Chapter Four

Charlie POV:

As it turned out Charlie missed the grand awakening of Sherlock Holmes. Apparently her bladder decided it was a great time to suddenly announce its presence and she'd yelled out to John to take over. When she returned the two men were staring at each other, albeit one more blearily than the other. Moving to her chair she picked up the Dean Koonz novel and hugged it to her chest. There was a moment's silence before Sherlock looked around the room. He seemed mildly disappointed about something.

"Where is she?" He asked, mainly to himself causing her to frown a little. She knew exactly who he was looking for and she didn't like it one bit.

"Who?" John asked and Sherlock gave him a typical 'are you as stupid as you look' look.

"The woman, that woman." He said as though that clarified matters to the nth degree. Charlie sighed and moved to the door. The men continued to argue.

"What woman?" John asked.

"The woman! The woman, woman!" Sherlock announced frustratedly.

"Adler." She explained to John as she passed. His eyes widened in understanding. Then he grimaced.

"Oh Irene, she disappeared, no one saw her." He said to the befuddled detective. Sherlock began looking wildly about the room, crawling to look beneath the bed which Charlie thought was utterly ridiculous. The woman was thin but not that thin.

"She wasn't here Sherlock." John tried, sighing and heaving him upright. "No, no, back to bed." He all but threw Sherlock back onto the covers, "You'll be fine in the morning, just sleep." He ordered in his best 'I'm a doctor and you don't mess with my authority' tone.

"Of course I'll be fine, I am fine. I'm absolutely fine." Sherlock announced into his pillow. Charlie bit her nail worriedly. The coat hung by the door, just out of her reach.

"Yes, you're great. Now, I'll be next door if you need me. Charlie, are you coming?" john asked and she nodded.

"I'm getting cabin fever." She said and he smiled. She indicated for him to leave and he did throwing her a sympathetic looked. Was she that obvious these days… damn this pregnancy. Her pocket buzzed and she pulled her phone from its depths.

Charlotte,

It seems even my brother was fooled, make sure he stays out of trouble and those photographs are found… I know I can trust you not to fall for this woman's tricks.

Sincerely

MH

She smiled and returned the text.

"Who was that?" A drouzy voice called and she looked up.

"Mycroft." She said shortly before turning away.

"Wait Charlotte…" Whatever Sherlock had been about to say was cut off by a loud, breathy moan. Charlie could recognise a sound like that a mild away and she jumped about a foot in the air. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her amusedly.

"That wasn't you was it?" He asked and she frowned heavily.

She raised her eyebrows and shoved him.

"No it most certainly was not. That was your phone." She said tartly before retrieving said item from the returned coat pocket.

"Pardon?" She looked over at him, phone in hand.

"How did that get there?" He asked and she shrugged.

"Charlotte." He demanded and she flicked him a glare.

"It's not that important is it?" She asked and he frowned but sank back on the pillows.

"What does it say?" He asked, attempting to stand up only to be forced back down. She scanned the text and bit her tongue to stop her testy growl.

"Till the next time, Mr. Holmes." She said and snapped the phone shut.

"If that bitch has my number…" She trailed off and shoved the phone back into the pocket with more force than was strictly necessary but made her feel a hell of a lot better.

"You don't like her." He noted and she looked down at her nails in sarcastic wonder.

"Oh I wonder what your first clue was." She said sardonically and turned away. Arms and book folded to her chest she stalked down the hall, counting different ways she could murder one Irene Adler without getting caught… so far she had six.

Sherlock POV:

His head was still foggy when he emerged the next morning. Charlie and John were both up and about, John with a cup of coffee and Charlie reading yet another book. He was certain she'd been reading Koonz last time. Shaking his head he sat down in a chair and opened the newspaper on the table before him. Silence reigned, an odd feeling but pleasant considering his state of mind. Mrs Hudson appeared and began to bustle around in their kitchen and soon he found himself in the company of the one person he was really at loath to be around today, or any day for that matter. Mycroft stood by the fireplace, cane in hand as he peered around the flat which was decidedly more chaotic than usual due to Charlie's unfortunate bouts of what she termed 'baby brain'. Plates, papers and clothes were littered everywhere and books were stacked unevenly around the living room. Finally he decided to break the silence.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." He muttered without looking up from the paper.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker." Mycroft returned testily. Charlie nodded and Sherlock frowned at her. Whose side was she on?

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants…protection, for some reason." Sherlock said and Charlie sighed.

"You Holmes' don't know the first thing about women do you? Of course she wants protection. She's in possession of a top secret safe, assumed multi-government secrets and has enemies on the American continent. The fact that she told you is just her way of announcing her armour, without it she'd be defenceless against whatever it is she's really frightened of." Sherlock looked over at Charlie in puzzlement. How on Earth had she known that? All the time she'd been in Irene's company they'd gone at each other like snakes, how could she possibly see through Adler's foreplay? He'd forgotten that a) she was female and b) a clever one. Note to self, don't forget facts a or b. She smirked at him and returned to Dan Brown with a shrug. Mycroft was smiling politely.

"I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Sherlock said and Mycroft frowned.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." He muttered.

"Your choice of words is to be applauded." Sherlock spoke.

"You see how this works, that camera phone is her get-out-of-jail-free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft." He reasoned, seeing the matter ended.

"Though not the way she treats royalty." Added John bemusedly. This little bit set Charlie off, she laughed into the crease of her book even though Sherlock was positive Brown was not a comedian. She stopped immediately when his phone went off. Her lips tightened ever so slightly before she shrugged and put her book down. Stretching she stood and moved to the kitchen.

"What was that?" John asked. Sherlock looked up and played it false, ignoring the small flutter the moaning phone gave him.

"Text." He muttered.

"But what was that noise?" John went on pointedly. The kettle whistled and after a few moments Charlie reappeared.

"Irene Adler." She said neutrally and passed another cup to Mycroft who accepted politely. They smiled at each other; apparently she was on his brother's side this morning. The thought made him uncomfortable. He ignored it and went back to his paper, overly aware of the conraderie between his brother and… well Charlie.

"Why haven't you changed that?" She asked after a moment. He picked up his phone.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft? Before you sent us in there? CIA trained killers, I think, excellent guess." He said.

"Yeah thanks for that Mycroft." John spoke up irritably,

"We all were almost shot."

Mrs Hudson appeared from the kitchen. She walked over to her niece and passed her a small package, another baby present she'd had to buy. Charlie covered her annoyance with a smile and thanked her quietly.

"It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have left in the end, Mycroft Holmes!" She announced, picking up bowls left scattered beneath cushions and books.

"Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson!" Mycroft responded angrily, prompting Sherlock and John to glare up at him in anger and shout back in unison.

"MYCROFT!" Charlie just gazed at him in shock. She growled lightly. He froze at the joint volume of the two of them and Charlie's unusual response.

"Apologies." He muttered before returning to his tea.

"Thank you." Mrs Hudson replied abruptly.

"Though do in fact shut up." Sherlock remarked dryly. It was his job to shout at Mrs Hudson, not that he'd ever intentionally try to upset the woman she just needed a brisk reminder ever now and again... not Mycroft's job. His phone moaned again. Mrs Hudson jumped.

"Oh it's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" She said embarrassed. Like John she was obviously uncomfortable with the noises. Interesting. She looked over at Charlie but her niece was gazing absentmindedly into her tea cup. Interesting again.

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."

Mycroft sighed.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her?"

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

"Yes, most amusing." Mycroft huffed, looking far from amused. His phone rang and he left the room to answer the call.

"Excuse me."

"Why does your phone make that noise?" John asked. Before anyone could answer the mentioned phone went off again.

"God, how desperate is she?" Charlie asked bitterly as Mrs Hudson walked in again.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit?" She asked pleadingly as Mycroft re-entered.

"Bond air is go, check with the Coventry lot, talk later." He said and Charlie quirked a brow at him. He returned it appraisingly.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked,

"The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." Charlie yawned and winced.

"Please, if it's naked pictures of Bush and Clinton I'll swim the channel." She remarked tartly. John almost choked on his toast making her lean over and thump him on the back.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours, Sherlock. From now on, you will stay out of this." Mycroft said firmly and even Charlie got interested. Never tell a woman not to do something, it'll only make them curious… and him too.

"Oh will I?" He teased making older brother frown.

"Yes Sherlock you will." He replied and Charlie winked at him from beside John who looked like Christmas couldn't come quickly enough.

"Now if you'll excuse me I have a very long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Mycroft said and Charlie smiled.

"Tell Lizzy we'll catch up on Tuesday." She called after him.

"Please, your reservation will have to be postponed, she has a hair appointment." Mycroft called back and Charlie chuckled.

"Do give her my love." Sherlock responded, picking up his violin and playing the national anthem leisurely. Charlie began to sing it quietly. John simply laughed at England's least patriotic couple and buttered more toast.

"Bye Mycroft, sorry about Adler…" He said. The man shook his head.

"It's not your doing; I wouldn't worry too much about it." He muttered before walking away down the hall with barely a wave. Charlie paused before walking after him their voices carried but not enough to be heard clearly. He jarred a note and the apartment fell silent. A moment later the door closed and Charlie reappeared.

"Don't you complain you have a text coming in 3… 2… uh there you go." She said and walked out of the room. Sure enough another moan filled the apartment. Sherlock looked over to see John looking at him with something akin to annoyance.

"Remember what I said about pushing her too far, you're on the border mate." He said before standing and moving towards his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Mary's." John said and walked out. Sherlock looked around the now empty room and suddenly being alone wasn't as nice as he remembered it being.

Charlie POV:

Weeks passed and Christmas approached steadily, like some cancerous growth that refused to get gone. She was sitting in her rapidly darkening room, which she had finally taken the time to clean, sitting in the old rocking chair her adoptive parents had sent her as an early baby gift. Her eyes filled a little at the memory of receiving the gift. It had been a few days ago, a large box with a card that said, 'For you and the baby. Much love, Karen and Tim. Call sometime alright?' The window was open and snow was falling outside like perfect rain drops. She was roughly three and a half months along and her stomach protruded more than her self-esteem would have liked. A knock on the door made her look around. John stood in the door frame. She sighed.

"For the thousandth time John, no." She said and turned back to watch the snow.

"Oh come on, at first I thought it was just a tease but this is ridiculous. Everyone loves Christmas Charlie, well almost everyone." He said and she raised a brow sardonically.

"Yes, nearly everyone John." She said simply and stood. As she walked out of the room he followed.

"It's just a party Charlie, one night out of 365 with friends at Christmas… come on." He pleaded but she shrugged nonchalantly as they entered the kitchen. Her aunt had outdone herself with decorations. The place was festooned with tinsel and holy. Stepping around the mistletoe Charlie walked to the fridge, rolled her eyes when her gaze fell on the severed hands floating in multi-colour jars, and pulled out the milk. Sherlock was bent over time of his experiments and she leaned over to observe. After a few minutes he looked up and the pair stared at each other. John threw up his hands in defeat and moved to the living room, opening his computer and typing away. Charlie began to make her tea, aware of Sherlock's eyes on her back.

"It is just one night." He remarked quietly and her shoulders slumped before she could control the reaction.

"Not you too." She complained quietly and turned around to sip the scoulding tea as she looked at him. He shrugged.

"I predict that we're going to have to face the fact that John and your aunt are determined to have this rather pointless party and we might as well suffer through it with as much dignity as possible." He said and picked up two beakers filled with what she identified as embalming fluid and some kind of acid.

"I was thinking of just heading out for the evening… no harm, no foul." She protested weakly and he smirked.

"Do you honestly think Mrs Hudson would let you do that?" He queried and she rolled her eyes. Taking another sip she sighed.

"I know she wouldn't."

"Well then…"

"Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." He dared and she rubbed her face tiredly. She could see this ending badly already, what was she going to do when the baby came? As though answering her deliema the baby choose that moment to kick rather hard and she looked down in shock. The little tyke had taken to kicking for the past week, waking her in the middle of the night or just annoying her whenever she got comfortable. Sherlock tensed as he always did when the baby was mentioned or overtly communicated with the outside world and she decided to push the boundary a little.

"Sherlock come here." She commanded and after a moment's hesitation he did. He stood before her, sleeves rolled up and a tight expression on his face. She grabbed his hand before he could protest. Blue eyes met green and she smiled.

"Have you ever felt a baby kick?" She asked and he frowned.

"No, I never really wanted to." He said and she shrugged, pretending that his comment hadn't hurt as much as it had. Slowly she placed it on the smooth bump. After a moment it kicked and Sherlock's eyes flew wider then she'd ever seen them. He stared at her in shock.

"Doesn't that freak you out just a little?" He asked and the little one moved again. She shifted slightly and grinned up at her friend whose hand still rested on her stomach.

"Not as much anymore, although it can get annoying during the night… they're ready for an all-nighter while yours truly is ready to sleep." She said and shrugged. Sherlock removed his hand slowly and Charlie cheered inwardly. If he'd been repulsed it would have shown, or he'd have withdrawn quickly. Rubbing his face he gazed at her distended stomach curiously, as though registering its existence for the first time.

"It's not an alien Sherlock, it's a baby…" She broke off and turned away, fighting away the sudden tears that threatened to spill over. She wasn't angry with him or sad, she was frustrated…? Suddenly two arms wrapped around her and pulled her back. They both tensed, then she relaxed against a firm, warm chest and looked up into Sherlock's face. She smiled thinly and sighed.

"Why don't you like Christmas? I could understand you not believing in its importance but…" She shrugged and tried to untangle herself but his arms got in the way.

"Charlie, would answer you one question without trying to fight me?" He asked and for a moment she heard the hurt she'd first seen when she'd announced her pregnancy in his voice. She paused for a long moment then nodded slowly.

"The car accident your parents were killed in, it happened on Christmas didn't it?" He asked and she choked on a soft sob.

"Yes, 18 years ago on the day. Usually I'd call Francis or Ji… Aunty Em tries to understand but she can't, not really. She tries to get me to focus on the brighter side of Christmas; parties, cards and all that but it just doesn't help me forget." She said before looking up at him again. He looked thoughtful, which strangely enough stopped her from crying. If he'd looked sympathetic she would have lost it but his lack of reaction actually strengthened her own resolve.

"Why the sudden interest Shirley, I would have thought you'd be skipping out on this as well." She asked and he let her go to check on the now bubbling concoction he'd left on the counter. Looking back at her he frowned.

"John fights dirty.' He said simply and she cracked up. He was so chuckling to and John walked in.

"Charlie?" He asked, looking ready for yet another rejection. She knew he'd been eavesdropping and sighed.

"If my aunt hasn't given me enough reasons to like Christmas, what makes you think you could?" She asked and he grinned.

"Pure talent." He remarked and she smiled.

"Hey that was a smile, you can't take it back."

"John…"

"No that's it, it's going ahead as planned and you will be there."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." She muttered.

"You will." God, she wanted to hit them both. Sherlock was smirking into a crucible as she stalked off.

John POV:

As soon as Charlie was out of the room John looked over at Sherlock and rubbed his face tiredly.

"I think pulling teeth would have been easier." He remarked lightly and Sherlock shrugged.

"Really, I thought that went well."

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About her parents?"

"I knew they were dead."

"Did you know they died on Christmas?"

"It wasn't hard to deduce."

"Sherlock…"

"John."

"You're impossible. How was it?" He asked and his friend's head snapped up quick enough to cause severe whiplash.

"The baby?" John clarified and Sherlock's face became a little guarded.

"It was fine." He said and went back to the crucible. John continued to look at him until he looked up again, making the dark haired man sigh and put the chemicals away.

"John it was a baby, nothing more nothing less…"

"It's Charlie's baby." John remarked and Sherlock paused.

"Yes it is." He said and John was almost sure the man sounded bitter.

"Have you asked her outright who the father is?"

"No, it's her business."

"Since when have you cared about that?"

"Since…"

"Yes?"

"Never mind. Haven't you got decorating to do?"

"Possibly but this is far more interesting."

"John just leave it." Sherlock begged and John felt a jolt rip through him as he saw a flash of pain flare in his friend's usually expressionless blue eyes.

"Alright, what are you going to get her?"

"I have no idea."

"Christmas is in a few days, you might want to hurry."

"Yes sir." Sherlock muttered as he moved to the door.

"Oh and Sherlock?" John asked as he stirred the coffee he'd been making while they talked. The detective paused, hand on his jacket.

"Babies like music." He said and turned away. His friend strode off with a sniff and John grinned into his coffee. Those two were going to be fine.

Charlie POV:

She could hear music as she approached 221 Baker Street. She pulled her coat closer around her and with a small sigh opened the door and mounted the stairs. Her aunt stood at the top of the stairs.

"Oh Charlie dear you're home I th…" Her voice trailed off as she took in her niece's appearance. Charlie grinned and walked into her room, changing quickly into her dress as 'We wish you a merry Christmas' drifted down the hall. She took in the shimmering green dress she'd bought on a whim a few days previous and sighed.

"Here goes nothing." She muttered, pulling a brush through her hair, attaching a pair of ear rings and steeping into her heels as she went. Sherlock finished with a flourish as she stepped into the room and she clapped along with the others. He looked up and his eyes widened a fraction as they took her in, everyone's gazes followed his and she felt her cheeks heat slightly as Lestrade, John, his latest girlfriend and her aunt all stared. Lestrade looked like someone had hit him in the face and John simply smiled, despite the shock in his face.

"Too much?" She queried and a hand went up to touch her newly cut hair. It reached just past her ears once more and a long side fringe shielded the left side of her face. The strapless green dress she wore made her eyes and hair stand out, reaching to just below her knees it fanned out from just above her baby bump, effectively covering it. A strap of black satin wrapped around her waist just below her breast which were covered by a sweet heart neckline. Her heels were only two inches and black.

"You look beautiful." Her aunt assured her and remembering Sherlock's performance Charlie grinned and clapped her hands.

"That was great Shirley." She said and he bowed melodramatically.

"Lovely, Sherlock! That was lovely!" Mrs Hudson applauded.

"Marvellous." John said.

"I wish you could have worn the antlers!" Aunty Em announced, and Charlie smiled as John handed her a drink. She glanced at it and paled.

"No alcohol remember?" She said and her hand went to her belly. John smacked himself on the forehead and replaced the champagne with lemonade. She sighed as Sherlock got Jeanette's name wrong, again.

"No, no I can do this. Sarah was the doctor and then there was the one with the spots and then the one with the nose…who was after the boring teacher?"

"No-one." Replied Jeanette frostily.

"Jeanette! Ah, process of elimination." Sherlock announced and Charlie hid her laugh as a choking fit. Sherlock winked surreptiously by the fireplace. The sound of feet on the stairwell made her turn and she grinned as Molly appeared on the landing, several bags in tow. Rushing to take them she smiled at the unfortunate mortician.

"Molls! Merry Christmas!" She announced and kissed her cheek,

"There's wine or champagne ready if you want it?"

"Ooh, champagne please!" She grinned as she peeled off her coat. Her dress was black with a line of sparkling fake diamonds along the top and spaghetti straps holding it up. She looked fantastic and as she took in Charlie's dress her own eyes sparkled.

"You looked beautiful." She whispered and Charlie smiled.

"Me, look at you… stunning." She said and the brunette grinned. They walked into the room and giggling a little Charlie smiled as John muttered 'Holy Mary' and Lestrade's jaw dropped.

"Thanks! Thought I'd show it off. Christmas drinks then?"

Mrs Hudson nodded.

"It's the one day a year where the boys have to be nice to me." She muttered and Charlie nodded although her expression turned wistful.

Lestrade offered Molly a drink and she blushed. Charlie turned as she overheard John and Sherlock bickering again, honestly even on Christmas… not that it mattered too much.

"You've got a photograph of me wearing that hat?" Sherlock demanded.

"People like the hat."

"No they don't…what people?" Charlie sniggered and took a sip of her lemonade as Lestrade approached.

"How are you?" He asked and she nodded tiredly.

"Still working and healthy, can't complain." She said and he shook his head.

"How's the baby?" He asked.

"Just started kicking for real." She announced proudly and the kind inspector grinned.

"Aha a soccer player, do you know what it is yet?"

"I want a surprise, I don't get enough of them anymore."

"You're serious? Of course you are." He muttered and she laughed. Molly's voice could be heard making a joke but no-one really laughed. Cautiously Charlie continued to speak and the room picked up once more.

"I wasn't expecting to see you, I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas?"

"That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife, we're back together. It's all sorted." He sounded very tired, but smiled. Charlie bit her lip and hoped to hell Sherlock wouldn't…

"No she's sleeping with a PE teacher." He noted and Charlie smacked him upside the head as Lestrade's face fell. Molly tried to restart conversation.

"And John I hear you're visiting your sister?"

"Yeah." He said and a proud look came onto his face.

"First time ever she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze."

"Nope." Sherlock corrected, Charlie was a hand's breadth from throwing her drink at him but refrained. It was after all Aunty Em's Christmas party.

"Shut up Sherlock!" John's protest warned him he was being an ass, but he still persevered. There was a glint in his eye that spelt danger, and it landed on the unfortunate Molly.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." He said and Charlie froze. Everyone in the room froze and Charlie felt her stomach drop as Sherlock went on.

"What? Sorry, what?" Molly frowned, standing in the middle of the room she had no protection from the oncoming storm.

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

"Sherlock, shut up and have a drink." Lestrade tried, his face was becoming hard as granite. Charlie squeezed her glass hard unable to call out, which was a first. Her knuckles whitened and she bit her lip. "Oh, come on, surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag. Perfectly wrapped, with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. The paper is familiar… It's for someone special then. And you're serious about him, suggested by the fact that you're giving him a gift at all…" He stopped to read the card and fell silent. Charlie felt the glass in her hand crack as she looked over at Molly who looked as though someone had just carved her heart out of her chest, threw it to the ground and danced upon it. Fighting the urge to hit him she walked over and took the little, lovingly wrapped parcel from his hands. He looked at her, stark realisation in his eye, her own narrowed and she subtly indicated to Molly who had begun to cry.

"You always say such horrible things. Always. To me, to John. Always." She said stiffly. Sherlock looked away then back at her, walking over he leaned in. His words were barely audible for others but Charlie heard and smiled thinly.

"I am sorry, forgive me. Merry Christmas Molly Hooper."

He kissed her cheek. The poor girl's eyes fluttered shut for a moment and as he stepped back, Irene's breathy moan echoed through the flat. Molly started, simply beside herself with embarrassment by this point.

"That wasn't me!"

"No, it was me."

"My God, really?" Burst Lestrade from the kitchen. Charlie would have cackled but suddenly this Christmas had become just as bad as the last 18.

"My phone." He responded.

"Fifty seven." John piped up, Charlie bit her lip. He wasn't making this any easier.

"Fifty seven of those texts. The one's I've heard at least."

Charlie's glass finally smashed, her death grip finally shattering the thing and sending shards everywhere. Everyone turned to look and she stared down at the spreading crimson on her palms. Blood began to drip and she staggered backwards.

"Charlie!" Her aunt called but she ignored her. Stumbling she turned on her heel and grabbed her coat, wrenching it off the hook and taking to the stairs within seconds she was out in the frozen night air and pelting for all she was worth down the street. She could feel her tears streaming down her face, could feel them freezing to her face and mixing with the blood she accidently smeared across her face in the process of wiping them away. Finally she stopped, aware of how stupid she was being and collapsed against the brick wall of an under croft. She sat and wrapped the coat tighter around herself and tried in vain to see the silver lining… all the clouds in her vision were black.

Sherlock POV:

The whole flat was silent. After a single second John leapt to his feet and glared at Sherlock so spitefully if his eyes had made fire Sherlock knew he'd be history, and a pile of ash.

"Well Sherlock I hope your bloody pleased with yourself. Well done, you've really outdone yourself this time." He said and began to clap slowly and sarcastically. Everyone in the room stared between the two. Mrs Hudson suddenly burst into tears.

"She's bleeding, she out there bleeding… what are you going to do?" She demanded and John approached her, kneeling down and taking her shoulders gently.

"I'll go and find her." He said but Sherlock finally shook himself out of the daze he'd put himself in.

"No, I'll go." He said and moved past everyone to the door, grabbing his coat on the fly and jumping the stairs completely. He looked around the quiet street and saw a homeless man stumble down the street towards him. He approached and held out a five dollar note.

"Have you seen a woman, about this tall, red hair and bleeding?" He asked and the man peered up at him sadly.

"Yeah, but why should I tell you… seems to me she wants to be left alone." He said and Sherlock felt strangely uncomfortable beneath his stare.

"Did you hurt her?" The man asked and Sherlock tilted his head in thought.

"I hope not." He said after a moment and the old man smirked. He sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets before indicating with his head down the street.

"She flew that way, about two minutes ago… if you find her you better make it right." He said and moved off stumbling away into the snowy dark. Sherlock wasted no time and immediately took off down the road. A splash of blood caught his eye and then another. Slowly a trail formed out of the dark and he followed it until he could hear her. She was singing, something he hadn't heard her do in a very long time. He approached slowly, suddenly unsure how to react around her. Her hands were bloody, the snow around her was stained crimson. She had one hand wrapped around her stomach and the other held to her mouth, as though trying to stem the flow of choking sobs that threatened to spill out. Usually he would have sneered. Emotions threatened reasoning, they undermined the efforts of rationality, they were unpredictable and lead to mess and vulgarity yet somehow seeing Charlie cry herself into oblivion on a winter's street corner he couldn't find anything to say. No words of reason, no comforting reality. Just the two of them and her quiet sobs.

"Charlie?" He called out finally and she whirled around, staggering to her feet. Her hair was limp against her thin cheeks, her coat was soaked through and her skin was splashed with colour almost as vibrant as her hair. She looked awful and she knew it. Immediately she turned away.

"What do you want?" She asked and her words echoed off the tunnel around them.

"Please come back, everyone's worried about you." He said gently and she looked over her shoulder to sneer at him.

"Everyone you say? No Sherlock, no one cares. I have the luck of living with two men who find the cases involving death more thrilling than those of life, the only living family member I have that I can tolerate is unknowingly bringing back the worst memories of my life for the sake of one night's revelry and I'm three and a half months pregnant to a guy who…" She paused staring around herself as though suddenly lost.

"I'll ask you again Mr Holmes, what do you want?" She asked firmly and he sighed.

"For you to come back home." He said simply and she turned slowly to face him. Her green eyes seemed to blaze at him from beneath her newly cut fringe.

"I was ten when it happened." She remarked softly surprising him.

"The accident I mean. We were travelling back from a Christmas party, I remember being half asleep in the back seat… Francis and my Dad were arguing yet again and my Mum was laughing to herself, she always carried on like she knew some great private joke that no one else was ever allowed to know." She recounted wistfully. Her eye seemed to glaze over a little. She looked at him and beckoned him closer. He approached and she sat down against the wall, pulling him down beside her. They sat in silence for a while and she looked over at him and smiled.

"I freaked a few people out didn't I?" She asked and he rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how."

"I do."

There was silence and she sniffed slightly.

"Sherlock, I have a feeling that Irene… that something bad is going to happen to her." She said and he looked at her strangely.

"Is this a gut feeling?"

"Yes."

"You know my views on them?"

"Yes."

"And yet you still use them."

"I do because I'm a woman Sherlock, intuition is our greatest gift."

"That's crap and you know it."

"Prove to me that I'm wrong. Go on. Worse-case scenario I look like an idiot, or I'm completely right, depending on how you look at things." He looked at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and rested her head against his chest.

"See this is nice, I could live with this." She said quietly, almost to herself but he caught it. He gazed down at her and quirked a brow. About to speak he paused as his phone went off. Looking at the screen he groaned.

"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight." Mycroft's voice drifted through the phone and he frowned.

"We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters." He muttered and looked at Charlie.

"Loud speaker." She mouthed and he immediately switched it on.

"No, I mean you're going to find her dead."

Holy-god-damned-tomatoes that took a while, everyone wanting to use the only computer with internet in our house and shit. Well I hope you all liked it, I thought I might have more time to do the crash retelling but it just didn't work out that way. Review my darlings it gives me wings!