John was cautious when he came through. He had read her file and now he couldn't help but confront Charlie about a few small details, and to make sure she was okay. "Charlie?"

"Sherlock will be back soon" she said, gazing down at her phone.

The young woman was curled up in Sherlock's chair, she looked up, then Charlie saw the file in John's hand. "Why have you got that?" her jaw clenched and she tensed up, glaring at the folder.

"I-"

"You've read it." It was not a question.

"Yes, Charlie-"

"Why did you read it?"

"I just-"

"You shouldn't have."

"I just wanted to-"

"I don't care. You shouldn't have read it. I don't want to hear anything you have to say about it. Put it back where you found it and never mention it again." Charlie struggled to keep herself calm and her breathing even.

John faltered in shock. He was aware that the information in the file was sensitive to Charlie, but her reaction was unexpected to say the least. "Charlie I read it b-"

"Shut up! I don't care! Just shut up!" She leapt out of the chair and across the room before John could say another word.

"Charlie!" John yelled after her as she stormed down the stairs.

Charlie pulled on the coat she had picked up on the way out of the living room as she spun round the turn in the stairs. Rage was boiling inside her and she knew that if she didn't leave now she would lash out at John, and she would not allow that.

As she went to storm out of 221B, the door opened and Sherlock suddenly blocked her way. Sherlock could see the distress on her face, the fear and rage. "Charlie?" She couldn't look at him, her whole body trembled as her desperation to leave became clear. "Charlie, are you okay?" Sherlock voice was soft. He stepped up to her and held her arms, "Charlie?"

"He read my file" she whispered to quiet for him to hear, her jaw trembling.

"Charlie?"

"My file… John…read…"

"Oh" Sherlock looked crestfallen; gently he put his hands on her shoulders. Charlie remained stock still.

"I want to go" she whimpered. Sherlock let her go and nodded seriously.

"If you start feeling down you phone me, okay? No texting, I want to here your voice." As Sherlock spoke he looked into Charlie's eyes, one to the other and back again, trying to get her to look back.

She nodded.

Again Sherlock stepped closer to Charlie and put his arms around her. Sherlock's hands went beneath her coat and into the back pockets of her jeans; Charlie tensed and clenched her jaw, knowing what Sherlock would find. Without expressing any emotion, Sherlock pulled the blades out of Charlie's jeans along with her purse.

"I thought you said you got rid of these" he said, opening the hand with the blades in it.

"At one point I did. Can I go?"

"Is there any more?"

Charlie robotically took another blade out of her coat and put it in Sherlock's hand. "There are two in our room, on the bookcase. I'm leaving now"

"Yes." Sherlock said blankly "And Charlie, be careful, and phone me"

She nodded and Sherlock let her past. He looked up at the landing where John had been standing throughout the whole conversation.

"You shouldn't have done that" Sherlock called up to the older man calmly. He bounded up the stairs, taking then two at a time.

"I… I didn't…" John faltered.

"You didn't know. But you should have left that file alone – don't you think that if Charlie wanted you to know about her background she would have told you!" Sherlock's anger rose as he spoke. The younger man barged past John and up into the living room, John followed without a seconds thought.

"I just wanted to tell her I was sorry" John tried to explain.

"Charlie doesn't want to here 'sorry' any more, she had years of it – her father died, her mother was murdered and there wasn't anything she could do to resolve it, she had no choice but to watch as her younger brothers were beaten, or the rape she suffered constantly would have gotten worse. Then she had to cope with murdering her step-father and the emotional consequences of that. Then the alcoholism, then the guilt of not being able to provide for her brothers, then their deaths." Sherlock took a deep breath "John, Charlie has had people telling her they were sorry for her all her life and she hates it. It makes her feel helpless and weak. You shouldn't have said anything."

John looked mildly traumatised. "I didn't…"

"Think, John. You didn't think."

"I'm sorry" John whispered.

"Oh and you just had to do it today, didn't you" Sherlock snarled.

"Today…?" John questioned before he realised.

"The anniversary of her brothers' death is tomorrow John!" Sherlock all but roared.

"I didn't-"

"Think." He stated bluntly.

John stared at the floor, "When she gets back I'll-"

"Do nothing. Treat her like normal. Don't mention any of this. If she sees you starting to even look at her differently she'll run, she detests sympathy"

John nodded, deeply regretting everything that had happened that afternoon. He didn't know how he was supposed to just ignore the unexplained information he had found. But Sherlock knew Charlie; he knew how she felt and what she did and didn't like and how to treat her and how to deal with her in certain situations.

Sherlock turned away from John and put his hands in his pockets, "Go out and buy a box of malteasers and leave it somewhere for her. Put a note on it, nothing… sympathetic, just 'from John' – that way she'll know it's from you and she'll know you're sorry without having to hear it. Okay?"

John nodded, "Yeah, I'll do that. Thank you Sherlock" John put on his coat and grabbed his wallet. He left 221B and went to the nearest corner shop.

Sherlock looked at the blades in his hand. He needed to get rid of them somewhere Charlie wouldn't be able to get them back again. He'd find the ones in their room then go to Mycroft's – Charlie wouldn't be there by the time the bins were emptied. Besides, Mycroft might have cake for her.