A Scandal in Belgravia, Part 3

The next morning found Sherlock fully recovered from his little drugging incident the day before, and looking quite refreshed as he sat at the table in the middle of Baker Street's living room, reading the morning newspaper, John sitting across from him while Amelia was in the middle, eating breakfast. Even Mycroft had made an appearance, or though it was clear from the frown on his face as he stood close by that it wasn't a social visit.

"The photographs are perfectly safe," Sherlock told his brother from behind the paper, sounding slightly annoyed.

Mycroft cast him a look, "In the hands of a fugitive sex worker," he argued.

The paper rustled and Sherlock lowered it so that he could glare at Mycroft, "She's not interested in blackmail," he replied, "She wants…" he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, "…protection for some reason," he glanced over at the other man, "I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

Amelia coughed pointedly, "My house, Sherlock," she reminded him, throwing a glare over her shoulder at Mycroft. She still remembered that he had known and hadn't even bothered to warn her.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs?" Mycroft frowned at him, apparently ignoring Amelia's comment, "Our hands are tied".

"She'd applaud your choice of words," he remarked, causing John and Amelia to smirk, and Mycroft to roll his eyes in exasperation. He turned serious, "You see how this works: that camera phone is her 'get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone," he turned back to his paper before adding mockingly, "Treat her like royalty, Mycroft".

"Though not the way she treats royalty," John commented, glancing up from his breakfast and giving him a sarcastic smile, receiving a humours smile in return as Amelia laughed, quickly covering it up by taking a sip of tea.

A loud, orgasmic woman's moan filled the room. Amelia frowned over her tea cup, looking over at Sherlock with narrowed eyes, who seemed to be avoiding her eyes, while John and Mycroft frowned, looking around the rest of the room.

"What was that?" John asked.

"Text," Sherlock replied, trying hard to seem casual, closing his newspaper.

"But what was that noise?"

They watched as he stood and walked over to the fireplace and picked up his phone, reading whatever the message said, "Did you know there were other people after her, too, Mycroft, before you sent John, Amelia, and I in there?" he raised his eyebrows at his older brother and moved past him, back to his chair, "CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess".

"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft," John remarked sarcastically, throwing him a look over his shoulder.

Amelia nodded in agreement with John, "Well, it would seem that it's a reoccurring habit of leaving important details out," she muttered.

Mrs Hudson stepped into the room from the kitchen, having made them all breakfast, and carrying another plate, "It's a disgrace," she commented, her voice stern, sitting the plate in front of Sherlock, who was busy unfolding another paper, "Sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes".

"Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson," Mycroft rolled his eyes at her.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted, looking furious as John glared at him, calling at the same time, "Oi!" and Amelia said loudly in unison, "Mr Holmes!"

He blinked, taking in there outraged faces and grimaced slightly, opening and closing his mouth for a moment before giving Mrs Hudson an apologetic smile, "Apologies".

Mrs Hudson nodded at him, "Thank you," and moved back towards the kitchen.

"Though do, in fact, shut up," Sherlock added, returning to his paper.

"Sherlock!" Amelia glared at him, purposely kicking his leg under the table.

He visibly winced, obviously having not expecting her to kick him, and opened his mouth to resort when his phone moaned again.

"Ooh," Mrs Hudson looked back over at them from the kitchen doorway as everyone else frowned at the phone, "It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?"

Sherlock checked the phone, moving his paper aside to do so, "There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see," he told Mycroft, returning to his paper.

Mycroft glanced down at the floor, "I can put maximum surveillance on her…"

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is 'TheWhipHand".

"It would hardly be 'TheFluffyBunny,' now," Amelia remarked dryly, causing John to smile.

"Yes," Mycroft cast them looks, sneering, "Most amusing," his phone rang and reached inside his pocket, looking down at the screen, "'Scuse me," he walked towards the door leading onto the landing, raising the phone to his ear, all the while being watched By Sherlock and Amelia, "Hello?"

John looked up from his breakfast to Sherlock, his eyes focusing on his phone for a second, "Why does your phone make that noise?" he questioned with a frown.

Sherlock's eyes flickered away from his brother, glancing towards the device. His face and voice carefully blank of emotions, Amelia noted, "What noise?" he asked.

"That noise…the one it just made".

He tried shrugging it off, "It's a text alert," he replied, his eyes returning to his paper, "It means I've got a text".

"Hmm," he nodded, still frowning, "Your texts don't usually make that noise".

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

Amelia raised her eyebrows suspiciously at him, already having a good idea just who that might be, "Somebody, huh?"

"Hmm…" John nodded again, looking over at the phone, "So every time they text you…"

As if on cue, the phone went off again, moaning loudly.

"It would seem so," Sherlock remarked, folding his newspaper up, and focusing on the phone as Amelia watched him, seeming crossed between amusement and annoyance.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit?" Mrs Hudson stepped into the doorway of the kitchen, shaking her head, "At my time of life, it's…"

He checked the phone before sitting it back down on the table, glancing over at the old woman as she moved back into the kitchen, still shaking her head and muttering. His eyes caught Amelia, who was still watching him, and shot her a look. Amelia smiled at him, not in the least bit bothered by his look, returning to her quickly cooling tea.

A moment past, in which Sherlock turned back the newspaper, before John frowned, flickering through his own paper, "I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" he reasoned, narrowing his eyes as he looked over at him.

Sherlock quickly moved the paper in front of his face, shielding him from view, "I'll leave you to your deductions," he muttered, sounding a little stiff.

"Nice try, Sherlock," Amelia scoffed, shaking her head.

John smiled, "I'm not stupid, you know," he looked back to his own paper.

"Where do you get that idea?"

"…Bond Air is go, that's decided," Mycroft was saying into his phone as he walked back into the room, catching Sherlock and Amelia's attention again, "Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later," he ended the call, slipping it back inside his suit pocket.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock eyed him, rolling his eyes as his brother gave him a questioning look, "Irene Adler," he clarified, roughly closing his paper, setting it aside, "The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs," his eyes narrowed and he stood, stepping closer to him, "There's more," Mycroft gave him a stony faced look, "Much more. Something big's coming, isn't it?" he finished softly.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours," he gave him a firm look, "From now on you will stay out of this".

"Oh, will I?" he gave him a challenging look as John and Amelia exchanged looks.

"Yes, Sherlock," Mycroft replied with a pleasant smile before dropping it, looking very, very serious and stern, "You will," Sherlock looked at him for a long, tense moment before shrugging, and walking over to his seat, grabbing his violin, "Now, if you'll excuse me," Mycroft's tone became lighter almost at once, casting John and Amelia another pleasant smile, "I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend".

"Do give her my love," Sherlock remarked, settling his violin under his chin, and began playing 'God Save The Queen,' right on Mycroft's heels as he rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, and walked out of the room, heading down the stairs.

Amelia laughed, shaking her head as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand, watching as Sherlock moved, still playing, over towards the window, looking out. She might hate it when he played at three in the morning, but she had to admit that he was very talented.

…

Amelia smiled slowly, watching as the snow drifted past the large window of the small café she was sitting in. She had always loved watching the snow fall when she had been a child and that love still continued even as an adult. Still, it seemed as if she was the only one who was enjoying the snowy weather as it was causing havoc for all the people rushing around, trying to get last minute Christmas presents, since there was only two nights left before the day.

Luckily for Amelia, she had already finished her Christmas shopping the week before. For John, she had bought him a new watch, since his old one had ended up meeting its untimely demise at the hands of one of Sherlock's experiments. For Mrs Hudson, a fully paid day trip to a spa and an antique Victorian tea set, knowing that it was just the sort of thing that she would like. Lestrade, a bottle of his favourite alcohol, along with a number of little recordings she had taken of amusing situations from her time living at Baker Street. Molly, she had bought a small gold locket, which only left Sherlock. He had, by far, been the most difficult out of all of them to pick for, but she had managed, and was even feeling quite proud, believing that she might just have chosen well.

She had been leaning towards buying something simple, a new scarf, perhaps, until she remembered how interested he had been when a documentary about bees had been on TV. It was the first time she had ever seen him actually watch a TV program without getting up, fiddling with his phone, or spending the entire thing shouting at the screen, and had actually sat through the entire thing without saying a word, simply watching with a look on his face that she had only seen when he was working on a case. And thus, she had decided to get him a first edition book called 'The Hive: The Story of the Honeybee and Us,' along with another book, but this time about unsolved murders from all over the world, figuring that if she had misjudged her first gift, then it would at least be a safe fall back to make up for the first one.

A few minutes past and she soon withdrew her attention back inside the café, casting her eyes around a few people who were around her, taking the time to analyse them. It was a habit that she had since she was a child, that when she grew bored in a public place she would start taking note of the people around her, but even that slowly began to lose its appeal to her after she finally deduced that the man and woman sitting at the back of the shop, were months away from filing for a divorce. She shook her head and reached inside her bag that she had placed beside her chair, grabbing her phone and checking the time, as well if she had any messages.

She had planned to meet with Molly at twelve for coffee, but she was ten minutes late, and she hadn't texted, which wasn't like her at all. Perhaps she was held up by the Christmas shoppers, after all, it probably would have taken Amelia twenty minutes to get a cab if the café wasn't just around the corner from her flat. Still, she couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling that settled over her as she slipped the phone back into her bag.

As she did so, she felt the presence of someone approach her and heard the chair in front her scrap against the floor as it was pulled out, and the sound of fabric rustling as someone sat down. A smile crossed her face before she frowned, realising that something had been off about the way the person had sat down, the sound of the fabric was off too, and her eyes snapped up to look, only to find the person she least expected nor wanted to come across.

"Hello, Amy," James grinned across at her, leaning casually back in his chair as if he did something like this every day.

Amelia's mouth fell open in shock and horror, her eyes widening as she stared at him, "What…" she trailed off, swallowing thickly, her eyes flickering over towards the door as she grabbed her handbag under the table, ready to bolt, "What the hell are you doing here?" she finally managed to get out, her voice sounding a little more shaky then she would have liked.

"Well, its Christmas time and they do say it's a time for family," he replied in a sing song tone, shrugging, "Or so I've been told".

"Great," she continued to stare at him, "So send me a Christmas card…preferably without a bomb attached, though".

"Nah," he shook his head, "It's been a while since we last saw each other," he remarked casually, his dark eyes flickering up to meet hers, smirking, "How are John and Sherlock? Ooh, do you want to hear my nickname for Sherlock?" he asked, his eyes glittering wickedly.

Amelia frowned, but tightened her grip on the strap of her bag under the table, "Why are you here, James?" she asked again, this time her voice stronger now that she was over the shock, "And…" her eyes widened with worry and fear, "…what did you do to Molly?" she demanded, "You knew I would be here, meeting her, which is why she's not here yet. What did you do?"

James sighed heavily, as if she was boring him and rolled his eyes, "She's fine…for now," he informed her, a smirk crossing his face again, "Of course, that's all up to you that she remains that way".

She narrowed her eyes at the threat, "And what do you mean exactly by that?"

He leaned towards her across the table, "I have a proposition for you".

"What have you done with Molly?"

"Still on about that?" he rolled his eyes again, "If I knew you would be this worried about her I would have just had her killed before even walking in here".

"James…" Amelia began angrily.

"Fine, fine, fine!" he cut across her, obviously growing annoyed, which was never a good sign, "You know, you sound just like Dad when you talk like that," he commented, making a childish face of disgust, "Little Miss Hooper is simply distracted," he told her, sounding even more bored then he had before.

"And by distracted…?"

"I didn't come here to talk about your little pet, Amelia," James cut across her again, his tone sharp and with a note of anger rippling through it. Amelia immediately closed her mouth, watching him intently and carefully, knowing better than anyone just how quickly his mood could shift, and they were certainly entering into dangerous water. For a long moment they simply looked at each other before he broke into mad laughter, "Mummy wouldn't like us to fight, now, would she?" he grinned, looking completely unhinged.

Amelia fixed a sarcastic smile to her face, "Well, I doubt she would have been very surprised," she remarked dryly, "We used to be at each other's throats as children, if I remember," she cast him a dark look, "Sometimes a little to literal for my tastes".

He shot her another unhinged smile, "If it makes you feel any better, dear sister, I never really meant to kill you," he replied, not in the slightest bit making her feel comforted.

"Gee, that makes me feel so loved," she rolled her eyes, scoffing, "It gets even better when I think about the fact you once hired a hit man to scare me enough that I would come back to England. Oh, and we can't forget that one time you held myself, Sherlock Holmes, and Doctor John Watson at sniper point and with a bomb strapped to John's chest," she finished, her tone light but her eyes were cold with anger.

"Collateral damage," James shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by her anger, "All the more fun for me to watch," he smirked slowly.

"Why are you playing this game with Sherlock? Of all the people in the world, why him? I mean, what did he ever do to you, James?"

"Nothing," he told her, his smirk growing, "Which is what makes it all the more fun".

Amelia sighed heavily, shaking her head wearily, "You said you had a proposition for me?" she reminded him, her voice flat, "Just tell me so that you can go and I can forget that this lovely meeting ever happened".

"Now, now, you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings," he waggled a finger at her as if she was a misbehaving child.

"That's taking into consideration that you have feelings," she muttered to herself to quietly for him to hear, before fixing a pleasant smile to her face that she was sure looked more like a grimace, "This proposition you speak of…well, I can hardly contain my excitement!"

Any humour he might have shown before disappeared in a second and he turned completely serious. Deadly serious, "There's going to come a time in a little while that you are going to have to do everything I say," he began, his eyes sparklingly wickedly again as she frowned at him, "You'll get a text and when you do, you'll do what it says and not breath a word about it to anyone".

Amelia raised her eyebrows at him, "And you honestly think I would ever do that?" she stared at him before laughing, shaking her head as she composed herself, "Not a chance. In case you've forgotten, Sherlock's my…well, he's my friend," she frowned for a moment, thinking about how strange it felt to call him her friend before shrugging it off, "If you think that I would do something to betray his or John's trust in me again, then you're even more insane then I previously thought".

James shrugged, casting her a mockingly sad look, "Well, I suppose I ought to get my condolences ready," he commented, running a hand down the front of his Westwood suit, "But…if you're not going to play nicely…"

"Condolences?" she repeated, staring at him with a horrified expression across her face.

James smirked, "Oh, yes, dear sister. They're lives are in your hands now," he held up four fingers, "First I'll kill Molly," he lowered one of the fingers, "Next…Lestrade," another finger, "Next…Mrs Hudson, you've grown fond of her, haven't you?" he shot her another mocking look, lowering his finger, "And very last…John".

She swallowed thickly, suddenly very pale, "You still need John for whatever your end game is," she argued softly.

"My planes can be changed and tweaked if needed," he brushed her weak argument off, all the while smirking at her, "I mean, this is only if you don't want to be a good girl and play".

"So, basically, you're blackmailing me with my own friend's lives?"

"Yep".

Amelia stared at him, shaking her head in disgust, "How do you live with yourself?" she breathed and closed her eyes tightly, seeing no other choice but to make the deal with the devil in order to save her friends lives, "Fine," she finally said after a long time, reopening her eyes and looking at him, "But if you come near me, or my friends again, then I'll go the media," she warned him, very serious, meeting his eyes, challenging him, "You want to play this twisted game with Sherlock, go ahead. I obviously can't stop you, and Sherlock's a big boy, I'm sure he'll be able to handle you better than I can, not to mention he'll have John and I to help him, but despite what you might claim, you do have a weakness, dear brother".

James raised a mocking eyebrow at her, "Oh, and what would that be?"

"Your anonymity," she replied, "You keep your face hidden, you let other's deal with everything not just because you don't like to get your hands dirty, but because there's power when you don't have a face. You can hide in plain sight and no one would ever know, which is how you have got away with everything you have done for so long, not just because you're careful, but because they don't even know who to look for," a smirk of her own crossed her face, knowing that she was entering dangerous territory, but unable to resist, "But me…well, I could destroy that entire carefully constructed anonymity of yours and show the entire world just who and what you truly are".

"And destroy your own life, too? Haven't you spent the past years trying to distance yourself from me because of your career?"

"And I would give it all up if it meant keeping my friends safe," Amelia glared at him, "I'll be labelled for the rest of my life as that lunatic's twin sister and it will be worth it," she gave him a hard, deadly calm look, "So I wouldn't push me. I've agreed, only to keep my friends safe, but if you try to go after them, I will go right back at you".

He titled her head at her, his face blank, making it hard to tell if he was angry or not, "You realise I could just kill you and have this 'threat' of yours made useless?"

"Of course you could, I've half expected you to kill me well before now, but you won't".

"Won't I?" he questioned, actually sounding amused, "You might be my sister but don't think that would ever stop me from killing you".

"And yet, I still live and breathe despite having just threated you," she smiled grimly at him, "You wanted me to come back to England, you wanted me to work with Sherlock for some reason, why would you kill me now when everything already appears to be going just the way you want it to?" she shrugged, "I won't say a word, I'll follow what the text says, for my friends lives, but that's it".

For a very long time they stared at each other, James seeming to be weighing everything that she had to say carefully before a strange smile spread across his face and he stood, "You know, perhaps you're not as weak as I thought," he commented, looking down at her, "You have a bit more bite in you then I thought, which might just be a good thing…" he trailed off, giving her a look that clearly said he knew something she didn't, and turned, heading towards the door, "Don't get to close to Sherlock, Amy, just imagine what the Christmas dinner's would be like," and with that, he opened the door and stepped out, vanishing from sight almost instantly, blending in with the crowed that was still moving outside in the chilly weather.

Amelia stared after him, her head still spinning from what had just happened as she fell back against her chair, breathing heavily as she closed her eyes. What the hell just happened? Had she seriously just threated her brother, the person her murdered a boy when he was ten just because he picked on him? And what was that last comment about, because it sounded as if he was alluding to her and Sherlock…she almost started laughing at just how absurd it was. Aside from the fact Sherlock didn't care for anyone, woman included, that way, the very idea that there would be something between them was just simply ridiculous, and she was quite certain James truly had lost his mind completely.

The door of the café opened, sending an icy cold chill to sweep into the room briefly, before the door closed, very nearly caused her to suffer from a heart attack, thinking that James had returned, but when she looked up she felt a wave of relief crash over her at the sight of Molly moving towards her, pinked faced from the cold, but otherwise completely fine.

"Molly," she grinned broadly at her, watching as her friend pulled out the chair that James had just left, giving her a slightly sheepish look.

"Sorry I'm late," she told her apologetically, "I, ah, got stuck helping this old couple who dropped their Christmas shopping".

"No, its fine," she waved her apology away, just pleased to see that James had actually kept his word, "So…Christmas Eve, Baker Street?" she raised her eyebrows at her, trying not to think about earlier.

Molly bit her lip, looking a little nervous, "Sherlock's going to be there…" she hesitated, "Maybe I shouldn't…"

"Never mind him, you're my guest, and Sherlock can keep his mouth shut for one night".

….

It was Christmas Eve and Baker Street's living room was looking very festive, with garlands and Christmas cards put up for display, even John was getting into the spirit of the holiday by wearing a Christmas jumper.

Amelia had thought about getting herself her own Christmas jumper, but decided in the end just to wear the Santa hat that Mrs Hudson had bought her, (Sherlock had got antlers, but refused wear them), much to John and Amelia's disappointment. Tonight she had decided to dress up a bit more, since it was a party, wearing a black taffeta Westwood dress with a dark green sash around her waist, tied in a bow at the front, her black suede Louboutin's, an antique ruby and diamond necklace that had been her Great Grandmothers, matching earrings, and bracelet. She had curled her hair and put it into a half-up, half-down style, red lipstick and nails, along with smoky eyeshadow.

The day had gone surprisingly well, with hardly any complaints from Sherlock, and by seven that night, most of the guests had around, save for Molly, who had texted to say that she might be a little late, and they all watched as Sherlock entertained them with 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' on his violin at Mrs Hudson's request.

"Lovely!" the older woman clapped happily along with the rest of the room, smiling broadly as he ended the song with a flourish, sitting in Sherlock's usual chair, while Lestrade whistled from the kitchen doorway, "Sherlock, that was lovely!"

"Very nice," Amelia smiled, nodding as she clapped from her seat on the armrest of John's usual chair.

"Marvellous!" John agreed, passing Lestrade in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a cup of tea and a bottle of beer as he moved further into the room.

Sherlock gave them all a quick bow, setting Mrs Hudson, who seemed to already be starting to feel the effects of her glass of white wine she was holding, into a fit of giggles, "I wish you could have worn the antlers!" she called to him.

He gave her a small, somewhat tight smile, "Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson," he replied.

John, who appeared to have realised that the older woman was a little tipsy, past her the cup of tea, "Mrs H," he smiled at her.

John's date, a dark haired, pretty woman, Jeanette, approached Sherlock, holding out a tray with mince pies and slices of cake on it towards him, "No thank you, Sarah," Sherlock gave her a polite smile, so far doing well behaving himself.

Amelia coughed and stood, moving towards Sherlock, noticing the woman's face fell, "That's not Sarah," she hissed at him under her breath, fixing a friendly smile to her face.

"Ah!" John hurried over to them, wrapping an arm around the Jeanette as she began to turn away, "No, no, no, no, no. He's not good with names," he tried to comfort her.

"No, no, no," Sherlock shook his head, looking thoughtful as Jeanette sat the tray down on the living room table, turning back to them, crossing her arms, "I can do this," John cringed slightly, giving Amelia a hopeless look.

"Ah, Sherlock," Amelia began, trying to distract him, "How about you tell us about one of your past cases…"

"No, Sarah was the doctor," he continued thoughtfully, obviously not having heard a word that she had said, "And then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and then…who was after the boring teacher?" he asked, glancing at Amelia, who closed her eyes in exasperation.

Jeanette glared at him, shifting, "Nobody".

"Jeanette!" he finally got it, giving her a bright, fake smile, "Ah, process of elimination".

John awkwardly pulled the poor woman away as Amelia sighed heavily, casting her an apologetic look, "Oh, Holmes," she muttered tiredly.

"It's hardly my fault," Sherlock replied, sniffing, "John goes throw so many girlfriends".

"That doesn't mean it's okay for you to go listing them off to his current one," she scolded him lightly, rolling her eyes, "Honestly, your lucky you didn't end up getting slapped, you certainly would have died if glares could kill".

Surprisingly, instead of scoffing at her or making a sarcastic remark, he turned towards her, "She surly knows that John's had other girlfriends," he reasoned, generally sounding curious, "So why would it bother her hearing about them?"

Amelia stared at him, taken back slightly, "Well…" she frowned, thinking carefully, "I think you might be missing the point," she eventually sighed, shaking her head, "It's not that John's had other girlfriends, it's the fact that you can't even take the time to remember her name," she paused, a weary smile crossing her face, "Oh, and we can't forget that you called her 'boring'".

He narrowed his eyes at her, actually appearing to be considering what she had said when something caught his eye over towards the living room door, "Oh, dear Lord," he muttered.

"Hello, everyone," Molly's voice called through the room, causing Amelia to turn towards her, giving her a small, friendly wave of welcome as the other woman smiled shyly, carrying two bags, obviously full of presents, "Sorry, hello," John smiled at her, moving to greet her, "Er, it said on the door just to come up".

Everyone greeted her happily and cheerfully, save for Sherlock, who rolled his eyes, earning a hard glare from Amelia, "Oh, everybody's saying hullo to each other," he commented sarcastically, back to his old self, apparently, "How wonderful".

"Sherlock," Amelia said sharply, sending him a warning look.

Molly began pulling off her scarf and thick coat, staring at Sherlock rather nervously as John reached to take her coat, "Let me, er…holy Mary!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"Wow!" Lestrage's eyes widened as Molly revealed herself to be wearing a tight fitting, black dress with rhinestones attached to the neckline and straps, going well with her red lipstick.

In fact, the only two people in the room who didn't have much of a reaction were Amelia and Sherlock, Amelia because she had help her to pick out the dress only the other day, and Sherlock because…well, he was Sherlock.

Molly shifted a little, rubbing her bare arms awkwardly, glancing around the room as John put her coat and scarf away, "Having Christmas drinkies, then?"

Sherlock moved over to the living room table and sat down in front of John's open laptop, "No stopping them, apparently," he remarked, ignoring the way Molly was still staring at him.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me," Mrs Hudson told her, her wine glass back in her hand, Amelia noted with a hint of amusement, "So it's almost worth it!" she smiled.

Molly giggled nervously, her eyes still fixed on Sherlock, who was typing something on John's laptop. Amelia shook her head, feeling a little grateful that while he was on the computer, he at least wasn't humiliating someone else as John grabbed a chair from the kitchen, sitting it down for Molly, "Have a seat," he smiled over at her.

"John?" Sherlock called to him.

"Hmm?" he hummed, stepping over to look over his shoulder at the screen.

Amelia, looking curious, moved over to see for herself to see that John's blog was on the screen.

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

"Ooh, no!" John gave him a mockingly angry look, lightly hitting the table top, "Christmas is cancelled!"

"How awful," Amelia laughed, shaking her head.

Sherlock ignored them, scowling as he pointed at the side bar were a picture of himself was with the deerstalker on, "And you're got a photograph of me wearing that hat!" he complained.

John shrugged, "People like the hat".

"No they don't," he scoffed before pausing as John walked away, shaking his head, "What people?"

"Stop complaining, Sherlock," Amelia sighed, shaking her head, "There's not many people who could wear a hat like that one and still look handsome," she remarked and walked over to the sofa, taking a seat, ignoring the feeling of Sherlock's eyes following her.

Molly turned to Mrs Hudson, "How's the hip?" she asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"Ooh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking," Mrs Hudson replied, actually sounding a little cheerful. That wine was really working wonders for her.

She nodded, "I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems," everyone fell silent, glancing awkwardly at her, "Oh, God!" she gasped, "Sorry…"

"Don't make jokes, Molly," Sherlock told her, looking up from the computer for a moment.

"No," she nodded, looking back to Mrs Hudson, her voice soft, "Sorry," Lestrage past her a glass of red wine, "Thank you," she nodded to him, "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," Lestrade replied, smiling, "We're back together. It's all sorted".

"No," Sherlock said without even looking up, "She's sleeping with a P.E teacher".

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose as Lestrade's smile became quite fixed, shaking her head as Molly turned to her, "So, how did everything go with that guy?" she questioned, Amelia winced slightly, but forced herself to smile as everyone looked at her, Sherlock included, "Did you decided if you're going to go out with him?"

"What 'guy?'" Sherlock's eyes narrowed his eyes at Amelia, who shifted a little.

Molly's eyes widened, "Oh, you didn't tell them?" she bit her lip.

"Ah…not really, no," Amelia muttered before giving her a smile, "It's fine, though, Molly," she looked around at the others, "It was just this man gave me his number the other day, and he seemed nice, enough," she shrugged.

"You don't date," Sherlock stated, still eying her.

"Yeah, well, perhaps it's time I do".

Molly turned to John, who was sitting on the arm of his chair, Janette sitting in the actual chair as Sherlock focused back on the computer, "And John," she smiled at him, "I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?"

"Yeah," John nodded.

"Sherlock was complaining," he glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows, "…saying," she corrected herself.

"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act," John cut in, toasting his beer bottle as he spoke, "She's off the booze".

"Nope," Sherlock remarked, popping the 'P'.

John sighed, "Shut up, Sherlock".

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him," Sherlock looked over to her, his mouth twitching briefly into a fake smile.

"Sorry, what?" Molly blinked as Amelia frowned, glancing in-between Sherlock and Molly.

"What are you going on about, Holmes?" Amelia eyed him.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift".

"Take a day off," John muttered quietly, sounding highly exasperated.

Lestrade moved over to Sherlock and placed a glass beside him, "Shut up and have a drink," he told him.

"Oh, come on," Sherlock continued, rolling his eyes at them all, looking as if he was starting to enjoy himself, "Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow," Amelia glanced over at the bag, sighing heavily as she realised just who that present was meant for, "All the others are slapdash at best," he stood and walked closer to her, looking down at the rest of the presents in the bags, "It's for someone special, then," he commented, grabbing the well wrapped, red present, "The shade of red echoes her lipstick, either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to enough. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind," he smirked as Molly shifted uncomfortably, and Amelia stood, walking over to her, her arms crossed across her chest, glaring at Sherlock, who continued, "The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all".

"Sherlock, stop it," Amelia cut in sternly, a touch of anger seeping into her voice.

"That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn," he continued, ignoring Amelia, "And that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing," he glanced smugly over at John and Jeanette, turning the gift's tag over that was attached to the present, labelling who it was for, "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts…" he trailed off suddenly as he looked down at the label, looking shocked.

It was for him.

Molly took a sharp intake of breath, "You always say such horrible things," she said to him, struggling to hold back tears, "Every time," she shook her head, her voice soft with emotion, "Always. Always…"

Sherlock swallowed, looking truly guilty for what he had done as he moved to turn away before thinking better of it, and turning back to her, "I am sorry," he told her sincerely, "Forgive me," John and Amelia looked at him, startled that he had actually apologised as he stepped closer to Molly, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," he said softly, lightly kissing her cheek before pulling back.

Molly, still looking surprised, began to smile when…the orgasmic moan echoed through the room, causing her to gasp in alarm and shock, "No!" she called quickly, gesturing to herself, "That wasn't…I…I didn't…"

"No, it was me," Sherlock replied.

Lestrade did a double take, "My God, really?" he exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes as Amelia laughed quietly.

"What?" Molly gaped.

He rolled his eyes at them, "My phone," he reached inside his pocket, pulling out the device.

John narrowed his eyes at him, "Fifty-seven?"

Amelia nodded slowly, "Yes, that's about right," she agreed.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock glanced over at them, turning his back on them all as he sat Molly's present beside the still open laptop.

"Fifty-seven of those texts, the ones I've heard," John clarified, eyeing him.

He checked his phone and turned to look at the mantelpiece, "Thrilling that you've been counting," he commented sarcastically, walking over to the fireplace, and picking up a blood red present that was sitting there, frowning down at it, "'Scuse me," he said to them, heading towards the kitchen, holding the present.

John and Amelia frowned, exchanging a look, "What…what's up, Sherlock?" they called after him, growing worried.

"I said excuse me," he spoke over his shoulder, still walking.

"Do you ever reply?" John asked, but he simply ignored him, the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing sounded a moment later.

After a moment past, John stood and walked down the hall, just as Molly's phone rang and she quickly put her wine glass down, hurrying over to where John had hung her coat, pulling her phone out and raising it to her ear, "Hello?"

Amelia cast a look down the hall and walked over to her, waiting for her to finish the call, raising her eyebrows, "You have to go into work?" she asked her.

"Ah, yeah," she nodded, slipping the phone back inside the pocket and pulling the scarf and coat on, "I'm sorry about just leaving like this".

"It's fine, I'm pretty sure most of the party is already over," Amelia shrugged, casting a glance over her shoulder to see that John still hadn't returned, and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade were talking politely, while Jeanette stared at the flames in the fireplace. She turned back to her, "Merry Christmas, Molly," she smiled.

Molly smiled back at her, "Merry Christmas," calling into the room, "Night all!"

They all chorused back there goodnights as John returned, an odd look on his face. Amelia immediately walked over to him, "What's going on?" she questioned, keeping her voice low so that the other's wouldn't hear, casting a concerned look down towards Sherlock's room, "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," John sighed heavily, shaking his head, "I couldn't hear much, but from what I did…" he took a deep breath, "It looks like Irene Adler's dead".

"What?" she exclaimed, only just keeping her voice down, her eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah," he nodded grimly, "I think he was talking to Mycroft on the phone, and I heard him say it".

She opened and closed her mouth, still shocked, when Lestrade stood and announced that he was leaving too, wishing them all a good night, that Amelia and John only half heard as he left, "Oh, this really isn't going to be good, is it?" she finally sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

John began to open his mouth, but Sherlock's door suddenly opened and he strolled out, wearing his coat and scarf, completely ignoring them as he headed down stairs and out the door before they could even call after him. Amelia hurried over to the window, pulling the curtain back as she looked down to see a black car pull up on the curb and Sherlock climbed in, before driving off down the street.

"He's gone," she called back to the others as John filled Mrs Hudson and Jeanette in to what was going on.

John nodded grimly, casting a look around the flat, "We had better check to make sure this place is clean," he remarked, running a hand tiredly down his face, "Just to be sure".

Clean, as in clean for drugs.

Amelia sighed again, casting a grim look around the flat herself, before nodding in agreement. She was positive that Sherlock was indeed clean, and she doubted that he actually had anything stashed away, but she agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry. Mrs Hudson took Sherlock's bedroom, Amelia the kitchen and bathroom, and John the living room and even his own bedroom, just too be careful.

Twenty minutes of searching and Amelia hadn't found a single thing as she stepped back into the living room, just as John's phone rang and he answered it, putting it on speaker, "He's on his way," Mycroft's voice came over, "Have you found anything?"

"No," John replied as Amelia shook her head, "Did he take the cigarette?"

"Yes".

"Shit," he sighed, looking over to Mrs Hudson as she joined them, "He's coming," he told the older woman, "Ten minutes".

"There's nothing in the bedroom," Mrs Hudson informed them, shaking her head, but still looked anxious.

"Looks like he's clean," he turned back to the phone, "We've tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight's danger night?" he asked.

"No, but then I never am," Mycroft answered grimly, "You and Amelia have to stay with him".

"I've got plans".

There was a short pause, "No," he said firmly.

"Mycroft…" he tried, but the call ended. He exhaled heavily, looking frustrated as he slipped the phone back in his pocket, casting a glance over to Jeanette, who was sitting on the sofa, watching him.

"It's fine, John," Amelia whispered to him, giving him a small smile, "Go with her, I'll stay with Sherlock," he opened his mouth, looking ready to argue, "Go," she said more sternly, "Because if you don't, then you'll never get another date with her again, I can promise you that".

He hesitated, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, just go," she nodded firmly, lightly pushing him.

A large, grateful smile spread across his face, "I owe you," he grinned.

"No, you really don't. Take this as me still trying to make up for everything that happened with my insane brother".

…

John and Jeanette eventually left and Mrs Hudson went downstairs, heading to bed while Amelia set to work making a cup of tea, quickly ducking back to her own flat to grab Sherlock's present, since she hadn't found the time to give it to him throughout the evening.

She had just finished taking the teabags out of the cups when the door downstairs slammed shut, the sound of footsteps followed closely on the stairs, before Sherlock entered the room. He paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he took the room in.

"Hello, Sherlock," Amelia greeted calmly, picking up both cups and holding one out to him, "Cup of tea?"

He glanced at her before walking past and off towards his bedroom, "Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time," he remarked over his shoulder.

She sighed, rolling her eyes slightly and followed after him, not in the slightest bit bothered when he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, simply throwing the door open herself and stepping in, "Why do you have a sock index?" she asked, generally curious, ignoring the glare he was giving her, "I mean, what's the point?"

"Go away, Amelia".

She held out the cup of tea again, "Tea?" when he didn't take it, she shook her head and placed the cup on his bedside table and took a seat on the edge of his bed.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed dangerously, "I told you to get out".

"Yes, you did," she agreed, nodding as she crossed her legs casually, "But as a concerned friend, I've chosen to make sure that you are okay before leaving you to mope in here by yourself".

"Is that what we are?" he scoffed at her, "Friends?"

"I would like to think that we're developing a friendship. Granted, we might not always get along, but I do think that we make rather a good team, you and I, when the need calls for it".

"Fine, if you want to be friends, then get out and leave me alone".

Amelia sighed heavily, realising that it was time to take her leave, and stood, moving towards the door before she paused, glancing back at him, "I almost forgot," she stepped back over to the bed, placing the papered green and red striped present on his bed, heading back towards the door, "Merry Christmas, Holmes".

She very nearly missed it as she was closing the door behind her, but she was sure she heard him mutter softly from within the room, "Merry Christmas, Amelia".

I've been wanting to write this chapter for so long now, but I only just managed to work out exactly what Sherlock's present should be a few days ago when I remembered that in the books, he had liked bees, so I found it to be a good gift for him, rather than just a scarf or something like that. So, what do we think about that little meeting with James and Amelia, I'm just going to say that it will play a big role at the end of this season. I hope that James was at least a little in character, he's such a tricky character to write for, almost as hard as Sherlock. Tell me what you thought, please review :)

Guest reviews:

Guest: Well, I will certainly be trying to throw little hints here and there, I believe that I have a hint at the end of Amelia and James's little meeting, and I've been thinking very hard about what will happen at the end of the last episode of this season between Sherlock and Amelia. I have a rough idea of what might happen, but I'm still not certain. As I said before, Sherlock's such a hard character to write in a romantic context, that it's going to take a little while before it feels…natural, I guess, for him and Amelia to have a relationship. Thanks for the review :)