Welcome to Baker Street (Sherlock/OC fanfiction)

9. Just Twenty Minutes

Emilia

I felt my body begin to slump once again as I used my hand as a headrest. My eyes refused to stay open any longer, and all I wanted was a bit of rest. John was sitting at the table between the windows, resting his chin on his hands a well. I was still in Sherlock's armchair, leaning on the armrest for support. Sherlock had not moved from his stance in front of the photographs hung up on the wall and I was amazed that he could stand there for so long without a single complaint. He didnt even seem tired, though all of us stayed up all night.

Sherlock kept himself focused on work while John and I stayed awake in case he broke the code. At some point in the night, John and I were playing a round of board games until we got bored of that. Now we were doing everything we could to stay awake, and were failing at it. The sun had risen, but we wanted sleep and nothing more.

"Always in pairs. Look." Sherlock uttered. My eyes snapped open and I suddenly sat up with a head-rush, John doing the same. Sherlock didn't seem to notice.

"I'm awake." I mumbled, blinking a few times as I reoriented myself with my surroundings and adjusted to the pale, yellow light drifting into the room through the large windows.

"Hm?" John yawned, drowsily glancing back at Sherlock and I.

Sherlock didnt bother to turn around as he studied the pictures. Upon a second glance, I realized that Sherlock had written above each symbol the translated number. "Numbers... Come with partners." he mused, running his fingers over the photographs.

"God, I need sleep." I heard John mutter under his breath as he rubbed his tired eyes. I couldn't help but hum in agreement.

Sherlock payed no attention, again, and continued on. "Why'd he paint it so near the tracks?" he rambled.

"I have no idea." John said, still only half awake enough to pay attention. I could completely understand, finding myself beginning to drift off again as well.

"Thousands of people pass by there everyday." Sherlock ignored us.

I let out a small yawn and fought to keep my eyes open, the lids feeling heavier every passing moment. "Just twenty minutes." I sighed out of exhaustion. Declaring that I would stay up all night if needed was really taking a toll, and I regret my decision.

The detective was oblivious to my brother and I as he mostly just rambled to himself. "Of course! He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back." Sherlock concluded. "It's somewhere here; in the code." He ripped down the photograph and stuffed it deep into the front pocket of his black slacks, running toward the door to grab his coat and scarf. "We cant crack this without Soo Lin Yao!" he alerted.

"Oh, good." John nodded. He probably didn't understand a word Sherlock had said due to his lack of rest. Hell, I hardly understood.

Sherlock tugged his coat on and tied his scarf around his neck and flicked the collar up. "Aren't you coming?" he arched a brow at us expectantly.

I blinked my heavy eyes up at him, trying to fully comprehend his words through my groggy state. Once I realized what he had asked, I nodded a few times and pushed myself to stand. "Just let me change these clothes first. Won't take more than a minute." I muttered and scrubbed a hand down my face. If Sherlock gave me a disapproving look, or either him or John made a protest, I payed them no attention and walked myself up to my own room.

There, as quickly as my tired body would allow, I stripped free of my outfit from the day before and redressed myself in a white blouse matched with a navy blue skirt. The skirt rose up around my waist where I tucked in my shirt, and rippled off of my hips down to my knees nicely. I rather enjoyed the outfit, and knowing it was still chilled outside it would allow the air to strike my skin like needles, causing me to wake up further. Putting on a pair of black flats, I trotted back downstairs to the bathroom. As fast as I could manage, I brushed through my mop of chestnut hair and scrubbed clean my teeth with my toothbrush. Running a cold tap, I cupped my hands beneath the stream and filled them with water. I held my breath and leaned down, splashing the icy fluid over my face. Out of reaction, I sucked in a gasping breath and took a few steps back, allowing the shock of the cold to wake me. Using a towel, I dried off any drips of the water remaining on my skin and returned to Sherlock and John waiting beside the door impatiently.