A Scandal in Belgravia: Part Two

"Now, have you got a first aid kit?" John asked, distracting her from her thoughts.

"In the kitchen." Kate replied with a nod, pointing to a door behind her. "But please." She adding, gesturing towards the living room for Sherlock and John.

"Oh! Thank you!" Sherlock said graciously. Scarlett went to follow but was stopped by Kate.

"How about you let the doctor stay with him and you help me with the kit?" She asked before walking towards the door of the kitchen.

Scarlett looked at Sherlock and John briefly who were both stood in the living room door frame, "Um, yeah, sure."

When the two of them were in the kitchen Scarlett swiftly dropped the act, "Why am I in here and not out there?"

"Miss Alder's about to, shall we say…introduce herself. No need for you to witness it, seeing as you're quite a fan of hers Miss Holmes."

Damn, these woman were good…


A few minutes later Scarlett was stood in the kitchen with Kate when she heard the clicking of heels down the wooden stairs. Kate grinned and put her fingers to her lips. The heels continued down the corridor and stopped nearly halfway down. The doorway where Sherlock and John were.

"Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your names." That was all she heard of Irene Adler's voice before the door to that room was shut.

Scarlett was stood with her back resting against one of the beautifully furnished sideboards in the kitchen. She was at odds about whether she should strike up a conversation with Kate when the intercom in on the polished oak table went off. She and Kate caught the end of what Irene was saying:

"No, I think he knows exactly where. I'm not sure about you." There was a pause, clearly deliberate to get Scarlett thinking about the conversation they were just having. "Kate," Irene continued after a second, "Tell that beautiful brunette she can come in now."

Kate just looked at Scarlett, then the door, and gestured with her hand.

Alright then.

Scarlett left the room and walked down the corridor, the rubber of her high tops scrapping the floor slightly - leaving white marks. She stopped at the door, facing the white wood panelling. She hasn't met Irene but through the extensive profiling she'd been doing, she knew this wouldn't be easy.

She took a deep breath and turned the rounded door knob. The door yielded effortlessly, swinging into the room and she stepped forward. Irene was sat on the sofa - wearing Sherlock's coat - John was awkwardly perched on the other end. Sherlock stood by the fire. They all turned to look at her as the door opened.

"Scarlett. Hello. Kate was looking after you alright?" Irene asked over the back of her seat.

"Yes, thanks." She said as she walked further into the room, bypassing John so she could lean against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"Oh no you don't." Irene said sticking her arm out as she went to pass. "I want that beautiful face where I can see it."

Scarlett looked down at Irene and smirked to keep up appearances, "Of course." She decided to lean against the fireplace wall so she could keep an eye on everyone else in the room.

"Mmm, obedient little thing, isn't she?" Irene observed leaning forward, looking at Sherlock for a reaction, "A heart breaker too, I'm betting."

Scarlett didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow, "No?" Irene asked surprised.

"Well," Irene continued after a second, "never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know. How was it done?" Irene focused on Sherlock properly again.

"What?" Sherlock asked slightly confused after the abrupt change of topic.

Irene removed her black heels with red bottoms before continuing. "The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?"

Scarlett hadn't been present during the case that morning so she had a right to not understand what was going on. Sherlock and John, however? She had no clue why they were confused.

"That's...not why I'm here." Sherlock replied after a second.

"No, no, no," Irene agreed, "you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway..." She trailed off at the look of shock on the boys faces.

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" John asked perplexed, turning in his seat to face Irene.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes." She said with a casual shrug.

"Oh." John replied shortly, "And you like policemen?"

"I like detective stories – and detectives." Irene said to John, "Brainy's the new sexy."

Scarlett and John both stared at Sherlock in bewilderment as he incoherently replied, "Positionofthecar..."

Sherlock began to slowly pace, pulling himself together, "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."

"Okay," Irene said slowly, "tell me: how was he murdered?"

"He wasn't." Sherlock replied, his air of smugness returning to him.

"You don't think it was murder?" Irene questioned.

"I know it wasn't." Sherlock said with a smirk as he continued to pace.

"How?" Irene asked.

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room."

"Okay, but how?" Irene said, walking right into Sherlock's trap. Scarlett smiled slightly and The Woman's error.

"So they are in this room. Thank you." Sherlock concluded before turning to John, "John, man the door. Let no-one in."

The two of them exchange a significant look, then John got up, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. In the hallway Scarlett knew he was going to attempt to set off the smoke alarm. In the sitting room, Irene sat up straighter, looking suspiciously at the closed door.

Sherlock started to pace again addressing Scarlett as well as Irene, "Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart, and one car."

"Oh." Irene stated, confused, "I – I thought you were looking for the photos now."

"No, no. Looking takes ages." Scarlett said, still lent against the wall, speaking to Irene for the first time.

"We're just going to find them but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass the time." Sherlock concluded. He stopped and turned to Irene.

"Two men, a car, and nobody else."

Scarlett watched as Sherlock squatted down and she realised he was mentally reconstructing the crime scene. "The driver's trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere." Straightening up, he turned and looked without seeing around the room. "And the hiker's taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching the birds?"

She observed Sherlock, looking doubtful. "Any moment now, something's gonna happen. What?" Sherlock asked the room at large.

Irene – who was still sitting on her sofa – looked at her before saying, "The hiker's going to die."

"No, that's the result. What's going to happen?" Sherlock corrected, sounding irritated.

"I don't understand." Irene replied.

"Oh, well, try to." Sherlock prompted.

"Why?" Irene asked becoming defensive.

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think. It's the new sexy." Sherlock replied and Scarlett decided to ignore the latter part of the comment.

"The car's going to backfire." Irene replied after a second of thinking.

"There's going to be a loud noise." Sherlock agreed.

"So, what?" Irene asked, becoming tense.

"Noises are important." Scarlett said, "Noises can tell you everything. For instance..." She paused dramatically for a second, waiting for the smoke alarm to ring out. Irene turned to look at the large mirror over the fireplace. Sherlock and Scarlet followed her gaze.

"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." Sherlock commented as Scarlett joined him over at the fireplace. She watched as he ran his fingers underneath the mantelpiece. Finding a switch under there, he pressed it and the mirror slid upwards, revealing a small wall safe behind it. Scarlett turned, looked at Irene as the latter stood up.

"Really hope you don't have a baby in here." She commented before she called out to John in the corridor, "All right, John, you can turn it off now."

It stopped abruptly and she turned her attention to Sherlock once more. He was looking closely at the number pad on the front of the safe.

"Hmm." He began to say, "Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used – that's quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday – no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so…"

"I'd tell you the code right now," Irene said coolly and Scarlett looked at the woman, "but you know what? I already have." Sherlock frowned at her as Irene continued, "Think."

The door burst open and a man along with several others – one holding John - came in and aiming his pistol at Sherlock.

"Hands behind your head." He demanded of them all before looking specifically at Irene, "On the floor. Keep it still."

A third man went to keep an eye on Irene as a fourth made a grab for her. "Sorry, Sherlock." John apologised, although there was nothing to apologise for.

Sherlock raised his hands, the leader of the group looked around at Irene again. "Ms Adler, on the floor. You too, Miss Holmes."

His colleague shoved Scarlett to her knees in between Irene and John who has also been pushed to his knees. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched as she felt the barrel of a pistol being held to her neck.

To her surprised she felt John take her hand in his and squeeze in reassurance as Sherlock said causally, "Don't you want me on the floor too?"

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." The ring leader demanded.

"American…" Scarlett breathed as she clocked his accent at the same time as Sherlock.

"American. Interesting. Why would you care?" Her uncle asked, intrigued.

He glanced across at Irene as she too put her hands behind her head. "Sir, the safe, now, please."

"I don't know the code." Sherlock replied, truthfully.

"We've been listening. Adler said she told you." The main American stated.

"Well, if you'd been listening," Sherlock retorted, "you'd know she didn't."

"I'm assuming I missed something." The American said, getting annoyed, "From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr. Holmes."

"For God's sake. Irene's the one who knows the code. Ask her." John said, getting stressed.

"Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman."

"Mr. Holmes doesn't..." Irene began.

"Shut up. One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship."

Sherlock glared at him ferociously as the man continued, "Hmm, pressure points…Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson."

"What?" She heard John gasp.

He was not going to die.

"I don't have the code." Sherlock insisted.

"One."

Sherlock sounded emphatic as he again insisted, "I don't know the code."

"Two."

"She didn't tell me." She registered Sherlock's voice as it rose, "I don't know it!"

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now." The main American answered coldly. With her eyes shut in fear for John she didn't see Sherlock and Irene exchange glances. "Three."

And…bang…

"No, stop!" Sherlock cried.

Or, maybe not…

She heard the sound of beeping as Sherlock typed in the digits into the safe, "Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please." The American asked.

"Vatican cameos." Sherlock said urgently as he did as he was asked. She wasn't sure if she pulled John to the ground or if he pulled her.

Sherlock pulled open the door of the safe whilst he ducked down below the fireplace. Inside the safe, a tripwire attached to the door tugged on the trigger of a pistol with an equally long and over-compensatory silencer which was aimed straight out of the safe. The gun fired and Archer – who happened to be standing directly in front of it – was shot in the chest. Sherlock grabbed for the main guys pistol as Irene spun around on her knees and savagely elbowed her guard in the groin. Pulling the pistol from the first man's grip, Sherlock held the silencer end and smashed the butt across his face, the main American dropped to the floor, unconscious. Together Scarlett and John both turned on the remaining guard behind the doctor. Knocking him back so he fell, hit his head and fell unconscious. As Irene's guard crumpled under her blow, she grappled for his pistol and was on her feet, aiming it down at him while he was still falling.

"D'you mind?" Sherlock asked The Woman.

"Not at all." She replied as her guard tried to get up again, she slammed the gun across his face and knocks him unconscious. While Irene was distracted, Scarlett noticed Sherlock reach into the safe and take something out of it, presumably the photos. Nearby, John checked Archer over as she stood up.

"He's dead." The doctor said to the room.

"Good." Scarlett replied without thinking. She went around the unconscious bodies quickly, looking for forms of ID. "Nielson, Archer, Matthews, Wills..." She muttered as she chucked each ID back on the ground.

"Thank you." She heard Irene saying to Sherlock as she refocused, "You were very observant."

"Observant?" John asked at once.

"I'm flattered." Irene finished.

"Don't be." Sherlock replied as he glanced at John.

"Flattered?" John asked as Scarlett also looked at the doctor.

"There'll be more of them." Sherlock stated, changing the subject, "They'll be keeping an eye on the building."

Still holding the pistol but having removed the silencer, Sherlock hurried out of the room as John tucked Archer's gun into the back of his jeans and followed him. Scarlett walked out into the corridor, as Sherlock trotted out onto the street, John behind him.

"We should call the police." John said.

"Yes." Sherlock agreed and she turned her head to look through the open front door as Sherlock shot his gun five times into the air. Near-by tyre's screeched.

"They're on their way." Sherlock replied as he turned to re-enter the house.

"For God's sake!" John complained.

"Oh shut up." Sherlock said, "It's quick. Check the rest of the house. See how they got in."

Sherlock passed Scarlett as he stepped into the living room. As John headed off, Scarlett twisted in the corridor, seeking Sherlock. She watched as – in the living room – he took the item which he just stole from the safe out of his pocket and tossed it nonchalantly into the air.

"Well, that's the knighthood in the bag." He commented.

"Ah." Irene replied, "And that's mine."

Sherlock switched on the security lock on the phone he was holding. If he couldn't open it then it'd need a passcode she realised, "All the photographs are on here, I presume."

"I have copies, of course." She heard Irene say.

"No you don't." Scarlett answered back as she stepped slightly into the living room to look at Irene. "You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of that phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."

Irene, who had her hand outstretched, asked her, "Who said I'm selling?"

Scarlett looked at the dead and unconscious bodies lying on the floor, "Well, why would they be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs." She said, her eyebrows creasing.

Irene turned back to Sherlock, "That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes. I'd die before I let you take it." She walked closer to him and held out her hand again. "It's my protection."

"Sherlock! Scarlett!" The doctor called for them, somewhere upstairs.

Sherlock pulled the phone back, looking at Irene pointedly with a shake of the head, "It was."

Both she and Sherlock turned to get upstairs, Irene followed.

Upstairs in the bedroom, John was knelt over the silent figure of Kate lying on the floor. Putting his ear to her mouth to check her breathing, he straightened up and took her pulse. Standing up, he walked into the en suite bathroom and looked at the open window in there. Sherlock and Scarlett came into the bedroom followed by Irene.

"Must have come in this way." The doctor supplied.

"Clearly." Sherlock answered shortly.

Sherlock entered the bathroom to look out of the window as Scarlett spotted Irene walk anxiously towards Kate.

"It's all right. She's just out cold." John told Irene.

"Well, God knows she's used to that. There's a back door. Better check it, Doctor Watson." Irene spoke to the ex-solider. Sherlock came out of the bathroom and nodded to him.

"Sure." The doctor replied bewildered before leaving.

Scarlett stepped out of Irene's way as she made her way to her dressing table. Ignoring what the woman was doing Scarlett walked over to Sherlock who was looking at the camera phone. "Scarlett, dear. Why don't you go and help Doctor Watson?"

Scarlett didn't know why she obeyed, but she did. She left the room in search of John. She didn't have to look for the doctor for long, she found him at the bottom of the stairs, "The back door alright?" She asked.

"Yeah, fine." He replied as he joined her at the top of the stairs, "What are you doing out here?"

"Irene practically dismissed me, probably so she could flirt with Sherlock." Scarlett sighed as they headed back into the bedroom.

The sight that greeted them was Sherlock, on the floor, convulsing. She rushed forward to support her uncle as John asked Irene, "Jesus. What are you doing?"

"He'll sleep for a few hours." The Woman replied. "Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse."

Scarlett looked up in time to see Irene sitting on the windowsill in her bathroom. She had her feet up on the edge of the bath and was taking hold of a cord hanging from the ledge. It was then Scarlett noticed the syringe on the floor she picked it up.

"What's in Sherlock's system?" She asked calmly.

"He'll be fine." Irene reassured her, "I've used it on loads of my friends."

John knelt down beside her and said, "Sherlock, can you hear me?"

"You know, I was wrong about him." Irene said looking down at Sherlock, "He did know where to look."

John stood back up, "For what? What are you talking about?"

"The key code to my safe." Irene replied.

"What was it?" John asked as Scarlett tried to keep Sherlock still as Irene looked at him.

"Shall I tell them?" She asked Sherlock.

John looked down at Sherlock for a moment then turned back to Irene just as sirens announced the arrival of the police. Irene smiled at them, "My measurements."

Huh, she didn't know what to think about that.

Irene pushed her feet against the edge of the bath and toppled backwards out of the window, still holding what looked like a thin rope. John hurried over to the window and looked out whilst Sherlock still tried vainly to lift himself up but continued to fall back helplessly.

Scarlett and John entered the flat a little while later holding Sherlock between them. "You got him?" She asked John before she let go of Sherlock's side so she could open his bedroom door.

"Yeah." John nodded.

With the door opened Scarlett returned to Sherlock's side as he began to mumble about elements in the periodic table. She helped John get him into bed carefully before they both exited the room. "How long did you say this would last?" She asked the doctor, referring to her uncle's state.

"He'll be fine by the morning." John reassured, "Just let him sleep it off."

A few hours later both she and John were still in the living room when she heard her name being called from Sherlock's room, "Scarlett?"

She looked over to John who shrugged. When she didn't reply straight away Sherlock called for her again, only louder, "Scarlett!"

She sighed good-naturedly as she went to check in on her uncle. She opened his door just in time to watch him roll off the foot of his bed in a tangle of sheets.

"You okay?" She asked as she clung onto the door frame.

"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked her, blearily.

"You were drugged by Irene, Lestrade drove you home in one of the police cars. Heads up: He filmed you."

Scarlett watched as Sherlock tried to get to his feet, "Where is she?"

"Irene? Sorry, Sherlock, she got away, no one spotted her." Scarlett replied in earnest.

Sherlock, now on his feet, stumbled over to the open window and looked through it. Scarlett noticed a red lipstick kiss on the corner of his mouth that she thought best not to mention. "She wasn't here, Sherlock." Scarlett lied.

Turning around, Sherlock either fell down again or deliberately dropped to the floor – she couldn't decide which. Whilst he was down there he dragged himself across the floor and peered under the bed as if looking to see whether Irene was hiding under there. Then he squinted around as if checking that she wasn't hidden under or behind the wardrobe.

"What are you doing...?" Scarlett asked incredulously as she pushed him back onto his bed face first. "Back to bed. John say's you'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."

In a muffled, blurry voice Sherlock replied sluggishly, "Of course I'll be fine. I am fine. I'm absolutely fine."

"Yes, you're great." She replied sarcastically, "Now I'll be next door if you need me along with John."

"Why would I need you?" Sherlock asked in fuzzy confusion.

"I don't know; you were the one that called for me." She replied before shutting the door behind her.

The next morning Scarlett, Sherlock and John were sat at the table in the living room. John was the only one eating though as Sherlock was reading the paper, Scarlett was trying to ignore Mycroft and Mrs Hudson was in the kitchen.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." Sherlock told Mycroft again.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker." Mycroft replied sourly.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants...protection for some reason." Sherlock said, looking over the top of his paper to his brother. "I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." Mycroft answered.

Scarlett smirked, "She'd applaud your choice of words. You see how this works: that camera phone is her 'Get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

"Though not the way she treats royalty." John tagged on and they both smiled sarcastically at her eldest uncle. Who in turn, smiled humourlessly back at the pair.

Just then an orgasmic female sigh filled the room. John and Mycroft frowned while Scarlett inwardly applauded Irene's choice of text tone.

"What was that?" John asked, stunned.

Trying to look nonchalant Sherlock answered, "Text."

"But what was that noise?" John insisted.

She watched Sherlock get up and go over to pick up his phone from nearby. He looked at the message briefly before saying, "Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess."

He made his way back over to the table and sat down again as Scarlett looked around at Mycroft. "Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft. They almost killed John!"

Mrs Hudson brought in a plate of breakfast from the kitchen and put it down in front of Sherlock before saying sternly, "It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson." Mycroft said snidely.

It amazed her slightly that Sherlock, John and she cried out in outrage at the same time. Sherlock with, "MYCROFT!"

John with, "OI!"

Scarlett with, "HOW DARE YOU!"

Mycroft looked at their angry faces glaring at him, then cringed and looked contritely at Mrs Hudson, "Apologies."

"Thank you." Mrs Hudson replied stiffly.

"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock told their landlady, it amused Scarlett that Sherlock could practically get away with murder. His phone sighed orgasmically again.

Mrs Hudson, who was going back into the kitchen, turned back. "Ooh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?"

Sherlock read the most recent message from Irene before saying, "There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."

"I can put maximum surveillance on her." Mycroft threatened, as though it would affect them.

"Why bother?" Sherlock said, sounding bored, "You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is ' TheWhipHand'."

"Yes. Most amusing." Mycroft sighed, his phone rang moments later and he left the room to take the call. Scarlett watched him with suspicion. "Hello."

"Why does your phone make that noise?" John asked Sherlock breaking her concentration.

"What noise?" Sherlock faked innocence.

"That noise – the one it just made." John clarified.

"It's a text alert. It means I've got a text."

"Hmm. Your texts don't usually make that noise." John said though as he paused in eating his breakfast.

"Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently, as a joke, personalised their text alert noise." Sherlock said curtly.

"Hmm. So every time they text you..." John trailed off as the orgasmic text noise went off again.

"It would seem so." Sherlock confirmed.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit?" Mrs Hudson asked, "At my time of life."

Sherlock put down the phone again after reading the message and returned to reading the paper, the headline of which read: Refit for Historical Hospital

"I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" John thought out loud.

Sherlock raised his newspaper so that it was obscuring his face, "I'll leave you to your deductions."

John smiled, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Where do you get that idea?" Scarlett asked him casually.

Mycroft came back into the room, still talking on his phone. "Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." He hung up as Sherlock and Scarlett looked at him curiously.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked before she could say anything.

Mycroft looked at him enquiringly but gave no answer so Sherlock pressed on, "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." She watched Impressed as Sherlock stood up and faced down his brother. "Much more."

Mycroft looked at him stony-faced. Sherlock walked closer to him. "Something big's coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this."

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock asked his tone becoming serious.

"Yes, Sherlock," Mycroft replied, voice deadly, "you will."

Sherlock shrugs and turns away as Mycroft cleared his throat and said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

Sherlock picked up his violin and said, "Do give her my love." To Scarlett's amusement he began to play, 'God Save The Queen'. Mycroft rolled his eyes, turned and left the room, Sherlock following along behind him as John grinned began to grin. As Mycroft hurried down the stairs, Sherlock turned back and walked over to the window, still playing.

Before Scarlett knew where the time had gone it was Christmas. Fairy lights were strung up around the window frame of the flat and it was snowing outside. Inside, the living room was festooned with Christmas decorations and cards, and Sherlock was walking around playing, 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' on his violin.

Mrs Hudson was sitting in his chair with a glass in her hand, watching him happily. Lestrade was standing at the entrance to the kitchen holding a wine glass, and John – wearing a very snazzy Christmassy jumper – walked across the room with a cup and saucer in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. As Sherlock finished the tune with a fancy flourish, Lestrade whistled in appreciation.

"Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" The landlady giggled.

"Marvellous!" John agreed.

It was clear to her that Mrs Hudson was a little bit tipsy as she continued to giggle up at Sherlock.

"I wish you could have worn the antlers!" The older woman revealed.

"Trust me Mrs. H, Some things are best left to the imagination." Scarlett said with a smile and a wink at the landlady.

Mrs Hudson continued to giggle as John handed her over a cup of tea in an attempt to sober her up. John's latest girlfriend – Jeanette – brought her over a tray containing mince pies and slices of cake.

"No thank you, Jeanette." She said turning down the sweets.

Sherlock looked at her confused, "Jeanette? I thought she was Sarah."

Scarlett cringed as John tried to rectify the situation. "Uh, no, no, no, no, no. He's not good with names." John insured as he awkwardly shepherded Jeanette away.

Sherlock looked across to the door as a new arrival came in. It was Molly, Scarlett shot Sherlock a look which she meant to be, 'Behave yourself!'

Clearly he didn't interpret it as such as she heard him say a few seconds later, "Oh, dear Lord."

"Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello." Molly said as she walked further into the room, carrying presents. Scarlett waved happily to the young woman as John went to greet her. "Er, it said on the door just to come up."

"Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other. How wonderful." Sherlock said to her and she had to laugh.

Poor Sherlock. He really wasn't suited to all of this.

Smiling at Sherlock nervously, Molly started to take her coat and scarf off. "Let me, er... holy Mary!" John cried, stunned.

Molly was wearing a very attractive black dress that suited her extremely well, "Wow!" Lestrade commented in appreciation.

"Having a Christmas drinkies, then?" Molly asked the room.

"No stopping them, apparently." Sherlock said sourly.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it!"

"I on the other hand am always nice to you, Mrs H." Scarlett smiled sweetly.

Molly giggled nervously, her eyes fixed on Sherlock as he started typing on John's laptop. John brings a chair over for her. "Have a seat."

"John?" Sherlock called.

"Mmm?" John answered. As he went over to see what Sherlock was looking at, Lestrade touched Molly's arm to get her attention.

"Molly?" She turned to him. "Want a drink?" She accepted his offer, John leant over Sherlock's shoulder to look at the screen.

"The counter on your blog: still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five." Sherlock revealed.

She giggled slightly as John pulled a mock-angry face, "Ooh, no! Christmas is cancelled!"

Sherlock pointed to the side bar which had one of the press pictures of him in his deerstalker. "And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat!"

John shrugged, "People like the hat."

"No they don't." Sherlock said defiantly, "What people?" Sherlock continued looking at the laptop as John walked away.

Molly turned to Mrs Hudson to strike up conversation, "How's the hip?"

"Ooh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking." Mrs Hudson replied as she took a sip of her drink.

"I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." An awkward silence fell across the room as Molly looked embarrassed. "Oh, God. Sorry."

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Sherlock said to her as Scarlett glared at him.

"No. Sorry." Molly insisted.

Lestrade hands her a glass of red wine to distract her, "Thank you. I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas."

"That's first thing in the morning. Me and the wife – we're back together. It's all sorted." Lestrade grinned happily.

Without looking up from the computer Sherlock began to say, "No, she's sleeping with –" Scarlett threw a well-aimed pillow at Sherlock to stop him, but the damage was done.

Lestrade's smile became rather fixed. Molly turned to John who was sitting on the arm of his armchair. Jeanette was sitting in the chair itself. "And John. I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?"

"Yeah." John nodded, grinning.

"Sherlock was complaining… I mean saying." Molly corrected herself as Sherlock looked at her indignantly.

"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze."

"Nope." Sherlock said, popping the P.

Is was why they stayed away from people. Sherlock was always right. Which could hurt people.

"Shut up, Sherlock." John said quickly.

Scarlett caught Sherlock looking at the bag of gifts and knew exactly what he was going to say to Molly next. Only Sherlock, being Sherlock, wouldn't see that he'd hurt her until it was all over.

As he opened his mouth to speak she stopped him, "Don't you even think about it, Sherlock."

The room stopped to watch the exchange between the Uncle and Niece, "Oh, so you spotted it too?"

"Yes I spotted it. But you're not going to mention it." Scarlett said seriously referring to the gift Molly had bought for Sherlock, even if he was stupid enough to not know it was his.

The on-lookers threw glances at each other as Scarlett stood from her seat, poured Sherlock a scotch and said, "Behave, just for tonight."

Sherlock looked at her for a moment, seeming to gauge how serious she was before he glanced – unnoticed by the other because Scarlett was blocking their view – at Molly. "You know something I don't?" He asked perplexed.

"On some level Sherlock, I always know something you don't." She said walking over to the mantelpiece, having spotted something interesting, "Trust me this once. It's better for everyone involved."

The others in the room practically gawped in amazement as Sherlock relented to niece, "Have it your way, then."

She grinned triumphantly, having spared Molly the further embarrassment of Sherlock. She caught John's eye and he was nodding approvingly. She picked up the little red package on the mantelpiece that had caught her attention. Conversation had picked back up quickly only to be interrupted by Irene's personal text noise.

"Oh, god…" Molly cried, going red.

"Sorry, it was me." Sherlock said, realising that some members of the room didn't know this.

"My God, really?!" Lestrade said.

"What?!" Molly gasped.

"My phone." Sherlock clarified as he pulled the said device from his pocket.

Scarlett watched John narrow his eyes, "Fifty-seven?" He asked.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

"Fifty-seven of those texts – the ones I've heard." John replied.

Sherlock looked at the message and read out the word, "Mantelpiece." To the room. He looked up, saw Scarlett and what she was holding, "What is it?"

"I don't know," She replied truthfully, "It just caught my eye. I think I know who it's from, though."

She passed him the box – blood red, the shade of Irene's lipstick held together with a rope like ribbon – as she looked at John, "Thrilling that you've been counting." She said, trying to keep the tone light. She had a good idea of what was in that box, and if she was right? That didn't bode well for The Woman.

"'Scuse me." Sherlock said seconds later, obviously thinking along the same lines as her.

As he walked toward the kitchen John tried to talk to him, "What – what's up, Sherlock?"

"I said excuse me." Sherlock said as he continued on into his bedroom. John was about to bite back when he caught the look on Scarlett's face.

"What's wrong?" John asked confused.

"Irene. She's dead, John."

Mrs Hudson sighed, "The poor dear…"

"Well, that's Christmas cancelled for us." Scarlett sighed. "I don't think Sherlock will want to socialise much after this."

She wanted them to leave, just to save them, but she didn't know how to say it. "Well," Lestrade said, seeming to sense her thoughts, "If you're alright with it, I better be off. Don't think there's much point in me hanging around."

"Yeah, no, that's fine. You've got to travel in the morning." Scarlett said, forcing a smile as she followed the D.I down the stairs.

Molly was the next to leave, saying less tactfully that if any bodies appeared in the morgue then she'd need to go into work.

She sat in the flat with John, his girlfriend and Mrs Hudson, who was busying herself. She heard Sherlock's bedroom door open, he walked quickly through the flat not looking at any of them. "Stay here." He told her, although she hadn't moved.

"Okay…" She replied quietly as he walked down the stairs. She waited until the front door had shut and bolted into his bedroom, checking to see if his was clean.

John soon joined the search, along with Mrs Hudson. Every now and then she would catch Jeanette glaring at John's back.

About twenty minutes later Scarlett's phone rang out, "He's on his way." Mycroft told her. "Have you found anything?"

"No." She replied, "He took the cigarette?"

"Yes." Mycroft said after a second.

"Oh no… He's coming. Ten minutes." She said the last part to John and Mrs Hudson over her shoulder.

"There's nothing in the bedroom." Mrs Hudson reassured her after she had double checked.

"Looks like he's clean. We've tried all the usual places." She spoke down the receiver.

"You have to stay with him, Scarlett."

"No," She said sarcastically, "I'm just going to abandon him."

She cut off the line before sighing, "You two should go." She said to John and Jeanette. "You won't want to see him when he comes back."

John looked at her, clearly unsure. The look didn't go amiss by Jeanette, "I am really sorry about all of this." He said to Jeanette as he looked at Scarlett briefly again.

"You know, my friends are so wrong about you." Jeanette said.

"Hmm?" John asked.

"You're a great boyfriend." Jeanette continued and Scarlett could practically cut the bitterness she was radiating with a knife.

Not spotting it however John said, "Okay, that's good. I mean, I always thought I was great."

"And Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man."

John groaned, "Jeanette, please."

As she put her shoes on she continued bitterly, "No, I mean it. It's heart-warming. You'll do anything for him – and he can't even tell your girlfriends apart." She got off the sofa and headed for the door. John jumped up and followed her as she put her coat on.

"No, I'll do anything for you. Just tell me what it is I'm not doing. Tell me!" Scarlett caught Mrs Hudson's eye and they both grimaced.

"Don't make me compete with Sherlock Holmes." Jeanette said angrily.

"I'll walk your dog for you." John said, promising her nothing to do with Sherlock, "Hey, I've said it now. I'll even walk your dog..."

"I don't have a dog!" She cried.

"No, because that was... the last one. Okay." John sighed, at a loss.

"Jesus!" Jeanette picked up her bag and promptly stormed out.

"I'll call you." John said after her.

To which Jeanette shouted back, "No!"

"Okay." John replied exasperated, he turned back into the room as Jeanette ran down the stairs. Mrs Hudson looks at him sympathetically, saying what Scarlett felt she shouldn't, "That really wasn't very good, was it?"

Shortly afterwards, Scarlett and John were sitting in the living room. John reading, Scarlett curled in her chair, worried as Sherlock came up the stairs. He stopped in the doorway living room, looking at them both.

"Hello." Scarlett greeted him. John did much the same.

Sherlock just stood there, his eyes roaming all around the living room, "You okay?" John asked.

Sherlock continued to scan the room for a long moment, then turned and walked back to the kitchen door, heading for his bedroom. All he said was, "Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." Before his bedroom door slammed shut.

"Sherlock…" Scarlett sighed, looking a John, both of them at a loss.


Author's Note:

Sorry I haven't updated in ages, guys. I was sick, like properly 'rushed into hospital sick' the doctor's said I'd been drugged when I went out clubbing. (The only time I choice to socialise and I get drugged for my pains: how is that fair?!) I got back about a week ago and just haven't had the energy to do anything. I'm off for the week along with the rest of the uni during Reading Week now though.

Sorry if this chapter seems generic and if there are any errors. I won't make any promises about when the next chapter will be up as I'm still not 100% over this.

I own nothing, bar Scarlett.

Thank you for all the favourites and follows!

Your devoted (if ill) writer,

HH