Sherlock fic: The Problem with Personal Blogs, Part 19
Title: The Problem with Personal Blogs, Part 19/21
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, the BBC gang (Molly, Sarah, Donovan, Anderson)
Rating: PG to Strong Adult - this part PG
Warnings: Excessive rumination
Summary: Sherlock finds himself the recipient of unwanted attention, thanks to the Internet.
Notes: Thank you winterstorrm for the beta and Britpick.
For a complete list of chapters, see: The Problem with Personal Blogs, chapter list.
19. Connecting the Dots
Sherlock pocketed his mobile and
turned toward John with decision. "I am not going to thank my
stalker."
John held up his hands. "I
never said you should."
"The very notion is
execrable."
"Lestrade said it, not
me."
"I should discount it on that
basis alone."
"Absolutely. A terrible
suggestion."
"It would seem to condone
everything the stalker's been doing."
"Definitely. But still..."
John rose, and began to pace the sitting room thoughtfully.
On the sofa, Sherlock tensed.
"What is it?"
"It might... put her off
guard."
Sherlock sat frozen.
John continued his artful debate.
"She wouldn't be expecting it. For you to come out of left field like
that, acknowledging her help-"
"She didn't help!"
Sherlock sputtered. "She invaded my privacy yet again, splashing the
details of what was supposed to be a very intimate evening all over a public
Web site!"
"It was a fake intimate
evening."
"It didn't end that way! Besides,
it was only by a freak connection of two synapses that I twisted her offensive intrusion
into the resolution of a case. She didn't help at all. Look, John-"
Sherlock leaped to his feet and began to pace as well, at triple John's speed.
"I am trying to track this woman down to make her stop publishing lies and
private details about me. If I go on record as appreciating her efforts,
not only will I encourage her to post more, but I could quite probably lose any
legal basis I require for ordering her to desist."
"You don't have to make your
message public."
Sherlock threw out a hand toward the
laptop. "How else am I supposed to reach her? Her host server is overseas.
She has no private messaging mechanism. I can only respond to her public
identity, and if I do that, anyone else can see it, too."
"If you responded in such a way
that no one could be sure it was you, perhaps with a fake identity of your
own-"
"Then how is she
supposed to know that it's me? No, if I respond, it will have to be using the
contact information publicly posted on my Web site. There's no other way to do
it."
Sherlock resumed pacing, more slowly
this time, brooding. John watched him, feeling honestly distressed on his
behalf. Sherlock might be a force of nature, but he was human and vulnerable as
well, as the current strain was proving.
John cleared his throat. "You
know, she did change her user handle this morning."
"You're right!" Sherlock
flung himself at the sofa and snatched up his laptop. "It had completely
slipped my mind." He deposited the computer on the table so he could type.
"The other stalker from the hospital mentioned it-said she'd changed the
name 'first-time poster' to something else, K6-something..." His fingers
flew across the keys.
Heartened, John returned to his own
laptop. "Yes, it was a jumble of numbers and letters. I didn't try to
sound it out myself-"
Sherlock had obviously reached the
correct page. "K-zero-zero-six-A-R," he read aloud. He looked at
John. "K-double-oh-six? Does she see herself as some sort of secret
agent?"
"She certainly knows how to
spy." On his laptop, John returned to her new post himself. "K-zo?
K-zoo?" he hazarded. "Koo? Koo-sixer? Koo-sexer? Kazoo-sexer?"
"I'm tracing the ID."
Sherlock was typing busily. "Maybe she got careless and entered it
locally. Maybe she never knew that it was the remote server that was preventing
me from tracing her all along."
John looked at the explanatory post
that had accompanied the username change. He hadn't spent much time on it
before; immediately upon discovering the new community, he was off clicking the
links and pondering the photographs. Now he furrowed his brow, contemplating
the short message.
"She said she changed her
handle because, now that she was posting so regularly, the name 1stTymePostR
didn't fit."
"The woman's a veritable
genius," Sherlock muttered.
"As she intended to go on
posting for a very long time-"
Sherlock gurgled in frustration, and
kept typing.
"-she wanted to pick something
more appropriate to her personality."
"The woman sexes kazoos for a
living, does she?"
John smiled weakly. "It should
narrow the search."
Sherlock growled and made a fist,
then spun irritably from his laptop.
"Denmark again?" John
asked gently.
Sherlock made a slight shrug in
reply, tensely rocking himself in his chair.
John's shoulders drooped. He hated letting
Sherlock down. Yes, all right, the brainwork was supposedly Sherlock's
department. John was incidental infantry support. But surely, surely he could
do something. Sherlock would never admit it, but he was actually an
extremely emotional individual. This ongoing persecution would inevitably take
its toll-was already taking it.
John rested his chin in his palm,
staring at the stalker's entry. By her own admission, the name was meaningful:
K006ar. John stared at it. Then he sat up. Something had clicked.
Not wanting to distract Sherlock
with false hopes, John clicked over to the series of photographs that were posted.
A variety of angles had been used; clearly, the photographer was deliberately
trying to hide her location in the restaurant. John had been studying the
angles just before Sherlock came in. He knew there was a clue there; he had
just been about to grasp it-
John smiled. Of course. It wasn't
the angles that had been posted that he should have been looking at. It was the
angle that was missing.
This must be how Sherlock feels, John thought, as he confidently
switched over to one of the social media sites. It was the best feeling in the
world, knowing that you'd got something right before you ever saw the proof.
Across the room, Sherlock roused
himself from his brown study. "I shall have to do it, John. I'll have to
write a note."
John nodded absently, checking names
and faces against his notes.
"But I won't thank her,"
Sherlock said curtly. "I'll... suggest that her Web page had been of use. Marginal
use. I'll imply that I want to thank her, but I'll only do it in person.
Then we can set up another trap."
John grunted, absorbed in his work.
"I'd prefer to avoid using
Molly again if I can. Compensating for her services in her favored coin is becoming
increasingly challenging. If we choose a public location-not too public,
but someplace where we could record my demands..."
John was too busy to reply.
"John," Sherlock said
accusingly. "Are you listening to me?"
He waved a hand distractedly.
"Yes. Go on."
"I'm telling you that we should
set a trap."
"I heard that."
"Say that we want to meet with
her in person."
"Good idea."
"It's the only way to manage it
so I don't go on record as condoning her behavior."
"I agree."
"I want you to be my witness."
"Happy to." John looked up
and met Sherlock's eye blandly. "Let me know when you're ready to go. I've
got her name and address right here."
John knew he would treasure the
stunned look on Sherlock's face for the rest of his life.
Continued in Part 20
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Lestrade, the BBC gang (Molly, Sarah, Donovan, Anderson)
Rating: PG to Strong Adult - this part PG
Warnings: Excessive rumination
Summary: Sherlock finds himself the recipient of unwanted attention, thanks to the Internet.
Notes: Thank you winterstorrm for the beta and Britpick.
For a complete list of chapters, see: The Problem with Personal Blogs, chapter list.
19. Connecting the Dots
Sherlock pocketed his mobile and
turned toward John with decision. "I am not going to thank my
stalker."
John held up his hands. "I
never said you should."
"The very notion is
execrable."
"Lestrade said it, not
me."
"I should discount it on that
basis alone."
"Absolutely. A terrible
suggestion."
"It would seem to condone
everything the stalker's been doing."
"Definitely. But still..."
John rose, and began to pace the sitting room thoughtfully.
On the sofa, Sherlock tensed.
"What is it?"
"It might... put her off
guard."
Sherlock sat frozen.
John continued his artful debate.
"She wouldn't be expecting it. For you to come out of left field like
that, acknowledging her help-"
"She didn't help!"
Sherlock sputtered. "She invaded my privacy yet again, splashing the
details of what was supposed to be a very intimate evening all over a public
Web site!"
"It was a fake intimate
evening."
"It didn't end that way! Besides,
it was only by a freak connection of two synapses that I twisted her offensive intrusion
into the resolution of a case. She didn't help at all. Look, John-"
Sherlock leaped to his feet and began to pace as well, at triple John's speed.
"I am trying to track this woman down to make her stop publishing lies and
private details about me. If I go on record as appreciating her efforts,
not only will I encourage her to post more, but I could quite probably lose any
legal basis I require for ordering her to desist."
"You don't have to make your
message public."
Sherlock threw out a hand toward the
laptop. "How else am I supposed to reach her? Her host server is overseas.
She has no private messaging mechanism. I can only respond to her public
identity, and if I do that, anyone else can see it, too."
"If you responded in such a way
that no one could be sure it was you, perhaps with a fake identity of your
own-"
"Then how is she
supposed to know that it's me? No, if I respond, it will have to be using the
contact information publicly posted on my Web site. There's no other way to do
it."
Sherlock resumed pacing, more slowly
this time, brooding. John watched him, feeling honestly distressed on his
behalf. Sherlock might be a force of nature, but he was human and vulnerable as
well, as the current strain was proving.
John cleared his throat. "You
know, she did change her user handle this morning."
"You're right!" Sherlock
flung himself at the sofa and snatched up his laptop. "It had completely
slipped my mind." He deposited the computer on the table so he could type.
"The other stalker from the hospital mentioned it-said she'd changed the
name 'first-time poster' to something else, K6-something..." His fingers
flew across the keys.
Heartened, John returned to his own
laptop. "Yes, it was a jumble of numbers and letters. I didn't try to
sound it out myself-"
Sherlock had obviously reached the
correct page. "K-zero-zero-six-A-R," he read aloud. He looked at
John. "K-double-oh-six? Does she see herself as some sort of secret
agent?"
"She certainly knows how to
spy." On his laptop, John returned to her new post himself. "K-zo?
K-zoo?" he hazarded. "Koo? Koo-sixer? Koo-sexer? Kazoo-sexer?"
"I'm tracing the ID."
Sherlock was typing busily. "Maybe she got careless and entered it
locally. Maybe she never knew that it was the remote server that was preventing
me from tracing her all along."
John looked at the explanatory post
that had accompanied the username change. He hadn't spent much time on it
before; immediately upon discovering the new community, he was off clicking the
links and pondering the photographs. Now he furrowed his brow, contemplating
the short message.
"She said she changed her
handle because, now that she was posting so regularly, the name 1stTymePostR
didn't fit."
"The woman's a veritable
genius," Sherlock muttered.
"As she intended to go on
posting for a very long time-"
Sherlock gurgled in frustration, and
kept typing.
"-she wanted to pick something
more appropriate to her personality."
"The woman sexes kazoos for a
living, does she?"
John smiled weakly. "It should
narrow the search."
Sherlock growled and made a fist,
then spun irritably from his laptop.
"Denmark again?" John
asked gently.
Sherlock made a slight shrug in
reply, tensely rocking himself in his chair.
John's shoulders drooped. He hated letting
Sherlock down. Yes, all right, the brainwork was supposedly Sherlock's
department. John was incidental infantry support. But surely, surely he could
do something. Sherlock would never admit it, but he was actually an
extremely emotional individual. This ongoing persecution would inevitably take
its toll-was already taking it.
John rested his chin in his palm,
staring at the stalker's entry. By her own admission, the name was meaningful:
K006ar. John stared at it. Then he sat up. Something had clicked.
Not wanting to distract Sherlock
with false hopes, John clicked over to the series of photographs that were posted.
A variety of angles had been used; clearly, the photographer was deliberately
trying to hide her location in the restaurant. John had been studying the
angles just before Sherlock came in. He knew there was a clue there; he had
just been about to grasp it-
John smiled. Of course. It wasn't
the angles that had been posted that he should have been looking at. It was the
angle that was missing.
This must be how Sherlock feels, John thought, as he confidently
switched over to one of the social media sites. It was the best feeling in the
world, knowing that you'd got something right before you ever saw the proof.
Across the room, Sherlock roused
himself from his brown study. "I shall have to do it, John. I'll have to
write a note."
John nodded absently, checking names
and faces against his notes.
"But I won't thank her,"
Sherlock said curtly. "I'll... suggest that her Web page had been of use. Marginal
use. I'll imply that I want to thank her, but I'll only do it in person.
Then we can set up another trap."
John grunted, absorbed in his work.
"I'd prefer to avoid using
Molly again if I can. Compensating for her services in her favored coin is becoming
increasingly challenging. If we choose a public location-not too public,
but someplace where we could record my demands..."
John was too busy to reply.
"John," Sherlock said
accusingly. "Are you listening to me?"
He waved a hand distractedly.
"Yes. Go on."
"I'm telling you that we should
set a trap."
"I heard that."
"Say that we want to meet with
her in person."
"Good idea."
"It's the only way to manage it
so I don't go on record as condoning her behavior."
"I agree."
"I want you to be my witness."
"Happy to." John looked up
and met Sherlock's eye blandly. "Let me know when you're ready to go. I've
got her name and address right here."
John knew he would treasure the
stunned look on Sherlock's face for the rest of his life.
Continued in Part 20