A/N: hi guys!

Wooowwww, thank you for 1k reads - i never expected that! o.o A huge thanks for everyone who's reading this, it means so much to me!

I recently found a quote that says you're a writer when you're dissatisfied with everything you've written - Well, that pretty much applies to me lol. If you have any feedback, feel free to tell me, i'm currently a bit insecure about this story...

But anyway, for now enjoy this chapter. Lots of love <3

- jawn

He lowered the spoon he had picked up only seconds before back onto the table and cleared his throat. His gaze had followed his hand and John realised that the situation was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Well, his own fault.

"You weren't lying," he said then, clearing his throat again. His voice sounded as if someone had sanded it with sandpaper. When John had thought Sherlock hadn't drunk in almost three days either, he had thought it was a bit of an exaggeration, but he probably actually hadn't. On the one hand, he was still angry with him and his intellectual arrogance, but on the other hand, it was still Sherlock and Sherlock was human. Sort of.

Sighing, he got up and went to the kitchen cupboard to take out a glass and fill it with water. As John set the glass down in front of Sherlock and sat back down, he reached for it so hastily that his expression became even more sombre. He had been right.

In a few gulps Sherlock had emptied the glass and at least his lips had taken on a slightly healthier colour as he placed the glass back on the table.

"You weren't lying," he repeated, and to John's relief his voice didn't sound quite so rough anymore.

"I found something out."

He raised his head and his eyes met John's. Sherlock's eyes now no longer sparkled with anger and defiance but were filled with pure...excitement.

John folded his arms.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean," he said and Sherlock averted his gaze again.

"I know."

He picked up the spoon and took a bite of the porridge. As he began to chew, he screwed up his face.

"Yuck," he said. "How can people eat that? It tastes like soggy cardboard."

"Got some here too," John replied dryly.

Sherlock swallowed, visibly disgusted, and put the spoon back on the table.

"It wasn't easy. In fact, I'd say it's one of the most difficult cases we've ever had. In any case, the perpetrator is no idiot."

"If you say so..."

"As I showed you, I had already decoded four of the stick figures. However, there were at least 20 decoded males still in the news and without more clues I had no further lead. I had no choice at all but to retreat to my mind palace. Neither on the internet nor in the books we have here did I find anything about this kind of... code, so my only hope was that I had stored something there that could even begin to give us a clue."

"And you had?"

"And I had," Sherlock replied. He folded his hands under his chin to rest his head on them.

"It took a while, to be honest. It was also the reason I was in my mind palace for so long. But it was important. Very important. It took me...us a whole step further."

"And what was that exactly?"

Sherlock's mysteriousness was beginning to make John impatient.

"Did you find the dancing man alphabet on the internet or what? Because I didn't."

A quiet chuckle came from Sherlock's lips as he shook his head.

"Oh, no. Too easy. Far too easy," he replied.

"It was more serendipity than planned sleuthing. I stared at that bloody mobile for hours and got no further with the answer as to what those males meant. However, I did notice that one sequence of males was one of the most frequently used. And it was also, conveniently, one of the shorter ones.
The sequence started with the letter e and had four other males following it.

But since I had absolutely no idea how to get on, I did some research on the internet and, hoping to find out something else about Juliet, made use of one of my...contacts in the US. I'd almost forgotten. He owes me."

"And what did he find out?" asked John.

"Juliet's birth certificate."

What?

"Birth certificate?"

"Yes, birth certificate," Sherlock replied, lowering his hands.

"I was hoping to maybe find out anything about where she was born or her parents. Just anything that might give me a clue as to what these males mean."

"And you did?" he asked, frowning as Sherlock shook his head again.

"No. Nothing about the place or the parents. She was born and raised in the middle of the big city and noting her parents didn't help me either. But something else about Juliet did help me. Her middle name. Elsie. "

John blinked and for a moment didn't know what to say to that. If he should say anything at all in response. Juliet Elsie Cubitt? How was that going to help them?

"But...her middle name?"

"Yes, her middle name. Believe me, I was sceptical too. But to a great mind, nothing is little."

"But how the hell is her middle name going to help us?"

"That's what I've been trying to explain to you," Sherlock replied, now also sounding a little impatient.

"Juliet Elsie Cubitt. We didn't know about that detail until now. But that detail was the key thing.
This word, as I said, was one of the most common. It was either at the beginning, in the middle or at the end of the messages. So probably prompts or something similar. It must be a generally common and appropriate word for many contexts and not some extroverted nonsense. And according to the males, it has five letters in total, with an e at the beginning and end of each. Fitting."

"Elsie," John whispered, almost laughing at the bizarre simplicity of this explanation.

"Right. So I knew the males l, s and i. But the content of the messages was still deciphered. So I took the shortest message, which had an unknown and the just decoded word Elsie in it. The unknown Word consisted of 4 letters, the last of which was an e. Logically deduced in the context of prompts and frequency of males, the word had to be "come". So I had also deciphered the males meaning c, o and m.

Did I show you the first message?"

When John shook his head, Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, that's what I thought. Have I spoken to you at all in the last few days?"

John shook his head again and Sherlock sighed.

"Then I must have imagined the conversations. So that's why you were so angry..."

John didn't bother to respond and went silent so he continued.

"The first message was and is the most important. Well, among the most important. It had one of the most important pieces of information, if not the most important. It allowed Juliet to work out who the sender was.

I decoded so many males that I knew most of the letters. They were single words. The males - did you see that some had flags? I wondered for so long about their meaning, whether an o would then become an ö, until I had a headache. But it wouldn't have fitted. The placement would have been in the wrong places."

Sherlock stood up and rushed out of the kitchen in quick strides. Confused, and a little overwhelmed by the explanations Sherlock was saying faster than John could think, he looked after him and nearly groaned when he saw what was the reason Sherlock had got up. He had picked up a notebook. The notebook.

He dropped back into his chair and opened it. In quick and flowing movements he scribbled something on the paper and then slid it over to John. There were no little men drawn this time, but letters. And dots.

".m. .ere ..e sl.ne"

He raised his eyes.

"That's he part of the first message you decoded?" he asked and Sherlock nodded.

"And what do the dots mean?"

"The missing letters we still have to decode. Which I was trying to do on the side until you interrupted me."

John looked at the notebook again. How were they supposed to figure this out? He didn't know how many times he had asked himself that question during this case. Nor did he want to know. Probably too much.

"But...," he struggled for the right words, "all these decryptions are all based on guesses and probabilities. I mean, just because it rains almost every day in London, the other day the sun was shining despite the weather forecast. There are several...truths. Answers. It's all just...speculation."

"Wrong. There is only one truth. And once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains possible-"

"Is the truth, all right. But there are several possible possibilities here."

"And the most likely one is my solution," Sherlock replied simply.

John raised his eyebrows and furrowed his brow. Discussing with Sherlock...

"But Elsie? Even if it's her middle name, everyone calls her Juliet. I mean, you don't call me Hamish either."

"Would you want me to? You call me Sherlock."

"You know what I mean."

Sherlock sighed and lowered his eyes to the spoon he had picked up again and was now twirling it with his fingers.

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, I do.

His lips pressed together into a thin line and his mine hardened as if something was causing him physical pain.

"I don't know the answer to that. And I don't like not knowing something."