Disclaimer: We don't own Sherlock, BBC or Otherwise... this is just product of our Imagination that we have decided to share with whoever wants to read this. Feel free to flame but if you do please flame appropriately, no bad grammar or superfluous cussing and actually have a problem with it (who knows, it might be fixed- especially if you find a typo or any bad grammar, we hate those just as much as you do), don't flame just to flame…save yourself the time and embarrassment please. Thank you. - Bleeding Crimson Editor
Prologue
A tired hand rubbed an equally tired wrist. A sigh escaped from the aching head above. The figure's eyes were nearly clouded with sleep, wishing to simply close and not wake up... at least for a while.
"No, must continue." The figure shook her head. Some of her hair escaped the pins that held it together and out of her face. She brushed the wisps behind her ear and began typing again.
"Are you alright? I mean, it only happened a week ago..."
She squinted her eyes so she could see the man in the doorway silhouetted by the light in hallway. Previously only the faint blue glow from the computer screen illuminated the room. Now the yellowy brightness from outside the room lit the keyboard that she had previously been clacking away on.
"I'm fine." Her voice was like steel- cold and hard. She couldn't think about it too much; she wouldn't let herself.
"Let me finish this, and I will let you see it. You know it as well as I do in any case."
"You're very talkative, it seems."
"Oh? Well, do not mind me. I am only a little preoccupied..."
"Alright then, I'll leave you to it. But please, tell me if there is anything I can do." The man stood awkwardly for a few seconds more, his hands fidgeting, before he turned and made to shut the door. He paused just before it closed all the way and said into the dark room,
"It could have happened to anybody, you know..." he paused, trying to determine if he should speak again or not.
"Have dinner with us tonight. I'll cook. It's bad luck to go for so long without a break anyway." It was a split-second decision but, he thought, a good one. Even if he couldn't help her much, he could at least do this. A long silence colored the next minute before the woman heaved another sigh and ran her hand through her hair.
"Liar. There is no such thing, but I will come in a couple of hours. Is six alright?"
"Yes, and no-"
"I will drive myself there. I am not out to kill myself because of this, no matter what he thinks."