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The Thinker Challenge	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2251 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is based solely on the television show Sherlock that airs on BBC1, written by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I borrow their universe to play in and do not claim any ownership or intend to make any money off of this fun hobby of m

Chapter List
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Chapter 2: Meet cute
“That is fantastic. What do I owe you?” Dr. Stanton asks while putting her hand out to collect a checkbook from her assistant.
“But we didn’t actually do anything,” John clarifies.
“On the contrary. I was missing a variable and you provided it, thus allowing me to solve the problem. No one else had been able to do that for me.”
“There was no crime, John,” Sherlock offers, mildly amused.
“True. But there could have been,” Dr. Stanton suggests.
“What?” John ask, confused.
“It’s like an interactive, 3-D word problem. So that’s theoretical physics?”
“Sometimes not so theoretical; maybe a smidge of engineering,” she adds. “I am glad I took that rare bit of useful advice from Harry here and branched out from the usual channels. I’ll get a paper out of this, yet.”
“Henry. May name is Henry,” he murmurs under his breath.
“I always hated word problems in school. But they weren’t quite like this,” John responds, scanning the remains of their re-enactment scattered about the room.
Dr. Stanton stands up, readying herself to leave.
“It has been a pleasurable afternoon, gentleman. Scientists can be so very dull. And a bit thick, honestly. Decide on an amount and send me a bill. Mr. Watson, would you mind terribly giving my assistant a hand with the car? There was a bit of trouble on the way here. I’d like to have a word with Mr. Holmes.”
Sherlock nods to John, who shrugs and heads out the door with Henry.
*
“So what’s it like working for Dr. Stanton?” John inquires.
“She’s not evil. I mean, people say she’s a robot and its true that you have to have a really thick skin to work with her…and you can’t be the type who needs positive reinforcement, because you’ll be waiting for like, forever. But she’s brilliant and she loves her work and she will, occasionally put some effort in to keep us happy,” Henry replies in his American accent.
“Us?”
“Oh, the lab – a few Ph.D. students and me. She treats me like her PA, but I actually have a Ph.D. When I interviewed for a post-doc two years ago, she told me my research sucked and I’d never make it as a scientist. But she needed someone to, basically, run her life and she thought it would be good to have a physicist, since she doesn’t really trust anyone else and I would actually be able to “minimally grasp” what was happening in the lab and at meetings and such.”
“That sounds kind of horrible, honestly.”
“Well, it was a blow, but she was right. I might have gotten another position, but I’d always have in the back of my mind that Dr. Stanton thinks that I don’t really belong, so...It’s worked out okay. She pays well enough that I can stay in London and I’m kind of in a groove with it. Once you get that she isn’t mean spirited, but just doesn’t want to spend the mental energy to, like, kowtow or deal with other people’s emotions or remember your name, it’s all good. All that energy goes straight into the work, so you can kinda forgive her for most things. And she’s even kind of endearingly helpless sometimes – without me, I’m not sure she’d ever pay a bill or book a flight or make a cup of tea.”
“Sounds eerily familiar.”
“I read your blog. That’s how I got the idea. Fingers crossed I get a raise out of this! Anyway, it must be amazing to work for him.”
“With him. We’re partners.”
“Sorry. Of course.”
“He has his moments.”
“We should get back – the two of the in the same place for too long might actually implode the universe or something.”
*
“Tell me, Mr. Holmes, was it a less enjoyable experience now that you know it was fake?” Dr. Stanton asks.
“Is your insistence on formality a reaction to an overly casual step-mother of whom you did not approve or a more recent frustration with a perceived lack of respect, Dr. Stanton?” He counters, unwilling to engage her inquiry.
“Please, call me Sio.”
He waits just a beat to see if she will comment further, though not expecting her to. She looks quite different with her hair down. Closer to her age. Her formality made her seem older, though her choice of clothes puts her in the right decade. Comfortable, but fashionable and flattering enough to betray a pleasing shape without boasting of any excessive effort. Her hair is a mid-brown, quite wavy, though hard to tell what it might have looked like had it not been so recently constricted. None of her other features leap out as worthy of attention – she is good looking, but wears little make-up save for a touch of tinted lip balm, which he suspects might have been forced on her by her gay assistant.
Sherlock’s attention returns to her hair. It had been pulled tightly back when she had arrived and throughout their interview. Oddly, her expression has done the opposite, seeming more measured just as her hair was freed. Even her voice has changed – not the intonation, the pattern. Curious.
“May I call you Sherlock? What I would like to discuss with you is of a more personal nature and formality does seem incongruous.”
He is not listening to the words, just focusing on the pattern, while scanning her face and manner.
“Why are you different now? Is it because your assistant left? No, it started before. When you took the clip out.”
She quietly smiles. No one had ever noticed so precisely before. She takes a few steps and leans against the chair.
“I’m running a simulation.”
He frowns in response, not comprehending.
“You gave me the variable, so I began my analysis. No reason to wait.”
“I still don’t understand,” he says with growing curiosity.
“You didn’t look me up, then, before you took my case? I'm quite the oddity, according to some. I can partition my mind. I can leave the analytical bits chugging away at a problem while I use the rest to engage in the world. So there’s the super-computer part of my brain and the ‘everything else’ part that deals with bodily needs, communication, etc. It’s very efficient.”
“But not seamless. Ah yes, John did mention something about a ‘Human Computer’. I wasn’t really listening.”
“Brains are capable of so much more than computers. Even Harry’s brain. It’s an insult to humanity,” she complains using oft-repeated words.
“Everything else slows because it siphons energy away. Interesting. What about the hair?”
“Pull on the scalp is just irritating enough to reduce efficiency by 5 to 10% depending on the tightness of the bun.”
“You rely on that,” he suggests.
“It helps with the constant drive to interpret and analyze everything. The bombardment can be intense and distracting.” As she speaks, she scans Sherlock’s face for signs of recognition and sees it plainly.
“Amusing, though. And useful,” he says, acknowledging the connection.
“Yes, I imagine in your profession, it would be critical. But difficult to contain without constant stimulation or distraction. Do you have a hobby?”
“What’s this about, then? Idle chatter seems an unlikely pastime for you.”
“Do you compose?” She says, walking towards the music stand tucked hastily to the side of the room.
“Yes. I suppose that’s my hobby,” he responds, feeling mildly irritated.
“Do you find it sufficiently distracting? Or do you seek out other things to help with…”
“Please get to the point, if you have one.”
She nods, happy to sip to the chase. “My hobby is sex. Unlike composing, it requires a partner to maximize the experience. I have found it to be rather extraordinary both as a distraction and a release. Drugs cost money and have other undesirable side effects. Sex can calm the beast with little consequence. Well, aside from finding a partner who isn’t egregiously irritating.”
“Why, Dr. Stanton, are you making a pass at me?” Sherlock asks, bemused.
“A pass would imply I was interested in having sex with you right now, which I am certainly not. What I am proposing is meeting up at a later date to have sex. I presume you are inexperienced, either due to a lack of interest on your part or a lack of opportunity due to… a perceived lack of warmth, shall we say? I do not see this as a problem, mind you. I am offering to instruct you towards getting the most out of the experience. And perhaps you might even find such skills useful one day should you meet someone with whom a relationship would seem desirable. I’d wager you already have someone in mind.”
“I’ve just had a relationship. Don’t you read the papers?” He offers, unsure how to react to her directness.
“I do not. But my assistant googled you; he was hoping you were gay. Obviously a complete fabrication, the relationship. I am not doubting that you had sex, but people like us always begin by playing a part; what we imagine is appropriate or serves the purpose.” She holds his gaze just long enough to emphasize her point, “I am not interested in how well you can act.”
“People like us. That is a bit presumptuous,” he scoffs unconvincingly.
“You regularly categorize people by the time they have hung their coat, or did I get that wrong?”
“Most people are pathetically transparent.” He ads with a sly smirk, “It is not rocket science.”
They can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Sio reaches for her wallet and pulls out a card.
“Get in touch if you’d like. Vulnerability is a real game changer.”
He takes the card, glances at it and starts to hand it back when John and Henry return. Sio steps away, putting on her coat. Sherlock slips the card under a book.
Once they are out the door, John asks, “What was that about?”
“She asked if I’d like to study physics,” Sherlock responds ambiguously.
“Like take a class or something?” John replies, a bit dubious.
“More of a tutelage. Happy to leave the science to my brother; never particularly interested me.”
“A bit of a prickly one, eh? Dr. Stanton,” John offers.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Overconfident, brusque, dismissive of others’ ideas…Remind you of anyone?” John inquires with a lilt.
“Do we have anyone else coming in today? This turned out to be a bit of a dud.”
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The Thinker Challenge