Author's note- Thank you all so much for the reviews! They really mean alot and they make my day! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I do apologise, but I noticed a few spelling errors in the previous chapter (I've sorted them out now). This story- like all of my others is unbeta-ed- so on a few rare occasions there may be one or two mistakes- but I do my best to keep it as it should be. Sometimes I find it hard concentrating when reading through so I miss things... Oh and for the sake of the story there are going to be three bedrooms. Lucy's is next to Sherlock's and John's is upstairs.

Disclaimer- I only own Lucy and an empty mug of coffee that I drunk, nothing else unfortunately...

Chapter 2

Lucy listened to John in fascination as he recounted stories to her of his time with Sherlock and the many cases they had solved. The teenager found it all very interesting and was absolutely awe-struck at how intelligent Sherlock was to be able to deduce so many things with one look. Throughout, Sherlock had been paying close attention to Lucy. Something drew him to her, and he wasn't really sure why- maybe she was intelligent? But there was something about her that Sherlock liked, and Sherlock didn't 'like' people easily. In fact, the consulting detective only really considered himself to have a couple of friends. Obviously John was his best friend, but he also liked Mrs Hudson and Molly a great deal; but even so, it had taken a while to warm to them for him to actually class them as friends rather than just people he knew. Looking at the fifteen year old again, he frowned; she live on the street yet her clothes were extremely well looked after- and she smelt good (presumably she got to shower at those special places for the homeless.) Actually, he noticed, her clothes looked virtually brand new and her large bag (no doubtedly filled with her belongings) was in pretty good nick as well. Frowning he began to deduce in his mind.

Well her clothes appear to be in very good condition and they obviously weren't given to her. Why weren't they given to her? Because if she had friends or family they would guess without a doubt that she was living on her own- so she doesn't have anyone to give her clothes or items. So she must have bought them herself as these clothes haven't been thrown away. How has she acquired this money? Well quite obviously her parents died- most likely they left behind a decent cash sum or at least some money and Lucy was then able to look after herself. However, she wouldn't be able to get a house as she is too young to take out a loan at the bank and far too young to even live on her own. Obviously she hasn't wanted to get found and go to a fostering or adoption agency, so she has had to live on the streets and buy herself the things she needs with whatever is in her parent's accounts. Why wouldn't she make her life better by getting fostered? Well it's clear she has fairly bad anxiety, I can tell by the way she wrung her hands while her eyes darted around nervously when she entered the room. I could also see her breath was slightly shaky as though she was trying to calm herself. So perhaps she was too anxious to go to social services- it's the fight or flight instinct. Considering all that she's been through she most likely has depression, that much is obvious by the way she looks- empty, sad and lonely. Her smile only just reaches her eyes and it's apparent that she tries to cover it up. But there's something else... She was slim. No, scratch that, she was skinny, incredibly so and perhaps even unhealthily so. But then again, she could be naturally like that- however, no-one looks that skinny naturally. She didn't look ill from it, but even Sherlock knew that it wasn't exactly normal of a girl of her age. After all, she had the money to eat, but maybe the depression and anxiety affected her appetite...

The detective leaned back against his chair just as John finished talking to Lucy about whatever it was he had been banging on about. Both the doctor and the girl turned to look at him; Sherlock raised his eyebrows and gave them a 'what are you looking at me for?' look.

"Didn't you hear me Sherlock?" John asked slowly.

"Oh, were you talking to me? I wasn't paying attention to you." Sherlock shrugged. John just rolled his eyes.

"I said, is it okay for Lucy to stay?" His voice sounded nervous with anticipation at what the answer may be.

"Hmm?" Sherlock thought he had already made his answer clear, "Yeah sure." They both looked surprised- John looked more surprised though. Sherlock wasn't one to spend time messing around with children- but Lucy seemed different; after all she wasn't exactly a child. But even so, he actually kind of liked her- maybe he would change his mind in a few days- most likely he wouldn't though. It was the same feeling he got when he first met John, he instantly knew that they would get on well together- and as per usual- he was right. So chances are– because he is always right- he would get on the same with Lucy. This is unusual, because Sherlock rarely gets on with anyone like he does with John, let alone a fifteen year old...

"I can stay?" Lucy said surprised. After all, he was pretty much a stranger to her. Once again, Sherlock snapped out of his own little world and absentmindedly nodded his confirmation. "Thank you so much Mr Holmes." Lucy smiled properly for the first time. At this, Sherlock himself had to smile a bit.

"First things first though," he started, "Please call me Sherlock."

John shortly afterwards decided to give Lucy a tour of the apartment where he proceeded to show her where her room was.

"So this will be your room," John said kindly as they came to a stop. "Your room is next to Sherlock's," he gestured to the left of him, "Shall we go in?"

"It's a lovely room," Lucy commented as she looked around before laying her bag on the bed. She sat on the bed with a sigh, a frown was on her face and she looked worried. Noticing this, John came to sit beside her.

"Are you okay?" He asked gently, knowing that this was all very sudden for the young girl.

"I guess..." Lucy sighed and brushed away a few tears that humiliated her, "This morning, I was injured on the streets. Now I'm in the house of my doctor and his detective flatmate. I don't know how this happened. It's all been so sudden, out of the blue. It's kind of overwhelming; I don't really know what to do. I mean, you and Sherlock are complete strangers, and yet you are letting me live with you... I don't get it." She sounded so confused and overwhelmed.

"I think it really has overwhelmed you Lucy," John put a hand on her shoulder in comfort, "I only knew your parents because I was their doctor. But even so, I'm not having you on the streets. Sherlock and I like you, bearing in mind that Sherlock has been completely different with you which is kinda scary," They both grinned at this. "I promise you, I have no ulterior motive, and I know this seems strange- but things are going to be okay from now on."

"Thank you John, I'm serious, thank you so much for everything." Lucy smiled at him genuinely.

"I'm here if you ever need me." John told her. Lucy nodded. "I'll leave you to unpack," John left her alone to her thoughts.

"Dull dull dull dull dull!" Sherlock moaned. John and Lucy looked up at him with confused faces, although John was quite used to it. "I'm bored." Sherlock groaned. "Pass me my phone please?" He looked at Lucy.

"It's only on the table beside you!" She said bemused.

"It's effort getting it." He muttered. Sighing, Lucy stood up and retrieved his iphone from table and handed it to him. She actually found it rather amusing, and she chuckled lightly- for the first time in ages she actually laughed! She even surprised herself by this. And she began to think that living with Sherlock and John may actually be really good.

"Thanks," Sherlock muttered, his greeny-blue eyes shining.

"You hardly ever say 'thanks' to me," John grumbled.

"Stop being so jealous John, maybe I don't feel like saying it to you." The detective quipped.

"Me? I'm not jealous! You are so rude," The doctor joked frustrated, but he pretended to be hurt. Sherlock decided to ignore him and instead, looked at the text message he'd just received:

I think you'll rather enjoy this game.

It had no I.D; it was untraceable and was from an unknown number. Sherlock frowned. Game? What game? He thought. But his eyes widened. Not a moment later, his mobile started ringing. The caller I.D was Lestrade.