I want you all to know:

TIPS ARE APPRECIATED!

I got a review saying that Holmes was too comfortable with my character, and I'm glad they said something!

I don't want their relationship to become a "Mary Sue"-ish relationship.

No "they get along great" or "they're really compatible" or "they're best friends".

Because it isn't supposed to be like that.

That's Watson's job.

Mrs. Hudson put the earpiece of the phone back down onto the receiver. She monotonously sighed and picked up a dirty plate she had found randomly sitting in the hallway. She had, originally, been taking it back to the kitchen when Holmes and Matilda had walked in, soaking wet, Matilda holding her hand like some puppy with a broken paw. Mrs. Hudson didn't know what to expect, so she put the plate down and let Matilda explain; that left Holmes to run up the stairs and slam the door to his study.

"What happened? Did you find anything?" she asked, touching Matilda's shoulder gently.

Matilda nodded her head, her wet hair dripping water on her shoulders and her dress dripping water onto the carpet.

"Yes, we very much did, but it began to rain. We found the blood, and Holmes even found a button he believes could go to the first dead man's jacket." She explained, shrugging a few times.

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened.

"First?" she asked and Matilda pursed her lips and nodded. "Oh my goodness." Mrs. Hudson replied, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"The downside of the second dead man is that he was watching us. We never found out why, but it seemed important." Matilda muttered.

The two women only nodded to themselves, not making another move or sound. Mrs. Hudson patted her shoulder and turned her in the direction of the kitchen.

"Why don't you go in there? I have the oven going with dinner, it is nice and warm." She smiled. Matilda politely nodded and inched her way towards the kitchen, her dress sticking to her skin and weighing her down.

Mrs. Hudson watched her pitifully as she stiffly pushed her way through the door. After the door came to a complete stop she went to the phone and dialed the operator, requesting she be connected to the Watson residence.

This is where the chapter began. It lead up to a phone call that only lasted a minute.

"Dr. Watson speaking." He answered.

"Good evening Doctor." She sighed.

"Why good evening Mrs. Hudson!" he said, a smile obviously planted on his face, recognizing her voice, "fancy you calling." He laughed.

She only nodded, "Yes. I just wanted to know if Lestrade had contacted you yet?" she asked.

There was a few seconds of silence before he replied, "No. I told him yesterday that I was taking this day off to have lunch with Mary. Why?"

"Oh, well, he might be calling you soon. Mr. Holmes has discovered another body." She muttered, leaning her body to the side so she could look up the stairs at his office door.

"Another? Already? Hm. Odd." He muttered.

"That's what I was thinking. I don't know how it happened, but it must've happened dramatically, Ms. Rogers does not look too keen at the moment." She explained, then turning her head to look at the kitchen door.

Watson let out a sigh, "Wonderful. Oh—a knock at the door. Perfect. Right on time. I must be going Mrs. Hudson, I have a feeling that is Lestrade at the door."

Mrs. Hudson nodded, hearing the knocking through the earpiece.

"All right Doctor. How about after they speak with you, you and Mary come over for dinner? I'm sure it would brighten everyone's spirits."

"Oh…well…I don't see anything wrong with that. I shall speak with Mary. Good bye Mrs. Hudson." He said politely before hanging up the phone.

That is when she picked up the plate again and took it to the kitchen, where Matilda sat idly by the oven. She seemed to be falling asleep, leaning on her good hand. She wasn't going to dare tell Mrs. Hudson about her left hand, or Watson.

The only person she was determined would know was herself, because she felt the pain, the mystery woman, because she caused the pain, and Holmes, because he was unfortunate enough to find out.

Though, it seemed odd to her that he rubbed her hand. Like it was normal to rub someone's hurting hand. The ride home didn't consist of any talking, so the hand rubbing was out of the question for thought. She had time and silence to think about other things.

"Are you feeling all right now? Nice and warm?" Mrs. Hudson asked, walking over to the counter, pulling out a cutting board for that night's dinner.

Her head snapped up and looked at Mrs. Hudson with wide eyes, not from terror though. She was just staring like that before.

"Hm? Oh! Yes, thank you."

Mrs. Hudson quirked a brow and her eyes darted up and down Matilda's figure. Her dress had gathered a small puddle of water on the floor, and probably on the seat she sat upon.

She set the cutting board down and leaned on it with one hand, the other was glued to her hip.

"Would you like another dress? You would feel more comfortable." She asked, staring at the skirt of the dress, which was beginning to wrinkle.

Matilda looked at her again and then down at the dress, beginning to laugh. She nodded and stood up.

"Oh, I should probably do that. I have another one upstairs." She giggled, stretching her arms up to the ceiling. She stiffly walked through the kitchen door, not moving her arms and, seemingly, not bending her knees.

Mrs. Hudson just rolled her eyes, not understanding what was going on, but not bothering to ask. She just pulled out some vegetables and began to chop them up silently.

Out in the hallway, Matilda was having difficulty trying to find a way up the stairs. She didn't dare move. She was already cold and soaked; she didn't want to feel the mush of her dress against her knees or the back of her calves. She cringed at the thought. Like she was hearing nails scrape against a chalkboard.

But, nonetheless, she had to get upstairs somehow to change, and it wasn't going to work by walking like a wooden plank. So, sucking in a deep breath, she lifted her chest up high, lifted the hem of her dress off of the ground, and ran up the stairs. She swung around the banister, flying past Holmes and Watson's offices and then ran up that flight of stairs as well.

Almost instantly, like a child jumping into bed to avoid the monster under it, she lunged through her doorway so she could shut it and strip off all of her wet clothing. She stumbled in and grabbed the door, immediately pushing it closed with a loud BANG.

By the time Watson and Mary had arrived, Matilda had just finished brushing her hair out until it was dry. Like her personal way of air-drying it faster. She heard the front door open and close and she quirked a brow, staring at herself in the mirror, and then looking back at her doorway.

She took one last swipe at her hair with her hairbrush and stood to rush downstairs. She ran just as fast as she had run up them, though it was much less tiring.

She had made it to the second floor, standing at the top of the stairs when she saw Watson and Mary hanging their coats up.

"Good evening Matilda!" Mary called sweetly, waving to her. Matilda lifted her hand and waved.

"Good evening! Are you here for dinner?" she asked in reply, and Watson nodded.

"Yes, actually. Mrs. Hudson invited us—"

"We thought it was a wonderful idea." Mary chimed in.

"—And we thought, why not? Now where is Holmes?" he asked, looking around expectantly. Matilda hooked her thumb over her shoulder at his office door. Watson only nodded and rested his hand on the small of Mary's back.

"Come. Let's help prepare the feast." He smiled at the two of them before leading his fiancé into the kitchen. Matilda smiled and stared at the kitchen door, just as Mrs. Hudson had done, and waited until it came to a stop.

Her head hesitantly turned around to gaze at Holmes' door. She pressed her lips together.

I better not go in there again. She thought to herself, turning away from it. But…I don't need to go inside to tell him that John is here…maybe just a knock.

She quickly took a step back and lifted her fist to the doorway. She knocked on it mechanically and set her hand back down at her side.

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes? John and Mary are here for dinner…you know? John? John Watson?" she asked, pressing herself to make sure that she said his name multiple times; just so he could get the picture.

She didn't her anything. Not a creak or a step or a shuffle or a cough. Just silence. She threw her head back and stared at the ceiling, slumping her shoulders and hunching her posture. She waved a hand at the door in defeat and gracefully spun back to the steps.

Then there was a creak. She stopped and stared down at her feet.

"Rogers?" A whisper came.

Matilda jumped and looked back at the door, which was cracked open. She stared at one eye that just stared at her wildly.

"Oh good. It's you. Wonderful. Just who I needed." He said, fast lightening, opening to door. He stood up straight, one arm behind his back, the other holding the door open.

She looked around awkwardly.

"…And why is that?" she asked, swallowing down a pocket of air nervously, not liking his excited town.

"Just for a question. Or two. Or three. It's for the case." He said matter-of-factly, his tone still excited, but his face completely blank except for a smirk.

She just slowly nodded, her eyes darting around wildly.

"Okay…."

"What did the woman look like?"

"…The woman?"

"Yes. The woman. The woman you chased."

"Oh. Um. She had…long, dark brown hair…red lipstick…she was wearing men's clothing. I don't remember what color—"

"No matter. I just need her face." He said, cutting her off.

She stared at him.

"Well…okay…she uh…her nose was…um…." She muttered, trying to remember, feeling uncomfortable at how he was staring at her, maniacally almost.

"Did she have a nose like yours?"

"Like mine?"

"Yes. Small, round, much like a pigs?"

"I—she—no…wait, excuse me?"

"Was it long and slender? Rather pointy?"

"Maybe—"

"Was it, or not?"

"Maybe—"

"Did you even see her nose?"

"Yes! Yes it was long and slender and pointy and not like mine! What is this all about?" she shrieked, feeling hounded, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed in, overwhelmed.

His smirk grew and he slightly bowed.

"Thank you. You may go." He said, spinning on his heels and walking back through the door.

"Wait! John's here for dinner—you should come downstairs!" she demanded.

"I shall come down when I am hungry. And I am not hungry." He called over his shoulder.

She marched after him, but was greeted by a door to the face. Her mouth hung open in awe and she stamped her foot.

"How rude!" she growled through gritted teeth. She shook her head and rubbed her temple. She took the first few steps hard, stomping on them.

She lifted her finger and called over her shoulder as if she was talking to the door.

"I have never been frustrated so easily by someone! Especially not an adult! That, Mr. Holmes, is saying something." She growled, knowing she was very much overreacting. He seemed much too out of his mind to know what he was even asking. Or maybe he wasn't out of his mind, and he was purposefully trying to annoy her. Either way she let him win, unfortunately.

The kitchen door opened and Watson stepped out.

"Matilda, what are you yelling about?" he incredulously laughed, staring at her oddly as she trumped down the steps.

"Nothing. The air. I'm yelling at the air. The annoying, rather bipolar air." Matilda said, holding onto the railing and glaring down at her feet before pushing her hair out of her face to look at him tiredly.

He quirked his brow at her, "The air." He muttered, with a nod.

She nodded back and smiled.

With a shrug and a blink she muttered, "Yes. The air."

Another few seconds passed of his just staring at her and he smiled. He patted her shoulder and directed her towards the kitchen.

"Don't take this to offense, but I did always suspect you to go crazy at some point." He laughed as he pushed open the kitchen door for her. She laughed and nodded.

"No offense taken. I suspected it too…just not this soon." She muttered the last part to herself, not allowing Watson to hear her. He had already walked to Mary who was sitting at the table across from Mrs. Hudson. Both of the women were drinking tea and laughing.

Watson touched Mrs. Hudson's shoulder and sat down next to her, getting her attention. She smiled at him and then at Matilda.

"Dinner will be ready soon." She assured them, pushing herself out of her chair to check the warm oven.

Matilda smiled and nodded before making her way to the chair next to Mary's.

"Good evening Mary, it's nice to see you again." She smiled.

"Good evening! How was your first night here? Was it scary?" Mary teased, snickering to herself. Matilda snorted and shook her head.

"Surprisingly no. I slept quite well. Mr. Holmes' came home rather late, but it wasn't really a bother." She said reaching for a cup and the pitcher of tea on the table. Watson crossed his legs and his arms at the same time, just nodding as she spoke.

"Wasn't a bother? How nice, you hear that darling? Holmes was quiet when he came in last night." Mary smiled poking Watson's arm. He nodded and smirked to himself. Matilda tried not to smile and averted her eyes from him to Mrs. Hudson who walked up to the table with four plates.

"Are you talking about Holmes? What do you mean he wasn't a bother? That was the loudest I had ever heard him walk around, especially at night. Especially when he had come up to the third floor? Now that was odd." She pointed out, looking all of them straight in the eye, pointing her finger at them all, matter-of-factly.

Watson looked at Mary who shrugged and turned to Matilda, expecting her to expand on the subject. She just stared back, her eyes wide. She didn't know what to say.

"Third floor?" Watson asked, leaning forward to look at Mrs. Hudson. She wiped her hands on her apron vivaciously and nodded her head.

"Yes, yes."

"Why was he up there?"

"I don't know. The only rooms up there are our rooms, so I wouldn't know why he would have the need to come up to that level. He was up there for a while too. And he certainly did not come into my room." She laughed, walking back to the oven to open it and reveal their dinner.

Mary's brows raised, her eyes still on Matilda, whose eyes were darting around wildly. Watson shifted in his seat to look at her skeptically, his eyes narrowed. Matilda shifted in her own seat and straightened out her dress, crossing her legs nervously.

Matilda looked at Mrs. Hudson who had set a large ham down on the counter on its silver tray.

"…What are you implying?" she asked awkwardly.

Mrs. Hudson looked over her shoulder and her eyes searched around.

"I'm not implying anything." She chuckled.

Watson uncrossed his legs and arms and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Matilda."

Matilda spun to look at him, her hair whipping around her head, "What?"

"Was Holmes in your room last night?"

"What—no! Well—possibly, but only for a short while—I was asleep!" she finally protested defensively. Watson smirked and shook his head.

"You were not asleep. I know you are a light sleeper. Even the chime of a clock down the street could wake you!" he laughed and Matilda turned pink in the light of the oven.

"I was asleep, I tell you! He must've thought…that I was you or something." She added, hinting at the truth. The sleeping was the lie the mistake was the truth.

Watson quirked a brow and Mary looked at him, her face stuck in the same position; brows raised, mouth pursed, eyes wide and watchful. He just shook his head and sat back in his chair, crossing his legs yet again to get comfortable.

"He couldn't have. He's known that I've moved out, so you have no need to make that kind of excuse." He chuckled, swiping dirt off of his knee. Matilda rolled her eyes.

"But I'm not lying! He called me by your name today! At the crime scene!" she pointed out defensively.

Mary rubbed her temple and smiled sweetly, shifting in her chair. "Can't get any more conclusive evidence then that." She muttered.

Watson shook his head, "Holmes would find better evidence."

"I know darling, but I am not Holmes. And that is quite conclusive. Mistaking her for you twice?" she asked, waiting for his answer. When it didn't come she continued, "It's going to take time for him to get used to the idea of our marriage, to you leaving, to me even being here. Not to mention Matilda replacing you."

Matilda shifted in her seat. "I agree. I probably shouldn't have come. He expects you to come back to work immediately after you get married. He doesn't expect to keep me here for longer then a week." She shrugged, trying not to sound negative about her presence.

"Don't say that. He will get used to everything, it just takes him time to cope. And until then, I say we drop this subject and have some of Mrs. Hudson's beautiful ham and potatoes!" he said smiling and clapping his hands together, prepared for a feast.

Mary just nodded and lifted her cup into the air, "I agree!" she cried before sipping her tea.

They all just laughed and prepared the table to look acceptable. They arranged the plates, silverware and cups at each chair and set the food down in the middle of the table, the steam all gathering above it all. Watson helped all three women into their seats and then retired to his own, smiling and sighing contently

Each person dug into a separate dish at the same time, beginning to chat and laugh with one another. None of them heard a door open and slam close.

Soon, though, the clanking of dishes and the hum of satisfied mouths drowned their talking out. Mary stopped eating for a moment to listen, her chewing even stopped. She could hear fast and hard footsteps going up and down the stairs.

She reached over and patted Watson's hand.

"Dear, I think Holmes has decided to drop in for dinner." She muttered as the footsteps descended the steps yet again and walked around the front hall. Watson gazed at the door, squinting at it, expecting Holmes to walk in at any moment.

And then he did.

He pushed his way through the kitchen door and strode right past them, his head held high and his stature tall and sure. He squeezed his way behind the counter, his back to all of them as he began to search drawers and cabinets for something.

Matilda and Mary looked at each other worriedly before looking at Watson who was still squinting at him. Mrs. Hudson just stared at her plate, her jaw cocked, prepared to spin around and throw her fork at Holmes' neck.

Instead, she just spun around and glared at him.

"Holmes, you do realize that this is my kitchen. Those are my utensils and that is my personal space. What do you think you're doing?"

Holmes didn't answer. He bent down and disappeared from their sights, but they could all still hear his rummaging through the cabinets. Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes and continued to eat her food. Watson shook his head and spoke up.

"Holmes!" he called.

"Yes, Watson!" Holmes' muffled voice replied from below the counters. Watson sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing? You're interrupting dinner, not to mention going through Mrs. Hudson's things."

"They are not her things, they are for the public! She is not the only one that cooks!" he called again, his voice sounding strained as if he was moving something heavy.

Mary's eyes widened and she looked at Watson, not liking the sound of his statement. She didn't want to know he was actually cooking something up, chemical or edible. Matilda just lightly rubbed her left hand; it still hurt and was finally beginning to bruise.

"Holmes, that's not the point. What—what are you looking for?" Watson finally asked exasperatedly. Holmes stood up and looked around. He was still empty handed.

"Just a utensil. A sharp, pointy, dangerous utensil." He shrugged before dropping down to the ground again and searching.

"A knife? You're looking for a knife?"

"Or scissors, which ever I find first. It appears as though I don't have either of them in my study." He called. Matilda shook her head.

"Why would you need either of those? Whatever it is you're doing, can't it wait until later? We're trying to eat!" she protested.

He didn't reply, just kept searching. They heard clanging and bangs as he pushed things around and knocked other things over. Mrs. Hudson did her best not to react. Matilda rolled her eyes and followed in Mrs. Hudson's footsteps, she just kept eating.

"AHA!" Holmes called, holding his arm up. His hand contained a pair of kitchen sheers. Mrs. Hudson dropped her silverware onto her plate with a clang.

"Don't you dare Holmes! Those are my perfectly good, brand-new kitchen sheers! You are NOT using them for some experiment!"

"Oh nonsense Nanny. I only need them for a short while, just to cut some string and fabric." He shrugged, standing up straight and walking around the counter, rubbing his thumb up and down the handle of the sheers gently. He was smirking down at it playfully, Mary and Matilda watching him.

Watson stood up when he noticed Holmes walking his direction. He stared from the sheers to Holmes, not knowing what was going to happen. He glared at Holmes and clenched his jaw. Holmes stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out 4 folded papers, holding them out to Watson.

"Go on. Take them. They're your earnings." He said matter-of-factly, his eyebrows rose in expectation. Watson peered down at them and took them slowly, slipping them out from between Holmes' fingers. Holmes' hand though, shot out and snatched the papers back.

"You know. I think I shall keep these with me. You can't be trusted with money before your wedding. Especially when you have such a budding socialite for a fiancé." He said gesturing to Mary as he stuffed the papers back in his pocket.

Matilda ran her hand over her forehead and stared at the pocket. She let out a sigh as Mary's mouth slightly dropped open and Watson glared at him.

As she stared at his pocket, she noticed there was another bulge in his waistcoat. Like he was storing something in a hidden pocket. She cocked her head as her eyes narrowed on the bulge and she hesitantly reached out for it with her left hand, her right was clutching her knee, squeezing it tightly.

She slipped her hand into the pocket and wrapped her fingers around a small vile. She paused before slowly pulling it out of the pocket, making sure to take it out as he animatedly spoke to Watson.

"I can take care of the gambling's myself Holmes."

"No, I don't believe you can. You haven't been right in the head lately. You've been losing yourself lately. Earlier today at the crime scene you seemed unsure and quite jumpy. Usually you're very calm and collected."

Watson rolled his eyes, "Holmes I wasn't even at the crime scene!"

Holmes stopped for moment, looking up at the ceiling to think.

"…I think you're right. No wonder something didn't seem right." He muttered, furrowing his brows and gazing around awkwardly.

Matilda stared down at the half empty vile of clear liquid. It was closed with a cork, so she did her best to pull it out. She held the cork between her fingers and she took a whiff of the liquid and coughed. She plugged her nose.

"What is this? This smells horrible!" she gagged and held the vile away from her face. Mary squinted at it.

"Yes, what is that?"

Holmes looked over his shoulder and saw the vile.

"You—you stole that from my pocket. Give it here." He demanded quietly, holding out his hand. Matilda sniffed it again and stood up, backing away so he couldn't reach for her.

"This smells like…cocaine? You drink COCAINE. This is for eye surgery!" Matilda laughed as Holmes followed her, his arm extended, waiting for her to hand it over.

"That is my property. I would appreciate it if you would give it back." He said quietly, sounding calm and collected. His face didn't show anything otherwise. She kept it away from him and looked at Watson.

"Did you know about this? I don't think this is healthy." She snorted as Holmes tried to reach out for it. She pulled it away and Watson nodded.

"Unfortunately yes."

Holmes' hand shot out and grabbed Matilda's left hand, the one holding the vile. She let out a shriek of pain from his grasp. He quickly let go and the vile dropped to the ground. They both jumped back as it shattered against the floor. He stared down at the pool of liquid, his mouth hung slightly open, while Matilda held her hand close to her, staring at it again like a wounded puppy.

Watson stared from the vile to Holmes to Matilda. Mary stood up and walked to Matilda, taking her hands gently. She gasped as the bruising on her hand.

"Matilda! You have bruises!" she gaped, turning to Holmes who was rubbing his jaw. Watson rushed to her side and stared at the rectangular shaped bruise, caused by the heel of the boot that stepped on it.

"That's all right. I have more upstairs. Nanny, would you be so kind as to clean this up? I don't enjoy the notion of medication splattered on my floor." Holmes chimed in, standing straight and folding his arms behind his back. He squeezed past the group and entered the front hall.

"How did this happen?" Watson asked.

"It was…at the crime scene. I was chasing someone and I fell, then they stepped on my hand. That's all. Mr. Holmes must've forgotten!" she said, defending him for no reason, knowing Watson was already on the wall about Holmes at the moment.

Watson though, squeezed past the girls and into the hallway after Holmes. Mrs. Hudson stood from her chair and examined Matilda's hand.

"Ladies, my hand is fine! Don't worry! It's just some bruising!"

"Well you should have mentioned it, we would've gotten ice for you earlier. Besides, Holmes acted as though he didn't even know about it." Mrs. Hudson said leading Matilda to the sink to wash her hands.

"But he did! He even rubbed my hands! I don't know why…but he definitely knew!" she protested. Mary shook her head.

"I agree with Matilda. Holmes is not stupid, he knew. Just let him think he didn't know, that's what I say. Let's just see if anything else is wrong with your hand and we'll finish eating." Mary said quietly, wiping off Matilda's hands with a rag and leading her back to the table to look at Matilda's fingers and palm.

"Nothing was wrong, just bruising and soreness." Was Mary's conclusion.

Matilda could hear Watson quietly talking with Holmes out on the stairs.

"And you didn't mention her hand, why?"

"Because it did not come up in conversation. And neither did the case, come to think of it. I've only been down here for a short while. And you know that I thought she was you while we were at the scene." Holmes shrugged.

"You knew it was her. You just wanted me to be there. And I would've Holmes, don't get me wrong, but now that I'm getting married, I have other priorities. Like my fiancé, and my doctoring job! I can't be by your side 24/7 anymore." Watson replied.

"It is not my fault that you cannot manage your time and continue to work with me." Holmes shrugged.

"And it is not my fault that you cannot accept that Matilda will be staying here until I can have time to come back and work full time. I don't know how long that will be, but she will be here, and that is that. Make sure to mention these things beforehand Holmes." Watson lectured.

Holmes' jaw clenched and he looked Watson up and down as he turned to walk back down the stairs. Once his feet had landed on the floor and he was turned in the direction of the kitchen, Holmes called down.

"Can you hand me my coat and hat?" he asked, as he also trudged down the steps. Watson looked over his shoulder at him and barely reached for Holmes' coat and hat on the coat hanger. He tossed them to his friend and watched him with an unhappy smirk. The coat slipped onto Holmes' arms and the hat fell upon his head.

Mary was leading Matilda out into the front hall as Holmes opened the door, "I'll be going out again. Nanny! I won't be home until late. Save me some of the ham you've prepared. It looks lovely." He called.

Mary rolled her eyes and patted Matilda's shoulders. Matilda stared at the doorway tiredly and yawned.

But the door didn't close completely. Holmes stuck his head back inside.

"Rogers."

"Hm?" she replied quietly.

"Did she have blue, gray eyes? Like storm clouds?"

"You mean, not like my green ones, which somehow resemble weeds? Then, yes, probably." She said for him, not allowing him to get a chance to somehow insult her.

He looked at her with eyes full of emotion again. He just nodded, "perfect. Thank you."

The door slammed behind him and Watson rubbed his forehead, letting out a sigh.

"I will never understand him."