AN: sorry y'all, I kinda dropped off the side of the earth after that last post! How the heck has it been 9 months since I've posted. How the absolute heck… despite me sucking at life, the support has been incredible and I don't want to let you down. So many things have happened since I last posted like THAT FINALE Y'ALL. Each and every time I still can't believe it came and went so fast… it's not fair lol but hey, I'm here to bring you a few new Sherlock adventures till the next season BECAUSE THERE HAS TO BE A NEXT SEASON despite the series finale-ish seasons finale they had (right!?). Ugh I love this show so much haha so anyways thanks for the response. I love writing about Ruth and Sherlock. :)

Regular/Irregular

Sherlock Holmes was becoming a regularly irregular part of my life. Sometimes it was mere hours in between seeing him. Sometimes days. However only once have we gone more than two weeks without contact.

Today it was only hours.

It'd been a bloody day in London, and I don't mean that as just a British curse word. I went back and forth around town, analyzing different crime scenes. The files on my desk needing my report were growing. Each time I went to my closet aka office it felt like only minutes before I was called back out. It was one bloody day, and now I mean it as a curse word.

If I put more value on my job, I'd stayed later, but I couldn't. There was an ache in my bones, an unshakeable fog in my brain, and my heartbeat was more like a countdown. Bad days were ahead and my body was warning me of it.

The clock read 6:30 when I dragged my feet into my bedroom, but it felt like days had passed since I woke up that morning. I slowly kicked off my shoes, slid off my shirt, and pulled off my pants. I grabbed the cleanest looking pair of plaid pajama shorts and a tank top off the floor and threw them on before shuffling back into the living room. I joined Meowfoy on the couch.

I murmured loving things into his ear as I rubbed his back, his purrs vibrated my body and momentarily ran out the aches that were slowing overcoming me. I curled into the corner of the couch, pulling him into my lap, and covering myself with the blanket thrown on the back of the couch. I numbly watched TV, wishing the warm of my cat tonight would push off the bad days a little bit longer, till I fell asleep.

I'm not sure what caused me to wake when I did. Draco's head was up and looking behind me but then he settled back into my chest. With the evening sunset darkening the room, my eyes immediately strained to locate a time. I relaxed back into the rows of the couch when I saw the clock on the cable box only read 7:22.

Then I heard a thump and a groan coming from behind me and my eyes shot open. I laid perfectly still for a moment, not even daring to breath. Draco was still a limp lump on my chest, but when I heard footsteps coming closer I pushed him off, and grabbed the closest object to me- the lamp. I tore it from the socket.

With a battle cry, I launched myself over the back of the couch for a surprise attack, blindly waving the lamp around till it collided with something.

There was a grunt and I fling the lamp back to the direction the noise came from.

"Ruth, Ruth, it's me. It's Sherlock!" A voice finally came from the abyss that had formed because of my terror.

I froze. That was Sherlock's voice. I stood still, trying to even my breaths as the abyss faded away, and his tall shape became to take form. With the lamp still in my head, I strode over to the kitchen and turned on the light.

"What the f..." I tried to yell out, but anger was taking control. "What the freak are you doing inside MY freaking home?"

When I finally looked at Sherlock, he was rubbing his upper arm, his lips mouthing 'ow', but at my tone his head jerked up to me and his arms fell limp, like a little boy gearing up to tell a lie because he knew he was in deep trouble.

"Well, when I arrived-" he began. My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose when he started to speak and I ended up cutting him off.

"I don't even want to hear it." I reached forward and grabbed his wrist, yanking his arm.

"Ow!" He whined, but I ignored him and pulled him to the door. Sherlock barely tried to resist, though he could overpower me in a second.

"We're going to try this again," I said, as I opened my door, pushing him out. "You're going to knock like a normal person and I'm going to answer like a normal person. We're all going to be normal and you're not going to break into apartments and you're going to try not to walk all over me. Got it?"

But I didn't even wait for his answer before I slammed the door shut. I took a deep breath and not even a second later, there was a knock on my door.

I took another breath before I called, "Who is it?"

"Sherlock… Holmes. May I come in?" He answered and I tried not to grin.

I opened the door and said, "There are the manners I know your mother taught you."

"You know, I did knock, but you didn't answer," Sherlock practically sulked as he brushed past me into my apartment. I rolled my eyes to his back.

"But, Sherlock, you just don't break in to people's houses," I sighed. However it was a losing battle, so then I asked, "How did you even do it?"

He snorted, turning around to me. "Please, a child could break into your lock."

"A child did," I muttered under my breath. "For real, Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"Will you be my date tonight?" At those words, my stupid heart stopped. However I knew better than to think there wasn't more to what he was saying. I crossed my arms, waiting for him to continue.

"There is a traveling art exhibit coming to the National Gallery. Valuable items were stolen at the last two locations and the director does not believe the police is taking the matter serious enough. He believes the thief will strike again, this week. I, of course, was called because we both know the police are, in fact, incompetent."

"Sherlock..." I warned quietly, as he very well knew who he was talking to, and whether he'd admit it or not, he had other friends who worked on the force. "John couldn't come with you? He could easily pass as your date." Not that tingles of excitement weren't waking up my body, but he couldn't know that.

But Sherlock looked away then and mumbled, "John is busy with the wedding."

I watched his face for a moment, wondering if John had asked him to be the best man yet and I didn't know if I imagined how sad he looked. Then his eyes met mine, as if he could feel my sympathy, and held them like it was a stare off.

I looked away first and he knew then he got me.

"But you actually have to make an effort tonight. Keep your hair down to cover your ears and you definitely need to put on make up. We're not looking to farther the vampire myth, are we?" Sherlock asked rhetorically, as he ignored my indignant cry, "And I know you probably still shop second hand, but do you have anything that even resembles a gown?"

I suppose it was then he just got a good look at me, because the air he was going to use for more words, he just let out like a deep breath, and silence overtook the room. I looked back at him to find him not looking at my eyes anymore, but lower. Lower than I ever want anyone to see.

My thighs looked like a cat's claw post. Quite a few of my old scars had faded and you could only see them in certain lighting, but there was also quite a bit more that could only be covered by layers of clothing, and because of the fact my upper leg never saw the light of day, it was like there was a show light on them.

I self consciously tugged at the end of my pajama shorts, but there was no use. I hadn't expected to see anyone but Meowfoy for the rest of the evening, and I didn't care if him or the walls of my apartment saw my scars. It was everyone else that I cared about.

Finally, after a long second, Sherlock just nodded, almost matter of fact, and cleared his throat.

"Yes. Gown-" he started to continue, but now I just wanted to cover myself up.

"I have a dress," I cut him off, walking to my bedroom.

"Not just a dress, but a gown, Ruth," Sherlock corrected.

I normally would have rolled my eyes at him, but I just said, "I've got it. What time do we have to leave?"

"7:50."

"Got it," I repeated absentmindedly, before shutting the door. Once I get my legs covered I could look him in the eyes.

It was nearly 7:30. How does he expect me to turn into Cinderella in 20 minutes?

I shut the door to my bedroom and turned to lean my back against it. There was no turning back now. There were no more secrets from my past, and truthfully probably only one now, which I knew I probably couldn't keep much longer. The closer I was suppose to get to Sherlock the easier it'll be for him to look right through me.

But focusing back at the task at hand, I forcefully wondered what Sherlock was currently doing in my living as I walked around my room putting my even attire together. First by turning on my curling iron, pulling off my tank top, and beginning on my makeup.

Makeup was the least of my worries and after applying basic foundation and adding blush, I put on nude eyeshadow and plastered my eyelashes with mascara. Then I broke out my red lipstick and quickly applied it to my lips.

Like I planned, my curling iron had warmed up by the time I was done and I quickly started pulling up a little bit of the front, leaving enough to curl around my ears, because unfortunately, Sherlock was right. My ears liked to poke out. I also parted my bangs across my forehead just to make them less severe.

Making my hair pretty took the most time and by the time I was done, I only had four minutes till I needed to be done. But the easiest part was done.

I purposefully slipped on my gown away from the mirror. I almost couldn't bare to look at it. The white dress flowed right below my knees and the top formed a laced sweetheart neckline. The rest of it was like smooth silk and had my arms covered in a tight lace. It probably wasn't as long, as I was taller than the person it originally belonged to, or as pretty, as there were more expensive dresses, as Sherlock would want, but it'll do. I thought it had a timeless elegance to it.

It was my mother's wedding dress.

My parents renewed their vows at their 15 year anniversary. It was a thing my dad thought would look good and therefor my mom went along with it for reasons that were beyond me at the time. She updated her dress to the fashion of the 2000s, thankfully removing bulky shoulder pads and the cheesy looking train. It barely looked like the same dress and not really anything you'd wear to a wedding, but this time she knew what it meant to be husband and wife.

Despite the whole event being for show, I remember her being happy that night. My dad was unrecognizable for the crowd and coaxed out real laughs and smiles, things I never knew I'd never heard before. I could finally see why my mom had fallen in love with him to begin with.

I never thought I'd wear the dress. I thought it'd be hiding my closet for the rest of my life, preserving the few happy times she had, but as soon as Sherlock asked me to come, I knew I'd be wearing it. I wanted one happy night for once, just like my mom.

I walked out of my bedroom with two minutes to spare to find Sherlock sitting on my couch and Draco on his lap. He rubbed his head against the hand that was trying to pet him. I could hear his purring all the way over here.

"Traitor," I mumbled to him, causing Sherlock's head to jerk up, before his whole body froze. "Told you I had a gown," I added, smugly.

Sherlock slowly unfroze himself, putting my cat on the couch next to him and sat up. He didn't say anything as he wiped off Draco's white hair off his pants. "That's your mother's dress. I remember her wearing it."

"What other gown do you think I'd own?" I replied. He only grunted in response.

"It's a little short but it will do. The cab's waiting outside. Let's go."

I followed him out of my apartment and as I locked the door I said with a voice thick with sarcasm, "Normally when a girl dresses up for an event the guy makes up something to say about how pretty she looks."

I began to walk down the hall when he replied, matter of fact, "I don't have to make anything up. The way you fixed your hair frames your face and covers your ears perfectly. The makeup around your eyes makes them brighter and the lipstick-"

My face burned at his scrutiny of my head and I cut him off, "A simple 'you look pretty, Ruth' would have sufficed. Thanks, though." I pushed past him and walked ahead so he couldn't see my face. I didn't need any of the blush I applied earlier. Sometimes sarcasm and a girl with awkward tendencies don't go well together.

"You look pretty, Ruth."

"And you look very handsome tonight, Sherlock." I was trying to deflect his compliments but I didn't realize the implications but the point he made next was true.

"I'm wearing what I normally wear," He commented, much to my chagrin.

We walked into my elevator now and I wish I could've just shove him out. I pressed the lobby button.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "Well, it's true. I'm very fond of that billowing coat. Though..." I reached over to flip up the side of the collar that had flattened out. "There. Now, does my name have to be Ruth tonight? I want some super spy double oh seven name!"

This time, he rolled his eyes at me, and relief fills me. The farther away I get from Sherlock's looks the better.

"Or actually, maybe a superhero super spy, like Natasha Romanoff. I'm Natasha tonight, Sherlock."

"Please don't make me regret bringing you along. John wouldn't be this immature."

"But I'm not John."

Sherlock sighed dramatically. "I know."