A/N - Thank you so much for over 2000 reads and all of the comments and the likes! I'm glad you are all enjoying it! 😄
__________________________
"Ah, Sherlock, there she is!" John acknowledged when he saw Elizabeth being let out of the gates.
"Finally, come on - " The detective paused as she got nearer.
Something was off. He could feel it. But she tried to brush it off like it was nothing. Hurrying over to them, she smiled briefly in greeting.
"Sorry about that - "
"What did he say to you?"
For a moment her heart was in her throat as she thought he had meant Moriarty on the phone. But, how could he even know about that? He had to be referring to Mycroft.
"Well. For one, he scolded me for having an ashtray."
No doubt Mycroft would end up telling Sherlock that so might as well get it out of the way.
"You tried to steal an ashtray?" John looked taken aback.
"I mean, yeah. It's not everyday as a thief that you get to get into a palace. " She shrugged off the real reason.
"I don't care about the ashtray. What else?" Sherlock urged her to continue.
"And he also said that he would be wanting to exploit my skills for 'operations' of sorts. He didn't expand. But, I'm sorry, I'm not working for the government."
John looked concerned. For who, she couldn't tell although it didn't seem that the boys did get on with Mycroft too well. Maybe they were concerned for her. Sherlock wasn't facing her so she couldn't try and analyse his actions.
"Clearly, you have no choice." He said as he hailed a taxi coming down the street.
"Yeah, but Sherlock, we need Elizabeth's help more than Mycroft." John argued.
"What my brother wants, he gets."
Sherlock knew that more often than not, that line appealed to him more so. He was worried. God knows what Mycroft was going to get Elizabeth into. It wasn't what she needed after everything. Not that he understood why he cared. Or why he thought he knew what she did and didn't need.
The three of them all piled into the taxi, Elizabeth on the end.
"Oh, I see you trust me by the window now." She remarked while looking out at the streets.
"I'm giving you a chance not to disappear out of the window like your clothes did." Sherlock mumbled.
The two shared a knowing look between each other while John frowned questioningly at this exchange. She wasn't angry anymore. It was hard to stay angry at the detective when he lightened the mood with his dry humour. Elizabeth shifted and looked away after a moment, as did Sherlock, and focused on the streets outside, rather than the uncomfortable pain of having an ashtray down the side of her leggings.
John gave in, unable to appreciate the silence, "Okay, the smoking, how did you know?"
Sherlock's lips teased a smile as he shook his head, "The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not observe."
"Observe what?"
Elizabeth looked over just as Sherlock drew out an ashtray from inside his coat. John chuckled with delight at this mischievous behaviour as he tossed the object in the air and caught it. In a split second Elizabeth decided to confess her similar minor act of theft.
"Down boy, that was my job." She drew out the other ashtray she had and placed it in John's lap.
Sherlock smirked knowingly. It was impossible to believe that she did only try to take one. He was just glad she confessed to them. Now he knew that she trusted them. Of course, it also meant she would always be tempted but, again, at the very least she admitted to it.
John stared at the ashtray and then at Elizabeth, "But - you said Mycroft asked for it."
"He did."
"And you said you gave it to him?"
"I did."
"Then how - "
"I gave him the other one. He never thought I would be bold enough to take two." Once again she and Sherlock shared a gaze and a smile.
As John looked at the ashtray, he couldn't avoid the next smile that was teased on his lips. He shook his head.
"The both of you are unbelievable."
He chuckled, drawing in the other two to laugh with him too.
They didn't happen to notice the person in the car next to theirs photographing them together. Although they would meet the woman responsible for their secret paparazzi soon enough.
* * * * * *
When they arrived back at 221B, Sherlock made a break for his room; Elizabeth headed to the kitchen for a much-needed, comforting cup of tea; John headed to the living room and grabbed the newspaper on the coffee table. Sherlock still hadn't explained why they came back to the flat first.
Yet, soon enough, the detective was hurling clothes out of the wardrobe in his room and tossing them around in search of the perfect outfit. John frowned at the sound that distracted him from te article he was reading and Elizabeth just stared down the hall, questioningly, into Sherlock's room as she strained her tea.
"What are you doing?" John called without looking away.
"I'm going into battle, John. I need the right armour." Was the response from two detective as he walked out of his room in a high-vis jacket.
He gestured his arms out slightly as if he was presenting himself and awaiting an opinion from the thief. There was a look in his eye that unnerved her. Did he know that she knew a little about 'The Woman'? Perhaps she was just overthinking it.
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at the choice, "She might think that's an invitation if you wear that, being a 'dominatrix' and all."
She took a sip of her tea after but held her gaze with him. His eyes widened slightly at the notion.
"Then no."
A smirk crept across her lips at his reaction. He was funny like that. And she found it kind of cute.
* * * * * *
Again, they were back in the taxi.
"So, what's the plan?" John asked.
"We know her address."
"Yes. Yes, we do." Elizabeth nodded with an incredulous look at the simplicity of Sherlock's answer, "But that's not a plan."
John shrugged, asking, "What? We just ring her doorbell?"
And to their surprise, the detective replied, "Exactly. Just here, please."
As the taxi started slowing down, Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Of course, on this one occasion Sherlock didn't appear to have a plan. John just shook his head, blatantly confused.
"You didn't even change your clothes."
"Then it's time to add a splash of colour."
Elizabeth's eyebrow raised at this statement. What in the hell did that mean? What colour? And where?
Elizabeth paid for the taxi and then hurried after the boys who were already half way down the street. Then they turned into another quieter street. Sherlock sort of peered around the area as though he were making sure no one was watching them.
"Are we here?" John asked.
"Two streets away, but this will do."
Elizabeth frowned, "For what?"
Sherlock bared his pristine cheek to his friend, "John, punch me in the face."
"Punch you?"
"Yes." Sherlock nodded vigorously, "Punch me, in the face. Didn't you hear me?"
"I always hear 'punch me' when you speak."
Elizabeth snickered at this which drew Sherlock's attention, "Sorry." She tried to stifle her laughter.
"But it's usually sub-text."
"Oh for God's sakes." Exasperated, he sighed before delivering a hefty hook to John.
Startled, Elizabeth gasped and backed away from the fight that was about to occur, "Oh my God!"
Sherlock readied himself for the hit that John was now entitled to and hit he did. Sherlock ended up spinning back and falling on the ground because of it. For John may be small but he is mighty. Hissing from the pain on his knuckle, John paced, waiting for his opponent to rise.
Elizabeth continued to stay clear. So this is what it was like, living with men?
Popping up off the ground, a little more spritely than one may have expected, the detective brought his hand to the little cut on his cheek but looked grateful.
"Thank you, that was - "
Before he could finish, John tackled him to the ground again. And again, Elizabeth inhaled and brought her hands over her mouth in shock of the situation. People walked past, equally intrigued and unnerved by this mini quarrel of the two men.
"Um - It's fine! They - they do this all the time." She smiled nervously at nosey passerbys.
Once John was practically strangling Sherlock from behind though, she thought that it may very well be time to intervene.
"John! I think you can let go of him now." She called over to them.
"Yes! I think we are done now, John!" Sherlock agreed and struggled with his short, feisty friend.
"You want to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier. I killed people."
"You were a doctor!?"
"I had bad days!"
They scuffled for a few more minutes until, finally, John stopped.
He took a breath, straightening out his attire, while muttering a calming, "Okay, okay," To himself.
Sherlock panted, clearly worn out by the ruffian he brought out of John. They both just sort of stood and looked at each for a moment. Sherlock then held out his hand.
"Truce?"
"Truce." John nodded, taking his hand, "Don't ever, Sherlock, ever, punch me again or I swear to God, I will break something."
"Hear you loud and clear, John."
Elizabeth slowly edged her way back to the boys, "So, got that out your system?" She aimed this at John.
"Yes. For now. It's just a lot of pent up frustration really."
"Yeah. Can tell." She nodded then looked over to Sherlock and pulled a face at the small cut in his cheek, "At least he's not as bad as Scarlett and her men." She joked lightly.
Sherlock scoffed, pulling a white plastic strip out of his coat pocket, "No, you're right."
The detective went to button up his shirt but ended up dropping the strip.
"I'll get that." She dived down to it quick, before it blew away as he finished doing up his shirt buttons, "Going for a vicar then, are we?"
"Yes." He took the strip and tried to fit it in his collar but failed a couple of times.
"Here, let me." Again, Elizabeth took the white strip and stood in front of Sherlock, lifting his shirt collar, "Polar opposite of who you're about to meet."
She smiled, bemused by his choice and very briefly looked up to meet his gaze as she folded his collar back down, which successfully held the priest's dog collar, "Abstinent, innocent and unsuspicious." She patted his collar down but left her hand on his collar for a second longer than was socially acceptable.
Like lightning, she dropped her hand down by her side again.
Sherlock just gazed at her for a period of time which was also for a bit longer than socially acceptable. He couldn't work it out. He felt something but he couldn't pinpoint it. The same feeling he felt when he saw Elizabeth in her dress for the masquerade. It was a like a pull. And to a thief no less.
John watched this small exchange like a hawk. A very curious hawk because he had never seen an exchange like it before, not with Sherlock. When he realised no one was moving or saying anything now though, he had to ruin their little moment.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat.
The two looked over at John and then back at each other before stepping away.
"Um. Yes. Miss Adler's house. It's, uh, that way. Let's go." Sherlock swallowed drily, a little shaken by that peculiar moment.
"Lead the way." Elizabeth mumbled.
* * * * * *
They were stood on the steps of Irene's grand house. Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder if there would be a few precious things to nab inside. It certainly looked like the kind of place to possess some valuables. But, she knew it probably wasn't for the best to take from Miss Adler.
Sherlock composed himself on the steps and ushered John and Elizabeth to move out of sight from the intercom. And then, ringing the bell. He awaited a greeting from the inhabitant.
"Hello?" Came the voice.
In his best, poshest sounding English accent, he spun his tale of woe, "Oh, um, very sorry to disturb you, um, I've just been attacked, um, um, I think they, they took my wallet and, um, my phone. Um, please could you help me?"
He looked on the verge of tears but it was the ridiculousness of his voice that got to his two partners in crime. Again, they stifled their laughter. Sherlock, of course, wasn't distracted by them at all for he was too busy concentrating on trying to get inside.
"I can phone the police, if you want?"
"Thank you! Thank you. Could you, please?" He nodded, smiling gratefully, "Would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you, thank you so much." And then he prepared himself to sob into his handkerchief once again.
Knowing that the door buzzed open now, John and Elizabeth composed themselves as they followed Sherlock inside.
"Thank you. Oh."
John was quick to say, "I saw it all happen."
"Me too. It was just horrible." Elizabeth added with mock distress.
"I'm a doctor. Have you got a first aid kit?" He aimed this at the ginger-haired woman.
"In the kitchen." She replied before gesturing for them to go on through to wait, "Please."
"Who would've thought people these days could jump a vicar." Elizabeth muttered as she ushered a very tearful Sherlock through to the living room.
"Thank you." He mumbled.
Elizabeth took Sherlock's coat and placed it on the arm of the chair while the ginger-haired woman made sure they were comfortable. The thief directed the detective to sit down on the elegant sofa and she took a seat next to him, reassuring him all the while.
Once they were left alone, Sherlock dropped the ruse and returned to his ever emotionless look. He was considering all the outcomes of this but found he was unable to think with Elizabeth staring at him, bemused with his performance. He turned to look at her and she simply smirked and looked away.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously, what?"
Again, she turned to look at him, "Seriously?"
"Seriously, what?"
"That was so unconvincing. I thought you were good at this."
"I am. It's just because you know it's fake that you see it as fake. Would you risk leaving a sobbing vicar on your front doorstep? Imagine how much of a terrible person that would make you look like."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes but saw his reasoning as she looked away, "It really was shit crying though."
Sherlock looked to her this time and she continued facing ahead with his trademark emotionless look accompanied with a smirk. He couldn't fight back the one that her comment brought to his face too. She was good at this, making him smile when he didn't want to.
But then the loud, clip-clop of heels could be heard approaching the room and they both snapped back into character. Sherlock sat with his handkerchief slightly dabbing the cut on his cheek and Elizabeth had her hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to reassure him. The touch caused him to tense just a little but she felt him gradually relax. God, she thought, wasn't like she was going to hold him down.
"Hello." Came the voice from down the hallway, "Sorry to hear you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your names."
Sherlock prepared himself to speak up, "I'm sorry, I - "
But nothing could have prepared them for the shock they received next.