Chapter Eight
"You're a Habit Hard to Break"

Out of everything she could've done, upon seeing Sherlock and John waltz into the detective's apartment, the very last thing he expected her to do was slap him. Hard.

"You fucking idiot!"

He presses the cool leather of his glove to his stinging face as he looks at her in shock. Behind her stood a darker skinned man (Damien?) about his height, though he looked to be about a decade younger than him, and a younger, darker girl. Both looked as surprised as he felt. He didn't have to glance at John to know his face held the same expressions.

"I'm sorry…?" he says hesitantly.

Christabella scoffs. "Like you're ever fucking sorry. What the hell were you thinking?"

He pulls his hand away, pressing the back of it when the heat wells up in his skin immediately. "I'm not sure-"

"Well, that's a first," she growls. "Greg called me. At what point did you think it was a good idea to-to-" she huffs in frustration. "You can't just rush into danger like that anymore. A bomb, Sherlock. It was a fucking bomb, and you just race to it like it's a giant trophy. Did you learn nothing after Jim? You have no idea what I went through. I can't lose you again. None of us can, and you certainly can't take John with you." At that point she turns her glare on John. "What the hell were you thinking? You're supposed to be the sane one. He listens to you."

"Christabella, don't you th-"

She jabs a finger at Sherlock. "Oh, don't you start. I am not overreacting."

He gives her a placating look and pushes her hand down. "I was going to say, don't you think you're being rude?" He nods in the direction of her guests.

The girl waves a hand. "Don't mind us. I have a feeling you deserve it."

"Chris really doesn't get mad needlessly," Damien tells. "Frustrated, yes. Mad, not really?"

"Damn skippy," Christabella snaps as she crosses her arms. "Now." She levels her gaze with Sherlock's. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

"Are we interrupting?" a soft-voiced Mary asked.

"Elo!" Payton exclaims the moment he recognizes his father.

Christabella softens her face and looks towards Mary and Mrs. Hudson. "Not at all."


"So it's official now? He's actually asked?" Christabella asks Mary later at the engagement party. They're both sitting on the couch, the girl (who Christabella had introduced as Daisha Jackson) is on her other side, and Mrs. Hudson's sitting in a nearby chair.

Mary shakes her head, which makes Mrs. Hudson coo. Sherlock pours Mrs. Hudson a glass of champagne. Christabella petulantly avoids his gaze.

"Oh, I'm pleased, really, Mary," the sometimes-housekeeper says. "Have you set a date?"

"Er, well we thought May," Mary admits.

"Oh, a spring wedding!"

"Yeah. Well, once we've actually got engaged."

"Yeah," John adds.

Mary shoots a pointed look at Sherlock and gets a cheeky smile in return. "We were interrupted last time."

"Well, I can't wait." Lestrade raises his glass in a toast.

John, who has just put his jacket on, smiles round at him. Putting down the glass he just poured, Sherlock stands up and walks across towards the far window. Ana watches him, with an indifferent expression.

"You will be there, Sherlock?" Though the way Mary says it, it's more of a demand.

"Weddings – not really my thing," he replies with a look and a wink at her.

The door opens then, Molly and her fiancé, Sherlock supposes, walks in.

"Hello everyone," Molly exclaims.

"Aunt Molly!" Payton, who'd been sitting in Damien's lap on the floor beside Lestrade, shouts, which is a catalyst to everyone's greetings.

"This is Tom," Molly continues. "Tom, this is everyone."

Tom smiles. "Hi."

At the sound of his voice, Christabella looks over at him, flute at her mouth and snorts a mouthful of the bubbly liquid up her nose. Coughing, she drops her glass which shatters at her feet.

"Sorry," she mumbles, looking at the mess. "It's nice to meet you, Tom. Let me get this cleaned up."

She pulls a Sherlock and steps on the coffee table on the way to the kitchen. Her eyes, wide and haunted, meet Sherlock's as she passes him.

"Lestrade'll get it," he says. "Why don't you grab your coat and come with John and I?"

There's relief in her eyes as she nods and dashes towards his bedroom where she'd thrown her jacket before rousing Payton from his nap.

"Thank you," she says, as she joins the boys on the ground floor.

"Who was he?" Sherlock asks.

She shakes her head. "Someone who can't see me."

"So Molly…" John begins.

"Will be fine, for now. He's not… well, he's not good, but not bad. He's a hired gun, I think. I just know his picture." She shakes slightly, like she's scared. It doesn't settle well with either man.

"After Jim… I took over. A wifely duty. But then, I noticed ties were being cut, contacts taken out. It was little ones at first, no one noticed, then, but they would. So I stepped down, I used my pregnancy as an excuse. A child shouldn't be raised in such an atmosphere. Sebastian took over. I don't think…

"They were engaged before you returned. I know Molly never told anyone you were still alive. You're not his target. At least, I don't think. Sebastian and I never got along. If he is actually after anyone, if Tom meeting Molly isn't purely by chance, it'd be me."

Sherlock nods, but doesn't reply, taking her hand reassuringly instead. "Anyway, time to go and be Sherlock Holmes."

"Wait," Christabella says just before they walk out. With a smile, she pulls the deerstalker from a peg onthe coat rack and tugs it on to his head. "Better. Now, you can be Sherlock Holmes."

With a grin, Sherlock opens the front door and goes to meet the reporters. He's still grasping tight to Ana's hand.

John can only imagine the tabloid headlines tomorrow.


NO LOVE LOST HERE
Zachary Pine; 7 November 2013

LONDON, ENGLAND – It's no secret famed Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. But apparently neither is the romance between him and Christabella Moriarty.

After a grueling wait in the freezing cold outside the door of 221B Baker Street, the detective, his blogger John Watson, and Christabella all took to the steps just out front to speak about the diverted terrorist attack on Parliament.

Moriarty's presence wasn't expected, although it's not unusual; she often joins the Boys of Baker Street in their crime solving. What was unusual was how Sherlock and Christabella decided to keep their hands warm during yesterday's chilly interview.

That's right, they were holding hands. Standing side by side as John stood on the step behind them.

Unfortunately, we didn't get an answer on the topic of their relationship, John having pulled the two love birds inside once the topic of terrorism was exhausting.

Which begs the question; are they or aren't they?