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Cautiously walking inside 221B Baker Street, I glanced around, checking for any signs of life. When I saw none, I took a few more steps inside the apartment, making note of the untidiness. That might be useful.

As I looked around at the patterned black and white wallpaper and the set of random objects on top of the fireplace, I debated calling out for Sherlock and John or simply poking around their flat. I supposed that would be rude, but at this point, I didn't have it in me to care.

I had just settled on examining the residence when a door pushed open on the other side of the kitchen. I stopped short, my mind reeling with different options. Should I explain myself? No, too unconfident. Should I make a break for it? No, if it's Sherlock I have a feeling he will know, somehow, that I was there. John, on the other hand...but John would most likely run after me.

I ended up just leaning as casually as a person who was wearing a trench coat over yesterday's clothes could be against the countertop nearest to me. But I was somewhat surprised when not Sherlock, not John, not even Moriarty walked out, but a woman around my age.

I took her in in a matter of seconds. Messy blonde hair, flat on the right so she sleeps on her side. Not particularly interesting, just sort of innocent from the way her blue eyes widened at the sight of me. Worked either a well paying job or had rich parents, due to the expensive logo on the side of her thick black glasses. Most likely the well paying job, however, because there was a calculating coolness, similar to Sherlock's, behind the innocence. Probably worked with computers. John's date, not Sherlock's. Sherlock didn't seem the type to bring home anyone, much less someone even slightly similar to him.

"Hello?" this woman finally said, breaking the silence of me most likely just staring at her.

"Morning," I said curtly, "do you know if Sherlock is here?"

She looked shocked, as if I had just asked her what her weight was. (To be quite frank, I don't understand why weight plays such a large factor in who you are as a person.)

"Who's Sherlock?" she asked, completely clueless, tilting her head to the side like a confused animal.

My patience had worn thin, and I was ready to shove this girl out of the way and go marching down the hall to find Sherlock.

"And who," she questioned, taking a step towards me and narrowing her eyes, "are you?"

"Someone you should probably be scared of," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that? Because I can, like, call the police and you can be arrested for, like, breaking and entering."

I sighed, sad that this girl had turned out to be such an airhead. I figured that I could either push past her and possibly have her physically retaliate, or yell for Sherlock and hope for the best.

I looked her in the eye, rolled my eyes, and then yelled at the top of my lungs. "SHERLOCK!"

The girl jumped back at the same time two doors burst open, one with a shirtless and confused looking John, and the other with Sherlock, not showing any signs of confusion. If he were closer, I probably could have seen just the slightest question.

"Bella?" John asked while Sherlock simply addressed me with, "Bella."

"Hello, yes, good morning. John, please take your lady-friend elsewhere, and Sherlock, I need an explanation."

John looked around, as if someone was going to pop out and yell "You've been pranked!", but nothing happened. So he quietly said, "Come on, Natalie."

Natalie looked up at him, then glared back at me, then followed him into his room again, the door slamming behind the two of them.

That left me and Sherlock, standing there and quietly judging each other's appearances. After seeing his dark ringed eyes (he had barely slept) and his curly hair that was flat in the back (he slept on his back), I cleared my throat.

He snapped his eyes up to meet mine, and stood up a little straighter. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"I need information on Moriarty." Suddenly, it was a rapid conversation, no time wasted between statements and questions.

"Don't we all?"

"Just tell me what I need to know."

"Why should I?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"I could say the same to you."

"Sherlock!"

"Bella."

"Are you a five year old? Or are you just stalling for time?"

"Perhaps."

That was it. I was going to get information on my own, because Sherlock was of exactly zero help. I hated this whole endeavor, from the idiotic girl to the man in front of me who denied me information even after I had come all this way. I just wanted to go back to my couch, or my bed, and sleep peacefully. But I had things to do.

I took one last glare at Sherlock, his face still stupidly emotionless. I turned on my heel, and as the door closed behind me, I heard him say, "Nice coat, by the way."

I swung open the door to my flat, sighing when I saw a black and white cat sitting on my couch. That would be Lucy's cat that I ordered stolen back at the cafe. Great.

I didn't mean for them to literally put in my residence, but I liked cats, so it was okay, I suppose. They were more intelligent than dogs, at least in my opinion.

When I walked toward it, it looked up at me and meowed expectantly, waiting for me to pet it. I rolled my eyes, and grabbed my laptop. I sat, opening it to what I thought would be my email, but instead I saw black screen with simple white text.

LOOK UP

Moriarty. Great. I pulled my eyes from my laptop to see exactly who I predicted.

He was standing closer than I thought he'd be, a mere few steps in front of where I sat with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his hair perfectly combed.

"You are so predictable, you know that?" I asked, closing my laptop and frowned at the, as usual, well dressed man in front of me.

He faked horror, placing a hand over his heart and opening his mouth. "How dare you," he mocked me, his Irish accent as prominent as ever.

I decided to try Sherlock's tactic. "What do you want?" I said blankly, looking at his dark eyes and taking any possible emotion off my face.

His eyes fell on yesterday's clothes, which my black trench coat had fallen open to reveal. I hastily pulled it closed, while he remarked, "We've been busy, eh?"

I opened my mouth to make a snarky remark, but he cut me off with a question. "Are you a fan of the Bee Gees?"

I stood up then, now only needing to look up ever so slightly, since I wasn't that much shorter than him. "I assume you're referring to my...wake up call?"

It was like a switch had flipped and he went from teasing to danger as an ominous smile split his face. "Why did you push me away, Bella?"

He had taken a step closer, and now I could feel his body heat from how close we were. His breath was minty and I realized that he was chewing gum. "I feel like you can answer that question for yourself," I replied, trying to keep the snarkiness out my voice and failing.

"Bel-"

We both whipped around as my front door opened and there appeared a man I had never seen in my life. However, apparently Moriarty had.

"What is so important?" the man standing next to me asked, legitimate sounding annoyance weaved with the danger in his voice.

"Well, you told me to notify you if it worked, and, um, it did?" This burly looking man was obviously nervous because of his boss, my judgmental stare only adding to it. His sentence had started out as a statement and slowly evolved into question as he became more and more unsure.

I took a deep breath as the tense and angered man next to me began yelling at this obviously incompetent worker. Though I didn't show it outwardly, I was annoyed with the entire situation. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

At least, I thought so.

A/N: YAY FINALLY NEW CHAPTER! Seriously though, I'm really sorry if this wasn't that great. Please don't hate me. Thank you for reading! More to come soon, I swear!
-Clara Pond

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