Timothée sits in a chair, staring at the board in front of us with a confused look. "I had expected at least one night of sleep before you all began investigating."
Sherlock continues pinning things to the board, a concentrated look on his face. "The only connection the two victims share is that they are detectives."
"The first one was retired, but the second wasn't. So, clearly, the murderer doesn't care about if they're active or not," I add.
John nods, "And they were killed in different ways."
"They were both killed with whatever was convenient at the time."
Sherlock nods at my words, "But the killings were calculated."
"And the murderer knew their schedules," Enola says.
Tewkesbury suddenly speaks up, "Right, so how do Timothée and I fit into this investigation?"
"We need your help," Enola says.
"But, we're Lords. Not detectives, " Timothée says.
"Exactly, you two know about more political things. So you two will be our ears," I say.
Timothée sighs, "I should've stayed in France."
"But then you wouldn't have met me," I say.
Sherlock turns to us, "No one should be out on their own."
Everyone agrees, and Enola sighs. "For once, I'm not excited about being a detective."
"Who knows, maybe they're sexist and don't see us as real detectives," I say.
"It's better not to risk it," says Sherlock.
Timothée yawns, "Can we go home now? I'm exhausted."
"Yes, you may go home now, Timmy."
He rolls his eyes at me, "Good night."
Timothée, Tewkesbury, and Enola leave. John goes to his room, so Sherlock and I sit in the living room alone. He leans his head on my shoulder, "For now on, I want you to pause before doing something. Wait a few seconds to think before deciding what to do."
"I will."
He looks up at me, "I mean it."
"I mean it as well."
He sits up and sighs, "I'm going to continue working, but you should go to sleep."
"Actually, I think I should work on the board while you sleep. It's better for you to sleep and wake up with a fresh mind."
He looks at me in shock, "I'll be fine."
"Sherlock, I know you haven't been sleeping."
He sighs, "Of course you do."
"You can't date a detective and not expect her to see through your lies."
He kisses me softly, "I'll sleep for thirty minutes, and then you can sleep."
He stretches his arms as he walks to the bedroom. I turn my attention back to the board in front of me and sigh. I had changed out of my dress when we got home, so now I wore my pajamas. But, I still feel uncomfortable.
My eyes scan the room around me before landing on the window. The curtain is pulled back, so I walk over and look outside. Someone in the street below runs to the shadows when they notice me. I quickly pull the curtains shut and let out a breath.
Sherlock left his pocket watch on his desk, so I open it to see what time it is. I pull out a small piece of paper and write the time along with a small note about the mysterious man in the street. When I'm done, I stick it to the board.
Some of the things on the board are a bit jumbled, so I reorganize it. I'm sure Sherlock will be grateful for it in the morning. My mind keeps drifting back to the man in the street. Something about him seemed familiar.
I begin pacing as I collect my thoughts. Sherlock's bedroom door opens, and he steps out fully dressed. "I saw someone staring at the window."
"When?" I ask.
He pulls his coat on, "Just now."
I write the time down and stick the note to the board. "I just saw a man staring up at the window five minutes ago."
He hands me my long coat, "Let's go investigate."
I pull my coat on and shove a couple of daggers in my pockets. Sherlock watches me with an amused smile.
"What are you smiling about?"
"I just remembered the first time we danced. You had told me there was a dagger stuffed between your breasts."
I roll my eyes, "Of course you remember that."
We walk outside, looking around the mostly empty street. He takes my hand and pulls me down the street with him. The two of us walk around the apartment complex, our eyes scanning every corner.
He lets out a sigh, "I don't see anyone."
"We should get back to our apartment."
He nods, and the two of us retreat to our apartment. I sigh at the warmth of the fire. It's warmed up, but it's still cold outside at night.
Sherlock kisses the side of my neck as he pulls my coat off. I turn around to smile at him, "You need to go sleep."
He hangs our coats on the rack. "Come join me."
I follow him into the room and notice that the bed is still made from this morning. "You were supposed to be sleeping."
He pulls his shirt off, "I was writing stuff down that I had forgotten to put on the board."
I pull the covers back and crawl into bed, watching as he does the same. I sigh, "You're insane."
"And you are ridiculous."
"Ridiculously good-looking," I reply.
He laughs, "I can't deny that."
I reach out and trace his collarbone, "When we solve this case, we should go out and do something fun."
"Like what?"
I shrug, "I don't know."
"My childhood home rests along the forest. We could spend the weekend there."
I smile and hold out my pinky, "Promise?
"I promise," he says, linking our pinkies together.
We pull our hands away, and he leans over to kiss me. I smile into the kiss, running my fingers through his hair. He pulls away and looks at me with tired eyes. I caress the side of his face, "Go to sleep."
He kisses me once more and then lays down beside me, a gentle smile on his face. I scoot closer to him, allowing him to pull me into his chest.