He was a pretty nice guy, helped me out when I was in a few tight spaces with my parents and such, but he let me see a few things on occasion." I smirked in remembrance. "Probably wanted to keep me from ending up in jail or something. You know, scaring me to try and keep me on the right side of the law."

I had opened the front door at this point and turned back towards John.

"Do you, uh, want to keep talking over a drink? Or does crazy up there need you?"

John glanced up at the stairs leading to Sherlock's flat and grabbed his coat off the coat rack by the door with a small smile. "He shouldn't need me. And if he does, I have a phone."

I nodded and started out to the sidewalk. "You want to grab a pint or tea?"

John winced. "A bit early for a pint, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "Tea it is then. You willing to walk? I don't have much as far as cab fare goes."

"That's fine." He said and we headed off towards a café I knew down the road.

"Have you ever, um, been on the wrong side of the law before?" John asked, picking back up on the previous conversation.

I nodded. "A few times. As Sherlock pointed out, I had quite the rebellious phase. I dabbled in a few things. Graffiti, the occasional breaking and entering of abandoned buildings, skateboarding in public areas was another one."

"But nothing… serious, right?"

I gave him a look. "Depends on what your definition of 'serious' is."

"U-Um, assault? Drugs? Burglary?"

"Not assault. Burglary? I think the most I ever stole was some cheap liquor from some convenience store, got caught not too much later. And drugs…" I frowned a bit. "It wasn't my best year."

John's eyes widened. "You did all of that?!"

I sighed, scratching the back of my head. "Yeah. But it's not like there wasn't a reason. I was getting a lot of pressure put on me because of my parents. I was just entering law school and they expected a lot from me right off the bat. I just got sick and tired of always being told I wasn't good enough and met up with some people who told me otherwise. Weren't the best crowd, but made me feel good about myself, you know?"

John looked down at the pavement and frowned, but seemed to understand. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Add that to the fact that I was younger than everyone at the school, and you're going to end up with one messed up kid. It definitely threw my parents in for a loop."

"I would assume so." He commented as we headed in and sat down at a small café, ordering what we wanted and returning to our conversation.

"So, uh, why are you telling me all of this anyway?" John asked, quickly seeing how it could come off rude and waving his hands about as he tried to fix it. "Not that I don't like this or anything! I was just wondering because, well, you don't really seem like the type to just go out and tell their life story."

I raised a brow at him. "Really? I'm actually pretty open about myself. If people want to know something, I'll tell them. Unless, of course, it's the press or some complete stranger or something. Even I have limits. Besides, you seem like a decent enough guy. A soldier and a doctor. Gotta be pretty loyal to do that."

Our drinks came then and I sipped at mine, before realizing John was looking at me in surprise.

"Something wrong?"

That seemed to have snapped him out of it. "N-No. It's just, um, h-how did you know I was a soldier? I don't remember telling you anything about that."

I set my cup down with a sigh. "Your haircut, the way you walk; shoulders back, back straight, chin up. It's not hard to figure out. Your leg on the other had was a bit harder."

"My leg?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I was trying to figure out if you got shot there, you know, because of the limp and all, but you were willing to take an upstairs flat. Kind of odd, so I guess it was psychosomatic or something."

His eyes widened more. "Y-You're just like Sherlock."

"Hm? Oh no. Not even close." I said with a grin, waving my hand lazily. "I'm just good at reading people. Came with the lawyer part of my education."

"O-Oh." He said, looking into his cup before drinking out of it deeply and looking back at me. "I, uh, I'm curious. What do you have against Sherlock?"

"Absolutely nothing" I said. "Like I told him this morning, it's nice what he does, but it doesn't really affect me so I just stay out of his way. I've been raised to get into people's lives through my job and as much as I liked being a lawyer, being nosy about what other people do in secret and such is something that I don't really care for."

"Wait, so you liked being a lawyer? Why stop?"

I sighed, looking out the window to our right. "Mostly my parents trying to force it on me. That, and it made me realize just how disgusting the world can be. You and Sherlock see a lot of bad things I'm sure, but I've seen them too. The lies, deceit, drugs, murder, hate…" I chuckled bitterly, resting my chin in my hand and giving John a crooked grin. "My parents used to call me the scum of the Earth and I didn't really understand what they meant until I became a lawyer. Made what I did seem almost childish in comparison."

He opened his mouth to respond, when his phone went off. He glanced at the screen and sighed, texting back before looking at me. "Sorry, but it seems Sherlock's noticed I left."

"That's fine. I need to start looking for a job anyway." I said, gathering my trash and standing with John as we left the café.

"Do you, uh, want to come with me?" He suddenly asked, making me raise a brow. "It'd make Sherlock happy."

I shook my head. "Best not to. I have things I need to do, jobs I need to find. You know."

He nodded. "Just thought I'd offer."

"Maybe next time." I said, smiling just a bit and waving as he climbed into a cab.

Once he was gone I headed down the street, having an idea as to where I could go to get a job, but having this nagging feeling that someone was following me. When I passed by a phone booth, the phone began ringing and I reluctantly went in, seeing no one else around to answer it.

"'ello?"

"Miss Huttner. Please get in the car."

I spotted a black vehicle pull up to the curb on my right and frowned. "Why should I?"

"It is in your best interest. I'd rather not be forced to use violence."

Threatening me? Whoever this is, he knows who I am, so he knows what I'm capable of. Coming after me only means that he doesn't care, or he has no intention to get on my bad side. Seems polite enough over the phone, but courtesy doesn't necessarily mean he's a nice guy. I sighed, seeing no other option, and reluctantly hung up the phone and headed towards the car, where a woman inside opened the back door to let me climb inside. Once I was seated, the car pulled away and off we went, the woman being completely focused on her phone and not even glancing my way.

"I take it you're not going to tell me where we're going?" I asked, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window.

She glanced up, before looking back at her phone. "No."

"Hm." I hummed, watching the scenery pass by until we eventually came to a stop inside of some warehouse.

I got out and walked towards the man who was leaning on an umbrella, a chair seated across from him, which I stood next to, my hands tucked into the pockets of my jeans. Shouldn't sit down. Manners and all. The man seems posh enough. I thought, gazing tiredly at the man, trying to keep my mind off the ache I was beginning to feel in my ankle from the injury I received in my previous scuffle.

He gave me a smile, fake and vaguely familiar. "Have a seat, Miss Huttner."

I sighed, but took my seat in the chair, fairly relaxed for now. Nice suit and tie. Really nice shoes and decent slacks. Probably an office man, but with his cocky look… a high ranking office man.

"You look relaxed."

I shrugged. "No need to be tense."

"Oh? Have you deduced something?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't deduce people."

He smirked slightly, lips twitching up at the corners. "No, but you read people. Extremely well, from what I've heard."

"I'm relaxed because you're an office worker. Hardly a threat."

"Hm. I am more than a mere office worker, Miss Huttner."

"Jess is fine, you know." I muttered, already getting bored.

"Jess then… Do you know why you're here?"

I raised a brow. "You're going to make me guess?"

"Just curious."

Now, I couldn't say I wasn't cautious of this man. He did, after all, make me meet him via a trip in a suspicious vehicle. It's not every day you get threatened and drove to some unknown location to speak with some high ranking office worker. So yeah. I was a bit frightened. I was doing my best not to show it—something I'm good at—and I wasn't one for showing off what I could figure out about people, unlike a certain man.

I frowned. "What if I don't want to guess?"

He rolled his eyes this time. "Oh please. Hiding your mental potential is hardly benefiting of the daughter of a famous family of lawyers."

"No one asked me if I wanted to be a part of that family." I growled, feeling my anger grow.

"Temper, Jess." He chided.

I clicked my tongue at him and looked away, staring off in the distance. "What do you want?"

"What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

I scoffed, turning back to him. "Really? You called me out here because I just so happen to have caught his attention?"

The man before me lost his smile as I stared him down, him still waiting for an answer.

"If you really want to know, I don't have a connection to him. I fix the flat downstairs in the same building and happened to be introduced. That's it. Why he insists on trying to drag me places with him, I can't tell you."

The man raised a brow. "That's it?"

I nodded. "Nothing much. Definitely not worthy of being dragged here for your little interrogation."

"On the contrary. It seems you're very open about your opinion on him."

"He's an arse." I said, crossing my legs. "And I'm open to about everyone I meet, depending on the party interested."

"Hn." The man chuckled. "Then you'll be pleased to know about the offer I have for you. I am willing to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis for information as to what he is up to. Nothing too uncomfortable for you, of course. Just a text or two every week and when he's on cases."

I raised a brow. "Generous offer, but why?"

"Because you're not a wealthy person and I worry about him. Though I would prefer that my concern go unmentioned. We have a… difficult relationship."

"And you are?"

"To him… an enemy. Probably an archenemy, if you were to ask him. He does love to be dramatic."

"As do you, it seems." I muttered, looking around the warehouse as it suddenly clicked in my head. They're related. "And the figure?"

The man across from me smirked. "Ten thousand pounds depending on what information you give me."

Hm, could help me pay for the flat and pay back John and Sherlock for the bail, but I hardly know what he's up to and would I really be willing to sell him out for ten thousand pounds? I sighed, uncrossing my legs and getting up from the chair.

"Sorry, but John wouldn't appreciate it if I were to do that, as intriguing as it sounds."

"You're very loyal." He commented.

I shrugged. "If you think so."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small notebook and opening it. "Possible psychopathic tendencies."

I froze in my place, feeling anxiety surge up within me as he went on.

"Dyslexia, drug use, and a juvenile record. My, you're almost as bad as he is."

I grit my teeth, trying to reel in my temper before I ended up earning myself a lawsuit for trying to murder the man in front of me. "How do you know that?"

"Curious, isn't it? How you hide everything about yourself while keeping it in plain sight."

I rounded on him, eyes hardened in a glare as I stared him down. "Look, I don't care who you are or what position you have, be it in the government or whatever. But you stay out of my files or you'll be sure that I'll do everything in my power to shove a lawsuit so far up your arse that your whole family will have a hard time even looking at you."

His eyes narrowed at me, but I didn't care. I was done being threatened and I was sick and tired of people thinking they can do whatever they want to force me into doing something. My parents, Sherlock, this pompous bastard. I'm sick and tired of it.

"It's best you choose whose side you're on, Jess Huttner."

"And you best learn who not to mess with, Mr. Holmes." I growled back, catching his surprised look before walking off angrily.

I didn't even glance at the woman next to me as I slid into the car and slammed the door shut, but they needed directions and I gave them.

"The Black Hat. 171 Carmen Rd."

I sighed, thankful that the gay bar I had just gone to was nice enough to hire me as a bartender, but knew that I was going to probably have to take up another job as well. Pulling out the newspaper I had tucked into my coat, I checked the job listing section where I had circled potential jobs, spotting one at some place in London's Chinatown that I thought I could work at. Thank God I took so many language classes in college. Putting the newspaper away, I began my walk, knowing that I wasn't too far away. Oddly enough, I spotted a couple of people I didn't expect to see and mentally sighed as I approached, knowing I might regret not just walking the other way.

Sherlock and John were heading towards each other, John's eyes in a small book and Sherlock holding something and spinning around talking to himself. They're going to—I winced, my thoughts being cut off as John and Sherlock collided with one another. I wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but I spotted John pointing at a shop across the street and I managed to follow them inside. The shop was a small, quaint place with Chinese lucky cats waving their paws up and down and varies fans and tea sets assorted on the shelves and tables. The owner seemed nice enough too, offering John a cat, which he politely turned down.

"Ten pound. Ten pound!"

"No." John said, smiling awkwardly.

"I think your wife, she will like!"

"No, thank you."

"Why not, John? The cats with their left paw up is supposed to attract money to the owner." I said, startling him as I wandered around the shop, picking up a nice blue and white tea cup.

"Jess! What are you doing here?!"

I raised a brow at his shocked expression. "Window shopping. I was in the area to check out a job opportunity."

"Dull." Sherlock commented from across the room, looking over some clay statues.

"To you, maybe." I said with a shrug. "I think the bartending job I got will be a little fun at least."

"Bartending? Where at?" John questioned as he picked up a tea cup as well.

"The Black Hat." I replied, setting my own tea cup down with a smirk. "Though I don't think you'd want to visit anytime soon. People might talk."

I couldn't help the small chuckle at the expression now on his face, before he shifted his glance back at the tea cup, turning it over.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock set down a statue he'd picked up and wandered over, looking at the cup John was holding as well, though I was lost as to the importance of it.

"That label there."

"Yes. I see it."

"Exactly the same as the cipher." John cleared his throat, setting the cup back down as I leaned forward to peek over at them.

"I'm guessing this has to do with your case?"

John nodded. "There was some, uh, graffiti in a bank and at the scene of two murders. We've been trying to figure out what it means."

"Oh. So like a message of some kind? Sounds fun." I said as the three of us headed out of the shop and down the street were some street vendors were set up.

I figured that my bartending job would be good enough for now since I still needed to finish fixing up the flat before I could start a day job too. So the other job can wait. That, and I suppose I am a little interested in what this message is that Sherlock and John are talking about. Might be good for my next book. Who knows?