The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I'd've given Mycroft someone to love. That man may be the British Government but he still needs some love! Oh and a little warning, this is going to be a long chapter.


"Why couldn't you just come here? I look like a bloody lunatic walking around with a laptop that has your face on it."

"Oh do shut up John. This case is a three."

"A three?! The man up and died in the middle of nowhere and you've told me it wasn't the driver, who was the only other person out here."

"Precisely. Now go back to the water's edge."

"Bloody git. Why didn't you send Carter with me at the very least?"

"She needs her sleep. If you wanted her to join you, you should have woken her up. Mind you, I find it best to let sleeping bears lie."

"I'm telling her that you called her a bear." John said, knowing full well that he was acting childish but he was walking around with a computer. The looks from the officer's was enough to put the ex-army medic in a foul mood. Not to mention the fact that he was woken up at three in the morning by Sherlock.

"Well, this case is sol…What are you doing in here? Get out. I didn't invite you."

John looked to the computer as he heard Sherlock and another man conversing.

"We're here to take you to your brother. Get up and get ready." Said a masculine voice. John rolled his eyes. Bloody Mycroft and his bodyguards.

"I'm finishing up a case. Tell him he can wait."

"He requests your presence immediately."

"Don't touch that!" John watched as Sherlock reached for the laptop but he was too slow.

"Sir!"

John turned around, closing the laptop as he felt a headache coming on.

"It's for you."

John held out his hand, expecting the man to hand over a mobile phone.

"No Sir; the helicopter."

"Helicop-" He shielded his eyes and spotted the flying machine. "Right."

''

"Put some clothes on Sherlock."

"No. You insisted you see me immediately and I'm rather comfortable here in my bed sheet."

John held a hand to his mouth, trying to subdue the laughter that was threatening to bubble up.

"Have you got anything on under there?" John asked, seeing Sherlock wrapped in his sheets, sitting on a lounge in Buckingham Palace.

"No."

"Okay. What are we doing in Buckingham Palace?"

At that moment, Mycroft walked through the open double doors and entered the room.

"Seeing the Queen, apparently."

The two men shared a laugh as Mycroft sneered at them, having caught the 'Queen' comment before introducing them to a man named Henry.

"What's so amusing Doctor Watson?"

"Nothing; nothing at all. Sorry." He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

The attention of all four men was quickly diverted towards the sounds of footsteps approaching from the main hall.

Carter, being kindly escorted by a burly man, stood before them in nothing but her undergarments and a flimsy, knee-length singlet-top. As if that wasn't odd enough, she sported a smug smirk and had blood on her forehead.

"Morning boys. Oh, Mycroft, darling, you'll be needing a new person on 'Carter Watch'. You're other Agent has been otherwise incapacitated. A rather unfortunate accident befell him on the way out of my apartment." She sent him a devious grin, eyes sparkling. "What did I do?" She asked, then proceded to answer her own question. "Nothing much, honestly, but the next time one of your people puts their hands on me, I'm going to kill them, okay? This one here tried to rope in that arsehole but it seems he had a bit of hearing problem."

A strangled laugh escaped the mouth of Doctor John Watson. He was thoroughly amused at the moment. His morning had started off awfully but now…at least he hadn't been 'incapacitated' by Carter. She was a fierce fighter, that one.

Carter made her way over to the boys and went to sit in the middle of them when Sherlock simply grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He set her down on the edge of his legs and wrapped her up in one half of his bed sheet. She let out an indignant squeak.

John raised an eyebrow but had gotten used to Sherlock's possessiveness when it came to the Linguist. There was, apparently, nothing going on between them but despite his constant denial, Sherlock had grown much too fond of the woman.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft all but shouted at his brother.

"Yes, Mycroft? Is there a problem?"

"A problem? You're being entirely inappropriate. Carter: get up."

"No. She's perfectly fine right here." Sherlock said, smiling at his brother.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for sharing your bed sheet with me." Carter said, dramatically batting her eyelashes, her words coming out in a sugary tone.

"Well, it's not like it's the first time or anything." His smile was now a smug smirk, not unlike the one Carter had walked in with.

Mycroft was getting steadily angry and it seemed he had enough.

"You will both leave the room and get some clothes on, now!"

"I'd just like to point out that I would have been dressed had it not been for your employee barging into my bathroom while I was showering."

"Now Mycroft, isn't that entirely inappropriate behaviour?" Sherlock asked, a look of mock disappointment on his face.

"Why are we here?" John asked, hoping to redirect their attention before an infamous Holmes Argument began.

"My client has requested your services, Mr Holmes." Henry answered.

"I don't work for anonymous clientele."

"You may be interested in this case, Sherlock. It's a power play." Mycroft informed them.

"Really?" He asked, the word nothing but a bored drawl.

"Irene Adler, a dominatrix, has some photographs of herself with my client; photographs that would no doubt ruin my client's life if they were to become public."

"Not Adler." Carter sighed.

"What do you know?" Mycroft asked, eyes narrowing.

"I know who the client is." Henry's polite smile disappeared completely as Carter turned to address him. "I know exactly how much of a problem those photos will cause; there must be something she wants. The question is: why hasn't she just told you what her terms are?"

"You're bluffing." Henry said.

"If you'd like me to say her name out loud I will." Henry decided to be quiet as he turned an alarming shade of red.

"Rest assured Henry, Carter will not breathe a word about your clients name. Isn't that right, Carter?"

"My lips are sealed."

"You'll find Ms Adler at her home in Belgravia. You may take my car."

Sherlock stood, Carter obviously had to and John followed along.

"Well I suppose we've no option. Let's get this over with."

As the trio went to leave, Mycroft placed a foot on the bed sheet as it trailed along floor. Carter almost jumped when she was held fast by Sherlock, hands at her hips, keeping her in front of him.

"John, would you mind picking up my sheet?"

"You're sheetless?" Carter asked, voice in an unusually high octave as John scrambled about, handing Sherlock his sheet.

"Thank you."

"I am sick and tired of you acting like a child Sherlock. Go and put some clothes on now!"

"Could I maybe get something too? It's getting a little chilly." Carter asked. "On second thoughts, no; I'll go home and change. Wouldn't want to risk being given some of your clients, uh-hum, clothes."

''

"Well I can't say this is what I expected when I walked in." Carter said.

"And who are you?" Irene asked, standing up and walking around the woman. "Is this the reason why you're not attracted to me Mr Holmes? She is very striking. What's your name?"

"Carter." John piped up, looking completely flustered as Irene stalked about the room naked. "Her name's Carter. I'm John, John Watson, in case you wanted to know."

Carter pulled off her coat and offered the item to Irene, who took it.

"I'm afraid my friend doesn't know quite where to look." Sherlock explained.

"On the contrary I think he knows exactly where to look. This is a comfortable coat Carter. Where did you get it?"

"Let's not lose focus on the more important things in life, Ms Adler. I interrupted your conversation with Sherlock. Please, continue."

Irene raised an eyebrow at her and Sherlock began speaking.

"What is it that you want?"

"I've told you before: nothing. You're not getting my phone let alone the pictures Mr Holmes."

Irene attempted to flirt with Sherlock as they conversed: Sherlock attempting to extract as much information as he possibly could as Carter stood by the window. Soon enough though, the sounds of an alarm rang throughout the house. Carter looked to Irene, as did Sherlock who then made his way over to a portrait that was hanging above a mantel piece.

"When there's a fire, a mother will immediately look to her children as they are the most precious thing to them; you looked immediately at this picture." He pressed a button on the underside of the mantel, revealing a safe. "I hope there's not a child in there. You can shut it off now John." He called out.

"I'll go help him. The noise is getting irritating. Why couldn't the alarm be a song? 'Oh, I'm on fire.'" She sang as she exited the room.

"A little help would be appreciated." John muttered, running about like a madman.

Carter moved a table, positioning it under one of the alarms, and climbed atop trying her best to reach it. She looked down at John who looked back up at her.

"I'm expecting you to catch me if I fall, I hope you know that John." She jumped up, missing the button before she realigned herself and tried again. "Success!"

Both her and John were a little more than surprised when another alarm sounded, but not as much as they were when a group of men came storming through, grabbing them up as they went along.

"Where is Adler?" A blonde man asked, pressing a gun into the side of Carter's head.

"Who?"

"Bring 'em."

"We'll be right, mate." She said to him. "Don't worry."

John's eye twitched. Don't worry? Don't worry?! He knew Carter to be a bit odd at times but he couldn't understand why she looked bored by this turn of events and since when did she use the word 'mate'?

"Okay, on the floor Ms Adler." He commanded as they all entered the room.

"Sorry." John said, offering the Detective his apologies.

"So, Bernie, how's the wife?"

"Don't test my patience this time Carter." John should have known. The way that man glared at her when they walked in should have alerted him to the fact that Carter knew this man and had obviously pissed him off in some way. "I'll deal with you another day. Right now though, I would like you," he said, indicating to Sherlock by nodding his head at him, "to open up the safe."

"I don't know the code."

"You're reputation precedes you, Sherlock Holmes though I think you're smart enough to break into a safe."

"I'm flattered, I assure you, but that will not help the situation. I don't know the code."

"Okay. Kill the man and I'll kill Carter. On the count of three. One," he knocked Carter to her knees, "Two," he cocked the gun and readied to fire. Before he could utter the word 'three' Sherlock had shouted out 'wait!'.

A second later he had typed in what he believed to be the code and, hearing a rather odd sound as it opened, said 'Vatican Cameos' before ducking to the floor, Carter and John jumping to the sides as Irene flattened herself onto the ground.

"Quickly now." He said, running out of the room, clutching onto Carter's arm and dragging her along with him.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Away from here. I thought that would be obvious John."

"Then why the bleeding Hell are we going up the stairs?"

"We're jumping out the window."

"Good joke Sherlock; you're getting funnier with each passing near-death experience." Carter said.

"I wasn't joking Carter."

They got to the landing when Sherlock released Carter's arm and promptly lost his balance. He tilted his head and tried to stand up straight, only to fall to the ground in confusion. What the hell was happening?

"Oh God no; you drank the tea didn't you? What have I told you lot about accepting food from strangers?! John, what about you?"

"I didn't drink or eat anything."

"Good. Someone with common sense. Help me with him would you? He's going to be a little out of it for a good six hours at the very least."

"She drugged him?"

"Of course she drugged him." Carter stood at a window and peered out. "This is about as good a place as any. You go first, I'll lower him to you, I'll jump out and then we wait for Lestrade. Why on Earth would he the tea?" She asked herself.

"Wait for Lestrade?" John said confused. He then promptly dropped to the floor when he heard gun shots. "What the bloody Hell Carter?!" The Linguist had pulled a gun from God knows where and proceded to unload it into the air.

"Easiest way to get the police here. They're probably on their way already though; that will just make sure they arrive faster."

The two eventually managed to get out of the house and waited around the back until they heard sirens.

"I'll fetch Lestrade." Carter said.

''

"He's coming 'round." John said.

"He's going to kill me."

"No he won't Carter. Calm down."

"Calm down?! I dropped the bloody phone! Dropped it, John."

"Dropped?" She heard Sherlock question, his speech slurred as he attempted to stand up.

"Lay back down Sherlock." John ordered. "You're in no shape to go running about after a phone."

"Phone? What?" Sherlock Holmes was well and truly under the effects of the drug still.

"I'm going to get that infernal device. Give me a week and I'll have it back here. Tell Sherlock I was called away on a last minute business thing or something."

"You can't go alone! That woman has hit-men after her; hit-men that know who you are and apparently have a score to settle with you."

"I'll be fine John. I'll call in a favour from someone and have them retrieve it. I'll just plan it all out with them and make sure nothing goes awry."

It was a fun time explaining to Sherlock that Carter had to go elsewhere for business purposes. He knew Sherlock didn't believe a word he was saying as well. This would be a long, long week. He could already feel the migraine that he would undoubtedly suffer. Carter owed him big time.

''

"You want me to steal a phone from The Woman?"

"Yes."

"Why?" The man asked her.

"Adams, I saved your arse how many times?"

"Only because you love my arse." He replied cheekily. "Okay, okay then. I'll do it. Do you have a plan?"

"Do I have a…who do you think I am, Adams?"

"Sorry." He said, hands up in a placating gesture. "Now who else have you roped into this little," he started moving his hands, trying to find the right word, "we'll just say 'game', of yours?"

Another voice echoed down the hall and Andrew 'Archie' Adams did not look pleased.

"It's been a while Archie; how have you been?"

"You've got to be kidding me." He said to Carter.

"I thought a little reunion would be fun." She said.

''

"Here you go Sherlock." Carter said, offering the phone to him. He glared at her though, before he plucked the device from her hands and threw himself onto his sofa. "Okay. What's up with him?"

"He's been in a right foul mood all week but this morning really takes the cake. I've no idea but he's become more than insufferable. You owe me Carter."

Sherlock sat down and fiddled around with the phone, glaring all the while. Now, Sherlock was angry, at Carter, but not for the reason she was assuming. He knew she'd dropped the phone trying to avoid Irene and the American hit-men back at Belgravia but she had brought it back. He was angry because of the fact that she had a visitor last night who snuck out of the building at five in the morning. He knew John had been lying when he said she was going on a business trip, knew she was going to retrieve the phone but really, how could that have taken over a week and why was she with a man?

"John, we need to go to St. Bart's."

"I've got an interview in an hour, Sherlock, on the other side of London. Take Carter with you."

"Fine." He grabbed his coat and exited the apartment. "Carter!" He called up from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll try to find out what's got him so pissed off. Good luck John, though you won't need it." She told the man, hugging him before squaring up and heading out the door.

"You'll need some Carter. See you."

She entered the taxi, sitting to the right side. She turned to face Sherlock.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Sherlock, don't give me that bull. What the bloody hell is this about? I'm sorry I dropped the phone okay? I did bring it back though. I should have been aware of what I was doing and I nearly lost the one piece of evidence we need."

"The man." He spat.

"Man? What man?"

"The man who left your apartment at five a.m. this morning."

Recognition flashed across her face as she realised what this was about.

"That was Andrew Adams. I enlisted the help of both him and another colleague. They owe me a small handful of life-debts. I cashed one in so I didn't have to confront Adler. He crashed at my apartment. He did a fine job but got a little roughed up so I let him take my couch."

Sherlock's piercing gaze never wavered as he searched for any signs of deceit. He nodded, satisfied and feeling foolish. When the cab stopped, Sherlock got out and went around, holding open Carter's door and helping her out.

"It's alright Sherlock. So you were a little jealous; so what?"

"I was not jealous. I've never been jealous. That was not jealousy. I merely had wondered if you were stupid enough to have let a stranger into your home as you slept."

"Okay, whatever you say Locky-boy."

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"'Never call me that horrid name again, Carter, or else.'" Carter said, quoting the Detective word for word.

"Good; you remembered." Just like that the Detective was functioning as he usually did: he was back to his egotistical, self-proclaiming sociopathic self. Carter shook her head as she followed after him. John would have a field day when she told him what the man's problem was.

"Hello Sherlock. How are you today?" Molly asked the moment she spotted the man in the distinguishable coat.

"No time to chat Molly. Carter and I have some business to attend to."

"Oh….okay then. I'll just...If you need anything, I'll be down the h-"

"Yes, Molly. That's nice of you." He said dismissively.

"Hello Molly. I hope you are well." Molly ignored Carter and scuttled off. "She really doesn't like me. What a twat. I'd reprimand your rude behaviour but that woman deserves a little hit of reality. If she's not too careful…"

Sherlock watched her, amused at the all too familiar tones of a threat.

"Coffee please; we'll be here for a while. I need to examine every element of this phone that I can without ruining the data."

"No problem at all."

Carter exited the lab room, making her way to the cafeteria. On her way there, Molly started to walk towards her.

"Excuse me Carter?"

"Yes Molly?"

"You stay away from Sherlock." Raising an eyebrow, Carter waited for her to continue. "I-I've known that man for many years and let me tell you: he is not interested in you at all. You're no good for him. He deserves someone who's known him, someone who he can rely on; someone who's always there."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Molly was completely taken aback at this answer. "Okay." She said more firmly. "Good."

"Okay. Is that all then Molly?"

"Yes. Um, yes." She quickly retreated down the hall.

Upon entering the lab, two cups of hot beverages in hand, she almost laughed seeing Molly.

"Here you go Detective."

"Thank you Carter."

"Bye Sherock! I'll see you again soon?"

Sherlock ignored her and turned to Carter.

"I can't open the phone up or it will incinerate the chip." He moved aside, pulling Carter to the microscope and watched her from over her shoulder. "Do you see it?" His mouth was at her ear, brushing the skin.

"Yes but what does this have to with the case?"

"Nothing at all, however, I do believe I've solved the Molly problem."

Carter's eyes went to the door and she tilted her head back to glare up at the Detective.

"You bloody git! Now you've burdened me with her! Do you know what she said to me on my way to get your coffee?"

"No. I may be a genius but even I cannot tell you what was said. Enlighten me."

"She told me to stay away from you. Apparently I'm putting the moves on you. She had the gall to inform me that I wasn't good enough for you."

"You've allowed yourself to get worked up about it. You shouldn't listen to the words of a woman scorned, Carter."

She elbowed him in the stomach and he let out an 'oomph'.

"Git. Now where the hell is the phone and what else do you have?"

Sherlock stepped back, taking off the white lab coat and replacing it with his grey one.

"There really is nothing I can do until I figure out the password. There are four blank spaces and, factoring in that it can be letters, numbers or a combination of both, we've got our work cut out for us. I've only four attempts."

"Well ain't that a bugger."

"It is, isn't it?" He said in agreement.

''

"God, they better not be annoying Lestrade today." Carter grumbled as she made her way up Baker Street, five bags of shopping in her hands. "I'll hit them if they have. Poor man; deserves at least one day without the presence of Sherlock."

"Oh dear, let me help you with those!"

"It's alright Mrs Hudson, I've got them. I brought you some teacake." She placed the bags in the small, narrow hall and dug out the cake.

"Oh aren't you a dear. Join me for some after you put those away."

"I won't be too long."

She put away her food stuffs and made her way to Mrs Hudson's.

"So how have you been dear?"

"Very well thank you Mrs Hudson. I've had a busy week though."

"Yes, yes John told me you were away. Sherlock was missing you something shocking. Drove us up the wall, he did. Ah, but I suppose it was to be expected. What were you doing?"

"Retrieving an item that I lost."

"That awful phone?"

"Sherlock tell you, did he?"

"There's not much you three can hide from me Carter." The younger woman smiled and laughed.

"How have you been Mrs Hudson?"

"I've been alright dear. My hip has been playing up a little bit."

"Have you been to the doctor's yet, a specialist?"

"Oh no dear. There's nothing they can really do for me. I think I'll just stick to my, uh, herbal soothers."

"Here, let me get that." Carter walked over to the stove, taking the kettle off of the hot plate before moving over to the sink and looking out the window. "Mrs Hudson?"

"Yes?"

"Were you expecting any company?"

"No. Why?"

"Here, take this." She placed the phone into Mrs Hudson's hands. "Go out the back door and wait in the shop. No matter what, Mrs Hudson, do not enter the apartment until Sherlock or John return okay?"

"What's going on?"

"Please Mrs Hudson? I'll tell you later but right now, I need you out of here and somewhere safe." The doors of the black car had closed. "Quickly. Go."

Mrs Hudson nodded, getting up and slipping out the back door just as the front door was kicked in. The group of men walked into 221 Baker Street, guns drawn. When they entered Mrs Hudson's apartment they found Carter sitting at the table, cup and saucers at the ready and holding a small, dainty cup of tea in her own hands.

"I am oh so happy that you've arrived gentlemen. Would you like some cake?"

"Where is it Carter?"

"Where is what, Bernie?"

The blonde man motioned to two of his men. They approached Carter, hands at the ready to grab the woman.

"Sorry, Bernard, but I'm not going to let you lot hassle me." With that said, she picked up the kettle, knocking it into one of the men's head before emptying its contents into the eyes of the other. She barged through both, bringing back her arm, feigning a punch while kicking Bernard in the nether regions.

"You little bitch!"

"Oh my God, did I hurt you? Good!"

After a good lot of fighting the men eventually subdued Carter and hauled her up the flight of stairs. They threw her into 221B and then the interrogation began.

''

Bernard stood back, rolling his shoulders and wiping off his knuckles.

"Well I guess you won't be saying anything for a while now. Take her for a ride, boys."

Carter snarled at them, attempting to bite them as they reached for her once again.

"Still got some fight in you Carter? You are one persistent woman, I'll give you that. This is, though, the end for you. I'll admit, it has been fun; you made things interesting." He grimaced when she spat on him. Wiping his face with his shirt sleeve, he smiled. "I expected nothing less. Goodbye Carter. Just finish her off and dump her in an alley or something." He told two of the men.

Carrying her down to the car, they then threw her in the trunk, binding her hands and feet.

"Don't bother with that." One said, noticing the other preparing a gag. "There's no point."

Carter closed her eyes and decided on a plan. She'd need one this time; winging it just wouldn't cut it. Bernard had done a mighty fine job incapacitating her and with her current injuries, taking on the two men in the car was not the best option. She'd be relying on Mycroft and his various watchdogs for this one.

''

Upon arriving at their apartment, Sherlock immediately noticed the new angle that the door was sitting on its hinges.

"The door was kicked in; people have been here. John, get ready." As the two men prepared to go into the apartments, an extraordinarily worried Mrs Hudson ran from the little shop, straight to them.

"Sherlock! I thought I heard your voice. They took her! She told me to sneak out the back; said not to come back until I spotted either of you two. I didn't know what to do."

"Mrs Hudson, where did they take her?"

"I don't know. I think there's still one of the men here though. They hurt her."

John and Sherlock both sported frowns. The former held his gun at the ready as Sherlock led them into the building, to the door of 221B.

"Hello Mr Holmes. You've kept me waiting for some time now."

"John, would you mind terribly if you went downstairs and made a tea for Mrs Hudson?"

"Sherlock, don't you think it would be bet-"

"Now, John."

John lowered his gun and did as Sherlock requested.

"Where is Carter?"

"Where is the phone?" Bernard countered.

"What did you do to her?"

"I want that phone, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock walked further into the apartment and began pacing around.

Damage to the thin layer of paint in the hall: a result of someone attempting to dig their heels into the wall to try and halt movement. Blood, sporadic drops leading up to the apartment and within it: a cut to the head or face, most likely the lip. The 'Client' chair, along with John's and the coffee table, had been moved; now pushed up against Sherlock's sofa. More blood, significantly more than the hall, a broken….his vase!

Sherlock's head shot up, looking at Bernard with nothing less than contempt.

The blonde stood, watching the Detective as the man looked about the room.

"Anything the matter Mr Holmes?"

"Your hand."

"My hand?" Bernard flexed his right hand, clenching it.

"Starting to bruise, slight swelling and broken skin on the knuckles: you've been hitting something, rather, someone. The apartment is mostly in the condition that I had left it in, asides from the moved furniture. I hope you didn't drag it across the floor, I'd hate to find any scuff marks; can't do much to fix that kind of damage. You want the phone but you aren't going to find it here. You have a previous, acquaintanceship, with Miss Carter. She bested you, ruined you; you lost quite a lot thanks to dearest Carter; your wife, your job. What else did you lose?"

Bernard was glaring at Sherlock.

"What else did I lose? Wasn't any of that enough?" He practically snarled. He stalked towards Sherlock, stood right in front of the tall Detective; one of his smaller mistakes.

Sherlock almost rolled his eyes as the man before him took the bait, becoming incensed. The blonde's head snapped back as Sherlock's forehead collided with his nose. With a solid punch to the stomach, a kick to the back of the knees and a knee to the face, Bernard was on the floor and it would be a little while before he got back up.

''

"What the bleeding hell happened Sherlock?"

"I'm not entirely sure Detective. You see this blanket? I'm still in shock…Fine then: He fell from the roof. He was trying to escape, you see. I pursued him but upon reaching the edge he lost his footing, slipped and then fell. For some odd reason he crawled his way back into the apartment; I was downstairs you see, and when I returned to my apartment I must have frightened him."

"So much that he then jumped out of your window?"

"I know. It's absolutely beyond even my thinking capability. Humans react differently depending upon the individual and the situation."

Greg shook his head.

"Can I go now?"

"No. I'm to babysit you until Carter is found. Don't look at me like that Sherlock."

John came racing over to the two, his phone being placed into his front pocket.

"That was Mycroft; he's on his way. He found the car, followed it and sent some people to go and collect her."

''

"Oh Carter! If you ever do such a thing again I don't know what we'll do! You almost gave me a heart-attack; Sherlock and John too!" Mrs Hudson was playing Mother Hen at the moment and would not leave the young woman alone. "Drink it all dear."

"I'm fine Mrs Hudson, honestly. You should have seen the other guys." She said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "Sherlock, John: tell her I'm fine."

"We can't be too careful, Carter. You may not be in much pain but that could be due to shock."

"I'll get you for this John."

"He has a point, Carter. Besides, are you not the one constantly advocating the wonders of Doctor Watson's extensive medical knowledge?"

"You too Sherlock, you too; just you wait."

''


Authors Note: I absolutely loathed Irene Adler but I did admire her cunning. I've started the next chapter and I cannot wait to continue writing it. This one has been fun. You'll be introduced to Andrew Adams and the mysterious other fellow in later chapters. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed.