Something happened with my last chapter, it was in fact several paragraphs longer, so this chapter is marginally shorter, to get the plot back to where I wanted Chapter 6 to end. SORRY :)

The Consulting Detective Jones: Chapter 7

Even though Sherlock had known Scarlet Jones for a mere three days, there was one thing she despised, and that, was when pointless things got in the way. She absolutely hated it. He had been listening intently for nearly an hour about 'The Origin of Donavan', and how she let emotional stupidity prevent her from being a great police officer. He, of course, agreed whole-heartily that she had turned into a slowly collapsing mess of nerves.

'So, you wanted to ask me something?' Scarlet returned from the kitchen with fresh cups of tea, and a packet of nicotine gum. She handed Sherlock his cup, drank a sip of her tea, and threw the packet of nicotine gum into her coat pocket. Her aim was impressive, seeing as her coat was hanging by the door, a good two metres away.

'Actually, yes.' He put down his cup, and stood so he could look her square in the eye, despite the height difference. He could hear her breathing, soft and measured, like a small child. She was searching his face for some kind of sign she was wrong. She wasn't.

'We have a spare room at our flat. Move in to 221B with us.' His eyes were bright, but serious. He meant this.

'Sherlock, I barely know you...'

'Does it matter? I'd known John less than 24 hours before he moved in.'

'John. Won't he mind?' She was deliberately avoiding answering him. And, boy, did he know it.

'I doubt he'll care. He's been carrying around an engagement ring for nearly a month now, so unless he's going to propose to me, I don't think he'll be living with me much longer. Trivialities anyhow.'

'But...' His eyes blazed, his expression changing. She was being deliberately evasive, and he needed an answer. He felt he would burst if she didn't answer him, immediately.

'Scarlet, for God's sake! Answer me. Besides, what other options do you have?' Then, at possibly the most inconvenient moment, Sherlock's mobile began to ring loudly. He flipped it open. 'Bloody Hell Lestrade, what do you want?'

She could feel the tension building. She wanted to lie on the floor, eat two or three packets of nicotine gum, and just think, but right now, she had a question to answer. She saw his eyes dart from side to side quickly as he listened to Lestrade tell him more facts about the current case, saw how his hands clenched almost simultaneously with each faint buzz of speech, and she recognised something. The hidden frustration at everything. The anger at the rest of the stupid, blind world. And suddenly, her mind was made up. She took a deep breath, and said, quite loudly,

'Yes, I'll move in with you.' Sherlock stopped pacing. He looked directly at her, snapped his phone shut, and threw it to the side. He strode across the room, and crushed his lips to hers, taking her wavy brown hair into his hands as he did. The kiss deepened, their proper first kiss. It was not like the kiss at the crime scene not so rushed or lustful. Just pure happiness.

'We better start packing your things then.' smiled Sherlock, pressing his forehead to hers, stroking her face with the back of his hand.

'In a minute.' She kissed him again, laughing slightly as she did so, putting her arms around his neck.

The door flew open.

'Scarlet Beatrice Jones! What on earth do you think you're doing?' And, just like that, they were interrupted again.