We'd gone back to both the flat and Mr Barnett's shop on multiple occasions over three days following, but James' father was nowhere to be seen and the son claimed he knew nothing of his father's whereabouts.
"What do we do, Sherlock?" I sighed, placing my cup of tea down on the side table next to what was formerly John's armchair.
"Nothing. For now. I know its not much, but I have my homeless network on the look out. Two people searching the entire Capitol for one man isn't exactly practical, after all." He replied, placing his hands against his lips in thought.
The room fell silent and I chose to get up and look around the place properly, as I hadn't been able to yet.
As I scanned the books and random shelf items, I felt Sherlock's gaze on me.
"Yes?" I smirked, not looking away from his bookcase.
"What?" Sherlock frowned.
"You're staring." 
"Am not."
"You are." 
"I am not!" Sherlock protested, deliberately looking away and childishly huffing his mild annoyance.
I giggled, finally turning to look at him.
I crouched down next to his armchair, placing a hand on his.
"Sherlock." I said, quietly. 
He looked at me again, this time rather abruptly, before looking down at our hands.
"Yes, Miss Crane?" He asked, lowly.
"Why were you staring at me? You always have a reason for everything you do."
Sherlock presented an emotion that could almost pass as discomfort.
I'm not sure even he knew what he was thinking.
"I'm going out. Stay here, go back to your flat, whatever. Just don't wait up." He said, moving his hand from under mine to stand up from his seat.
Before I could so much as ask him where he was going, he had already grabbed his coat and was making his way down the stairs.

"Thanks for coming over." I sighed, closing Sherlock's door after Mary had entered.
"It sounded urgent. What's wrong?" She asked, removing her scarf from her neck.
"Sherlock's been acting... Odd." I hesitated with my choice of words.
Mary frowned as she sat in Sherlock's armchair.
"Odd how?" She asked.
"I don't know... He's collectively spent about an hour just staring at me over the past few days when he thinks I'm not looking, he's become distant... If its not about the case, we don't really talk about it, kinda thing... He's stopped drinking the tea I make him. Yesterday, we'd had a really long night following up on the case and I fell asleep in the armchair and when I woke up, I was in his bed and he was asleep on the sofa. Then today, I caught him staring again, so I asked him about it and he got all weird and left. You've known him longer than I have, so please, Mary. What the hell is he doing?" I sighed heavily, running my fingers through my slightly tangled, rust-coloured hair.
Mary just shook her head and chuckled, clapping her hands together.
"You know, for geniuses, you two can be really bloody oblivious." She said. I looked at her, confused, prompting the woman in front of me to elaborate. "Sherlock likes you."
I frowned, slumping back in my chair.
"Yeah... I like him too. So what?" 
Mary repeated her shaking of the head and chuckle.
"No, you intelligent moron, he likes you." She laughed. "In fact, he's currently with John having a very similar conversation." 
My eyes widened.
"You're joking..." I mumbled. "Sherlock Holmes doesn't do romantic interest."
"Not typically." Mary agreed. "But then this isn't exactly a typical situation. He's finally found a match - an equal. You challenge him. People like him love a challenge."
"Oh, so now he loves me. Great." I huffed, folding my arms over my chest.
"I mean... I probably wouldn't go that far, but from what you've said and what John's said, I'd say he's not that far from exactly that. The real question is do you feel the same?"
I looked up at Mary with just my eyes.
"I wouldn't know." I mumbled.
Mary gave her signature, cheeky 'I'm onto something' grin.
"But you're finding out all the same. Ooh this is juicy. Sherlock Holmes and Elizabeth Crane. John owes me a tenner!" She squealed, excitedly.
"It's nice to know you two are placing bets on our emotions." I rolled my eyes, reaching for my tea cup to find it empty, to my great disappointment.

Like clockwork, John and Sherlock walked up the stairs and entered the flat.
"Oh, Mary. Fancy seeing you here." Sherlock gave her an awkward, forced smile.
"Just lending Bethy a hand with something." She jeered, raising from Sherlock's seat.
"Bethy..." Sherlock scoffed.
John looked between Sherlock, Mary and I.
"Well then... If our purposes are served sufficiently, Mary and I have to be off. The neighbour's probably fallen asleep with Rosie again." He said.
"Okay. We'll see you later then." I nodded, getting up from my seat.
I gave Mary a hug and she kept me there.
"Force him into a conversation about it. It's the only way you're going to get to the bottom of this." She whispered, making sure not to move her lips too much so that Sherlock couldn't read them.
"When I figure out how to start up that kind of conversation, I'll be sure to." I whispered back.