"It would be interesting if someone had."

"Yeah, it'd tell me that James is a damn liar, do you object to alarming the door?"

"Not especially."

Cam makes a little alarm with sticky backing. "Fingerprint," he says, after fiddling with it and presenting a surface of it to Sherlock.

Fingerprint!

Cam fingerprints it too, then puts it on the door and fiddles with it some more. "Fingerprint it to calm it down before it whistles alarmedly. There's more sophisticated options but they'd require an actual security service."

"Noted."

Cam sits in his hammocky thing and fusses with his computer.

Sherlock reads his book and pays a moderate amount of attention to Cam.

Cam is not doing much besides - whatever it is that's causing words to appear on his screen projection - and occasionally exhibiting body language mostly via his tail.

"You're not reading over my shoulder too, are you? I will translate this entire device into Celambiric, see if I don't."

"I am, but not for informational content, and I can stop if you like."

"I don't like it when people look at my notes. Told the Slayer off for it. She had an excuse about apocalypses being frequent enough to excuse spying on strangers with lumpy coats."

"I wanted to see if I could figure out how you're making the words appear in the first place," he says. "And she's on solid ground there, if you wanted to know. Based strictly on rumours encountered in the demonic community, I'd estimate the global rate of serious attempts to end the world per year at around two - not always particularly competent attempts, mind you, but it doesn't need to be all that competent to succeed in the absence of opposition. Luckily for the world, there always seems to be oppositon. That's counting world takeover by demonic forces under 'end of the world', but discounting any plan that would have failed on its own merits even without external intervention; I have no way of estimating how frequently a group of demons gets together over drinks and engages in ultimately fruitless discussion of their long-held dream to bring about about hell on earth, but I suspect the number is high."

"Do you want me to tell you how I'm working the computer or would that spoil the surprise?" wonders Cam. "Also, your world kind of sucks."

"In the ultimate ranking of universes for comfort and convenience I would not be inclined to guess we land in the top half," Sherlock agrees. "And if you don't want me watching you may as well spoil it, since I'm not going to find out by staring at the wall."

"Eensy cybernetic implant. There are versions that don't require 'em but they're clunkier and less secure." Cam taps the back of his head.

"That does explain it."

Book book book.

Eventually Cam goes to sleep, and wakes up a bit before eight, and has plenty of time to wriggle into his leather coat and go meet the Slayer. How nice of her not to have alarmed the easily startled door in that time.

When he gets there, she's sitting on the relevant bench, writing in a notebook.

"Hullo. Sherlock says I may tell you about him, but I am debating the wisdom of this course of action, since I don't think he has much in the way of a self-preservation instinct."

"Which implies that he's some variety of demon. Well, I've demonstrated I don't kill those on sight, which is a step up from some Slayers I've heard of. I try not to kill people in general unless it's an obviously better idea than leaving them alive. Most vampires, for example, or anyone who is actively trying to end the world and can't be discouraged any less directly."