Knock knock.
Evelyn turned away from the cork board on her wall with case photos displayed on it to see Dr. John Watson in her office doorway. Her face lit up as she rushed over to give him a hug.
"I come bearing lunch!" He said, presenting her with a large paper bag that smelled of Chinese takeaway.
She hadn't realized how hungry she was until her stomach growled loudly at the scent of lo mein.
"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" She asked, ushering him inside.
"Probably," John chuckled. "But it never hurts to hear it again."
"Well, I love you very much." Eve smiled, pulling the armchair closer to her desk so they could sit together while they ate.
"How are you feeling?" John inquired as Evelyn dug in to her noodles ravenously.
Eve gingerly touched the yellowish bruise on her cheek from The Woman's riding crop.
"By about ten I wasn't dizzy at all, and the nausea was gone when I woke up, so I don't think she stuck me with any long-lasting poison." Evelyn answered. "How is Sherlock?"
"Oh he's more than fine." John intoned.
"What does that mean?" Eve asked curiously and admittedly a bit frightened.
"Irene Adler returned his coat in the middle of the night and left him with little gift." John explained. "She's been texting him, and every time he gets it, his phone makes this really sexual moan. I'm pretty sure it's her voice in the recording." John laughed. "It's been making your mum terribly uncomfortable."
"Is Sherlock replying to any of her texts?"Evelyn asked.
"I don't know. Why?"
"He just seemed very...taken with her." Eve replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
John tilted his head, studying her. Evelyn was clearly avoiding his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the contents of her Chinese food container. John wasn't as observant as Sherlock or Eve, but he didn't miss the hurt on her face.
"Anyway, Mycroft has taken us off the case." John changed the subject. "What are you working on?"
---------------
The fall passed away in a rotating cycle of work for Evelyn, small cases for the boys and evening visits for all three. Eve endured fifty-six of Miss. Adler's moaning text messages over the months. They arrived during dinner, while reading in the living room, in the middle of conversations, and on and on.
Sherlock grew more and more fascinated by the dominatrix each day and Evelyn felt more ashamed of her feelings. When Mrs. Hudson had a hip operation in early December, Eve would often use the excuse of taking care of her mother to avoid coming upstairs. John watched it all, eternally unsure of what to do.
Evelyn looked forward to the holidays, hoping for a nice evening surrounded by friends and family to lift her up out of her pit of self-pity.
It didn't go as she had hoped.
Sherlock played the last few notes of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on his violin, getting applause and praise from his small audience.
"Oh, I wish you could've worn the antlers!" Mrs. Hudson laughed.
"Some things are best left to the imagination Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied.
John and his girlfriend, Jeanette, came round offering drinks.
"Oh, no thanks, Sarah." Sherlock said to Jeanette.
John rushed over, ready to triage the situation. "Oh no no no, he's not good with names."
"I can get this!" Sherlock insisted. "Sarah was the doctor. And then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and who was the one after the boring teacher?"
Jeanette crossed her arms. "Nobody."
"Jeanette!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Ah, process of elimination."
Perched on the arm of Mrs. Hudson's seat, Eve facepalmed.
"That was really bad of you, Tommy." Evelyn said to Sherlock with a smile. "Oh no, that's wrong. Was it Billy?" She tapped her chin. "Hang on, I'll get it."
"It's really John's fault, you know." Sherlock smiled.
Aaaah. The moan came from Sherlock's phone.
As if it was a reflex, Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to read the text. He stood, looking for something. He grabbed a red box tied with black rope off of the mantlepiece and excused himself.
Feeling all her negative thoughts coming back, Eve got up and stalked into the kitchen.
"Need a drink?" Lestrade asked.
"God yes." Evelyn replied.
Lestrade handed her a whiskey. She took a big, throat-burning swig as the door to Sherlock's room closed.
----------------
When Sherlock didn't reappear, Eve made her goodbyes and returned home to go to bed. Her new job was tiring enough even without the added drag of being heartsick.
In the wee hours of the morning, the ringing of her cell phone woke her.
"Hello?" She mumbled, sitting up in bed.
"We've found Irene Adler's dead body." Mycroft didn't even say hello. "Sherlock is on is way to identify the body at St. Bartholomew's Hospital. I think it's best that you come too."
The line clicked without another word.
"Oh God." Evelyn whispered to her dark bedroom, heart aching.
She skipped getting dressed in real clothes and went straight to the hospital. As she came round the hallway corner, she saw Mycroft and Sherlock talking through the window in the door.
Sherlock was smoking a cigarette.
Eve studied her shoes, arguing back and forth with her conscience about the merits of eavesdropping.
"Look at them," Sherlock said, watching a grieving family at the other end of the hall. "They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"
Evelyn held her breath, hurt and worry freezing her to the spot as she listened.
"All lives end, all hearts are broken." Mycroft replied. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."
Sherlock exhaled roughly, and looked at his cigarette with disdain. "This is low tar."
"Well," Mycroft intoned. "You barely knew her."
"Huh." Sherlock replied, walking away. "Merry Christmas, Mycroft."
Mycroft watched his younger brother walk away. "And a happy New Year."
Feeling she could bear it no longer, Eve broke away from her spot and strode into the dark corridor. Mycroft turned to face, unsurprised.
"Didn't you ever learn not to eavesdrop?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, not really." She said. "My father ran a drug cartel. He wasn't one for morality."
Evelyn walked past the older Holmes, gaze not wavering from where Sherlock had exited. She paused before leaving entirely.
"You're wrong, you know." She leveled a determined stare at her boss. "Caring makes us human, and you can't pretend that you don't have that piece of humanity in you."
The door swung shut behind her as Mycroft pulled out his phone to call John.
Eve caught up with Sherlock as he was getting into a taxi. She practically dove inside, giving the driver the address of her flat, instead of 221B.
Sherlock looked at her questioningly.
"I didn't get to give you your Christmas present." She explained.
Sherlock turned to look out the window, wishing only for the quick relief that came from the needle.
He didn't say a word for the rest of the taxi ride, and neither did she. They walked up to her flat side by side in silence. Sherlock sat on her sofa quietly while she made tea and retrieved a neatly wrapped box from her bedroom closet.
She filled the mug he always used and then filled her own, adding a splash of milk. Evelyn balanced the mugs and the gift and came to join her heartbroken friend. She put the gift carefully down and then set the mugs side by side.
Eve still said nothing as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's wide shoulders. He let out a breath, letting his head fall forward enough to rest his forehead on her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged back.
Evelyn didn't pat his back, she didn't whisper soothing words, she only held onto him and he to her, like they were one another's rafts in a great wide ocean.
Eve held him.
Sherlock held her.
They stayed there as the tea became cold.
When he was ready, Sherlock gently pulled away. The sadness that had felt so crushing before had faded into a dull ache in his sternum. Evelyn handed him the rectangular box wrapped in blue paper with a purple ribbon.
At the top of the box was a framed photograph.
John must have taken it, Sherlock deduced. In the image, Eve was sitting in John's chair holding a book with one hand and a mug of tea in the other. On the other side of the fireplace, Sherlock sat in his chair with his fingers steepled, covering his lips. Evelyn's eyes were crinkled with laughter and Sherlock could see a smile of his own hidden behind his hands.
Dozens of moments identical to the one in the photo crossed Sherlock's mind. He looked up and met Eve's gaze. Raw, genuine emotion was clear in her expression and Sherlock took a moment to study her carefully.
She wasn't there too fool him. She wasn't about to disappear. She was real.
"Thank you."
Sherlock placed the gift back into its box and stood. He bent down and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
With that, he was gone.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Evelyn lumped backwards against the couch. She held her hand to her heart.
--------------
A swelling, emotional melody filled the walls of a cluttered, well-loved flat on Baker Street.
The melody stopped short as its composer made a note on his sheet music.
The melody began again before stopping in nearly the same place.
Sherlock looked at the new photograph on the mantle, and then to the woman sitting on his couch before scribbling a few more notes onto the page. John came in and grabbed his jacket as Sherlock began again.
"That's a lovely tune, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson commented, picking up a dirty plate from the desk and moving it to the kitchen.
Eve hummed in agreement from the couch where she had been pretending to read while observing Sherlock.
"You composing?" John asked.
"Helps me to think." Sherlock said. He started playing again.
"What are you thinking about?" John interrupted.
Sherlock whirled around, pointing his bow at John's laptop. "The count on your blog is still stuck at 1,895."
"Yes," John replied. "It's faulty, can't seem to fix it."
Evelyn, getting curious, got up and came to look at the screen too.
"Faulty...or you've been hacked and it's a message." Sherlock said, pulling out Irene Adler's camera phone and typing in '1895.'
I am _ _ _ _ locked. 3 attempts remaining.
Sherlock's face fell. "Just faulty."
"Right." John said as Sherlock began to play yet again. "Well I'm going out for a bit."
Sherlock ignored him.
"Have fun." Eve said with a smile and a hug as John headed out the door.
A few minutes later Sherlock set down his violin and disappeared into his bedroom. He re-emerged fully dressed, announced that he was going out, and then promptly left.
Evelyn sighed, unsurprised.
He needs to do what he needs to do. She thought.
Feeling lonely in the stillness of 221B, Eve grabbed her book and went downstairs to see her mother.
"Hello, Muffin." Mrs. Hudson greeted.
"Hi Mum." Evelyn watched as her mother retrieved a crate of cleaning supplies from a closet. "Do you want some help?"
"Looking for pocket money again?" Mrs. Hudson teased.
Eve grinned. "Always."
Evelyn was about halfway done cleaning the kitchen floor while Mrs. Hudson worked on polishing the windows when the front door banged open with a crack.
Eve sat up, on edge. Someone has just broken in.
She stood and turned around in time to see the huge black-clad Americans from Miss Adler's apartment rushing at her.
"Mum! Get out!" She screamed at her mother.
The first man grabbed Evelyn's wrist. She saw him coming and as his hand touched, the heel of her other palm slammed into his nose. Eve moved her arm in an arc, breaking his grasp before she punched him in the face.
The other man, the one who had held Sherlock at gunpoint all those months back, aggressively searched Mrs. Hudson.
"Where is it?" He demanded.
"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Evelyn screeched, flying at him.
She kicked and punched and clawed until he let her mother go. In her fury; however, she didn't see the third agent until he pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth.
"No! Please!" She heard her mother scream. "Sherlock! Sherlock!" She sobbed.
Eve's vision became blurred as her limbs went steadily more limp until she fell unconscious.
-----------------
Evelyn awoke to the sight of the living room she loved so very much. There was the spray painted smiley face above the couch. There was the little corner table with its square lamp and the skull portrait.
And on her left was her mother, tied to a chair, with a gun held to the back of her head.
No, no, that wasn't right. Regaining consciousness, Eve stiffened and strained against the ropes that bound her to her own chair.
"I'd suggest you sit still, Miss. Hudson." The leader threatened.
"Oh Evelyn." Her mother sobbed. "Oh Muffin, oh, oh no."
Eve tried her best to hush Mrs. Hudson soothingly. "It's okay Mum, stay calm. It's okay."
"He's back, boss." One of the men said, looking out the window.
"Both of you. Shut up. Now." The leader growled.
Evelyn heard the creak of the front door.
Silence.
Slow, deliberate footsteps on the stairs.
The peeling blue door the living room swung open slowly and Sherlock strode in just as calmly as he had come up the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson began sobbing again at the sight of him. "Oh, Sherlock. Sherlock."
"Don't snivel Mrs. Hudson." He said, scoping out the entirety of the situation. "It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." Eve could see the rage he was trying to contain. "What a tender world that would be."
"Oh, please," Mrs. Hudson breathed. "Sorry, Sherlock."
"I believe you have something we want, Mr. Holmes." The leader said.
Sherlock stepped toward Mrs. Hudson, checking her sleeves and looking her over to deduce what they had done and where the camera phone might be.
"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh, I've been asking this one, she doesn't seem to know anything." He gestured to Mrs. Hudson. "And little miss secret agent wasn't much help either." The man winced, and Evelyn saw that his cheek was beginning to swell from one of her punches. "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you Mr. Holmes?"
"I believe I do. First get rid of your boys." Sherlock negotiated.
"Why?"
"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room." Sherlock glared at the lackeys.
"You two, go to the car." The leader commanded.
"Then get into the car and drive away." Sherlock added. "Don't try to trick me, you know who I am, it doesn't work."
The goons left as instructed.
"Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me." Sherlock said calmly.
"So you can point a gun at me?"
Sherlock lifted his arms. "I'm unarmed."
"Mind if I check?"
"Oh, I insist." Sherlock mocked.
The leader approached and began to pat Sherlock down. The moment he was behind Sherlock's back, the detective grabbed an aerosol can from inside his coat and sprayed him in the face. Disoriented, the American had no hope of avoiding the headbut Sherlock hit him with. The CIA agent fell to the floor, unconscious.
"Oh thank you." Mrs. Hudson sighed as Sherlock came over and freed her.
"You're alright now, you're alright." He soothed, gently touching her face.
Sherlock moved quickly over to Eve and untied her hands as well. His hand slipped underneath her hair and cradled her neck as he searched her face for trauma or injury. She leaned into his touch before she could think to stop herself.
"You seem dazed." He observed clinically.
"They knocked me out with suffocation." She said weakly. "Really classy, those guys."
Sherlock moved his hand away from her face and squeezed her hand before turning on the knocked out American with a vengeful stare.
Evelyn went to her mother and guided her to the couch, where they embraced and comforted one another.
Sherlock tied the American to Mrs. Hudson's chair and gagged him with duct tape. The man awoke to see Sherlock holding him at gunpoint.
John walked in just about then as well, rather surprised at what had gone on in his absence.
"Mrs. Hudson and Evelyn were attacked by an American." Sherlock explained. "I'm restoring balance to the universe."
John rushed to his friends. "Oh my god. Are you alright?" He asked, distraught.
Mrs. Hudson began to cry again. "Oh, I'm being so silly!"
Eve hugged her mother tightly, beginning to cry a little herself.
"Jesus, what have they done to you?" John whispered, looking ready to murder the American.
"Downstairs." Sherlock ordered. "Take them downstairs and look after them."
Mrs. Hudson insisted on going downstairs without help. "I'm fine! I'm fine!" She said.
Evelyn followed on mildly shaky legs, with John close at her heels. The three of them settled in the kitchen where John retrieved the first aid kit. While he cleaned the cut on Mrs. Hudson's cheek, a figure fell past the window and hit the rubbish bins with a loud crash.
Several more crashes occurred before sirens signaled Lestrade's arrival to take the man away. The flashing lights and wailing of emergency vehicles faded into the distance as Sherlock came into kitchen.
John and Mrs. Hudson sat at the table while Eve leaned against the counter. Sherlock came to stand next to Evelyn. Their shoulders brushed ever so often.
"You've got to take some time away from Baker Street." John said to Mrs. Hudson. "You can go and stay with your sister. Doctor's orders."
"Don't be absurd." Sherlock said.
"She's in shock, for God's sake!" John argued. "And all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it anyway?"
"Safest place I know." Sherlock answered.
"You left it in the pocket of your second best dressing gown, you clot." Mrs. Hudson said, reaching into her shirt and revealing the device. "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry." She chuckled.
Eve smiled. "That's my Mum."
"Thank you." Sherlock said to his beloved landlady. "Shame on you, John Watson."
"Shame on me?"
"Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock declared. "England would fall."
"Yes, well, I think I'd better turn in." Mrs. Hudson announced.
The three friends said their goodnights and retired upstairs for a New Year's Eve drink. John poured a glass of scotch for himself and one for Evelyn while Sherlock put the camera phone away.
"Where is it now?" John asked when Sherlock returned.
"Where no one will look." Sherlock replied, moving to the window and picking up his violin.
"Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures."
"Yes it is."
Sherlock tuned his instrument.
"So she's alive then." John said. "How are we feeling about that?"
In the kitchen, Eve set her glass down, feeling shocked and a shameful feeling of disappointment.
Big Ben tolled midnight.
"Happy New Year, John. Happy New Year, Evelyn." Sherlock avoided John's question.
"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?" John pressed.
Sherlock began playing "Auld Lang Syne" and turned away from his friend. Eve wished them both a hurried "Happy New Year" before getting her coat and leaving, jealous and heartsick once again.
Sherlock watched Evelyn walk across the street, unsure of how he could have made her stay.
He wanted her to stay.