A Silent End To Belgravia

Just how many times did he fall out of the window…?

The sleek car bringing him back to where he started, John got out, hoping Sherlock was there, wondering what he could possibly say to the man. However as he was about to go in the door, he noticed a note stuck under the knocker, recognising the handwriting as Sherlock's.

Crime in progress

Please disturb

Uh oh…. He thought, expecting some other strange thing that Sherlock and Rose usually got up to when he was gone.

Taking the note with him, John hurried up the stairs, "What's going on?"

Then he saw the American looking dazed, tied to a chair. The doctor became a lot more serious then. "Jesus, what the hell is happening?" He asked.

Sherlock was in another chair, gun trained on the tied up man, phone to his ear. Still he answered his friend, voice icy with an unforgiving tone. "Rose has been attacked by an American, I'm restoring balance to the universe."

Then he saw Rose on the sofa; the woman was all sorts of colours, face swollen, eye blackened, lips tinted with the red she hadn't managed to get, though still holding a white stick of tobacco between them, the hand attached to the same stick shaking like he'd never seen before.

Rushing over to her, he sat with her immediately. "My god, Rose, are you alright?!"

Rose just nodded shakily, taking a deep drag on her cigarette. However when she tried to speak, she found her eyes welling up again slightly, voice trembling slightly as she tried to reassure her friend. "Yeh, of course. Just a bit achy."

Putting an arm around her, John glared at the tied up man. "What the hell have they done…?"

The comfort only serving to make her more emotional, she covered her face, trying her best to hide her weakness. "I'm just being silly."

"No, no…" John comforted, rubbing her back.

"Downstairs." Sherlock said to John. "Take her downstairs and look after her." Under any other circumstances, Rose may have noticed the care in his voice a bit more, but she was just so rattled.

John stood up, letting the woman go past him - still claiming she was fine - before turning to Sherlock, no point in hiding his anger about what had happened to his friend. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I expect so, now go." Sherlock replied, the look in his eyes clear; I'll take care of this, you really don't want to be here.

John gave the American one last glare before going off to take care of his friend. Hearing Sherlock speaking to Lestrade though, he thought he'd listen in for a second.

"Lestrade?" He started. "We've had a break in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance….no, no, no, no, we're fine, it's the burglar; got himself rather badly injured. Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull… suspected punctured lung." John just smiled sadistically at his friend's words, glad Sherlock wasn't going to let him off easy; though the next few made him worry about whether or not that was actually a good thing or not, wondering where Sherlock would actually draw the line. "He fell out of a window."

Shaking away his thoughts, he went down quickly to deal with the battered woman. John grabbed the first aid kit as he went. Finding her in her own bathroom, he knocked quietly, letting himself in, seeing her dabbing at her lip with a wet paper towel.

"Here let me do that." He offered.

Rose just got defensive though. "I can do-"

"Not an offer." He said more firmly, no room to argue.

Sighing she let him work, hissing slightly when he had to clean the cut on her cheek. At a look of concern, she just replied. "It stings…"

A few seconds later, there was a shadow across the window, a loud crash following a moment later.

"That was right on top of Mrs H's bins…" Rose said, looking slowly to John. "She wont be happy about that."

A second later they heard a muffled groan, the sound making John smile slightly; sweet revenge….

The Consulting Detective and the Detective Inspector just watched together as the ambulance drove away, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Lestrade took a deep breath, wondering if he actually wanted an answer to his question. "And exactly how many times did he fall out the window…?"

"It was all a bit of a blur Detective Inspector…" Sherlock started, voice as innocent as it got with the mad man, before turning very serious, taller man staring the shorter one in the eye. "I lost count."

Lestrade just raised an eyebrow, mouth slightly agape, wondering, not for the first time, if the man before him had any limits to what he would do. For a good reason though, I guess…I hope, he tried to reason, though still wondering about the sanity of the man as he just slowly backed away.

John was talking to Rose, the pair of them sat at the kitchen table, when Sherlock came in. The tall man went straight to the fridge, grabbing a left over mince pie as he watched his two friends.

"Rose…"

"I'm fine John, just a little shaken." Rose tried to say. "You don't expect it in your own home."

The doctor wasn't having it though. "You're not fine, I'm not blind. Look, maybe you should take a break for a bit..." She just raised an eyebrow at this, taking a deep drag of her cigarette as he tried a new approach. "You could go stay with your brother for a bit."

Rose just coughed at the suggestion, composing herself before giving a defiant, "Hell no!" coughing again after, an arm going around her aching ribs.

"Will you listen for once?" John argued, trying another line. "Doctor's orders."

Rose looked to Sherlock, help me, written clearly in her eyes. He chipped in then, telling John, "Don't be absurd."

John rounded on the other man then. "Look at her, Sherlock! Over some bloody stupid camera phone." The doctor took a breath, still worked up, not having had the chance to vent his anger like Sherlock had. "Where is it anyway?"

Sherlock just smirked. "Safest place I know."

Rose just coughed a bit more before doubling over, pulling up her trouser leg and reaching in her sock to pull out the devise where she had stashed it safely. Holding it in the air, Sherlock took it from her.

John just looked on incredulous. "Seriously?"

"Found it this morning." She told them, before turning to give Sherlock a withering look. "Taped to the underside of the lid of the sugar pot, of all places, you daft sod. Thought I'd keep it somewhere actually safe."

"Thank you." Sherlock told her, honesty ringing through his tone as he went to stand next to her, sliding the phone into his own pocket. "Shame on you, John."

John was flabbergasted though. "Shame on me?"

"Rose Spencer, leave Baker Street?" He put an arm around her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "England would fall."

John and Rose just shared a strange look before the young woman voiced what they were both thinking, looking up to Sherlock with a very puzzled expression. "You're being nice…"

Sherlock just looked between the two of them before huffing and walking away, leaving behind his two friends sharing a quiet laugh to themselves.

Rose just rolled her eyes, noting the slight sting around the area as she blinked. "What's he like?"

John just smiled, but it soon slid off his features as he remembered their outing earlier. Frowning slightly, John lost himself in his thoughts as Rose sipped her tea, thinking about the Americans and what could possibly be on that phone.

Tipping the mug almost completely upside down, Rose drank the last of the now cold tea and was about to get up to wash the mug when she caught sight of John; slight crease in his forehead, jaw tense, eyes unfocused - he was worried about something and a little bit angry. Frowning at the doctor, she suspected it wasn't anything to do with the Americans either.

"John." She said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Where where you two this morning?"

John just sighed heavily, knowing he'd have to explain everything to his observant friend. "I was going to get the paper but got a little…distracted." He started, slightly avoiding the topic of the beautiful woman he'd met. It's always the pretty ones… "But before I could get down the street a black car pulled up."

"Mycroft." She said, assuming the same as he had.

"That's what I thought, but no." He corrected. Getting a confused frown from her, he just put it out there. "The Woman's not dead."

"The woman…" Rose whispered, the information taking a minute to sink in. When it did she gasped, the ache in her lungs playing up again causing her to cough violently, the resulting movement in her face making her head throb with the pain. Pushing that aside for the moment though, she wanted to confirm her conclusion. "Irene Adler?!"

The tired doctor just nodded. "She said she'd given something to Sherlock - the phone - but it was a mistake. She wants it back."

"Of course she does." Rose grumbled, hoping she didn't just get a beating for nothing. A thought occurred to her then. "Does Sherlock know?"

He nodded again. "He followed me…"

"Shit…" She muttered, leaning her still throbbing head in her hands.

John saw she still wasn't right though and got up, coming back with a box he placed on the table. Looking up she saw it was a box of pain killers. "Thanks." She told him, not arguing, just popping two out of the foil casing and swallowing them dry. "He's taking it well."

"Is he?" John questioned and she knew what he meant.

She just let out a tired sigh. "He's Sherlock; how will we ever know what goes on in that funny little head of his?" Picking up the box to read when she could take the next dose, she paused. Sneaky sod. Looking up to John she narrowed her eyes. "These aren't the non-drowsy ones."

John gave her an innocent look. "Aren't they?…Oops."

She gave a large yawn then, glaring a little more at the end. "Call yourself a doctor."

"Yep." He said, giving her a smile. He knew it was the only was she'd actually get the rest she needed; even if he did have to trick her into it. Getting up, he patted her shoulder as he went past, knowing she wasn't actually mad with him. "Get some rest."

He froze as something gently grabbed his wrist. Looking down he saw it was in fact a now rather tired Rose. "Talk to him?"

Nodding, he patted her hand slightly. "I will, don't worry."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, John. For everything." Meaning more than just dealing with Sherlock.

"Go to bed Rose, get some rest." He just replied with a smile before turning and going to the living room to sit for a while, waiting until Sherlock came out of his room again.