Back at the flat they were faced with an absolutely crazed . She'd been everywhere looking for them, not knowing if they had been hurt or not by the explosion. Kitty wrapped her arms around her grandmother and soothed her, much to the boy's relief. Sherlock couldn't stand how emotional women became.

"It's all okay, Gran. None of us are hurt." John gave Kitty a sharp look but she ignored him and continued to stroke her grandmother's hair. "We're all home safe and sound. John and Sherlock just took me to St. Bart's to meet Molly. She had a corpse for Sherlock to experiment on." The lies fell smoothly out of Kitty's mouth. She only hoped her grandmother hadn't been upstairs to the flat and seen her blood all over the floor. "I'm sorry I didn't call you right away."

"She had a pseudoseizure," John interjected. "So I'd like to keep an eye on her overnight to be sure she's alright." Mrs. Hudson nodded and released her tight hold on Kitty, a kerchief to her nose.

"Alright, if you think thats best." She sniffled. "I'll be down here, cleaning." Sherlock nodded everyones response for them and rushed Kitty up the steps before Mrs. Hudson became wise to the reality of the situation, while John stayed behind to calm her.

"You need to stop doing that, Sherlock." Kitty grumbled once they were in the upstairs flat. Sherlock stepped away from her and removed his coat, tossing it onto the couch.

"Doing what?" Sherlock griped. He had the urge to irritate her. Kitty groaned and sat on the couch, and then sprang right back up again when she realized she'd sat on something.

"Pushing me around, and throwing your coat about like a little boy." Kitty grabbed up the coat and began feeling it. The thick, heavy wool was scratchy against her fingers, but there was a silkyness to it. "This coat is black isn't it?" She asked curiously. Sherlock was surprised by her question.

"You can identify a garment's color by feeling it?" Sherlock asked, admittedly impressed. He could do the same but he'd never met anyone else who could.

"Of course I can." She said insulted. "How else am I supposed to tell." Sherlock shook his head at her defensiveness and began searching about for a mop and broom to shove at John the instant he returned. Kitty brought the collar of his coat to her face and took a deep breath. It smelled like rain, and old spice and… cigarettes? "Sherlock... " Kitty's brows were knit together and she was gnawing on her lip.

"Yes?" He said, paying her little mind.

"I thought John said you'd quit smoking." Sherlock froze before slowly turning to her. He watched as realization dawned on her face. He expected her to start attacking him for his weakness and tell John but she didn't. "I won't tell him." She said with a soft smile. "I am curious why you fell off the wagon though." He watched as her hands continued to search his coat. "Jesus, how tall are you?" She asked feeling the distance between the bottom hem and the collar. Before Kitty was able to comprehend what was happening the coat disappeared from her hands and they had been gently placed on a face. "Sherlock?" She squeaked out in surprise. Her only answer was the nod of the face where her hands had been placed. Her heart rate skyrocketed. Very cautiously she took his face to memory. She'd done it to many people but something felt terrifyingly intimate about doing it to Sherlock. He was very tall, and his cheekbones were high. His jaw wasn't particularly square, as her father had been but was more refined. He was utterly silent. Curiosity got the best of her and she ran her fingers through his hair. It was curly. Sherlock shivered before stepping away and leaving an awkward space between them. "Sorry." She said with a frown.

"No." He said sounding a bit shaken. "It was... fascinating." John started clomping up the stairs and Sherlock put distance between them. Kitty could barely hear his footsteps. He's like an enormous cat. She mused. Then her subconscious came forward. I wonder if he purrs?

"John, where is the broom?" Sherlock demanded, his back to Kitty. John looked at him confused.

"You're going to sweep?" John asked, sounding as though Sherlock had asked for a pretty pink tutu.

"Of course he isn't," Kitty chuckled. "I'll sweep, John, don't worry about it." Kitty picked up Sherlock's coat off the floor and set it on the sofa. John shook his head violently.

"No, no, no. You need to rest, and to get better." John commanded. Kitty's eyes narrowed and her face looked as though she was ready to kill.

"John, I appreciate that you're taking care of me, but if I am going to spend any amount of time in this bachelor pad I'm damn well going to clean it." Her voice sounded deceptively sweet but the threat was there, thinly veiled by her smile. John stared at her utterly shocked by her change of mood and found himself at a loss for words. Sherlock finally found the broom he'd been looking for and walked over to Kitty before wrapping her hand around the broom handle. She was startled for a moment but smiled graciously.

"Thanks, Babe." She used the familiar term without thinking about it. She called all of her friends 'Babe' so it didn't really hit her that it might be considered strange.

"Are you blushing?" John blurted out. Kitty knit her brows together confused. "Not you," John said in response to her look. "Sherlock." The detective whipped around and disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"What did I do?" Kitty couldn't follow that man's moods worth a damn.

"Did I miss something between you too?" John asked sounding both pleased and frustrated at once. Kitty was startled.

"What?" She had no idea where that had come from.

"You just made the most emotionless man I've ever met blush." John stated, not bothering to hide his astonishment. Kitty laughed and shook her head.

"You're funny, John." She didn't believe him. Sherlock Holmes couldn't possibly possess a blush button. Without anymore thought to John, Kitty quickly braided her hair and set about sweeping up the broken glass. She could hear it crunching, and clattering as she moved. She was extremely systematic with her movements, imagining in her mind that she was painting a wall and picturing each stroke as a splash of color. When she had thoroughly swept the floor John spoke up.

"I'm going to the store to get milk. Would you like anything?"

Kitty smiled and nodded.

"Grab some pasta, alfredo sauce, and a few chicken breasts please. I'd like to make dinner later." John must have nodded at her because he left without replying. She had grown used to inserting gestures like that into a conversation whenever there was silence in place of an answer. Kitty put her hands on her hips and thought for a moment. Now where would they keep the dust pan?

"I assume you'll be needing the dust pan." Sherlock's voice appeared from very near to Kitty and made her jump and shriek. She could have sworn she'd heard him snigger.

"God dammit, Sherlock!" She hissed, clutching her chest. "Don't do that!"

"Do what? It isn't my fault you failed to notice me." Sherlock sounded as though he was sitting in his chair, which Kitty had been right next to for some time. Kitty glared at him and they fell silent. Neither of them were quite sure what to say. Sherlock's arm, which he would later claim had moved of it's own accord, reached up and wrapped around Kitty, yanking her into his lap.

"What are you doing?" Kitty squeaked, both peeved and surprised. He was warm, and firm underneath her, causing her to flush and her stomach to jump into her throat. She'd had boyfriends but had never sat in their laps, so sitting in a man's lap was completely foreign to her.

"Experimenting." The way his voice curled innocently around the word made Kitty want to do him harm for the third time that day.

"I'm not a severed head!" Kitty grumbled, trying to stand, but Sherlock held her fast, his strong arms tightening around her waist.

"As I'm painfully aware." Sherlock growled. It was a deep rumbly sound that did an ungodly thing to Kitty's insides. He was silent for a moment, considering how her close proximity made the muscles in his stomach tighten. "I must be allergic to you." He didn't feel as jovial as he sounded. He didn't like the conclusions he was coming to about the correlation between his recent stomach ailment and Miss Hudson.

"The feeling is mutual." Kitty mumbled, pinching her eyes shut and trying to calm the nerves in her stomach. Sherlock took Kitty's chin in his hand and turned her to face him.

"Open your eyes." He punctuated his words with a note of demand that made Kitty want to melt. She didn't want to react to this strange man, but hell if she could stop herself. Her eyes fluttered open and Sherlock examined them. They were fully dilated and her breathing was shallow. He felt his own body tighten like one of the string's on his violin. "You're aroused, Kitty." He was surprised at how strained his own voice sounded. He was used to having complete control over himself and she was taking that ability away from him.

"What are you gonna do about it?" She retorted, her voice soaked with a shocking amount of sass. Kitty couldn't believe she'd said it. Sherlock felt himself snap. He pressed his lips hard against hers, one of his hands grabbing her braid and tugging at it. Kitty gasped against his lips, almost causing him to pull back but she pressed herself against him and nipped at his bottom lip. Any chance she'd had of him releasing her flew out the window. His free arm snaked underneath her and lifted her so that she was straddling his lap causing them both to groan. Kitty felt electricity over every inch of her. They kissed hungrily, Kitty's hands tangled into Sherlock's curls and gripped them. Sherlock inhaled sharply, startling Kitty. She released his curls but he gave her braid a tug and shook his head.

"Don't you dare stop." He growled. Then his lips were on her neck, leaving hot, delicious kisses all over her flesh. Kitty gripped tightly onto his curls and pressed her hips against him. Her thoughts were completely erased by the feeling of his hands, and lips on 'd never thought a man could want her as she was, let alone that anything like this could happen. The boyfriends she'd had in the past had only wanted her money. She was completely mentally unprepared for it and she found herself lacking the control to make it stop. But do I really want it to? Her subconscious purred.

Then everything came to a screeching halt.

"Oh Jesus." John gasped, dropping whatever groceries he'd been carrying. Kitty yelped and tried to jump up but Sherlock held her fast. Someone may as well have dumped a bucket of cold water on them. Sherlock was giving John a death glare, but his voice was soft as he spoke.

"For god's sake, Kitty, we're grown adults, not a pair of unruly teenagers." Kitty flushed and felt ashamed of herself. She pushed away from Sherlock and slapped his hands away when he tried to pull her down again.

"Doesn't anything embarrass you?" She snapped, as she tried to right herself. Her shirt was pulled up to an indecent level and her hair was a tangled mess. Sherlock frowned at her before directing his fury at John.

"You have horrible timing." He growled. Kitty's subconscious did a dance at the sound of his frustration but she mentally slapped herself and tried to control her pounding heart rate.

"Me?" John yelled, absolutely astounded. "I'm not exactly the one taking advantage of our house guest!" His second sentence was hushed so that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't hear but he made it clear just how furious he was. Sherlock rolled his eyes and straightened his wrinkled shirt.

"Oh please, John, we both know you would have if she hadn't been attracted to me." Sherlock's nonchalance sparked a fury like which hell hath not.

"Sherlock!" Kitty shrieked at him. Sherlock glowered at her.

"I'm simply stating fact." He didn't sound at all sorry. Kitty's mouth fell open at how infuriating he was. She couldn't even believe she had just been tangled up with him.

"Who says I'm attracted to you." She snapped, her hands balling into fists. She heard Sherlock snigger.

"I should hope you don't kiss men whom you find unatractive that way." Sherlock sounded too cocky for his own good. Kitty opened her mouth to yell at him again but just ended up throwing her hands in the air with a frustrated groan and stomped into the kitchen where she began to clean furiously.

"So what brought all this on then?" John chewed the words out. Sherlock looked at him with a devilish grin that made John fight the urge to shoot him.

"I believe we were discussing the dust pan."

For the next few hours John forced his frustrations onto the daily newspaper and Kitty scrubbed the kitchen within an inch of it's life. Sherlock seemed to be the only one in a relatively good mood. He'd taken up his violin and began playing. Kitty grumbled to herself as she scrubbed horrendous piles of dishes and worked her way around the kitchen. She scolded herself over and over again. She was a grown woman, not some hormonal school girl. She was horrified that she had just made a pretty little trollop out of herself. She didn't even like the man! That thought brought on a whole new wave of fury. The innocent cup she'd been scrubbing for nearly ten minutes would have cried out should it have been animated. Sherlock Holmes doesn't like anybody. She cruelly reminded himself. How many other girls has he done that to anyway? She was filled to the brim with anger and self loathing. Every foul name for a lady of the evening flew through her mind and inflicted more self hatred then she had felt in awhile. I will not do that again.

She rinsed the cup and set it on the drying rack next to the sink. She stood there for several moments here hands on either side of the sink supporting her. The front of her red sweater was soaked with soapy water and her hair was still a mess. She wanted to shout and cry but she wasn't going to allow herself that luxury. She pulled a pot off the drying rack and filled it with water before setting it to boil. Then she washed her hands and grabbed a cutting board and a knife. The chicken didn't deserve the amount of brutality she put into slicing it but she was too steamed to slow down.

About twenty minutes later she had calmed down a bit and the chicken alfredo was done.

"Dinner's ready." Kitty called, sounding more relaxed. Sherlock had ignored her cleaning frenzy rather successfully but he hadn't missed the message.

"Did you touch my experiments?" Sherlock eyed the kitchen table suspiciously looking for any sign that she'd touched anything.

"Seeing as how you have a severed head and several digits in your fridge, and are good friends with the woman who runs the morgue, no." Kitty's tone sounded frustrated, but not so much so as before. Sherlock was satisfied with her answer, and set his violin on the shelf. "Why in the hell do you have a severed head anyway?" Kitty asked as she began dishing the meal onto three plates.

"I'm measuring the rate of coagulation of saliva after death." Sherlock grinned when Kitty gave a disgusted shudder. "I should have thought a biologist would have a stronger stomach." Kitty paused and shook her head.

"I'm not going to give you the pleasure of telling me how you know that." Kitty grumbled. "Besides I don't bring experiments home and put them in my fridge!"

"Well where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock said sounding exasperated. "You don't mind do you?" Sherlock could have cared less if she did or not. "Besides, you couldn't possibly bring your experiments home. I'm sure your assistant doesn't make house calls to describe the data to you."

"It's your fridge." Kitty gave a disinterested shrug. She was going to ignore that last bit. She grabbed two plates and two sets of silverware and took the boys their food. John accepted it readily, but Sherlock ignored it.

"I don't eat, anything I don't cook." Sherlock taunted her. Kitty frowned and put her free hand on her hip.

"If that were true, Mr. Holmes you would have died of starvation years ago." She simply waited until he begrudgingly took the food.

"This is delicious, Kitty." John said between mouthfuls. Kitty smiled her thanks and went into the kitchen to grab her own food.

"What are you doing here Mycroft?" Kitty was startled by the blatant loathing in Sherlock's voice and ducked back out of the kitchen into the living room. A man wearing outrageously expensive cologne had come into the flat with steps as quiet as Sherlock's

"Ah, Miss Hudson, pleased to meet you." A cordial voice greeted her. The man took her hand and kissed it politely. "I'm Mycroft Holmes, my informants have told me quite a lot about you." Kitty tugged her hand away from the man and backed up a bit. He just screamed slimy, and had he said his surname was Holmes? In a moment Sherlock was between them, Kitty could sense that his usually unphased demeanor was replaced by outrage.

"I asked you what you were doing here." Sherlock's voice sounded cordial but behind it was thinly veiled disgust.

"Can't I simply visit my dear, little brother?" A long awkward silence strung out.

"Good lord," Kitty groaned. She couldn't stand one Holmes, but two?

"No." Sherlock stated simply.

"Shame," Mycroft chimed. "Something smells heavenly. You wouldn't happen to have a spare plate?" Mycroft moved past Sherlock and brazenly sat in his chair. Kitty had only made enough for three but she had been raised to never deny a guest a meal.

"Certainly." She said with a smile, before disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing a moment later with her own plate, which she handed to Mycroft.

"My, my what an angel." Mycroft praised as though he were speaking to a toddler. Kitty ignored him, gave a polite smile, and sat on the couch. A moment later a plate was set in her lap and Sherlock sat stiffly next to her on the couch.

"You're supposed to eat this, Sherlock." She said with a frown.

"I've lost my appetite." Sherlock grumbled. Kitty shrugged and began eating. She wasn't in the mood to argue.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" John asked, sounding every bit as awkward as the room felt.

"I have a case I need you to look into, Sherlock, that is of national importance." Mycroft's tone didn't sound at all interested in what he was saying. Must run in the family. Kitty thought. Leave it to a Holmes to be bored by a case of national importance.

"I can't." Sherlock stated without a second thought. Kitty almost choked on her food. Sherlock began plucking out random notes on his violin making Kitty cringe.

"Can't?" Mycroft mimed back.

"The stuff I've got on is too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock plucked out another hateful note.

"Nevermind your usual trivia, this is of national importance." Mycroft sounded rankled by his brother's refusal. Yet another aggravating wang rang out.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock asked, his voice thick with falsified concern. Kitty swatted his arm.

"Fine." Mycroft spat back. Somehow they managed to sound cordial despite the fact that they obviously hated each other. "Perhaps you can persuade him, Miss Hudson."

"What?" Kitty and Sherlock blurted out in unison. Sherlock's incessant plucking had stopped.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft's tone made Kitty bristle in offense.

"There's a certain charm to a man who knows where he stands." Kitty replied. She felt oddly protective of Sherlock. His brother, no matter how polite he seemed, was being a complete and utter jackass. If there was one thing Kitty didn't abide it was bullying.

"If you're so keen why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock began making noise once more, the sound of a grin clear in his voice.

"No,no,no,no I can't possibly spend any amount of time away from the office, especially with the Korean elections so…" Mycroft's sentence dropped off and Sherlock fell quiet. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this requires… legwork." The disdain in his voice was evident and it almost made kitty chuckle. "I'm sorry, Miss Hudson. How was the sofa?" Kitty frowned, her amusement gone.

"How- oh never mind." John sighed, setting his empty plate aside.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became… pals." Mycroft's attention had switched to John and Kitty realised she had been clutching her plate. Sherlock discreetly brushed a hand over her's in what could have been taken as a reassuring gesture. "What's he like to live with? Hellish I imagine." Kitty frowned and stood. She took everyone's empty plates into the kitchen and began washing the dishes, a keen ear on the conversation in the next room.

"I'm never bored." Hohn answered. Always the diplomat. Kitty smiled inwardly.

"Good! That's good isn't it?" Mycroft sounded disgustingly pleased with the answer. Sherlock's plucking had quieted. Kitty wondered if he was bothered by his brother's rudeness. Mycroft stood and Kitty heard paper's shuffled, followed by the whistle of air as Sherlock pointed his violin bow at his brother. Mycroft sighed and moved on to John. "Andrew West. Known as 'Westie' to his friends. Civil servant, found dead on the tracks this morning, his head smashed in." Kitty felt her stomach jump to her throat. What an awful way to go.

"Jumped in front of a train?" John plied.

"Seems the logical assumption." Mycroft took up the tone of an adult talking to a toddler once again.

"But?" Kitty interjected from the kitchen.

"But?" Mycroft mimed once more. Kitty shrugged and set down the last dish in the drying rack.

"You wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." She clarified as she dried her hands on her sweater and re entered the living room. She heard Sherlock give a pleased chuckle and fought back a rising blush. There was a long pause.

"The M.O.D is working on a new missile defense system. 'Bruce Partington Program' it's plans for it were on a memory stick." John snickered.

"That wasn't very clever."

"It's not the only copy." Mycroft sounded extremely offended. "But it is secret… and missing."

"Top secret?" John was egging Mycroft on, much to Kitty';s amusement.

"Very."

"So you think West took it?" Kitty hadn't meant to throw in her two cents worth but ti was an obvious line of thought.

"She is sharp isn't she?" Mycroft purred in approval. " We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." His tone took up a bit of urgency."You've got to find those plans Sherlock. Don't make me order you." Kitty felt her blood rise at Mycroft's audacity. Big brother or not, no one should be so bossy. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"I'd like to see you try." Sherlock's voice was deep with his challenge. Kitty fought back thoughts of how he had used that same voice on her only an hour or so before.

"Think it over." Mycroft turned, "Goodbye, John, Miss Hudson." He paused in front of Kitty for a moment. "Do see that he behaves for me." He whispered in a conspiratorial way. "I'll see you

very soon." He stated before stepping out the door. Sherlock began a ruckus of sharp notes to chase his brother out, and didn't stop until Mycroft was down the stairs.

"That was unpleasant." Kitty grimaced and shook off the heeby jeebys she had been left with.

"Why'd you lie?" John asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed absentmindedly.

"You've got nothing on." Sherlock hopped up and reclaimed his rightful seat. "Not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding." John was intent upon getting an answer.

"What happened to the wall?" Kitty interjected.

"He spray painted a smiley face on it and shot it up." John pushed out the answer as a side note.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock breathed in a dejected tone.

"Why did you tell your brother you were busy?" John was outright drilling him

"That's what that noise was." Kitty recalled hearing a lot of banging about a day or two ago but she hadn't thought it was gunshots.

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock grumbled.

"Oh- I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." John sounded tickled by the idea.

A phone rang, Kitty recognized it as Sherlock's and he patted about before finally finding it and answering.

"Sherlock Holmes." Kitty noticed that he lowered his voice a bit before answering the phone, as if to insure he sounded especially masculine to whoever had called. What a peacock. She thought. "Of course. How could I refuse?" Kitty's interest was piqued by his response. What could make Sherlock Holmes unable to refuse? Sherlock hung up and stood. "Lestrade. I've been summoned, coming?"

"Ifff you want me to." John stood as he spoke.

"Of course- I'd be lost without my blogger?" The two men readied themselves to leave. "Come along, Kitty, we don't have all day." Kitty jumped and followed the two men out.

"You want me to come?" She didn't bother to hide her surprise. She was also a bit excited, but who wouldn't be?

"You may prove useful." He said with an audible shrug. Kitty grabbed her blue coat from the hall and pulled it on as she hurried to keep up with the two long-legged men.

A surprisingly short Taxi ride later they arrived at Scotland Yard. Lestrade was waiting for them.

"Hello, Kitty." He gave her a nod and a friendly grin. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he began to lead the way. Kitty Stuck close to John, her arm wrapped companionably through his.

"Apparently I might be useful." She gave a shrug as they passed through a crowded office. She tried not to catch snippets of every conversation they passed but it was nearly impossible.

"You like the funny cases don't you?" Lestrade began. "The surprising ones."

"Obviously." Sherlock had changed modes. He'd been silent as a crypt in the taxi and his demeanor was focused. Like an animal on the hunt.

"Then you're gonna love this." Lestrade stated sounding ruefully sure of himself. They left the large crowded room and stepped into Lestrade's private office. "That explosion."

"Gas leak, yes?" Sherlock interjected.

"No."

"No?" Sherlock sounded surprised. Kitty imagined that she wouldn't hear that tone in his voice often.

"No, made to look like one." Kitty raised her brows in interest.

"What?" John blurted out.

"There was hardly anything left of the place, except a strong box. A very strong box, and inside it was this."

"And you haven't opened it." Sherlock didn't make it sound like a question.

"Well it's addressed to you, isn't it?" Lestrade replied.

"What is it John?" Kitty whispered to the doctor.

"Looks like a bit of post." John answered softly. Kitty nodded.

"We've x-rayed it. It's not booby trapped."

"How reassuring." Sherlock didn't bother hiding his snobbish tone. Kitty Heard the ruffle of paper, and assumed, whatever the item was, it had been picked up.

"Nice stationary, Bohemian." Sherlock had only just begun examining the item and was mumbling his deductions to himself.

"What?" Lestrade hadn't heard him.

"The stationery is from the Czech Republic." Kitty clarified.

"Jesus, are you sure you're blind?" Lestrade said jokingly.

"Of course she is, that's why here ears were sharp enough to hear me." Sherlock grumbled. "No fingerprints?" Sherlock pushed onward.

"No." Kitty released Johns arm and clasped her hands behind her back. Okay, keep you mouth shut and just listen. She told herself.

"She used a fountain pen. Parker- Dewer fold, iridium nib." Kitty's became openly impressed.

"She?" John was trying to keep up.

"Obviously." Sherlock stated.

"Obviously?" John repeated, a note of hurt in his voice. Sherlock didn't seem keen to answer.

"Women and men write much differently from each other, also whoever wrote it was wearing a peach scented hand cream." Kitty spoke up. She couldn't let Sherlock have too much fun making people feel like idiots. There was an irritation filled pause before Sherlock cut open the envelope and poured its contents into his gloved hand.

"That's- that's the phone- the pink phone!" Kitty could hear the shock in John's voice

"What you mean the phone from 'A Study in Pink?' "

"Well obviously it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like-. 'A Study in Pink'! You read his blog?" Sherlock's voice had begun the sentence thoughtful but mid way he became almost alarmed.

A woman entered the room, she smelled like bad coffee and hair care products.

"Course I read his blog, we all do." Lestrade made it sound as though the question was ridiculous. "Do you really not know that the earth goes around the sun?" Kitty cracked up at the idea. The woman behind her snorted in disdain. Kitty shot a glare at her. A good hearted chuckle was one thing but a bitch snort was another.

"Who's this then, Freak?" The woman apparently decided that opening her big mouth would be a good idea. The smell of hard Martinis came off her in a haze. "Thing two? You've got the whole set now, don't you, Freak?"

"Who in the hell are you calling, freak?" Kitty snapped. "You're the bitch who is so hung over she can't walk a straight line. Maybe next time you should use some mouthwash instead of coffee so that you're not spewing aerosolized martini mix." Kitty straightened herself and waited for a response. None came. The woman just rushed out.

"I can see why you keep her around." Lestrade chuckled.

"It isn't the same phone." Sherlock continued as if nothing had happened. "This one's brand new, someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means, your blog has a far wider readership." A moment later a computerized voice began to chirp.

" You have one new message." Then four short beeps and a long beep followed.

"Was that it?" John asked confused.

"No that's not it." Sherlock sounded as though he was chewing on his lip. Then the phone dinged to notify them of a message.

"Well what the hell are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade didn't sound pleased. Kitty felt all at once frustrated with her blindness. How on earth was she supposed to be helpful if she couldn't see? "An estate agent's photo and the bloody greenwich pips?"

"It's a warning" Kitty could hear an edge of excitement in Sherlock's voice.

"A warning?" John repeated.

"Some secret societies used to send melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us that it's going to happen again." His deep voice rose as he became more intrigued. He took in a sharp breath. "I've seen this place before!" He announced before before stalking out of the room. He didn't leave however without catching Kitt's hand and stringing her along behind him.

"Hang on, what's going to happen again?" John asked Kitty's question for her. Sherlock simply paused for a moment and turned to them.

"Boom!" His voice had a gruesome amount of excitement in it. All too late Kitty began to wonder what she had gotten herself into.