Back in the flat, John sat, reading a newspaper. The flat was in utter chaos, they hadn't had a cleanup in days. Sherlock was pacing. Mrs Hudson opened the door, eyes wide.
"What have you boys been doing in here?" she said, her voice shrill.
Cartons of junk food littered the food, dust lined the books on the shelf, dirty and clean clothes strewn everywhere. John hurriedly stood up, trying to block the damage from the landladies eyesight while Sherlock threw a few magazines on the overfilling desk, not helping at all.
"We'll clean up. Soon" John said, giving her puppy dog eyes. Her lips pursed.
"You'll do it now!" she said "You two must be the worst tenants I've ever had! Rubbish on the floor, stinking body parts and gunshots at ridiculous times in the morning!"
"On the contrary, Mrs Hudson, 2:45 is a perfectly reasonable time for a gunshot to go off" Sherlock mused "12 in the afternoon, however, could be odd..."
Mrs Hudson just shut the door, muttering as she walked the stairs.
"She's going to end up kicking us out one day, you know" John sighed as he threw a few things in the rubbish bin.
"no, she won't. I got her husband off a death charge once, I can use that against her" Sherlock grinned. "Now, I'll make a cup of tea, put the television on"
And John did. As Sherlock prepared the tea, the news came on.
"An explosion at Whitehall manner, where many were injured and killed. The prime minister had left, just hours before" the news reporter was saying. A crash came from the kitchen. John jumped up, alert, looked at Sherlock, who was standing, stock still, the shattered chine around his feet.
"Stand there, I'll get a broom" john sighed, then looked at Sherlock's face. "W- what's the matter?"
"It's where Mycroft was" Sherlock said, in a perfectly calm voice. He was staying at Whitehall manner. No time for tea now John, come on" he said, pulling on shoes, his coat and scarf and walking out. John paused a moment before scurrying after him.
Sherlock walked up to the scene, while John was talking to a policeman. The dust hadn't settled yet. It wasn't a peaceful, calm atmosphere of death and tragedy.
People were yelling, moving bricks, shouting orders and instructions. Sherlock managed to make his way under the tape. He didn't feel worried, nervous or sad. He supposed deep down, he knew Mycroft would've been okay. His brother was invincible.
Yet the little, tiny voice, the one Sherlock couldn't control, whispered. The sky was a dull gray, the air cold and wet, wind slapping at Sherlock's cheeks. John made his way over.
"What are we going to do?" John asked. Sherlock didn't reply, just grabbed his phone and flipped down the contacts. He selected Mycroft and rang him.
A shrill ringing from the left made both men look.
Belle Astore, covered in a bright orange blanket, was sitting talking calmly to a medic. She looked at the phone that was ringing in her hand, then, by some sixth sense, glanced over at Sherlock. She stood, and without swaying or dill-dallying made her way over to him. The ringing stopped.
"Why have you got my brothers phone?" Sherlock asked.
"Sherlock, Jeez, the woman's just been in an accident!" John chided. "Are you okay, Belle?"
"I'm fine, thank you John. Luckily, I was outside when the bomb went off. And to answer your question, Sherlock, Mycroft gave me his phone for safe-keeping"
"Mycroft always has it with him. Where is he?" Sherlock asked, blue eyes crashing into blue.
"I'm right here" Mycroft said calmly, from behind them. He didn't have a speck of dust on his crisp black suit. He nodded to John and Sherlock before gently grasping Belle by her shoulders.
"My dear, how are you?" he asked.
"M'fine, Mycroft. Honest. Here's your phone" she said, passing it to him.
"Thanks. Can't be tracked, over there" he said, confidentially. "Has he said anything?"
"I think this bomb is his way of saying hello" she scowled. "I left my new coat in there, what a shame. Not to mention all the lives lost" she added as an after thought.
"Excuse me" Sherlock interrupted to two immediately. "Would one of you mind telling me what's going on here? Because I don't like feeling left out" he said.
"Told you" Mycroft murmured to Belle "Just like a child"
"I wouldn't mind knowing, either" John added. The three of them just looked at him. "Right, I get it" he muttered.
John couldn't help feeling awkward. He didn't have large amounts of money, large amounts of beauty or in Sherlock's case, brains and genius. He was a simple, basic man, who liked action. He felt out of place. Yet Belle smiled at him, and he felt better.
"I think Mycroft should explain" she said.
"yes. Indeed. Well, a bit of Belle's history. She's been with us since, how old were you, Belle, sixteen? Yes, sixteen. She was going to go in the army but that's a waste for someone like her. She immediately climbed her way up the ladder of power, she's our best agent" Mycroft beamed at her, and Belle seemed to shuffle a little. Sherlock's hawk gaze picked this up, could she be... shy?
"Anyway, Belle mostly infiltrates. I decided to recruite her into our team, where her skills and brains could be put to good use instead of regular police work. But that's not the point. Recently, Jim Moriarty has... How do I put this? Noticed Belle. Taken a liking to her" Mycroft said.
"He text me" Sherlock said, and they looked at him "Telling me he thought you were beautiful" he said, looking at the girls face. She grimaced.
"I don't know what he wants, none of us do" she said "He's playing with us, keeping us on edge. He's planning something, I know it. Something big. Little things like this" she gestured to the collapsed building behind her "are just a distraction"
"I agree" Sherlock said, shocking everyone.
"Well, I don't know what to do" Mycroft said wearily "My dear, however... capable I or anyone else thinks you, you're simply too young to be dealing with this, and it's too dangerous. I suggest that you lay low for a little while. You're too precious to everyone to simply lose. Now, somewhere quiet where you can stay" he mused, catching Sherlock's eye, his face brightening.
"No" Sherlock said
"yes" Mycroft said.
"Really?" Belle raised her eyebrows
"What?" john asked, confused.
"Look's like I'm going to be staying with you a while" Belle nudged him.
"Is that okay with you, Belle?" Mycroft asked.
"I didn't say it was okay, it's not okay!" Sherlock inputted, Mycroft glaring at him.
"Sherlock, for once in your life, do something I tell you to! A young damsel is in distress, you need to help her!" he said.
Three weeks later, Belle was well and truly at home. She sat in the armchair sideways, her feet dangling over the arm. She was wearing nothing but an oversized band t-shirt, her hair wavy and natural as she read a book.
Sherlock kept huffing at her, and she carried on reading, sometimes bobbing her legs, flicking her hair, while Sherlock scrutinised her.
"Still trying to analyse her" John murmured as he typed away into his blog. Sherlock glared at him.
"I'm not as obvious as you think, John. Don't presume to know my mind"
"But you are, aren't you?" john asked.
"yes" Sherlock said through gritted teeth "And I get little things. Silly, unimportant things"
"Like what?" john asked as he sighed, looking away from his computer screen.
"Fingernails. Painted, nicely shaped. Would suggest she's very conscious of her image, except their chipped. And they're not even one colour!" he said, frustrated. Belle gave a little grin to herself.
"And her sleeping pattern is irregular. Sometimes she'll go to bed at 10 pm, sometimes not until 3 in the morning, symptoms point to insomnia but it doesn't fit. She switches beverages everyday, either hot chocolate or tea. She doesn't seem too confident, yet she doesn't wear many clothes in the flat. She can spend hours doing her eyebrows, hair and her outfit, then reads an arduous article of book, she just... She confuses me" Sherlock said, rubbing his eyes.
"She's a woman, Sherlock. All women confuse you" John said, turning back to his computer screen.
"Hey, I'm meeting Lestrade in an hour or two, you guys want anything from the shops while I'm out?" she asked, getting up and stretched.
"No, thanks though" John said politely. Sherlock seemed distracted by a side of her lacy underwear that had revealed itself.
"Yes. Get me some tea bags; we're out" he said bluntly.
"Sure" she yawned, walking into her bedroom.
"okay, what now?" John asked "we've just bought loads of tea bags, you don't need to make her go out and get some"
"Just checking that she really is going to the shops on her way, and not lying" Sherlock said, drumming his fingers on the air chair. John sat up, his face incredulous.
"Sherlock, you do realise how crazy you sound? Firstly, why would she be lying? And secondly, if she was, it would be none of your business!" And he got up and walked into the kitchen.
Sherlock slumped back into his seat. He was positive he was living with the two most difficult people on earth.
Belle came bouncing into the flat, a few bags of shopping in her hand, and a birght smile on her face.
"What's got you happy?" John asked as she patted him on the shoulder, setting her bags down next to the chair where she flopped in.
"I've got my first job!" she said "Well, 'real' job, anyway"
"What do you mean?" John asked "Mycroft said you worked for-"
"Well, as soon as I was young, I was picked up into the world of politics and police force stuff from the beginning. Sure, I worked hard, but I still felt like I missed out on everything, you know, my first job, paying late on the rent, stuff teenagers do. So, today I went out, and I now work in the little ice-cream shop round the corner" she said, still beaming, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Well, congratulations!" John said happily "We should go out, to celebrate. Restaurant or pub?" he asked. She thought about it.
"Mmm, I'm starving, so restaurant?" she asked.
"Great. I know a great Italian" he said "You don't mind Sherlock coming, of course" he said, a little frown on his face.
"No, of course not!" she said "I'll just go unpack my stuff and get changed, you go tell him" she said, jumping up and running excitedly out of the room.