She gives a playful eye roll at his shrug. Of course. After knowing Nikola Tesla most of her long life? John's stubbornness is almost mild. The ornament rolls gently on her fingers, having obviously been repaired with a new ribbon to hang it by. She gives a gentle pat to his thigh before standing and making her way to the tree.

"Yes, old. James and I knew one another at Oxford," Helen casts a glance at him with her own shrug. "When I said he was Sherlock Holmes, I meant it. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle modeled the character off him."

A gentle dust of her hands as she makes her way back towards him. This time, however, she crosses her ankles and gestures at the box. He'll need to pick the next one if they're going to continue the little game. In simple terms, it's her way of offering him an open look into her life.

"Oh, John. You're hardly my first directive or profiler. But, you are the first I've slept with."