Andy ended up spending the night in 221B. She hadn't meant to, but she had drifted off while reading through an account of several particularly chilling serial suicides. John had titled the case "A Study in Pink" on his blog, but Andy found that the actual case file offered much more intriguing information. Sherlock had evidently been through the file as he worked on the case, and his observations were scribbled along the margins. Those had proved to be almost as interesting as the actual case itself.

As morning dawned, Sherlock walked sleepily out of his room. He had managed to snap out of his thoughts sometime after midnight and had stumbled into bed. There, he had spent a bit more time thinking before indulging himself in a brief nap. As he walked into the living room, clad in nothing but a dressing gown and some pyjama bottoms, he noticed that Andy had fallen asleep in John's chair. She was still dozing, her neck craned at an awkward angle. For a moment, Sherlock considered waking her and throwing her out, but, evidently, she had spent quite a few hours in his presence the previous night without bothering him excessively, so he deemed that she was alright where she was, at least for the moment.

Sherlock instead climbed the stairs to John's room and knocked once before entering.

"Make me tea," he commanded in a voice loud enough to cause John to wake up.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock," the sleepy man mumbled, rubbing his eyes and glancing over at the clock. "It's seven in the morning, on my day off, and I deserve a bit of a lie in. Make your own tea."

Sherlock smiled slightly. The conversation always went this way at first, but he knew how it would ultimately end. "I expect a mug of tea in my hand within the next fifteen minutes."

"No, Sherlock. Why can't you make it yourself?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I have a case. I need to think. Making tea would distract me; hence, you need to make it for me." He added as an afterthought, "You'd be helping in the apprehension of a brutal serial killer, if it makes you feel any better."

John heaved a frustrated sigh and tossed his pillow at Sherlock. The detective hadn't been paying attention and let out a satisfying oomf when the pillow made contact with his face. John snickered and dragged himself out of bed.

"I really hate you sometimes," he muttered darkly.

Sherlock merely grinned in reply.

~oOo~

One week later, John was called into the surgery, despite the fact that it was his day off. Apparently, they were horribly understaffed and were in desperate need of another competent doctor. From the phone call he had received, he was able to gather that there had been a massive surge of patients and that his medical expertise was desperately needed. John, naturally, accepted this as a part of his duty as a healer and was hurriedly preparing to leave just as Andy knocked on the door.

"Sorry, can't chat," he said to her, bypassing all usual greetings. "I've got to get to work."

"Oh, okay then," she replied, confused by John's frenzied actions as he attempted to get himself ready.

He was pulling on his shoes, though he managed to fall over and accidentally fling one shoe across the room. He murmured a curse under his breath as he chased after it. Sherlock watched from the couch with a very amused smirk, laughter in his eyes.

"I was just wondering if you have some notes on those cases I read about," Andy said, fighting a smile as John got his fingers caught in the shoelaces. "I finished the case files but I wanted to know if you had any more details on them."

"Sure, over there," he mumbled, distracted. He gestured toward the desk. "Top drawer. Take whatever you want." Having finally succeeded with his shoes, he walked over toward the coat rack and picked up his jacket. "Alright, I'll be back as soon as possible, but there's no telling how long they'll need me. Andy, if you're going to stay up here while you look over those notes, make sure Sherlock gets some dinner."

Sherlock crossed his arms grumpily. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Says the man acting like a petulant child," John grumbled in reply. "Sherlock, play nice. Andy, don't let him bully you. And, please, please, don't burn down the flat before I get back."

With that, John ran out the door, shouting a brief apology to Mrs. Hudson as he nearly ran her over in his haste.

There was a momentarily awkward pause in the flat as Andy and Sherlock listened to John's departure. They both remained silent, though this was very different than the thoughtful quiet that they had experienced during their last encounter. This silence was distinctly uncomfortable, as the two—both of whom were admittedly socially awkward in most respects—weren't really sure what to do without their common acquaintance around.

Sherlock eventually cleared his throat and opened up a nearby file. He began to review the facts of the newest case he had been brought in to investigate (the serial killer who had targeted those unsuspecting couples had been caught four days earlier). Andy followed his lead and walked over toward the desk to fetch John's case notebook. She occupied herself with this, seating herself once more in John's armchair.

Andy and Sherlock remained wrapped up in their own projects, together in the same room but very much alone with their thoughts. Neither of them spoke a word for nearly an hour, and it was only after Andy's stomach growled rather loudly that Sherlock snapped out of his own deductions.

"Dinner?" he asked, already standing up and striding over to fetch his coat and scarf.

"Um, sure, I guess," she replied uncertainly. "What for?"

"Can't a man take out his friend for dinner?" He smiled and tried to look as if his motives were completely innocent.

Andy raised an eyebrow. "Well, sure, but—in case you hadn't noticed, Sherlock—we're not exactly friends. The last time I was up here, you spent the entire night ignoring me, and this is only the second conversation we've ever had. I know you don't really care about me all that much, so there's got to be some other reason you want to take me out to dinner."

Sherlock sighed, letting his act fall. "Fine, it's for a case."

"A case?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Repetition was dull. "Yes, a case—weren't you listening? Yesterday, a robbery gone wrong resulted in the death of Mr. and Mrs. Clutter. It was obvious that murder hadn't been the thief's intention, but—"

"Wait," Andy interrupted. "How do you know that?"

Sherlock made a face as if the question personally offended him. "If the thief had intended to kill, he would have brought some sort of weapon with him, but he didn't. Mr. Clutter was killed by a blow to the head with one of his own old sports trophies, and Mrs. Clutter died after being pushed down the stairs."

"Oh, right, of course," Andy mumbled. It really did seem quite obvious when spelled out like that.

"Anyway," Sherlock said loudly, pointedly. "I've got evidence that suggests that a waiter named Jack Thurmer committed the crime, but so far, he's refused to cooperate with the police, and until we get anything more substantial, we can't bring him in for questioning."

"So you want to go out to dinner to get evidence on a waiter?"

Sherlock nodded. Finally she was catching on. "Precisely."

"Why exactly do I need to be there?"

A little smirk made its way into Sherlock's expression. "Well, it would look a bit conspicuous for a man to be dining alone; who knows what might set Thurmer on edge. He'd be much more at ease if there were two of us. Also, I know you're actually quite eager to come with me." He held up his hand to stop her from retorting. "Don't deny it. You write mystery novels for a living. Are you telling me that someone, whose job depends on having a firm grasp of the macabre, isn't willing to participate in an ongoing murder investigation?" Before she could answer, he added, "Besides, genius needs an audience, and with John gone and the skull being rather annoyingly quiet, you'll have to fill in that role for the time being."

Andy actually smiled a bit. "Alright then," she replied. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

Please remember to review! I'd really like to know what you think of this chapter and of the story as a whole so far.