Thanks so much to starbrightnights, insaneradio, LostInTheMomentinLove, Fanglover911, Yugicanbesexy, silvermoony77, WordsWrittenByHeart, ILoveHLaurie, Sci-fi geek1133, Cousin Kate, Look-Me-Up, Terrorist Of The Seven Seas, TheDoctorsMistress, Vilentiel, XMillieX, Google Eleanor, OhTex, OhTex and Ceville for reviewing. Much love.

I also received an anon review from a long term reader. They gave me some criticism which although is sometimes hard to take initially, is always good in the long run and will hopefully help me improve my story. Although I am not going to change my story or the plan I have for it, I am definitely going to watch my character of Sherlock a little more carefully. He in particular is very hard to keep in character and I struggle to write for him. When I read some of the lines I have written for him back I often cringe, not being able to see him saying them. The reviewer also mentioned that the pregnancy secret has gone on a bit too long, but I am afraid that is the point to the story. And as another reviewer mentioned, it has only been less than a day since Sherlock returned.

Anyway, I did appreciate the review and just wanted to say thank you to whoever left it. I'm just glad that my stories have left you interested enough to take the time out to write that.

Anyway, enough of me blabbing on. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry it is a bit short, really tired from work and am struggling to find the hours in the day to update.


Rebecca didn't want to come home.

That thought alone cut through him like a knife.

He had driven her away...the woman he loved...

Sherlock sat at the table, his head in his hands.

He was usually so calm, so collected, but not tonight.

It was 3.30 am, and the only light that flickered in the flat was the slowly diminishing fire which lingered in the grate.

Sherlock could not sleep, he had spent the past three hours pacing.

He missed her. Having been apart for three weeks they had barely had over a couple of hours together tonight.

It seemed he was not the only one pining for Rebecca though.

Toby was almost inconsolable.

The little dog sensed something was wrong. A tension in the air...

He had whined non-stop for the past couple of hours, circling Sherlock's feet.

He was not a maternal man. He barely cared for the emotions of humans, let alone lesser beings such as dogs.

But he had grown fond of Toby and bent down to pet him, to silence his cries.

The hours ticked by, Sherlock watching the clock. Waiting for the morning, for Rebecca to march back through the doors of 221b, get showered and dressed into some fresh clothes and to shout at him again.

That was all he wanted. He would rather her give him hell for what he had done than this...

To have no contact with the woman he loved was killing him.

To have her so upset so much that she wished not to speak to him.

When the first few rays of sunlight crept through the thick curtains of 221b, Sherlock was laid across the couch, flexing his arm on which two nicotine patches lay.

He couldn't sleep...

He didn't want to...

Thoughts and regrets ticking over in his mind.

But the problem was he wasn't sure if he even did regret what he had done.

Was he wrong to want a case solved?

Irene had been a great aid in doing that.

She was good...

And, if he was honest, he couldn't have done it without her.

But Sherlock's thoughts on the raven-haired woman were suddenly broken by the key turning in the lock downstairs.

Sherlock sat up straight. His ears pricking at the noise.

He heard the front door open then slam shut.

Hurriedly the detective sprang to his feet as he heard a hard pair of shoes pound the wooden staircase in the hallway.

"Rebecca," he breathed as a shadowed figure drew nearer finally reaching the dim morning light of the flat.

But the person who swam into focus was not Rebecca at all.

"What are you doing here?" snapped Sherlock, stepping forward, a deep frown causing his features to wrinkle.

"Nice to see you too old pal," sighed John, shrugging past the gaping detective as heading directly into the kitchen. "I'm just here to pick up some of Rebecca's things."

Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"What?" he uttered his eyes widening.

John sniffed, looking a little uncomfortable.

"She asked if I could come here to pick up a few essentials for her. Clothes, toiletries, shoes..." he muttered.

Sherlock stalked after him as he continued into the bedroom, not able to believe his ears.

"She's chosen to stay...with you?" he uttered, sticking close to the doctor as he crouched beside the bed, hauling up a suitcase and zipping it open.

He glanced sadly at Sherlock over his shoulder.

"She's pretty cut up mate," he said quietly. "She won't tell me what happened between you two...but I swear you'd better apologise to her fast..."

Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, stamping his foot on the floor like an impatient child.

"You didn't apologise did you?" said John giving him a frown.

"It would be pointless," Sherlock muttered matter-of-factly, folding his arms across his chest. "The outcome would still have been the same."

John gave a sigh, stuffing several blouses and a pair of shoes into the suitcase before him.

"They're just two little words Sherlock," he said tiredly. "I'm. Sorry. It's not hard."

Sherlock rolled his eyes watching John's every move.

He watched as the doctor swept up Rebecca's shoes from the floor and patterned dresses from the wardrobe.

Sherlock didn't help. He couldn't...

Less than a couple of minutes later John gave a weary sigh, zipping up the suitcase and hauling it into his arms. He gave Sherlock a look as he did so.

"I'll try and get her to call you or something..." he said giving the dark-haired detective a comforting pat on the arm, before waltzing from the bedroom.

Sherlock paused for a moment. He could do nothing but gulp and stare at the Rebecca's empty side of the bed. The blankets untouched.

He slowly turned on his heel and made after, John following him through into the living room.

"Right I think that's everything," said the Doctor gazing around. "Oh I almost forgot..."

And with a flourish John picked up Toby's lead from the back of the door.

Sherlock paled.

"Toby will be fine with me," he uttered as John bent down to attach the leash to the squirming dog.

But John shook his head as he struggled with juggling the disobedient pet and the suitcase in his arms. "I really think Rebecca would want him with her..." he muttered.

Sherlock suddenly scowled, snatching the lead from John's grasp angrily. His eyes black.

"I said. He. Will. Be. Fine. With. Me," said Sherlock his voice low and dangerous.

John gave an awkward glance in his direction before finally nodding and tearing his eyes away.

"Alright, alright," he said uncomfortably, making hurriedly for the door. "See you later, Sherlock."

And with that John strode for the stairs and within a few seconds Sherlock Holmes heard the front door slam.

His eyes travelled slowly down to the little dog at his feet, the only real connection to Rebecca he had left.


I know it was short and crappy but please review!