To hotwire a mode of transport in London wasn't that difficult. To keep a low profile was, however, becoming increasing more difficult by the day.
Keep Irene Adler alive. Keep Jim Moriarty happy. Keep Mycroft Holmes at bay. Keep Sherlock Holmes guessing. Keep John Watson out of harm's way. Keep Ezra safe. So many things to remember.
She'd heard the five gunshots when they'd rung out. Turning into the street, she rolled her eyes when she caught sight of her favourite detective sweeping back into one of the houses. Pulling over at the far end, she turned off the engine and wanted the events to escalate. She wasn't going to intervene for no reason.
Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, Gwen could do nothing but wait for any sign of movement before the cavalry arrived.
After ten minutes of waiting, her attention was drawn to an alleyway down the side of the house. Starting the car, Gwen began to drive down the road, glancing between the houses for any sign of movement. She admitted she was close to giving up when someone wearing a long coat peered out from around the side of a house, glancing both way down the street.
Pushing her foot down, she gained momentum as she sped down the street, screeching to a halt as the woman jumped back. Leaning upon, with a single movement she thrust open the passenger's door. "Get in."
The woman, who had been running the opposite way, turned around and stared at her. Grinning, she jogged up to the car as she studied the woman behind the wheel. Slipping into the car, the woman eyed the one next to her, "Who are you?"
Speeding down the street, Gwen spun the wheel as the car propelled down the street. "Jim Moriarty sends his love." Gwen told her as she put her foot down on the pedal, changing gears to gain more speed.
"Who are you?" The woman asked again, slightly out of breath as she looked back over at Gwen.
Gwen glanced sideward at Irene, realising that the coat she wore belonged to Sherlock. She'd seen it enough times to know that. "The coat suits him better."
"I happen to think I wear it quiet well." Settling into her seat, Irene smirked before she drew up the gun she held so it rested against Gwen's head. "I won't ask again." She warned.
Laughing, Gwen smacked the gun away. "Unwise. I'd let you have a good go though... however, it is my job to kill people. I'd wager I'd shoot first." She informed Irene amusedly, gesturing to the gun sat near the gear stick. The other woman settled back into her seat, leaning away from her to look her over. "I'm to drop you off at a safe house as I understand, where you will meet with my brother."
"So, you're the other Moriarty."
Scoffing, Gwen shook her head at the assumption. "Unfortunately, no. There is only one Moriarty. I'm the half-sister..." Pulling into a car park, Gwen sighed as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, ignoring it she pulled into a parking space. "The French connection."
"You stole this car, didn't you?" Irene asked, taking in the tall skyscraper from her window.
"Why pay when you can take?" Gwen smiled as she turned off the engine, climbing out of the car swiftly. "Get out of the car, Irene." She ordered, rounding the car to wait for Irene to get out and do as she said. "I don't have to be this nice, you know."
Rolling her eyes, Irene pulled the coat around herself tightly as she stepped out, shuddering from the slight breeze. As she stepped out, the coat slipped, revealing a long pane of flesh.
"You're only wearing the coat, aren't you?" Gwen rolled her eyes, staring at her. "There are most likely some clothes somewhere for you to change into... maybe if you bat your eyes, you might get some."
Irene smiled at Gwen, "You wouldn't deprive a girl, would you?"
"I don't swing that way." Gwen retorted irritably. She could pull triggers and all that jazz, but protecting people... that wasn't her forte. "Come on."
Once Gwen had ushered Irene into the apartment, she waited until the woman had disappeared into the bedroom, before she pulled out her phone. Noticing this, Irene let the coat slip to the floor before disappearing. "Jim," She breathed when he picked up on the first ring. Her patience with The Woman was barely existent. "What am I supposed to do with her now?"
Sighing on the other end, Jim took his time to reply. "Is Sebastian there yet?"
Looking behind herself, she tilted her head in wonder when the door opened to reveal her associate, a small smile playing on his lips as he placed the second key-card on the mantelpiece. "Yes..."
"Then go." Jim's order startled her. She didn't expect him to dismiss her so plainly, or to let her go so willingly. "Go back to Baker Street." He added when he was met with only silence.
Confused, Gwen struggled to find her words. "What?" She breathed out.
"Have Sebastian stay with her." Jim told her softly, humming. "I told you what I need; I want you in the earshot of the Virgin and the Ice Man." Jim paused again, settling Gwen more than she was already. "You did well today, Neve. I'm proud of you."
"Did you just compliment me?" Gwen laughed, pulling on her jacket again.
Jim scoffed on the other end, "I always compliment you. I bring you flowers. You love flowers."
"I have hay-fever, Jim."
Jim laughed at the statement, "I know, but it's funny when you sneeze." His reply made her laugh. Of course he would find enjoyment in the misfortunes of others. "Catch you later, sis." Then he was gone.
When Irene returned dressed more appropriately, Gwen smiled momentarily. "Right, I've... uh, I've got to go." She told the woman out of courtesy, fastening her jacket as her gaze flickered to Sebastian as the man lingered near the windows.
Irene frowned, "Where are you going?"
Gwen watched her for a moment, evaluating the woman that stood before her. She decided not to answer her question and gestured to Sebastian instead. "Sebastian here will keep you company until Jim arrives." She didn't like games very much.
Having to keep a woman alive was strenuous enough, but having to comply with two sides in regards to keeping said woman alive was barely insatiable. Countless wanted her dead, and no matter what, Gwen would have to dodge all those people to prolong the life of Irene Adler.
"Well," Irene strode forward and reached for the coat she had discarded on the floor before entering the bedroom. Passing it to Gwen, she inhaled the scent briefly. "Please return this to him for me, tell me I was very grateful for the loan... What?" She asked when she saw Gwen looking at her in an odd way.
"Just wondering... what makes you so special to Jim and Mycroft?"
Irene smirked, and reached into the pocket of her skirt, withdrawing a phone and wiggling it at her in a taunting manner. "This camera phone is my life."
Gwen's eyes narrowed. I hope she dies... "Good for you." Folding the coat under her arm, Gwen gave a slight inclination of her head. "Make sure she stays here." She told Sebastian, moving past him to approach the door to leave.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Gwen gritted her teeth. "Piss off."
Giving her a mock salute, Sebastian smirked and brushed his jacket aside to reveal his firearm sat in its holster. "Je suis à votre disposition, Votre Altesse Royale."
Gwen smiled at him. "Better." Stepping through the door, Gwen cringed when she heard Irene asking Sebastian what his kink was.
She had barely made it back to the car park when her phone was ringing again. Fumbling around in her pocket, she pulled it open and froze when she saw John's name flashing across the screen. Something was wrong. "John?" She asked, approached the car, throwing the coat into the passengers seat before starting up the car.
"Gwen!" She winced when a slurred shout met her ear, making her cringe at how compromised his seemed. It sounded like... Sherlock? That blasted woman.
"Gwen... oh, god..." John breathed out as Gwen frowned.
"John? What's wrong..." She paused for a moment, replaying his voice over in her head as she put her foot down on the pedal. "Why's your voice all shrill?"
"It's Sherlock."
The mere mention of the detective caught her off guard for a moment. So, it was Sherlock. Had Irene... Irene had undoubtedly done something. "What's wrong with him?" Gwen demanded, allowing the car to gain momentum as she sped down the road, her worry getting the better of her. "Listen, are you all right?"
John was struggling on the other end, which Sherlock most likely. She smiled in relief when she heard Greg's voice as well. At least he wasn't alone. "He's been... bloody hell! Greg, help me!" John shouted suddenly, making Gwen jolt at the sudden change in volume. "He's been drugged. Irene Adler drugged him."
Gwen automatically felt her grip tighten on the wheel.
Sherlock's slurred tones drifted into her ears then, making his drugged state all the more evident. "You're talking to Gw- Gwen!"
"Hello, Curls," She briefly acknowledged the detective as she turned sharply, racing down another road. "Right, where are you?"
"On our way home." John told her quickly before groaning.
Gwen sighed, pushing her foot down with more force, hoping that there wouldn't be any trouble along the way. "I'll meet you there." She managed, turning sharply once again, causing the tyres to screech from the sheer impact. "John?" The doctor hummed in acknowledgement on the other end. "Don't worry."
The line went dead, and when she caught the reflection of the Police lights in her mirror, her breath caught in her throat.
"What an absolute idiot," Greg Lestrade choked out between breaths, "Complete... bloody... idiot!" Giving up, he sunk to his knees, howling with laughter whilst John huffed.
"Yes, go on..." John grumbled, "Laugh about it all you want, but you need to help me get him home."
"All right, John." Greg managed, sobering up until he locked eyes on Sherlock's drugged state before bursting into laughter again. "Oh, I've got to video this... for evidence." Greg withdrew his phone, prepared to record everything to use as ammunition.
The pair of them, somehow, managed to drag the semi-conscious Sherlock out of the house before facing the next obstacle of getting him into the police car unscathed.
"You're trying to tell..." Greg chuckled as he helped John get Sherlock into the car. "So, t- this woman... are you seriously telling me that she took off her clothes... so she could flirt with Sherlock Holmes?" That was all it took, and Greg was laughing again, while John stared in disbelief. "This is brilliant!"
"No," John breathed in exasperation. "It's anything but that, today has been a day I won't forget anytime soon."
"What'd you mean by that?" A few moments later, and Greg was laughing again. "He did what at Buckingham Palace?" Lestrade grunted as he and John wrestled a semi-conscious Sherlock into the waiting car.
"He sat there, naked, wrapped in a sheet." John told him as a small smile played on his lips as h recalled that morning's antics. "He did it to anger Mycroft, though, I was surprised he went through with it seeing as Gwen was there. You know how he gets around her."
Lestrade chuckled. "How'd Mycroft take that?"
"I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel." John commented as Sherlock missed his step, "No, Sherlock, just wait..." He inhaled deeply before even considering to direct him. "The other foot – yeah, that one... go on. There you go."
Lestrade snorted. "Well done, Princess."
Sherlock grumbled at the name, "S... rates..."
Lestrade frowned, "What?" He asked, looking at John to see him smiling at the reply.
"Socrates." Lestrade still looked confused. "Inside joke between him and Gwen."
It took a while, but they eventually got Sherlock settled on the seat in a relatively-upright position, though he slumped immediately against the door until John climbed in next to him, supporting him.
"Yeah, but, well... Mycroft probably deserved it." Lestrade told John as he climbed in the other side to support Sherlock that way. "He does kidnap people off the streets, and then talks down to them through threats because of his severe power complex."
Sherlock's head rolled onto Lestrade's shoulder as he spoke, causing the Detective Inspector to laugh. "Alright there, sunshine?" He asked as Sherlock muttered a string of words under his breath before mumbling about flowers.
John groaned when Sherlock's head landed in the crook of his head, mumbling complete nonsense as he patted the back of his head. "He should be fine once the drugs are out of his system," He told Lestrade, trying not to laugh when he heard Sherlock thank him for being a caring best friend. "... Twenty-four hours or so, he should sleep most of it off."
Lestrade snorted. "Good luck with that.
"John," Sherlock lifted his head to look at his friend, "why... the world is spinning... why?"
John rolled his eyes, "The earth spins on an axis, Sherlock." When Sherlock sent him a drugged-induced look which he interpreted as a glare, he sighed. "It's just a side-effect, Sherlock. Just sit up properly, and you'll be fine."
"You smell nice, John."
John sighed again, trying to shift him. "Do I?"
"Not as nice as Gwen..." Sherlock sounded confused. "Gwen always smells nice, that's why I hug her."
"I can't for you to tell her that," John replied as Lestrade laughed.
When they arrived at Baker Street, John dragged Sherlock out of the back of the police car and without warning, the Consulting Detective leaned against John, nearly sending them both falling.
"Sherlock!" John shouted, panicked as he put Sherlock's arm around his neck to support his weight properly. "You may be lean but you're bloody heavy."
Jogging up around the car, Lestrade winced at the sight. "I'll, uh, help you get him into the flat." Greg didn't plan to deny it; he wanted to stay for payback over the years. Sherlock had treated him like an idiot for years. But, this was too funny to miss. "D'you have your key?"
Securing Sherlock so he could balance him properly, John sighed. "Ring the bell, Mrs. Hudson should answer it."
Lestrade did as John suggested, and thankfully, Mrs. Hudson appeared a few moments later. "Oh, dear!" She cried in outrage when she saw the state Sherlock was in. "Is he all right? What on earth happened?"
"Drugged out of his mind," John told her with a weak smile. "He should be all right in the morning."
"Drugged?" Mrs. Hudson practically shrieked. "What happened to him?"
Lestrade went to answer but Sherlock interrupted him, wiggling a finger at her. "Too loud, Hudders." He warned through the end of a yawn, trying to be quiet, when in fact he was louder than Mrs. Hudson had been.
Lestrade pulled out his phone and started to record as John clambered over the threshold with Sherlock. "You're joking?" John demanded, shaking his head incredulously.
"I'm not missing out on any evidence to use when he annoys me," Lestrade told John. "After years of humiliation, I've got something to blackmail him with now."
John rolled his eyes in defeat. "Fine. Just... don't show it to anyone unless he's done something really diabolical." He paused to steady Sherlock. "He'd find a way to kill you without anyone knowing... Sherlock, at least try to move your legs..."
"... Too tired, John." Sherlock's head dropped forward. "You can do it."
John groaned and began to drag him up the stairs while Greg continued to record; despite his best efforts, Sherlock wasn't much help due to his difficulty in moving. Like a sack of potatoes.
"You know," John called over his shoulder to address Lestrade who was still recording. "You could help."
"I could," Lestrade gave a nod of his head as he moved to angle his phone better, recording John and Sherlock as they went up the stairs. "But I'm a bit busy right now."
John groaned in annoyance, "You're going to regret it, I swear."
"John," Sherlock whined , "I'm too tired."
"Yeah, I heard you the first bloody time," John ground out as he hauled Sherlock to the top step, breathing heavily as Lestrade pushed past to push his phone in their faces to record them.
"Greg," John sighed.
Walking around the corner, Gwen smiled at the sight she was met with. Poor John. "Too you long enough." She smiled as Lestrade turned and pointed the phone at her in greeting. "I got thundered down by some coppers and still beat you here."
Despite his drugged state, Sherlock looked up and squinted. "'Wen?" His voice was slurred and barely audibly as Sherlock stumbled forward, pushing away from John. "'Wen, you're 'ere."
"God, look at you." Sherlock's head dropped again as he stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet. Catching him, Gwen sighed and looked past him to scowl at John. "You let her drug him?" She demanded, outraged, as she supported Sherlock.
"I've missed you..." She heard Sherlock mumble into the crook of her neck, making her smile as his arm wrapped around her waist.
John cleared his throat. "Come on, Sherlock," he muttered, moving to pull Sherlock away from Gwen.
"John- "
Sherlock interrupted her by pushing John off roughly, "No!"
Adjusting her hold on Sherlock, Gwen sent John a sympathetic look and began leading Sherlock to his room, "Just help me." She spoke as he moved to support Sherlock's left side. As they moved him along, she nodded to the door. "Make yourself useful, Greg. Open his door."
Opening the door, Lestrade felt slightly guilty. But, Sherlock was just too funny.
"John, John, John," Sherlock said, smiling lazily as he eyes became glassy, closing before he blinked repeatedly. "'Wen's here."
"I know," John told him. "Almost there... You're going to be all right after you've slept this off." He assured him as Gwen smiled.
"Listen to your doctor, Socrates."
Sherlock looked at her again, lazily smiling. "See? Told... you so..." He nodded, leaning towards John suddenly. "You're my doctor."
"That's right," John responded as they sat Sherlock down on the bed before John kneeled to untie his shoes.
"Why do you take care of me?" Sherlock asked quietly, the most coherently spoken response since he'd got back home. He sat and wriggling his tones after John removed his shoes. "Why?"
Gwen frowned softly, smiling as she removed his suit jacket, passing it to John as Lestrade continued to record. "Someone's got to take care of you," Gwen breathed out, forcing a smile as she helped John up.
Grabbing Gwen's arm, Sherlock pulled her back suddenly. "You've always looked after me." He looked at her with his glassy eyes, and Gwen smiled at him. "I like you, 'Wen."
Gwen smiled at him. "Good." She brushed it off as nothing, knowing that anything Sherlock said in his drugged state was questionable.
"That's nice," John patted Sherlock's shoulder. "Stand up."
Sherlock rose to his feet shakily, still holding Gwen's arm. "I like Gwen very much," he went on, ignoring the fact that she was stood right there. "More than anyone."
No one answered, and instead Gwen moved to pull down the duvet and bed sheet before gently pushing Sherlock back onto the bed. "Go to sleep." She told him.
Sherlock grumbled at him before turning on his side, allowing himself to give in to the drug. "You're... not... I like 'Wen, John. I want her to move back in because I don't want Mycroft to have her." He yawned and closed his eyes.
John nodded, "I know, Sherlock."
Lestrade's finger hovered over the button to stop recording. He was slightly captivated by the scene unfolding before him. He felt like he was intruding on a private moment.
John pulled the sheet over Sherlock and tucked him in firmly, hoping it would trap him. "Just sleep, Sherlock."
"Stay, Gwen," Sherlock mumbled into his pillow. "I like you too much. I think I…" he yawned again and the last bit was never heard.
"What was that, Sherlock?" John smiled.
"You're the best friend I've ever had," he nuzzled his pillow, slurring the last couple words. "I like being with Gwen. Lots."
Scratching the back of his, John cleared his throat and looked to his left to see that Gwen wasn't there. It was only him and Greg. "Right, well..." He sighed and looked at his friend on the bed. "Sleep, Sherlock. That's an order."
"Piss 'ff," Sherlock muttered into the pillow, turning away from John entirely.
"You're welcome." John spoke, louder than necessary, rubbing his forehead. "C'mon, Greg. Have a cup of tea before you go, yeah?"
"Thanks, John." Lestrade nodded, knowing he didn't really deserve for all the help he'd neglected to offer. "Give me a sec."
Once John had left, Lestrade looked to the bed, and leaned over Sherlock as he groaned. "G... way..."
"Call if you need anything," He said, even though he was certain Sherlock had probably fallen asleep as he made his way over to the door. "You know where to find me."
When he closed the door, he smiled thankfully as Gwen handed him a warm mug of tea. "Thanks for your help, Greg." She told him, resting on the arm of Sherlock's chair as John settled in his armchair.
"Don't mention it." Greg smiled sheepishly until he caught John's eye and he paled instantly. "I, uh, I didn't really help though, did I?"
John cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair. "Well, when you put it that way- "
Gwen cut him off with a glare, "Thank you anyway, John could have struggled on his own." She told him softly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Instead, he struggled with you by his side."
At her words, Lestrade started laughing. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity of not having any dirt on him, could I?" He shrugged, taking a gulp of his drink.
"It's a rare thing to see," Gwen agreed with a nod. "He doesn't do it as often as he used to, so I understand your initiative."
"If he's ever a dickhead- "
"Which is always." John interjected.
Lestrade smiled, gesturing to his phone. "Then I can use this as leverage... John, you look knackered mate."
"Well, if you had hauled a drugged Sherlock Holmes up and down several flights of stairs, you would be too."
Gwen looked over and had to agree with him; John looked positively drained. "John, perhaps you should go to bed?" She suggested gently, setting her drink down. "If he wakes up, I can deal with him."
John shook his head, "I can't."
"Well," Lestrade let out, "I better go, I can't leave Donovan to hold the fort any longer..." He gestured to the door and Gwen pushed off from the chair.
"I'll see you out."
"See you soon, John." Lestrade called over his shoulder as he jogged down the stairs, Gwen following him. "So, did you want to go for that coffee?"
John smiled at Greg's question, seeing no harm in it, though he frowned when he didn't catch Gwen's reply.
"John!"
"Damn Sherlock," John Watson grumbled as he walked down the hall to Sherlock's bedroom. Not even five minutes, and he was calling his name following the thump of something heavy hitting the floor, which John assumed was most likely Sherlock.
Turning the door handle, John opened the door and glanced round the room. Sprawled on the floor, a drugged Sherlock was trying his best to sit up but instead, continued to fall in a heavy heap on the floor.
"John," Sherlock groaned, fighting the sheet that had tangled him. "The room is spinning." He let out, annoyed as John grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.
Sherlock's legs gave out as he fell onto John, causing the pair of them to fall backwards onto the bed, pinning John beneath Sherlock. Attempting to push off the ragdoll, John soon gave when he didn't budge.
"Sherlock," John breathed out, trying to turn his head so he could breath as he continued to try and free himself. "Sherlock, do you think you can move?"
The low grumble of Sherlock's voice sounded as he tried to reply, "John," Sherlock paused for a moment. "Your thoughts are too loud," Sherlock mumbled under his breath.
"Everything all ri-" Gwen paused mid-sentence and stared when her eyes fell upon Sherlock lying atop John who was struggling beneath. "Oh for goodness sake." She muttered, striding into the room to roll Sherlock off of John, freeing the doctor.
"Stop thinking and go to sleep," Sherlock grumbled as he was pushed off of John, face first into the bed sheet.
"Are you all right?" Gwen asked as she helped John up with a faint laugh, noticing he'd gone red in the face with not being able to breathe.
Turning her attention to Sherlock as John left the room, she rolled him back into a comfortable position and moved to tuck him in again. "Just try to sleep. The sooner you do that, the sooner you'll be back to normal."
Sherlock mumbled something into his pillow and she smiled at him, moving away to leave his bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Leaning against the door, she sighed. Meeting John's gaze, she sent him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, Greg kept me talking... are you all right?" She walked towards him, helping him sit down. John nodded in reply and she saw down opposite him. "So... she just drugged him?"
John nodded, "Apparently." He rubbed his forehead tiredly, looking up at her as she reclined in Sherlock's chair. "She's bloody mad, Gwen. First time I saw her she was naked! Then she drugs him out of the blue..."
Gwen frowned, "There's got to be more to it than that surely." Gwen knew it was also centred around the camera phone that she kept on her person at all times. She didn't understand it completely yet.
"I know it doesn't make much sense but-"
"Much?" Gwen questioned with wide eyes. "There is no sense to it, John. Our friend is currently lying there in a severe drug induced state while we wait for him to recover." Gwen gestured to the room angrily, hating the fact that she was lying to John again. John needed a new lifestyle, to be away from those who would harm him. "What is she like?"
John shrugged, "Dominatrix is used lightly."
Gwen made a face.
"What?" John asked, frowning at her. "Go on, what is it?"
"Nothing."
"John?" Sherlock's voice rose into the air again and the pair of them groaned, sighing in disbelief at his persistence.
Sherlock had managed to stand himself up, the sheets tangled around him. Losing his balance, he flipped himself over the bed and landed on the ground again with a thud.
The door opened and John stood there. "You okay?" John asked, tilting his head at him in question.
"How did I get here?" Sherlock pressed, wanting to know.
John sighed, scratching his ear. "Well, I don't suppose you remember much... you weren't making a lot of sense," He paused, watching as Sherlock fought with his sheet to stand. "I should warn you, Lestrade filmed you on his phone."
"Where is she?"
John frowned at him. "Where's who?"
"The woman. That woman," Sherlock threw his hands up into the hand in frustration. "THEEE woman!" He seemed to grow more agitated the longer John looked at him. "The Woman... woman!"
"Oh, Irene Adler!" John caught on with a slight smile. "She... Got away. No one saw her." John watched his flatmate dither around the room in a confused haze and he felt guilty. He had never seen Sherlock look so vulnerable before. "She wasn't here... Sherlock?"
John arched a brow at him when he started crawling on the ground, looking for something. "What are you... What's..." He trailed off, watching Sherlock for a few second before he decided to move and actually do something. He couldn't stand there and watch his helplessness. "No, no, no." John hooked his arms beneath Sherlock's armpits and his folded his hands together to support his chest and hoisted him up. "Back to bed."
Suddenly, Sherlock's face hit the pillow with a quiet thud.
John sighed. "You'll be fine in the morning..." John said, hoping it was true. "Just... Sleep."
"Of course I'll be fine," Sherlock stated harshly, sounding very much like a child. "I am fine. I'm absolutely fine."
"Yes. You're great," said John slowly, stepping away from Sherlock. "Now I'll be next door if you need me."
"Why would I need you?" Sherlock snapped drowsily.
"No idea," John closed the door.
"John!" Sherlock exclaimed at the top of his lungs, but the door didn't open again. "Come back! John!"
John was about to go back in but Gwen sighed, drawing his attention to her. "Just ignore him and he'll settle down." She warranted, knowing what Sherlock was like.
John stared at her, moving away from the door gradually. "Really?" He asked, still feeling uneasy.
Smiling slightly, Gwen tilted her head at John, finding his concern for Sherlock endearing. "John, he's an adult version of a child." She reprimanded, rolling her eyes as the doctor settled back down into his chair. "Leave him to settle."
John sighed when he found his tea cold. "And if he doesn't?" He challenged, wanting to know Gwen's backup plan... if she had one that was.
Gwen gave a soft shrug of her shoulders. "It was only a suggestion." Leaning forward, Gwen offered John her tea which he took immediately. "John, just relax... Sherlock is absolutely fine, he's in safe hands." She knew reassuring John wouldn't do much seeing as he was so tense and panicked.
She felt bad for John Watson, guilty even. He'd been thrown onto a train that had no destination, one that was out of control, without any warning and without anyone to stop it. She pitied him for the lifestyle he'd adapted to; he was blind if he thought it would have a happy ending. Happy endings didn't exist, and if they did, Sherlock Holmes would ruin them.
"He's done it before..." John started slowly, watching her carefully as he realised she knew how to handle the situation. "You've seen him like this before, haven't you?"
Gwen stared at him for a moment before she nodded. "I've seen him worse than this..." She said in a hope to calm John somewhat. She knew it was a long shot, but his shoulders slumped some. "You've just got to watch out for..." She was cut off when his screams erupted into the air, and Gwen immediately rose to her feet. "Nightmares."
"Nightmares?"
Gwen sighed, "It's either wake him up or suffer his insistent screams for God knows how long."
John stared after her as she moved toward the bedroom, seeing no point in arguing with her. He didn't really fancy having to listen to screams all night. "Are you sure?" He called after her, knowing it was no easy thing.
"Yeah, I've got this." Gwen told him softly, her hand seizing the handle. "Get some sleep, I don't mind dealing with him when he's like this." Stepping into his bedroom again, Gwen paused when she saw Sherlock thrashing on his bed. "Sherlock?"
"No, stop..." Sherlock yelled. "John! John, help! Help!"
Immediately, her hands gripped his shoulders as she roughly shook him, causing him to freeze for several moments. "Sherlock! Wake up!" Gwen shouted, her hands still shaking his shoulders in a hope of rousing him. "Come on, it's only a nightmare."
Gasping hard, Sherlock opened his eyes to see Gwen's anxious face above him.
She watched him for a moment, wondering if he recognised it was her. Nightmare or night terror? Gwen breathed a sigh of relief when she saw recognition in Sherlock's eyes as he allowed her to sit him on the bed.
"You were having a nightmare," Gwen explained softly, helping him sit up for a moment. "It sounded pretty horrific... are you all right?"
"It was Irene," Sherlock said shortly, sitting up in bed to wrap his arms around his legs as he drew them up to his chest. "She'd drugged me."
"Go on," Gwen prompted after Sherlock was quiet for several moments. "Did something happen? Because it's not real, Sherlock. It could down to the precognitive thought process of your brain-
"It was a nightmare, Gwen."
Gwen nodded, "Are you worried about anything? Stressed?"
Shuddering, Sherlock shook his head, meeting her eyes. "She kept touching me... I couldn't move."
Sleep paralysis, Gwen thought with a wince. She was silent for a few moments, registering what he'd told her. Having no movement in dreams or nightmares was terrifying, she could vouch for that. "Why did it scare you?" Gwen finally asked.
"Irene... You... She called me the Virgin." He murmured quietly, looking away rom Gwen. "Why weren't you there? Why didn't you save me?"
Gwen looked down, "Mycroft's a hard man to slip..." She smiled when she saw the look of disgust on his face. "I'm playing both sides, remember?" She held his gaze when looked at her, frowning slightly. "It was just a nightmare, Sherlock. Try and get some sleep." She stood from the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.
Sherlock watched her through his tired gaze, "Thank you, Gwen."
"What for?" She asked, amused.
"... Coming back."
Smiling to herself, Gwen closed his bedroom door and return to the living to find herself alone, thankful that John had taken her advise and decided to get some sleep. Settling back into the chair, she knew it wouldn't be long before the silence would be interrupted again.
When it was, it wasn't Sherlock. Instead, it was the message tone belonging to her phone.
Did you get it? – MH
Gwen stared at the words, frowning at their meaning. She knew he was referring to the phone Irene carried on her at all times. There was no way she could see herself getting her hands on that. Not unless Adler was dead. It was an impossible task.
Sorry, you'll have to be specific. – GC
She didn't like being Mycroft's puppet. A toy for him to use at his own will to spy on Jim. It wouldn't work, and it wouldn't end well. Jim was too clever, too strong... and his hold on her was far more suffocating than Mycroft's. Jim would kill her in an instant if necessary. Mycroft cared too much to do that. That was his weakness; he was sentimental, his very own enemy.
I'm sending a car to pick you up so we can talk in person. – MH
Reading the reply, she sighed at how evident his power complex was. It annoyed her endlessly, to know that Mycroft Holmes thought he could order her about. She contemplated telling him about his brother, but decided against it knowing he would probably blame her.
Can't. – GC
It was silent for a while, and she thought for a moment that he'd given up, and that he'd stop bugging her for something he had no chance of getting anyway.
Don't make me order you. – MH
As she went to reply, she sighed. Sherlock couldn't even last twenty minutes. He'd been silent for most of those twenty minutes, and she had hoped that was going to be the last of it until he'd slept off the effects.
Obviously, that wasn't meant to happen. Inhaling deeply, Gwen opened the bedroom door and peered inside to see Sherlock sitting up. "What's wrong?" She asked, her tone soft and patient despite how annoyed she was becoming. She frowned when she saw his head was in his hands, closing the door behind her, she stepped into the room. "Sherlock..."
"I think... going to be sick," He managed to tell her.
"All right," Gwen spoke, reaching for the bucket John had placed by the bed just in case. "The bucket's right here if you need it." She had to hold back a laugh when Sherlock looked at her, appalled by the offer until his head disappeared. "Okay, there we go..."
Lovely. Leaving Sherlock to throw up into the bucket, Gwen disappeared into the bathroom to grab some tissues. When she returned, she winced hearing the sound of projectile vomiting echoing in the bedroom.
"Careful," She took the bucket from him and handed him the tissues despite his questioning on why he would need them. Raising both brows, Gwen sighed and wiped his nose and mouth for him. "Lie down again, and I'll get you some water."
She confessed herself shocked when he did as asked, settling down again as she went back into the bathroom to take care of it. When she returned with the glass of water and the clean bucket, she hoped Sherlock was asleep from the lack of movement. Sighing in relief, she went to leave.
"Gwen..."
Closing her eyes, she sighed. "What is it, Socrates?"
"Mycroft..."
At the mention of his brother, she turned around to face him with a frown. She didn't expect him to say Mycroft of all things. "What about him... did you want me to call him?" She didn't know what he wanted or why he had brought him up.
It was Mycroft's fault he was in such a state in the first place.
Rolling her eyes as Sherlock tried to sit up again, he shook his head firmly. "No," He breathed, reaching for the water to chug it down. "... What he said about..."
"Sherlock, just lie down." Gwen moved toward the bed again and untangled Sherlock's legs from the sheets in amusement before she sat on the edge of the bed, frowning softly. "What did he say?"
"You were there," Sherlock bit out, obviously annoyed by whatever Mycroft had said. It was clearly bugging him. "How would I know... How..."
Gwen paused, thinking over the events of that day and when they had spoken... Buckingham Palace. She frowned again, playing over his words for a moment before – Oh. "What about it?"
"He was right."
Gwen stared at him. "Right about what?
Rubbing his forehead, Sherlock sighed irritably, trying to reason with himself. "When he said..." He paused, swallowing thickly. "... wouldn't know if sex... alarmed..."
Gwen's head rose in understanding. "And that bothers you... why?" She prompted, knowing that he was the more emotional one but also that despite not accepting human feelings, he did need to talk about them.
Looking up suddenly, Sherlock's eyes narrowed at her as he leaned forward. "Does it bother you?"
"No, why would it?"
Sherlock cringed, looking away as his head fell into his hands. "It bothers me." He took a deep breath.
"There's no need to be embarrassed about it, Sherlock." Sighing, she reached for the nearest hand and drew his attention to her again. "It doesn't matter." She told him firmly, holding his gaze.
He shook his head slightly. "It does."
"Why?" Gwen persisted.
"Because."
Did honestly think it would bother her? They'd known one another for what? Six years. Six years and Sherlock still behaved as though they were strangers sometimes. It infuriated her. "Sherlock," Gwen said. "Do you remember the day I moved in here? The very first time?"
"Hmm..." He frowned for a moment thinking. "Not really."
Gwen smiled at his attempt. "You asked me why I wasn't married or in a relationship. You made the point of saying that it was ridiculous because being French is an attractive attribute to possess due to stereotyping." She paused as he took it all in, smiling more when he frowned in thought. He is trying... "You were baffled by the knowledge that I was alone because- "
Sherlock cut her off, looking at her properly. "I called you beautiful." He looked pleased with himself. Smug, even.
Gwen nodded, ignoring how sweaty his palms were as his fingers grasped hers. "You did, not in so many words, but yes." She agreed, watching him sit forward, crossing his legs. "And then you took it back, and apologised profusely for then calling me ugly."
Sherlock winced briefly before he smiled. "You laughed."
"It was the polite thing to do; I deemed punching you in the face as not appropriate for a first meeting." She explained simply, shrugging it off as his eyes widened at her. "Your perception of me is a reflection of you, Socrates. Anyway, sex isn't just about reaction or touch..."
Sherlock's brow changed slowly, before his mouth fell open. "You can't change the subject like that!" He accused, staring at her incredulously.
Gwen laughed at him. "I wanted to make sure you were listening." She told him as he settled, thankfully calming down again otherwise he would wake poor John Watson. "Anyway, it depends on the nature..."
"Love?"
"Love." Gwen looked at him for a moment. He was watching her curiously, like a puppy with its head tilted in question. "Well, then it comes down to two things:romantic intensity and romantic profundity." She smiled when she saw him frowning, probably trying to find the distinction between the two. "Romantic intensity expresses a romantic experience at a given moment whilst romantic profundity involves shared activities that fulfil needs that are constitutive of a couple's long-term relationship."
What he said next shocked her slightly. "Love at first sight?" Sherlock asked as though it was a normal thing coming from his mouth.
Sitting on the bed properly so she was sat next to him, Gwen knew that there was no backing out of the conversation now. How had they gone from talking about Mycroft to this? "Uh, well... love at first sight would count as intense love... So, like what the person believes about the person they love, the strength of that evaluation..." She trailed off, struggling, more so because Sherlock was practically looming over her, watching and waiting for answers.
Trying again, Gwen had to ignore him. "It's apparently linked to the "personality halo", which is someone who is perceived as having a specific personality trait – this makes them attractive to others." Gwen sighed in thought, "I don't know, it comes down to psychology, doesn't it? About how the brain perceives everything... and what's attractive..."
Adjusting his position on the bed, Sherlock settled down next to her, staring at the hand he still held. "Why do people call it sex and making love separately?" He pressed, frowning deeply. "What's difference?"
Gwen blinked. Gwen didn't know when the conversation had gotten so personal, though she was slightly shocked that Sherlock was willingly participating. Clearing her throat, she frowned. "Well, sex is the desire for physical contact with another body – it's mechanical. That's like anything from rubbing to biting...it's mechanical though, so these are way of mechanically stimulating or arousing oneself. And- "
"Making love?" Sherlock prompted.
Gwen bit the inside of her cheek, wondering why she had bothered. "Making love is about uniting rather than being separate, essentially "two hearts beating at one". It's much more personal because of the intimacy and solidarity between those involved, they become one." Gwen looked at him to Sherlock frowning deeply. ""One half of me is yours, the other half is yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.""
"Who said that?" Sherlock asked, looking at her.
Letting her head rest against the headboard, Gwen smiled. "Shakespeare..."
Sherlock thought for a moment, "Merchant of Venice?"
"So there is some sense in there after all?" She teased as he copied her actions. "Your brother doesn't understand the physicality and mentality in sex, he's not exactly a love guru is he"
Sherlock rolled onto his side, looking up at her. "He doesn't?"
"No, but honestly, how can anyone?" Gwen smiled slowly, moving his feral curls out of his eyes. "Can love even be defined?"
"You just did it." Sherlock pointed out which made her laugh. Smiling slowly, he pushed himself up. "What?"
Gwen shook her head, staring forward. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, you've got better things to be embarrassed about than that. It's fine. It's all fine." She didn't make to move, knowing it would only disturb Sherlock even more seeing as he was clutching her hand more tightly than he had been before. "Try to get some sleep, Sherlock. You know we'll have to handle Mycroft tomorrow."
"Mycroft can piss off."
Gwen laughed. "My sentiments exactly."
"Gwen?"
"Hmm." She looked back at him then.
"You're moving back in."
"Thank God," She breathed in relief. "Now, budge over." She waited until Sherlock had made himself comfortable again before lying down next to him, draping an arm over him.
"You're right," Sherlock smiled softly. "It doesn't matter, I'm Socrates."
Sherlock blinked.
Why did she have to do that? Looking over the top of his newspaper, he spied Gwen sitting opposite him as she sat chewing on a piece of toast. His eyes narrowed as he met the black collar of one of his shirts. He couldn't have her doing that. Mrs. Hudson would start questioning him.
"Do you mind?" Sherlock demanded suddenly, frowning at her before pointing to his shirt. "Do you not own any clothes of your own?"
Narrowing his eyes, Gwen sent Sherlock a warning look. "I cleaned up your vomit, I'll have you know." She reminded and smiled when he immediately stropped pressing the matter. Anyway, she couldn't help it if she didn't have any clean clothes... though, when she considered it, there was a chance there was some in her flat.
Peering over his newspaper, Sherlock looked over at her. Why did she insist on wearing his shirt? She never even asked. Why pay when you can take... "Gwen..." He started, making her look up from whatever she was reading on his laptop.
"Hmm." Gwen murmured, eyes unblinking as she slowly met Sherlock's gaze.
Setting his newspaper down, he sighed. "Did you mean what you said last night?" Sherlock asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Sipping her tea, she tilted her head in question. "Which bit? I said a lot last night."
"Love."
John nearly choked on his tea, "Love?"
"Love." Sherlock repeated, ignoring John's musing as he continued to look at the woman opposite him. "Love at first sight, making love... to love. All of it." His eyes darted to John who was staring at him wide-eyed, even Mrs. Hudson had stopped fluttering around in the kitchen at his words.
Smiling slightly, Gwen shrugged. "It always intrigued me and oddly enough, it got you to shut up." John laughed and she continued smiled. "You brought up the conversation anyway."
"I did." Sherlock agreed. He still wondered why Gwen had told him what she had, and wondered why she had recited that particular Shakespeare verse to him as well... it bugged him. "Your explanation was very thorough, thank you."
"Wait," John interrupted them, evidently confused. "What conversation? When did this conversation occur?" He looked between the pair of them expectantly as Gwen smiled in amusement.
"Gwen and I shared a bed last night." Sherlock told John honestly, causing the man to once again, almost choke on his tea in shock. "Honestly John... nothing happened, don't get all hot and bothered over nothing." He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"I would have left," Gwen spoke up, leaning forward as she sent Sherlock a playful glare. "But after a while of tedious fighting, I gave up."
"So..." John looked between them again, "You just talked?"
Gwen nodded before she looked at Sherlock again. "Why do I find you most pleasant when you're drugged?" She propped a hand under her chin and she smirked.
Sherlock frowned at her, "I'm always pleasant."
Mrs. Hudson laughed from the kitchen.
"I am!" Sherlock challenged, smiling when he saw Gwen laugh, leaning back into the chair in her own amusement as he watched her.
"You were drugged?"
Gwen rolled her eyes as she looked towards the door, finding herself not surprised when she saw Mycroft lurking there with his umbrella in hand. "Oh, no one likes a dirty eavesdropper, Myckie." She commented which made Sherlock chuckle.
Mycroft stared at her as he walked further into the room, glancing sideways as he saw Mrs. Hudson tinkering about in the kitchen. "Mrs. Hudson." He greeted politely as the landlady turned to look at him.
"Oh, it's you." Gwen snorted at her response, causing Mycroft's head to snap in her direction. He stilled, however, when his eys fell upon her bare legs which held his attention.
Nearing the table, Sherlock straightened when Mycroft loomed over them all. "You shared a bed with Sherlock?" Mycroft arched a brow, "How was it? Rigid? Awkward? Fiddly?"
Knowing Mycroft was being outright cruel was no apparent reason other than being jealous, Gwen chose to feed into it, hoping Sherlock would do the same. "It was quite pleasant, wasn't it Sherlock?" She smiled over at the curly-haired brother. "We were both as snug as a bug in a rug, weren't we Socrates?"
Concealing his smile, Sherlock cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, it was very cosy. And warm." He agreed with a small smile, his eyes soft unlike Mycroft as he stood clutching his umbrella. "The cuddling was my favourite bit."
"Oh, how could I forget the cuddling?"
Closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, Mycroft knew the two of them were merely winding him up. "All right, you've had your fun..." He breathed in warning.
Gwen turned to look up at Mycroft, glowering at him as she felt her own frustration getting the better of her. "You know what to do next time then, don't you? Leave your brother's sex life out of this bloody rivalry." She spat in his face as Sherlock felt an odd sense of pride surge through his chest at seeing Gwen's defiance.
Mycroft scoffed in disbelief. "You can't tell me what- "
Gwen's eyes flew to Sherlock immediately. "How soon did you say I could move back in?" She asked, cutting off Mycroft completely.
Sherlock thought for a moment, enjoying the look of complete puzzlement and slight shock on his brother's face. "Today sound good?" He smiled at her.
"Wonderful." Gwen agreed with a firm nod, rising to her feet so she was stood directly in front of Mycroft. "Your company isn't something I wish to keep any longer if this is what I've got to put up with." She made to move past him but his caught her wrist in his hand and yanked her back.
"Mycroft," John warned when he saw Sherlock's fists tighten around the newspaper he was holding.
"What does this exactly mean?" Mycroft questioned, glaring at Gwen as she held it steadily. "Quite vague for someone with a serpent's tongue, I'm quite- "
"It means I would rather live with Sherlock." Gwen breathed out, practically seethed as she ripped her wrist free as Mycroft looked as though he'd been slapped. "At least he treats me as though I am a human being. I need to breath, and with you, that's something I can't do."
"You can't be serious." He laughed, gesturing to the flat around them. "You want to live here? Here?"
"Yes, I want to live here." Gwen retorted, coming to stand behind Sherlock to put some distance between herself and Mycroft, so she could calm down. "I never wanted to leave."
Clearing his throat, Sherlock was the one to break the tense silence that had fallen across the room. "The photographs are perfectly safe." He told Mycroft, hoping it would draw his attention away from Gwen to discuss Irene Adler.
Coming to stand where Gwen had been sat, Mycroft shoved a hand into his pocket. "In the hands of a fugitive sex worker..."
"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants..." Sherlock looked to Gwen as she moved into the kitchen, away from Mycroft. His gaze lingered upon her legs for a moment. "protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" He asked, looking at Mycroft as he moved as well.
"How can we do anything while she has the photographs?" Mycroft replied angrily, his frustration still evident from the furious expression he wore. "Our hands are tied."
"She'd applaud your choice of words." Sherlock commented dryly. "You see how this works: that camera phone is her "Get out of jail free" card. You have to leave her alone." Sherlock looked back at his newspaper and rolled his eyes, "Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."
"Though not the way she treats royalty." As he looked at Mycroft, John smiled sarcastically at John before returning it.
Out of nowhere an orgasmic female sigh drifted through the room.
Mycroft frowned and looked over at Gwen but she was helping Mrs. Hudson, or rather Mrs. Hudson was handing her a velvet bag. Not her... As she stood with her back to him, his eyes trailed down and lingered upon her bare legs until Sherlock coughed, drawing his attention to find his little brother glowering at him hazardously.
John frowned as well, "What was that?"
"Text." Sherlock answered for the both of them as he got up and went over to pick his phone up to read the message.
Good morning, Mr. Holmes.
"But what was that noise?" John pressed.
"Text alert, John." Gwen told him as returned with a plate of food.
"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess." He hissed, returning to the table before stealing a piece of bacon from Gwen's plate.
Mycroft stared as Sherlock ate the piece of meat, his eyes widening when she hit him on the side of the head before apologising and offering him her tea.
"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft." John added, noticing Mycroft's lingering gaze.
Watching as Mrs. Hudson brought over Sherlock's breakfast, Gwen smiled when he passed her a piece of bacon to make up for the one he'd stolen. "Don't say I don't know how to treat you."
Gwen laughed, "No, you just leave me to pay the bills."
Turning to face Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson scowled at him disapprovingly. "It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that." She asserted sternly. "Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes.
Mycroft, however, had lost his rag. "Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson."
"MYCROFT!"
"Presumptuous prick." Gwen breathed, eyeing him dangerously from where she sat.
Mycroft studied the face of Sherlock and John for a moment, noting their enraged expressions before he looked over at Gwen to see her looking at him disappointedly. Cringing, he looked contritely at Mrs. Hudson. "Apologies." He bit out.
Mrs. Hudson smirked smugly. "Thank you."
"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock added as Gwen kicked his leg, making him jolt under the table. His eyes flew to hers questioningly to see anger radiating within her brow orbs. He went to speak but his phone let out the orgasmic female sigh again.
Mrs. Hudson sighed, "Ooh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" She asked, obviously feeling uncomfortable.
Feeling better?
"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."
"I can put maximum surveillance on her." Mycroft offered, licking his lips as he shifted slightly.
"Why bother?" Sherlock asked with a bored tone, returning to his paper. "You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is "TheWhipHand"."
"Yes. Most amusing." Mycroft smiled sarcastically as his phone rang. Taking it from his pocket, he sighed. "'Scuse me." He walked out into the hallway as Sherlock and Gwen watched him leave. "Hello..."
John looked at Sherlock, frowning. "Why do your phone make that noise?"
"What noise?"
John smiled sheepishly before gesturing to his phone. "That noise – the one it just made."
Sherlock frowned a him. "It's a text alert. It means I've got a text."
"Hmm." John thought for a moment, watching as Sherlock picked from Gwen's plate again despite having his own plate of food. "Your texts don't usually make that noise." He pointed out.
"Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently, as a joke, personalised their text alert noise."
Gwen looked up when she felt eyes on her, and frowned when she saw John watching her. "Don't look at me – you'd think I'd willingly make that noise so it would be heard in public?" She demanded as John smiled at her, shaking his head.
"Hmm... So every time they text you..." Right on cue, the phone sighed again.
Sherlock set down his newspaper, "It would seem so."
"Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life." Mrs. Hudson asked coming back into the room, making Gwen smile.
I'm fine since you didn't ask.
Sherlock put down his phone and immediately went back to reading his paper until John spoke again, still confused. "I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" Sherlock moved the paper up slowly so it was obscuring his face. "Gwen, how did you have the coat?"
Looking up from her plate, Gwen frowned in thought. She couldn't necessarily tell him about Irene Adler whilst Mycroft was still there. "It was outside on the railing when I came in."
John frowned.
"I'll leave you to your deductions." Sherlock added.
John smiled when he saw Gwen steal some more bacon. "I'm not stupid, y'know."
"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock remarked as Mycroft wandered back into the room.
Still talking on his phone, his met Gwen's gaze. "Bone Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." As he hung up, Gwen pulled out his phone from the shirt pocket.
Bond Air is go. – GC
"What else does she have?" Sherlock pressed as Mycroft looked at him enquiringly. "Irene Adler... the Americans wouldn't be interest in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." Sherlock stood suddenly and moved towards Mycroft, "Much more... something big's coming, isn't it?" He asked as Mycroft looked at him expressionlessly.
Is that a riddle? – JM
"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours." Mycroft breathed out threateningly. "From now on you will stay out of this."
Sherlock glowered at him, not breaking eye contact. "Oh, will I?"
Taking the opportunity while the brothers were at locked horns with one another, Gwen chose to reply to Jim.
Pretty sure it's linked to the counter-terrorism project. – GC
"Yes, Sherlock, you will." John and Gwen shared a look as Sherlock shrugged and turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."
"Do give her my love," Sherlock called as he picked up his violin and began to play "God Save the Queen".
Mycroft rolled his eyes and turned to leave as Sherlock followed him. John grinned in amusement until Mycroft turned and his eyes landed on Gwen.
"Guinevere, a word please." He gestured for her to follow him.
Reluctantly, Gwen rose to her feet and set down her plate to follow Mycroft as he waited for her. Taking the bag Mrs. Hudson had given her into hand, she smiled. Closing the door behind them, he turned to face her, staring at her carefully.
With a grin, she presented the bag before Mycroft. "If you'd be so kind, dear." She held the edges as he stared at her, raising a slight brow in question. "The idea is that you withdraw a name."
Mycroft grimaced, "I don't partake in foolish activities."
Inclining her head, Gwen frowned. "Just pick a bloody name, Mycroft."
Mycroft stared at her for another moment, considering her order as John watched him, amused. "This is so trivial..." He muttered, reaching into the bag and riffling through several folded strips of paper. Retrieving a strip, he removed his hand and briefly glanced at the paper and inwardly cringed. Which fool invented the tedious nature of Secret Santa? "And?"
"You go buy a gift for said person."
"And why would I do that?" Mycroft challenged.
Gwen smirked, "Because you're coming to the gathering on Christmas Eve." Mycroft started to shake his head, but she stopped him. "You haven't even looked."
"Who did you draw?" Mycroft pressed.
"John." She answered with a soft smile. "But, of course, I'll be buying for everyone else as well."
"I suppose I could indulge myself in this petty festivity." Mycroft rolled his shoulders and unfolded the strip of paper, reading it:
Sherlock Holmes
"And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?" He showed her the paper and frowned, obviously disappointed with who he'd drawn.
"He's your brother," Gwen told him, staring at him with a frown. "It shouldn't be too hard."
Mycroft sighed. "Can I pick another instead?"
"No." Gwen tucked the bag behind her back. "You will follow the rules, and you will be attending."
"Who else is coming?" Mycroft asked, cringing.
Gwen thought for a moment, "Greg, Molly... John and his latest flame. Obviously, Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock, myself... you get the idea." She laughed at his facial expression. "Don't look so horrified, it's only a social gathering."
Mycroft grimaced again. "Exactly." Turning back to the matter at hand, Mycroft held his head highly. "You've interacted with Irene Adler in the past twenty-four hours haven't you?"
Gwen watched him for a moment before nodded. "I picked her up yesterday." She answered honestly, he'd only have to check security cameras to know if she was lying. "She also held a gun to my head if I recall..."
His eyes widened silently but soon returned to their normal, deadened self. "Do you know where she keeps her information?"
"She has a camera phone in her possession."
Turning his attention to his umbrella, he refused to meet her eye and pretended to be distracted with the handle. "I would like you to obtain said camera phone and deliver it to me personally."
"The least you could do is look at me when you ask me to do something," Gwen commented as his eyes immediately flew to hers with a look of hope in them. "Unfortunately, I can't do that." She added flatly. "You see, it interferes with my other contract. I've been told to protect her by both you and my brother, and yet you're requesting I remove her protection – by doing so, her death would be guaranteed." Gwen explained, folding her arms over her chest as she tilted her head in question.
Mycroft clenched his fist in vexation, sighing deeply. "I need the information she possesses, Miss Chevalier." He was practically fuming, and it didn't help that she was smiling at him. "It is vital as a member of the British Government that we have it within our custody."
"Tell me more, Mr. Bond." Her voice had grown soft and almost playful as she leaned against the bannister. "What was that little phone call back there?"
"That is none of your business, Guinevere."
"Thought as much." Gwen smiled knowingly. "I still can't get you her phone."
"I understand." Mycroft gave a curt nod, moving to descend the stairs so he could leave. "Though, I do question where your loyalties truly lie."
Grabbing the end of his umbrella, Gwen pulled him back so he was stood in front of her. She smiled when she noticed he was wearing a red tie. Smoothing out the silk with her hand, she straightened it and smiled. "Red suits you." She commented in amusement.
Looking down at her, Mycroft sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the shirt she was wearing ride up to reveal bare skin. "I apologise, Guinevere." He managed to say through a clenched jaw.
Letting go of his tie, she frowned. "Pardon?"
Mycroft met her eyes for a moment, and sighed. "I... I apologise for making you feel that way." He announced quietly, surprising himself that he was actually apologising for what was the truth. "I didn't intend to... to ever..." He trailed off, moving to leave.
Reaching for his hand, she made him stop again. "It's safer for you this way," She saw him frown at her words. "You don't know him like I do... it will ensure your protection."
"I'm the British Government, Guinevere."
Gwen smiled. "Me moving back here will distract him from you." Gwen told him as Mycroft's face dropped, much like a penny. Did he honestly think she was that cruel? "From then on, I know what to do." She told him, straightening the lapels on his coat and ignoring the blush that had crept up his neck. "Go do some government stuff, Mr. Bond."
Mycroft smiled slightly, allowing his lips to twitch in amusement. "Gwen-"
"Don't make me order you." Gwen told him firmly, watching as he visibly straightened and cleared his throat. "I'll be in contact soon," She added and he nodded but completely froze when she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Goodbye, my dear."
Stepping back into the flat, Gwen let out a low sigh of relief. She frowned when she saw that Sherlock had continued to pick at her plate. "That man is exhausting," She breathed, earning a look from John.
"I forgot to ask, how is Miss Adler?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from his paper as Gwen returned to her original chair.
John paused at Sherlock's question, his eyes widening in slow realisation. "She was very grateful for my assistance in picking her up." Gwen replied with a forced smile, "She also held a gun to my head, so that's always welcome... I think?"
"Whoa, whoa... wait." John interrupted, holding his hands out as he slowly came to terms with what he was hearing. He was also slightly uncomfortable with how casually Gwen was discussing her profession. "You helped her get away?" He asked, slightly annoyed that she had kept it from him. As usual...
Pulling a face, Gwen looked at John sheepishly. "Cat's out of the bag." She gave a soft shrug, smiling at the doctor. "I should probably explain... I've been a very busy girl."
