I walked into the flat to see Sherlock playing his violin as he stared out the window at the street. John looked at me and nodded his head to the food Sherlock hasn't touched. Mrs. Hudson came out and made the same look at the plate as she picked it up. Sherlock suddenly stopped playing and grabbed his pencil, adjusting his music.
"Lovely tune, Sherlock. Haven't heard that one before." Mrs. Hudson complimented before walking out. I turned to John and frowned at the back of Sherlock's head.
"You composing?" John asked Sherlock.
"Helps me to think," Sherlock replied as he turned back to the window and played the same song again.
"What are you thinking about?" John asked, and I stood next to John. Sherlock spun around quickly and pointed toward John's laptop with the bow of his violin.
"The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five," Sherlock said abnormally fast, which he does when he thinks.
"Yeah, it's faulty. Can't seem to fix it." John replied. Sherlock quickly pulled out a camera phone.
"Faulty– or you've been hacked, and it's a message," Sherlock said. I looked at the phone he held that read, "I AM _ _ _ _ LOCKED" on the screen.
"Hmm?" John asked looking as well.
Sherlock typed "1895" into the phone. The phone beeped, then read, "WRONG PASSCODE. 3 ATTEMPTS REMAINING". Sherlock frowned,
"Just faulty," Sherlock stated, all the light in his eyes draining as he picked up his violin once again.
"Right," John said looking at me. Sherlock played the song once more, and I sighed, "Right. Well, I'm going out for a bit." John said to me as we walked into the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson. Surprisingly, Sherlock didn't ask him where he was headed.
"Listen: has he ever had any kind of ... (he sighs) ... girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?" John asked Mrs. Hudson quietly. I engaged myself in this conversation.
"I don't know." Mrs. Hudson replied. I sighed, and John did as well,
"How can we not know?" John asked motioning between himself and Mrs. Hudson.
"He's Sherlock. How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?" She asked. John gave a light smile to the floor then looked at me as Mrs. Hudson walked out.
"How're you handling all this?" he whispered.
"I'm hurt. I really thought there might have been some sort of... emotion toward me. However, I think the emotion was stronger toward her and the... fifteen to twenty minutes they spent together." I sighed.
"And you've lived here for about three months..." he said getting my point.
"Yeah..." I sighed. Suddenly, Sherlock's violin made a screech, and he stopped playing. We peeked out of the kitchen, expecting him to say something; instead, he jotted more down on his music.
"Want to go out with me?" John asked.
"Wh-,"
"For lunch or something... not like that," he said.
"Ah, yeah sure." I nodded. I slid on my coat as we reached the bottom of the stairs and we walked out when I heard a woman's voice.
"John?" it asked. We turned, and I saw a woman
"Yeah," John responded. He turned to look at her, then looked back at me. I smirked and nodded my head toward her, "Hello." John added realizing how pretty she was.
"So, any plans for New Year tonight?" She asked then nodded over to me. I shook my head and winked at her.
"Er, nothing fixed. Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon. You have any ideas?" John asked with a smirk. The woman looked over, I thought at me, when I turned and saw a black car pull up.
"You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex." John sighed rolling his eyes. I looked at John confused as the woman looked at me.
"Come along now," She said pushing me toward the car.
We pulled up outside of the empty shell of Battersea Power Station. We followed the woman through the building, and John finally spoke,
"Couldn't we just go to a café? Sherlock doesn't follow me everywhere."
"Sherlock follows you?" I asked, again, jealous. The woman didn't answer and just motioned for us to walk into a room.
"Through there." The woman directed. John and I eyed her as I listened to the woman as she continued with her conversation on her phone.
"He's on his way. You were right – he thinks it's Mycroft." She said. My eyes widened as I followed John into a large room. Nobody was there.
"John this isn't Mycr-,"
"He's writing sad music; doesn't eat; barely talks – only to correct the television. I'd say he was heartbroken but, er, well, he's Sherlock. He does all that anyw..." He stopped as Irene Adler appeared from behind a crate.
"Hello, Doctor Watson. And... you." She said to us.
"Tell him you're alive." John pleaded quietly.
"He'd come after me." She said shaking her head and I glared at her, "Sorry darling."
"I'll come after you if you don't." John threatened.
"Mmm, I believe you," Irene added.
"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you." John argued, getting louder.
"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep." She fought.
"And I bet you know the record-keeper." John remarked.
"I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear." She said and momentarily I felt for her.
"Then how come I can see you, and I don't even want to?" I asked.
"Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping, and now I need it back, so I need your help."
"Ha. Ha. Ha, fricken Ha." I snapped.
"No," John added.
"It's for his own safety," Irene added.
"So's this: tell him you're alive," John added.
"I can't." she said.
"Fine! I'll tell him!" I yelled.
"And I still won't help you," John added. We both turned to leave when she spoke up again.
"What do I say?" she shouted after us.
"What do you normally say?" John snapped.
"You've texted him a lot," I added, not caring if I sound jealous. Irene held out her phone in front of her.
"Just the usual stuff." She sighed.
"There is no 'usual' in this case." I snapped.
" "Good morning"; "I like your funny hat"; "I'm sad tonight. Let's have dinner"..." she read off the messages, and I looked at John, angry. "You looked sexy on 'Crimewatch.' Let's have dinner"; "I'm not hungry, let's have dinner."
"You ... flirted with Sherlock Holmes?!" I yelled.
"At him. He never replies." She added.
"No, Sherlock always replies – to everything. He's Mr. Punchline. He will outlive God trying to have the last word." John said.
"Does that make me special?" she asked.
"I don't know. Maybe." John countered, and I looked down.
"Are you jealous?" she smirked.
"Hell no." I snapped.
"There... I'm not dead. Let's have dinner." She said as she sent a text to Sherlock. I looked at John when we suddenly hear the moan of Sherlock's text alert.
"Oh shit, Sherlock!" I sighed going to run to him, but Irene stuck her hand out.
"I don't think so, do you?" she asked.
Sherlock and I arrived at Baker Street, and I looked at a note on the door that read, "CRIME IN PROGRESS. PLEASE DISTURB". We walked upstairs, and I saw a man tied up to a chair with duct tape across his mouth, blood running down his nose and chin. Mrs. Hudson sat on the sofa and Sherlock was in his chair.
"Jeez. What the hell is happening?" John asked.
"Mrs. Hudson's been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." John rushed over to Mrs. Hudson, and I rushed to Sherlock and grabbed his arm.
"Are you okay?" I asked. He shrugged me off so he could still hold the gun to the man. I looked at him and kissed his cheek. He eyed me as he held his phone to his ear with his other hand.
"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, my God. Are you all right?" John asked glaring at the man in the chair. "Jesus, what have they done to you?" he asked observing her.
"Oh, I'm just being so silly." She cried into her hands.
"No, no," John said putting his arm around her. I watched Sherlock as he stood up still aiming his gun and holding his phone to his ear.
"Downstairs. Take her downstairs and look after her." Sherlock said to John.
"All right, it's all right. I'll have a look at that." John said helping her up.
"I'm fine; I'm fine." She said sounding, well, not fine. She walked out, and I eyed the man Sherlock pointed the gun to.
"Are you gonna tell us what's going on?" I asked him.
"I expect so," Sherlock said deeply. He looked at me, and I stared into his eyes "Lestrade. We've had a break-in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance. Oh, no-no-no-no-no, we're fine. No, it's the, uh, it's the burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured." Sherlock began. I looked over to the man, then back to Sherlock.
"Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull... suspected punctured lung. He fell out of a window." Sherlock glared at the man, then hung up.
"Sherlock-,"
"Go downstairs," he said.
"Sherlock," I began raising my voice. He turned to me and pulled me close, pushing a kiss onto my lips. I kissed him back, and he pulled away from me.
"Now go," he said. I did as told and walked downstairs with Mrs. Hudson and John. He was helping her clean up.
"Ooh, it stings." She said as John lightly applied some antiseptic to her cuts. I sat at her table and stared at my fingers. Suddenly, something fell past the window and landed with a loud crash. John and Mrs. Hudson looked out the window, and my eyes widened.
"Ooh. That was right on my bins." Mrs. Hudson said, then a groan sounded.
About ten minutes later I heard the sirens and walked out of Mrs. Hudson's flat to see Sherlock walked outside to meet with Lestrade and the ambulance.
"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?" Lestrade asked Sherlock. I stood next to him, and he peeked at me before answering.
"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." Sherlock responded darkly, sending shivers down my spine. I looked at him and slowly slid my arm under his, pulling him close. He put his cheek on the top of my head, and I felt his lips on my forehead as the man Sherlock "pushed out the window" was loaded into an ambulance.
Sherlock and I walked into Mrs. Hudson's flat, and Mrs. Hudson sat with John at the table. She still looked a little shook up.
"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." John said.
"No." Mrs. Hudson argued.
"Of course, but she's fine." Sherlock smiled down at her.
"No, she's not. Look at her." John countered. Sherlock looked in the fridge to find an apple before looking over at me.
"She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders." John said. Sherlock and I looked at each other a little longer, getting lost in each other's eyes when Sherlock stopped, realizing he wasn't paying attention.
"Don't be absurd," Sherlock stated.
"She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?" John asked, and I sat there interested.
"Safest place I know," Sherlock responded as he looked down at Mrs. Hudson who reaches into her bra and pulls out the camera phone.
"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry." Mrs. Hudson said, and I smiled at her.
"Thank you," Sherlock replied as he tossed the phone up before sliding it into his pocket. Sherlock looked over at John before speaking, "Shame on you, John Watson."
"Shame on me?!" John responded looking at me in disbelief.
"Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock asked pulling her close. "England would fall." He said. She smiled at him and stroked his hand on her shoulder. John and I were smiling at the both of them.
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