Summary

Sequel to "A Silent Past"

Sherlock thinks Rose has too much of a conscience, so he tries to fix it. He gets a little more than he bargained for.

Silencing A Conscience

Rose Spencer checked the clock in her bed room. It was just coming up to ten in the morning. She had gotten home from her little game of failed revenge, changed her top into something big and baggy as well as taking off her lipstick, putting her hair up in a pony tail, letting it fall down her back in thick curls. After changing back to her usual, more reserved self, Rose had put on some music, just laying back and listening to the lyrics.

After a few songs, she found herself missing her old life a little. She frowned at the thought; she didn't want to go back to her old life, no matter how much she missed it. She let out a sigh, deciding to stop living in the past and get a cup of hot chocolate instead.

Having flicked the switch on the kettle, she went to the living room, booting up her computer, earning a light glare from Sherlock, who was sat at the desk; apparently he still hadn't gotten into the devise and she smiled at the thought every time. As she looked up to smirk at him however, she looked him in the eye, remembering a similar set of eyes that she had played a game with not two hours ago. The reminder made a faint blush paint her cheeks.

Sherlock frowned as she didn't hold his gaze for their usual time, noticing that she instead looked to the laptop, waiting for it to load. What could have made her blush? The man wondered. He hadn't seen her that morning, so he knew nothing of what had happened between her and Mycroft. He knew that something was different about her though, seeing the carefully applied liner that she still wore on her eyes, making them deeper and more attention grabbing.

Hearing the kettle finish boiling, she took her laptop into the kitchen, logging in as she walked, setting the laptop on the table - facing away from the detective - as she poured her drink.

She could feel the gaze watching her as she checked her Facebook, the news, then looking through various clothes shops. She thought that a baggy t-shirt and jeans would be alright for the odd day off, but for working she thought she needed something a little more professional.

"We're going for a walk." Declared Sherlock randomly, making the young woman look up to see him staring intently at her. Oh god, he knows… she thought.

Rose didn't know what Sherlock would think about her flirting with Mycroft and was a little hesitant to find out. She knew how protective family could be.

Sherlock however knew something was going on; he just didn't know what. So he decided to find out and teach her something along the way. He had deduced that she was a little guilty for something. He needed to fix that; guilt would not get her very far working for the younger Holmes. He also hoped to get some more information from her along the way.

"If you say so…" She said wary of what the man had planned, grabbing her coat anyway, still having her heels on. Sherlock noticed they made her legs look a lot longer than usual, adding a few inches to her average height.

Walking out of the door, Rose lit up, Sherlock choosing a route to take, walking off down the street, Rose walking beside him. After a few minuets he spoke.

"You need to learn something Rose." He said in a serious voice that had her worrying even more than before.

"And that would be?" She responded coolly, but the man noticed her back stiffen slightly under her usual black coat. Defiantly guilty of something, he thought.

"To not have a conscience." He told her, taking the young woman by surprise, a frown forming on her face. He saw this and started to explain. "If you were to do something that you needed to do, but you got in someone's way or annoyed someone, being who you are at the moment, you would feel guilty for it."

"Yes, I suppose I would." She agreed.

"But you mustn't." He said with a finality in his voice. "It will only eat at you and you wouldn't last very long."

"What would you suggest?" She asked, wondering if she wanted to know the answer.

He only smirked. "De-sensitisation." She knew exactly what he was up to right then.

"Oh, this will be interesting." She muttered, accepting her fate. They both knew she would do what he asked of her, if only for something interesting to do.

"Indeed." He agreed, smirk growing a little.

"Just so you know; I don't think this is the best idea you've had, Sherlock." She told him, taking a puff on her cigarette.

He just ignored her, lifting a gloved hand to point over the park they were walking through. He had decided to start simple and easy.

"What do you see?" He asked her first, making sure she could see what he did before he let her loose.

Rose followed his finger and saw the woman he had pointed out. She was short with black, clunky heels on her feet, though she walked as though they hurt. New shoes. Flesh coloured tights over her legs, leading up to a plain black skirt that fell straight, stopping an inch above the woman's knee's. Rose remembered her own knee for a second before pushing the compulsive thought away, getting back to her task, hoping Sherlock hadn't noticed the flash of a shadow in her eyes. The woman wore a black coat, similar to Rose's over the most hideous orange jumper the young woman had ever seen. The stranger's brown hair was pulled back into a high pony tail and black frames sat on her nose. In her hand was a large black bag, several yellow folders tucked into it.

Sherlock gave her five seconds before he got bored. "Well?"

"A teacher by the looks of things, though just a supply. Not a good one either. Works in high schools mainly, though doesn't get enough jobs to afford a car or even a cab from the one job to the next, so she has to go every other lesson, giving her enough time to get from place to place, but too much time, so she walks slowly. She keeps rubbing her throat, much like I used to when I taught a drama class and my voice was going. So the students don't behave for her. But she would have only had one lesson today, and the week isn't that far gone. She wouldn't have that many lessons day to day, so she shouts more than the rest of the staff; the students don't like her." She thought for a little while. "Maybe they mock her for her height?"

"Good." He praised shortly, though she knew it was the most she would get from him. They stood for a few more seconds, both watching the stranger walk through the park at a slow pace. When she still didn't move, he spoke again. "Well, go on then."

"Do I really have to?" She asked , knowing she did. He just raised his head a little, sighing loudly. "Okay! Okay..." She said with a hint of defeat.

She threw her cigarette on the ground in front of her, stubbing it out with her shoe. She drew back her shoulders, pushing down the hesitance she felt, striding right across the park, and up to the stranger.

Sherlock watched with a curious fascination. She's a good actor, he noticed. He knew she was hesitant to do so, but she still did it, both with confidence and grace. He watched her stride right up to the stranger, stopping in front of the orange topped supply teacher. What happened next made his eyes widen a fraction; he certainly had not expected that.

As the stranger had stopped, Rose blocking her path, she looked up to question the younger, taller woman. Before she could speak though Rose leaned right into her face and shouted.

"Quack!"

Sherlock heard the strange noise all the way across the park, making his ever working mind freeze for the smallest fraction of a second in shock before starting up again. He started to make his way to the path Rose had taken, walking the way the stranger had come from. Said stranger was now looking quite confused and a little angry and the random interruption. She didn't quite know what to do, settling on ignoring it, pretending it didn't happen, and carrying on her way, looking over her shoulder every few seconds in paranoia.

The two flatmates fell into stride with each other, walking for a few seconds before Rose looked up as Sherlock looked down at her. She burst out laughing. He found that her laughter was contagious again, finding himself joining in.

As they got back out onto the street a minute or so later, they had both composed themselves, walking as they had before.

"Well?" She asked, hoping she had done good. She hadn't felt embarrassed or even self conscious as she walked away as though nothing had happened. She had actually enjoyed confusing the unsuspecting woman.

He thought for a second. "Why a quack?"

She just gave him a large smirk. "When my friends were on the phone, everyone always made…shall we say inappropriate noises. Then it got boring. So, we started making animal noises instead. My favourite was always a duck. Thought I may as well go for it."

He didn't quite understand but nodded anyway. "Well, I suppose that was a little too easy." Her amusement drained away instantly. "Come on!"

With that small declaration, he started running down the streets of London, Rose only keeping up from his warning, praying she didn't break an ankle in her heels. They ran for a good five minuets, taking sharp corners, running through roads, pushing people out of the way.

After a minute or two, Sherlock got bored and decided that since he still didn't have a case, he would train her up for another day, taking the nights to try to hack her laptop. He still hadn't done it, and he was getting annoyed more than ever with the folding devise.

A thought occurred to him then; maybe he could just do what he always did when he needed to find something out from a person. She can't be that different.

Rose tried to keep an eye on where the mad man was going, but she had to blink at some point. And as she did, Sherlock turned a corner heading into a dark alley. Rose had missed the quick movement though. She quickly realised where he must have gone however, running a little quicker to try and catch up.

As she turned the corner though, a hand grabbed her shoulders - albeit gently - pushing her up against the wall of the shadowed alley way. Adrenalin pumped into her system as she tried to see who it was that was now towering over her, but she soon relaxed, seeing it was only Sherlock. He was close though, hands bracing the wall behind her, trapping her in the darkness, face only inches away. She could make out the coldness in his eyes, though they were just as they always were and she was used to them.

She frowned at him, chest heaving from their run through the streets. "Sher-"

"What are you hiding from me?" He asked in a low voice, making her pale slightly. Alright, little worse than expected then, she thought. It's Sherlock though, he wouldn't hurt you. She tried to convince herself of this, but somehow she just couldn't; it scared her, and she despised being scared, even the tiniest little bit.

She reacted quickly though, hiding her fear, going on the defensive. "I don't know what you mean." Her lack of breath was not helping the situation and she tried to steady her breathing to a regular rhythm.

Sherlock saw the fear in her eyes flicker like a tiny, cold flame. But it was soon hidden behind a wall. Sherlock worried if he was the thing to scare her, but quickly dismissed the thought; he had saved her life a few times now, why would he hurt her now? But he also caught the defensive tone she took and he knew he was on the right path.

"Don't try lying to me, Rose." He growled out to her. She was finding it that little harder to convince herself that he wouldn't hurt her. She wanted to trust him, but he was just so unpredictable. She looked in his eyes seeing the familiar emptiness look back at her; it wasn't spiteful though and held more emotion when he was annoyed. She stopped to think for a second; the only thing implying that he was dangerous or even angry was his body language.

He was acting. But why?

"It doesn't matter, Sherlock." She said with all the honesty she could. What happened between her and Mycroft meant nothing; it was just a mind game.

"Tell me what it is." He demanded. He was sick of sitting on that damned sofa staring at the same screen every night; he wanted to know what she was hiding from him.

"It's nothing, Sherlock. I swear." She said quickly, trying to get him to back off. He was far too close for comfort. Her first thought was to push him back physically, but she knew he would only pin her differently. So she tried verbally, trying to placate the man. "It was just a mind game!"

A mind game? "What?" He asked, a confused expression crossing his face as he leaned back slightly.

She took this as a good sign and carried on explaining. "That's all it ever was, a mind game. Just a bit of revenge for getting on my nerves. Surely you can understand that." She tried, smiling a little.

But the detective didn't understand. "The password's a mind game?" He hadn't thought about it like that; he suspected she had done it to annoy him, but more so to keep him out of her laptop.

The word completely threw the trapped woman, confusing her to a new level. "Password?" She thought about everything that Sherlock had said after the had entered the alley, applying the word password and then realising with a crippling sense of stupidity what he really meant.

Sherlock saw her face turn a bright red as she muttered, "You meant the password to my laptop…"

"What did you think I meant?" He asked, wondering what else she could be hiding from him.

"Well…Umm…" She stuttered, not knowing how to get out of this one.

"Rose?" He asked, not as harsh as before, merely curious and a little suspicious.

"Well, I thought you meant about what happened this morning." She said quietly, not looking him in the eye.

He frowned. "What happened this morning?" He didn't like not knowing something, it felt as though he was missing something really important.

"Well," She turned a little redder at the memory. "I may have tried to get a little revenge…on Mycroft…" She said, still not looking at him.

He smirked though, knowing that her version of revenge would certainly be a little entertaining at least. "How?"

She looked up at the tone of humour in his voice, confused by it place there. She explained non the less. "Well, I remembered when we went on that hypothetical date and how uncomfortable you were with the mild, pretend flirting. No offence…" She tacked on the end. He still looked expectant. Sherlock had an idea of what she may have done, but didn't quite believe it; surely she wouldn't have even tried it. "So…I may have flirted with him a little." She confirmed, going a shade darker in her colour again.

Sherlock blinked, then chuckled. She really had. "And how did that work out for you?" He asked, knowing the answer.

She took in a breath, preparing herself for the embarrassment. "Didn't quite work out the way I thought it would."

He chuckled again, pushing off the wall. She stood a little straighter, brushing off her coat, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders.

"I am not my brother." Sherlock told her. "And he is certainly not me."

She huffed slightly. "I've noticed."

"You should have seen him when he was younger…" Muttered Sherlock in somewhat of a dark manner.

Rose shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "But… you're not mad, or cross or anything like that? Don't want me to back off?"

He looked more confused than ever at the notion. "Why would I want that?" He thought it would provide excellent entertainment at some point, as well as some half decent blackmail material.

Rose just frowned a little, trying to remember that this was Sherlock Holmes, and he wasn't everyone else. "He's your brother."

"What my brother does in his time is up to him. The same goes for who." He said in a normal voice. Rose just blushed a bright red, pushing his arm not lightly. They walked for a few minuets, heading back to the flat from what Rose could tell, before Sherlock spoke again. "So?"

"…So?" She asked, not understanding what he wanted.

"What's the password?" He asked, clearing up any confusion.

Rose threw her head back, laughing loudly. Her day couldn't be any stranger and she had a feeling that most of her days with the madman would be similarly strange.

"The password is there to keep you out, Sherlock." She told him, still grinning at her victory at keeping him out of her laptop.

He just huffed in a childish manner at her answer. "Why?"

"Because I like my privacy, and I have some things on my laptop that I don't particularly want you to see." She said, trying to not sound as though she were explaining the obvious. Like trying to teach a child, she thought in amazement.

However, her words only made him more curious. Now he really wanted to see what it could possibly be. "Like what?" He questioned suspiciously. She had just admitted to hiding things from him, but he didn't think it made any difference. It only confirmed what he had known.

"Well telling you would be a little counter productive, wouldn't you say?" She said in an offhanded manner. He just pursed his lips, pushing his lower jaw outwards. She saw this and tried to change the subject. "So why the run?"

It worked. "Run?"

"Yes, before you ambushed me in the alley, you ran off and had me chasing you for a good five minuets. In heels. Why?" She wasn't angry though, just curious as to his reasons.

"Oh." He let the confusion go to the back of his ever working mind, concentrating on the young woman next to him. Hadn't she worked it out? "Well, we pushed through at least three dozen people before we got to the alley."

It took her a few seconds, but she got there eventually. "Ohh….. Of course!" She quietly exclaimed to herself. Another flipping test! Really got to keep an eye out for them, she thought.

He had run through the crowds of people, pushing several over on his way- she had done the same on a smaller level, bothering to move to the side when faced with a human obstacle. When Sherlock ran with John, the doctor would always apologise and check to see if the person was alright; Rose hadn't. She had been too busy trying to keep up and not loose sight of the madman to be distracted by the plights of strangers.

"Well played." She told him, earning a small cold smile from the detective as they turned the corner to Baker Street.

"It only took you four people before you stopped bothering with it." He told her, opening the door to the flat. She just snorted, going to put the kettle on after taking off her coat. As Rose brought him a cup of coffee, setting it on the desk he was sat at, he heard her phone go off.

She answered it, not bothering to look at the caller. He thought this was a silly thing to do; it could be anyone. "Hello?" She asked. A few seconds later, she broke out in a huge grin, blushing slightly and laughing. "Well, that would be a little difficult Sim. I'm in London and you're in Newport." Sherlock frowned at the conversation; he could only hear one side, not hearing the person on the other end of the phone. Rose motioned to herself, then pointed downstairs, in the direction of her room. Sherlock nodded slightly and she moved to towards the door. "Cardiff eh? Well, aren't you moving up in the world?" He heard her sarcastic voice drift down the stairs.

Sitting at the desk, Sherlock decided that he would start looking for a case. He pulled John's laptop towards him - having left his own on the sofa - and opened it, letting it load, thinking of site to look at and whether it was worth it to hack into the yards systems. Not yet, he thought. Wait until there is nothing left to do, it will only end in a call from Mycroft.