Gwen blanched as the rain continued to fall from the Heaven's above, heavy droplets of water drilling against her coat as she struggled to hold it above her head, cursing while she knocked the door again, waiting for it to be answered as the rain carried on pelting away at her. Glancing at her watch, she rolled her eyes and let a sigh pass her lips as she stood waiting, knocking on the door as she heard shouting from within.

Just as she was about to turn and leave Baker Street, wishing she never set foot upon the street, she was surprised when the door was hauled open, followed by shouting. "I cannot concentrate with your infernal banging!" His hair bounced as he glowered at her, not caring if she was getting even more wet as he insisted on reprimanding her. "Do you mind?!"

However, he stopped short when he'd realised who was stood in front of him, soaking wet from the rain.

Gwen, frowning, recoiled in distaste as she regarded him coolly, her eyes narrowing. "If your mother were to hear how you greeted me, she would be just as appalled as I am." She stated in disgust, rolling her eyes as she tried to balance her coat over her head while sporting an arm in a sling.

Leaning forward, staring at her for a mere moment, yet, not allowing her inside, Sherlock looked her over carefully. Slight tan... Middle East... Afghanistan. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over more closely. Weight loss... was 140 pounds... possibly 125 or 127? His eyes narrowed critically as they flew over her. Nearly nine stones in weight. Should sling - injury, shot by L9A1 Semi-Automatic pistol, 9mm Parabellum. Humerous bone shattered, extensive surgery took place with bone grafts to repair it...

Rolling her eyes, Gwen sighed deeply. "Well, what have you deduced then?" She pressed curtly, her eyes narrowing as he merely stared at her for a moment, though he still didn't let her in from the rain to Gwen's growing annoyance.

"Mrs Hudson!" The Consulting Detective hollered abruptly, turning sharply and marching back up the stairs from which he came, muttering to himself as Gwen contemplated stepping inside, glancing around the hallway with slight concern. She had been fearing that Mrs. Hudson would let her flat to another tenant.

Within seconds, a small woman with greying hair and a kind face was rushing towards her, a bright but unsure smile upon her lips as she stopped short. "Gwen?" She managed over the sonorous tones of a violin being played above them. "Gwen!" The landlady immediately grabbed her by her good arm and pulled her inside and into her arms. "I can't believe you're home at last..."

"Apparently getting shot does the job." Gwen sighed, hugging Mrs. Hudson tightly, her gaze trailing to the stairs where the violin was being played. "I encountered the old chap upstairs..."

Mrs Hudson frowned, "What did he say?"

"What didn't he say?" Gwen sighed, shaking her head, knowing it was her fault in the first place, especially how he reacted when she told him she would be going back to Afghanistan... Sherlock had freaked out at the sudden news. "He made his deductions and left me standing in the rain." She explained in amusement.

Removing her coat, Gwen hung it up before turning to see Mrs. Hudson watching her closely. "He's still obviously sulking," She smiled sadly, her gaze trailing to the stairs where the violin was coming from. "

"Oh, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson asked as Gwen nodded, wandering why she sounded so unsure. "Don't mind him; you know what he's like... He's missed you, especially while on cases..." She gestured to the stairs before moving towards them quickly despite having short legs which carried her rather frail looking body. "Anyway, he's got himself a partner - a doctor, even!"

As they ascended the stairs with one another, Gwen glanced over at Mrs Hudson and softly smiled. "A doctor, you say?" She mused, finding the whole prospect of returning to her flat a little overwhelming and slightly daunting.

"Yes, I believe John mentioned something about serving in the army..." Mrs Hudson sent her a sharp grin as she practically dragged Gwen up the stairs. "Perhaps you shared a tour with one another!"

Gwen clenched her jaw as she drew her gaze away from the overly happy landlady and turned her gaze to the flat upstairs. "Perhaps we did..." She murmured, seeing shadows moving beneath the door frame.

Mrs. Hudson continued to speak about the new flatmate of her previous flatmate, and Gwen couldn't help but listen with a slight intrigue. "John is such a nice man, very reasonable. He's very good for Sherlock, you know, he offers him stability." The old woman informed her, smiling brightly and Gwen couldn't help but feel as though she was referring to them as a couple.

As they neared, Sherlock's ears picked up the sound of Mrs. Hudson's footsteps, almost childish, as they came up the stairs. "Yoo-ooh!" the landlady greeted rather loudly as her eyes fell upon the men bickering in their chairs. "Sherlock-" The landlady was cut off by the Consulting Detective.

Sherlock's head snapped up from where he sat, his hands clasped before him critically. "Go away, Mrs. Hudson!" He growled as his eyes landed upon Gwen who was stood behind her.

The other man which Gwen had presumed was John soon scolded him thankfully, his face grim and looking slightly furious at Sherlock's treatment of the elder woman. "Sherlock!" He chided. John was fair haired and had warm blue eyes, he was short and compact unlike Sherlock who was elegant and lean. From where Gwen stood in the doorway, John looked as though he had a lot of stories to tell.

Adjusting her injured arm, Gwen stepped into the room, finding everything still in its usual place as her eyes surveyed the flat in guilt.

Rising from his chair, he huffed and strode into the kitchen. "No, John, don't let them in..." He instructed darkly, nudging past Gwen as he went, acting rather like a child having been scolded by its parent.

Gwen tried not to wince when Sherlock's nudge hit her bad arm, causing a jolt to shot along it in its sling. "You know, Curls, you ought to be more careful." She ground out, watching as Sherlock glanced over at her, a deep frown upon his face.

John, however, moved towards the doors immediately as a warm smile graced his features, choosing to ignore Sherlock's orders for the sake of meeting someone new. "Mrs. Hudson, come on in... Oh, hello." John's face lit up when he finally looked at Gwen, his hand stretching out to greet her.

Gwen smiled when she noticed that John had held out his left hand. She'd broken her left arm after all, so she was thankful and slightly pitiful of John when he noticed and flushed red before swapping hands and muttering an apology. "You must be John..." Gwen greeted warmly, not missing Sherlock muttering under his breath in the kitchen from the corner of her eye. "Shut up you, and stop sulking like a child." She chided as Sherlock turned away from her fully which only caused her to scoff at her behaviour.

She turned back to John when she realised she was still holding his hands, "Oh, sorry." She let go as Mrs. Hudson began to filter around the room, collecting a scarce tea tray and several plates. "And you are?" She looked back at John after he'd spoken and remembered she had neglected to introduce herself to him.

"I'm Gwen Chevalier, I've been renting 221C for a while now..." Gwen explain with a soft shrug of her shoulders before gesturing to her arm. "But you know how duty is, forever needing fulfillment."

John's eyes lit up at her words as he crossed his arms, "You've served?" He couldn't help but find it slightly intriguing to know that she'd served in the British army because, well, she didn't appear the type.

"Afghanistan." Sherlock called out from the kitchen.

Gwen rolled her eyes, "Until I got shot."

"And almost died." Sherlock added.

Peering around the corner into the kitchen, Gwen stared at the back of Sherlock's head until he turned to face her, having felt her eyes burning holes in his head. "I did not almost die." She stared at him as he watched her before scoffing and turning away again. Turning back to John, Gwen sighed deeply. "Lieutenant General before you ask. Special forces."

"Ah, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." John replied as Gwen smiled at him again.

"Medical Corps too?"

John returned her smile, "Yes." He gestured for her to sit down in his chair but his eyes widened when she neglected his offer and sat herself in Sherlock's prized armchair, a hint of a smirk on her lips. John knew then that she'd be good for both him and Sherlock, without any doubt.

Mrs. Hudson looked over at Gwen, "Cup of tea, dear?" She asked, wandering over towards the kettle as John noted that she always refused to make him a cup of tea, insisting she was not his housekeeper, as she liked to put it.

"Oh, yes please." Gwen smiled at the woman, her eyes trailing back to Sherlock who was charging back and forth before her, his back to her with his arms folded in defiance. "Sherlock, please stop sulking." He was a grown man, and sulking at her return - the cheek of it! He had complained about her leaving, and now she had returned to him, he was pushing her away... all those years lost in a single decision. One she didn't want to make, one she didn't have a choice in...

Scoffing, Sherlock threw his head over his shoulder to spare her a quick flash of his eyes in bitterness. "I am not sulking, I am merely finding myself to be still rather annoyed with Guinevere's selfish deeds." He dramatised with a loud sigh in disbelief, tapping his foot impatiently.

Gwen closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "How many times did I apologise to you?"

Sherlock visibly bristled at her reply, closing his eyes in frustration. "You left in the middle of a case. How selfish of you..." He grumbled in vexation, still not facing her in his stubbornness.

"Sherlock, don't be so rude." Mrs. Hudson scolded from where she stood in the kitchen, her hands resting firmly upon her hips despite have stuck her hand in a jar of eyeballs... Belonging to God knows what.

Scoffing in outrage, Sherlock clasped his hands together before wheeling around on his feet. "Rude? Let me explain this plainly to you Mrs. Hudson considering it may be a bit difficult for you to comprehend in that plain little brain of yours..." Sherlock spat, his eyes slithering to Gwen, who sat patiently watching in, her head tilted as she awaited his outburst. "Guinevere has returned after months and has ruined my plans; she will question my acts and rationality unlike John. She complicates my lifestyle." He emphasised, almost sounding as though he was in pain by her sheer return, as though she had caused grievous bodily harm to him. "I won't stand having to share my living space with someone that intolerable."

Drumming her hands upon the arm of the chair, Gwen let out a sigh. "Are you quite finished?"

Sherlock rounded on her, glowering. "Get out."

Gwen rose to her feet, holding herself steady as he stalked towards her. "Stop being so over-dramatic, dear, it doesn't suit you." Gwen spoke in a hushed tone, enjoying seeing his face contort in mild fury.

"Get out."

Looking between the pair stood defiantly before them, John folded his arms over his chest in disappointment. "Sherlock Holmes stop being so rude!" John bellowed, marching over to stand between them; he sent his new friend a steady but heated glance. "You should be grateful she's back, you utter cock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the insult but once again turned his attention back to the woman stood behind John, scowling at him in disapproval. "You've lost a considerable amount of weight, haven't you? One hundred and twenty-six pounds, but then I suppose that's what Afghanistan does to a person." He hissed, moving to circle her, his eyes trailing over her he calculated the changes since he last saw her. "Injury, shot by an L9A1 semi-automatic pistol, 9mm parabellum. Your humerous bone shattered, leading to extensive surgery and bone grafts to repair it." Sherlock concluded gracefully, his feet slowing in their movements so he came to a soft stop before her, clasping his hands behind his back. "I amaze myself."

Gwen smiled a small, sympathetic smile. "Congratulations, my dear Holmes." She licked her lips and allowed a sigh to pass her lips, her eyes flickered to John who was staring at the pair of them with interest. "I've read your blog by the way, rather fascinating. Do you desire to murder him yet?" She gestured to Sherlock as John shook his head in amusement.

Sherlock, however, found no amusement in Gwen's return. "Unlike yourself, John understands the necessity that comes with my profession, Guinevere." He stepped towards her, the curls of his bouncing which, to his annoyance, roused another small smile from his old companion. "You're mundane and not worth my time, so get out. Leave."

With a clank, Mrs. Hudson set down the cup and saucer and scowled at Sherlock, pointing her finger at him in her own outrage. "How dare you treat her in this, Sherlock! Gwen is your friend. Your friend... How could you be so cruel? You've missed her; now, you have her back don't ruin your friendship through sour parting of ways." The landlady advised, her gaze softening considerately at the Detective.

Sherlock stared at her, "You silly little woman..."

Gwen's eyes narrowed at Sherlock as she blinked before she reeled back her knee and sent it directly into his crouch in her own frustration.

The Detective doubled over in pain, clutching the area as he gave out short gasps, gritting his teeth as he looked up at her through a half-lidded gaze. "What was that for?" He breathed, wheezing.

"For insulting me, your friend, and for evidently distressing Mrs Hudson." Gwen straightened herself, eyeing him dubiously. "Now, I suggest you be more pleasant or I'll honour you again. Mrs. Hudson, forget the tea; I'll need something stronger."

Gathering himself, Sherlock sighed. "Didn't you hear me, Gwen?" He pressed, his tone incredulous as the woman still stood before him, defiantly so.

Her eyes hardened as she pressed on, knowing the only way to subdue Sherlock Holmes was to out-talk him. "Oh, I heard you. I just didn't particularly choose to listen to your whining." She ground out through gritted teeth as she heard John snort from behind her.

Mrs. Hudson, to her unwavering credit, had ignored his comments. "Sherlock, where are your manners?" She persisted in urgency as he hissed.

"He never had them." Gwen's eyes flew back to the Detective, who was staring at her in something more than just anger... Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Sighing, she clenched her jaw in warning. "I will hit you again."

Brow furrowed in frustration, Sherlock sent her one last glared before marching across the room to charge through a door at the end of the hall, and then promptly slamming his door. John's mouth fell agape at the response, his eyes trailing to the woman who stood staring after Sherlock Holmes. "You just sent Sherlock Holmes to his room."

Gwen shook her head in her own disbelief at the triumph, although she did internally admit she felt astonishingly guilt at having done so. "I did. A rather remarkable fea t if I do say so myself..."

Scratching the back of his head, feeling slightly at a loss for words, he let out a breathless laugh of shock. "Could we exchange notes?" He sent her an amused smile before sinking into his own armchair, reclining with the knowledge that Sherlock wouldn't bother him for a good while.


When John had trudged up the stairs, he wasn't surprised to find Sherlock sprawled across the sofa, sulking in silence as he returned from a lunch date that gave him the opportunity to get to know Gwen better. When the Detective saw him, he tugged his dressing gown tighter around himself and turned away.

"I like Gwen... She's eerily similar to you, but I like her." John announced as he sunk into the welcoming depths of his chair, sending his friend a bemused glance when he saw him peeking over his shoulder, obviously interested in what he had to say. "I just don't understand why you had to be so rude to her."

Sherlock groaned in vexation as he sat up. "She can't be here... She'll- she'll interfere with my work, with everything... bother me when I think!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in complete and utter despair. She would reprimand him just like Mrs. Hudson and question everything. "Oh, just look at you. You're all over her, smitten with the woman who lives downstairs, ugh." He scorned in disbelief, throwing himself back into the sofa.

John frowned, wanting to know why their friendship had gone so sour when Gwen seemed absolutely lovely to him. "What happened, Sherlock?" He prompted as he watched him scratch his head furiously with both hands in thought.

"I suppose I could always be adventurous and meddle with..." Sherlock paused when he caught John watching, and he rolled his eyes. "Particular things." He concluded, desperately stretching his brain to find a way to send Gwen away again. He had just sorted everything out again; it was perfect, had been, and now it was messy and disturbed again. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

"Don't you even consider it, Sherlock." John chided as Sherlock frowned furiously. "She's your friend, don't you dare."

Scowling, Sherlock turned his back on John again and huffed into the back of the sofa, muttering under his breath.

John sighed, regretting his choice of words. "What happened between you two?" He wondered aloud.

"I don't want to talk about it." Sherlock's voice was muffled as he spoke, and John decided to press further, intrigued by the complexity of their friendship.

He opened his mouth to speak when a very daunting thought popped into his mind, leaving him stuck at war with his consciousness. "Sherlock... Did you, I mean, do you have..."

"No!" Sherlock jumped up from his place on the sofa, shaking his head furiously in retaliation at John's suggestion. "Don't be absurd, John! How could you even..." He never finished because he was soon stalking off in the direction of his room, his gown billowing behind him as John sat back in his chair, grinning to himself as he cracked the mysterious behaviour.

Reaching for the forgotten newspaper from earlier that morning, John opened it and mused to himself as his smile grew. "If that isn't a crush, Sherlock Holmes, I don't know what is." He wondered if Mrs. Hudson knew, and if not, he would certainly tell her. Just for a laugh at Sherlock's expense.