"Sherlock!"

He had dragged me straight into a cab, "221 Baker Street."

"Sherlock let go of my bloody arm! Why did you do that?"

He obliged, but hesitantly. "There wasn't any reason to stay, and Donavan was hassling you."

I pulled my hand over my face, "No Sherlock, she was hassling you."

"I wasn't bothered."

"Yeah, well, you should be." I snapped, turning my eyes to look out the window in a bit of a pout.

He didn't reply to my childish ways, just pulled his phone from his pocket and started to fiddle with it. That's just how he is. I hate to be the jealous girlfriend figure on this, but that damned phone upsets me... It gets more attention then I do. God I'm such a woman...

"So do you know how it was done?" I asked.

"Of course I do."

I rolled my eyes, "Do the police know you know?"

"Of course they don't." He replied, grinning devilishly.

I smiled right along side him, even giggled a bit. We were always doing something outrageous. Sherlock saw to that. Whether it was running down the streets with our hands handcuffed together, or stealing an ashtray from the queen herself. Always something silly. We didn't exactly lead 'normal' lives. The rest of the cab ride was filled with short-told jokes and small fits of laughter, followed by a few moments of uncomfortable silence. The car finally pulled up to the flat, and we tumbled out, Sherlock handing the man his quid as I shoved my hands into my pockets and headed for the door.

I was greeted by Mrs. Hudson, who was smiling widely, "There's a lady upstairs! Says she's here for Sherlock, the adorable thing. You know John, I haven't seen any of your girlfriends about for a while. How are they?"

"Out of the picture." I retort, not really in the mood for talking about my love life with the little old lady, sweet as she is.

I was more interested in the woman waiting in our flat. Particular why she was waiting for Sherlock. Maybe another client? No, clients didn't usually show up at this time. It was near noon. They liked to come a few hours after lunch, it was some weird time period Sherlock had worked out. I turned the knob, Sherlock on my heels. Inside was a gorgeous brunette, a long, curled braid falling down her back, a hair pin clipped to it's starting point. Her black skirt just above the floor, and her eyes a glistening cadet grey. She was indeed beautiful. I had to catch my breath for a moment. Then my insecurities kicked in, and demanded to know why she was here. "Hi!" She smiled, coming forward and extending a hand in my direction, "Kaitlyn Smith."

"John Wats-"

"Oh, I know who you are. It's just polite to offer my name as well." She had a smug grin that I wasn't too fond of. She turned to Sherlock, who nodded his head toward his room before heading to it.

I really didn't like this situation. What business did they have in his bedroom?

I sat in my chair, pouting once more. I waited for twenty minutes. Sherlock and Kaitlyn spent all that time locked in his room. My mind in the gutter, I assumed the worst. That's when I noticed the bag sitting near the door. It must've been hers because I'd never seen it before. My fingers started itching, begging to take a peek inside. My female instincts kicked in and I drove for it, silently pulling open the top. It'd be bad to get caught.

Inside were papers. Papers and pictures of the judge and his family. What? I took a closer look at the papers. Schedules, lock codes, per- perfume types? It seemed out of place, but then I realized that half of Sherlock's deductions were based off the perfume samples left about. She was the killer. Did Sherlock know? Was he in trouble in there? I shoved the papers into the bag and dropped it to the floor. Was she killing him in there!? Maybe he was already dead?! I stood abruptly, ready to knock down the door-

Then they came out. Kaitlyn bounded from the room, her smile even brighter then when she'd gone in. In her hand was a lidded jar, its contents familiar to me. My mind froze. She turned to Sherlock, pecking a kiss to his cheek before bidding him a goodnight. Which he returned in kind.

I turned my attention to my chair, attempting to walk towards it as if everything was okay. "Goodnight Doctor Watson." she grinned.

She'd just called me Doctor... oh god... I did my best to smile politely, wishing her a goodnight in reply. I couldn't make eye contact with Sherlock. I was... frightened. For the first time since I'd met him, I was frightened of Sherlock Holmes. One of the papers in her bag consisted of meeting points. Meeting points where she would get the poison she needed to kill her victims, under the meeting place, time and date, there was a name listed.

Her supplier, none other then my Sherlock.