AN: the second part. These tidbits are NOT in chronological order. Might add more later.

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*tring*

Not all who wander are lost: The old that is strong does not wither.

182 2 9 199 3 11 481 241 7 33 LL

Sherlock loved these puzzles. He was beginning to worry if that strange feeling he had was love for the girl that sent them as well. The first part was easy. The quote would mark the book he needed to translate the message. Not all who wander are lost that was familiar but the second part eluded him. He knew she would wait, either that or knew just how long it would take him puzzle it out. Let another puzzle. How did she know?

Sherlock combed through his entire library both in his mind and the flat but nothing. So he had no choice. "John do you know this quote?" He asked out of the blue into the previously silent flat.

John blinked a few times trying to get his mind to switch gears and figure out where he knew it from. "Yes. It's from the Lord of the Rings series. The first one, The Fellowship of the Ring. Why?"

"I was working a puzzle. Do you have a copy?"

"Yeah sure. You need it for your puzzle?" Sherlock nodded and John fetched the book now even more confused.

A few minutes of flipping through it and he had the text translated. Go to 481 Rivendell LL. He pulled out his mobile and searched. It took a couple of pages to find Rivendell in the south end of London. "I'm going out." He told John taking his coat and leaving without another word.

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'Boring, dull, sleeping with his wife's sister, dull, dull, idiot, wants to kill her brother but doesn't have the nerve, boring...' Sherlock trailed off his mental list of the people he saw as he walked down the street. He couldn't help but stare. This woman makes no sense, but is perfectly composed. When she finally … skipped to a stop right in front of him she just stood and watched him waiting. Sherlock watched back. The woman was silent so he contemplated her more. She was pleasing to the eye, large pale eyes, white blonde hair, pale flawless completion. All that contrasted with her outfit. She was wearing rainbow stripped leggings, a black tutu, a white tee with the letters DA across her smaller than average chest, over that was a bright purple leather coat and to top it off was a blood red top hat.

Sherlock couldn't stand it his curiosity forced him to speak. "You have real turnips for earrings." was all he could think to say the conundrum that was this woman was taking up much of his mental processing power.

"Yes I do. They help keep the nargles away." She replied in a sweet voice with a smile

"What's a nargle?"

"It's a tiny invisible creature that crawls in your ear and prevents you from thinking clearly." She replied with a small frown

"They must be over running the planet. Would explain why no one can think." HE said with a sigh thinking of all the idiots out there who never used their mind.

"Yes they are. But I'm trying to find a cure. I wonder why they don't infect you?" She asked looking at him and seeming to look through him at the same time.

"I don't know." He replied. "How do you know it's nargles and not just that the world is declining into mindless morons who can't think for themselves?"

"Because if they were all morons then you couldn't teach people how to drive the nargles away and really SEE the world around them. You should get back to the man and older woman you are living with they will worry if you are out to late." She said.

Sherlock stared at her. He knew just how she knew that he lived with a man and an older woman. And he had little doubt she could deduce many more things. Here was a woman that thought, and she was an interesting puzzle. "May I have your mobile?"

"IF I can have yours." they swapped phones and programed their numbers in each others. "I'm Luna by the way Luna Lovegood."

"Sherlock Homes." HE replied then the woman was dance, skipping down the side walk again as if she were a child. 'Luna Lovegood what a fascinating puzzle you are.'

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"Lestrade your head is filled with nargles. Take care of them or find a job your simplistic mind is capable of doing." Sherlock shouted at the Inspector after the man continued to question him while he was examining the scene.

"What the bloody hell is a nargle?" he asked looking at Sherlock as if he had lost it

The detective just hmphed and went back to work. "Ask Anderson he's a viable factory of the pests." Sherlock would say no more and when Lestrade turned to John he just shrugged in confusion.

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"Mummy. How do you know if you love someone?" Sherlock asked his mother after having dinner with her and his father.

"For most people Sherlock love is nothing more than complementary pheromones and endorphins. They fall 'in love' until their body becomes accustom to the chemical changes and they they are at best friendly at worst try and kill one another, or have the other killed."

Sherlock nodded that made sense, it explained why people would be so loyal they were addicted to one anothers chemical makeup. "But what about us?"

His mother was silent for a long while. "Sherlock are you asking about your Dr. Watson?" She asked looking him in the eye.

He blinked thrown for a loop. "Of course not mother. Don't be ridicules." He scoffed.

She smiled. "Well then Sherlock. The best way to tell is by how often they leave you confused, or how much of a puzzle they are. Your father and I have been together 46 years now and there are days when he surprises me. That's love. When they keep you guessing. And the thought of completely solving them will sadden you."

Sherlock nodded and left his childhood home without another word to his parents. He needed to puzzle out if he loved Luna. And then what to do about it.

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Mycroft was worried. Mummy rarely text him. The information provided was also worrying. Sherlock has a girlfriend. I want to know everything. Don't forget your umbrella I may rain latter. Love Mummy.

Sherlock not only had a girlfriend he didn't know about, but one he had mentioned to mummy. He puzzled for a long while before texting Anthea. He loved the mind of his assistant. Not that, that was all she did. Hermione Granger was as much an assistant as he was a minor member of the British government. Anthea as she liked to be called on this side of the divide was a dear friend, in some ways his only real friend. That and she was 8 years his junior.