Summary:

Sequel to "Silence Meets Belgravia" We all have bad dreams, things that haunt us more than others. Most people find there's not a lot we can do about them, but as always, Rose Spencer isn't most people.

Preparing for the Silence

Continued Silence

Shutting the door behind the suited man, smug in his obvious victory over the competitive woman, Rose leant against the back of the shiny door, trying to regulate her breathing again.

"Sod..." She muttered, trying to get her heart rate back to normal, willing the small organ to relent in it's excitement.

That was the problem though; she had enjoy it.

She frowned slightly, realising that she really was starting to enjoy the older man's company that little bit too much.

Not really feeling all that social all of a sudden, she decided that she just wanted some down time to be by herself, rather than with her two flatmates.

Shaking her head, clearing it - mostly - of what just transpired, she took a final calming breath and went to her room, deciding that the first thing she needed to do was put on some music.

Setting the musical devise to shuffle, she turned up the speakers and threw herself backwards onto her bad, hearing the drums and guitar sound out first, closing her eyes as she realised what was playing.

Just typical…she thought, wanting to know how - after so many years, even on shuffle - how she always got something that described exactly how she felt.

Sighing, she just sang along as the chorus kicked in, a genuine smile slipping into her features as she did.

"He's a good time Cowboy Casanova,

Leaning up against the record machine.

Looks like a cool drink of water,

But he's candy coated misery.

He's the devil in disguise,

A snake with blue eyes,

And he only comes at night,

Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight,

You better run for your life…."

Smile slipping off her face again, she wondered if she really should just back down before it went too far, knowing that deep down, she really didn't want to.

This is how she spent most of her day, eventually getting round to doing some random doodles on a bit of scrap paper she found, but mostly thinking about the powerful genius she had seen that morning.

Eventually, she heard a loud rumble sound over her now melodic music; her stomach growling at the lack of food it had been given throughout the day. Checking the time and finding it was around eight in the evening, she thought it best to get some food before turning in for the night.

Discarding her notebook and pen, designs of swirls and random crosshatching littering the page in no definitive design, she got up off the bed and made her way upstairs.

Peering into the living room, she found John at the desk, cup of tea in one hand, the other scrolling through a webpage on his laptop. He was the only one there though.

Frowning she asked. "Where's Sherlock?"

John looked up, obviously in a world of his own. "Oh...umm… said something about checking the network…?" He told her, not knowing what it mean, though he saw Rose knew. "Do I want to know what he's doing…?"

Rose just chuckled. "Homeless network." She told him, going through to the kitchen and looking through the cupboards. "He makes sure they're generally okay and they give him tips, keep an eye on the streets, you know?" Looking in the fridge, she found a cheese and onion pasty - among other things - deciding to just eat it cold. "Helps him to know what's going on around the city and it works for them; someone to look out for them."

John nodded, looking impressed before going back to his laptop.

Looking around, Rose found it strange with no Sherlock around, like there was something missing. "When did he go out?"

John wasn't paying much attention though, too engrossed in what he was doing. "Um… don't know."

Rose just smiled slightly. "I'll leave you to it…" Getting only a hum in reply.

Going back to her room, she found she'd left her music playing, a new song playing just as she shut the door behind her; Nickleback's "If Today Was Your Last Day."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pondered the lyrics to the song, yet again wondering if she had done the right thing by working with Sherlock.

What if today really was her last day? What would she rather be doing, right this minute, instead of being sat in her cold room, alone, eating a cold pasty?

She didn't know.

She did know that even if it were her last day, she could say that she'd done what she wanted to do and it made her happy. She may not have all that many friends, or go out partying or drinking, but she was happy; her little flat, unusual job and brilliant flatmates made her happy.

A new thought came to mind then; what if it wasn't her's, what if it was Sherlock's?

Initially shrugging the thought off, she found that it in fact made her frown. Sherlock did just as much as she did, if not more dangerous, unpredictable things that could easily get him into a lot of trouble…or even killed.

That's ridiculous, it's Sherlock! She thought, he knows what he's doing, always pulls through.

But as much as she denied it, the thought was still there; unpredictable… what if he hurt himself without even meaning to?

Shaking her head to clear it once again of a Holmes - but for a completely different reason this time - she pulled a book off her bedside table and decided a nice fiction would take her mind off of things.

Once she had finished a chapter, having eaten her pasty, she got changed into her bed clothes, getting in the warm bedding, picking up her book again.

After a long time, she caught herself struggling to stay awake and shut her book, getting out of bed to quickly turn the light off, missing the warmth of the sheets. It wasn't a full minute before she was fast asleep.