"Thank you Miss Brook," Mycroft cooed as Iris gave him his tea and then Sherlock's as she served them their usual, no sugar in Mycroft's and two in Sherlock's, "I see you and Sherlock have progressed along your train of… relation," Mycroft's voice almost seeped with disgust but Iris understood him as he continued, "Should I be reserving a day, or will that be a year off?"

Sherlock picked up his violin and casually plucked a string before explaining calmly while neither him, nor Iris, took Mycroft's question seriously, "Oh us? Already married, I thought you would've caught the name change."

Iris smiled as she sat on Sherlock's chair arm on his right, "Would've invited you but we wanted an even amount of people, two."

Mycroft just rolled his eyes, "Children." Then it was like he was suddenly hit by the fact the room was a mess and he looked to Iris alone, "Why isn't this room meticulous?"

Sherlock answered before Iris could, "Got distracted last night, she forgot about it."

Iris bit her lip and her hands fiddled with the sleeves of Sherlock's robe, she knew the mess was there, and she was denying the want to clean it, but she saw it reasonably. It's been this way for a few hours; it can stay this way for a few hours. It would get cleaned up again at some point. Mycroft noted the nervous habit of her biting her lip and nodded, "Apologies. Anyways, I have a case for you." Sherlock's eyebrows went up and Mycroft looked to Iris, "Or you, doesn't matter which to me."

The door banged close downstairs and the call of their flat mate shouted as foot shuffled up the stairs, "Sherlock! Iris!"

Sherlock looked to the stunned man waiting in the doorway, "John."

Iris smiled, "Morning." Her voice was just getting to its normal decibel; she does take a few actual minutes to wake up. She reached her hand just to Sherlock's to take the tea she had handed him, which he gave up to pretend paying attention to his violin.

John looked between them and Mycroft, "I saw it on the telly," The amount of concern in his voice was touching, "Are you both alright?"

Sherlock looked around at the mess as though he'd forgotten about it and Iris bit her lip again even as he responded, "Mmm? Oh right, yeah, fine. Gas leak apparently." He turned back to speaking to his brother, "We can't."

"Can't?"

"The stuff we've got on is just too big and we can't spare the time."

"Never mind your usual trivia, this is of national importance. Iris Brook if I have to I can-"

Sherlock miss hit a note and interrupted, "How's the diet?"

"Fine." Mycroft responded glancing pointedly in Iris's direction, "Maybe you can get through to him John."

"What?"

"I'm afraid my brother can be so intransigent, and Miss Brooks unfortunately enables him in most ways."

Iris rolled her eyes and thought about whether she could reach Mycroft to kick him, "I take it you have a good reason for not taking the information yourself and going out?"

"No, no, no, I could not be away from the office for long, not with the Korean elections so…" Iris stopped sipping her tea, John turned from the window, and Sherlock looked up, "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" He seemed to wince at the thought of it, "Miss Brook owes me a few nonetheless."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in confusion just as Iris rolled her eyes but cover it smoothly as he plucked an off note again and turned his head up to John, "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

Iris turned to John at Sherlock's question and Mycroft took out a pocket watch nonchalantly, "Sofa, Sherlock, it was the sofa." He spoke condescendingly and Sherlock looked John up and down carefully.

"Oh, yes, of 'course."

"How…?" John began but meeting eyes with Iris who shook her head he corrected himself, "Never mind."

Mycroft's tone continued on its condescending way, "Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and him became… 'pals'. What's it like living with him? Hellish, I imagine?"

"I'm never bored." John answered exasperated with this family.

"Good! That's good isn't it?" Mycroft was just about as socially impaired as his brother, he was just much better at acting like he cared… or doing a terrible job at acting like he cared. Standing he held the file to Sherlock who stubbornly refused to take it and stared pointedly at it.

He turned it to Iris who tilted her head and smiled sweetly, "Sorry I have a thing to take care of, I cannot." Mycroft rolled his eyes and Sherlock hid a proud smile.

With a hidden frustration, anger and no faith he handed the file to John who took it questioningly, "Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends. A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

Sherlock and Iris were having an optical conversation behind Mycroft's back while John asked, "Jumped in front of a train?"

"Seems a logical assumption…" Mycroft caught his brother and Iris locked in some sort of communication while John followed his spoken train of thought.

"But…?"

Mycroft turned back to John with a smile, "But?"

"Well you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident."

Sherlock stood abruptly from his seat and walked into the kitchen with a clear smirk while Mycroft continued, "The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defense system, the Bruce Partington Program it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

"That wasn't very clever."

Iris picked up Mycroft's tea and with her own moved towards the kitchen as well while she was sure Mycroft continued explaining.

Sherlock was nowhere to be found in the kitchen and she saw their door closed and she shook her head, why did he have to shut down right now? She washed the cups and listened to the conversation as much as she could from her position but she wasn't concerning herself with it really. She couldn't talk to Sherlock about it with Mycroft here, that'd be admitting defeat to Mycroft; he would've assumed Sherlock knew.

Sherlock reappeared not two minutes later and walked into the living room picking up his violin once more. Iris leaned against the door way watching the scene.

"We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands. Sherlock you've got to find those plans, don't make me order you."

In a sort of scoff Sherlock began to play harshly, "I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over." Mycroft said in his best convincing attempt before turning to leave, "Good bye John, Miss Brook."

Sherlock's annoyance was being brought out on the violin as he played, what Iris thought, was just a combination of his worst and most unpleasant sounding notes. He played until the door closed downstairs and Iris tolled her eyes at his dramatics when he stopped while John just frowned.

"Why'd you lie to him, you've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a beating, why tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Sherlock said putting down his violin.

"Oh, I see." John nodded sharing a look of understanding with Iris, "Sibling rivalry, now we are getting somewhere."

Sherlock opened his mouth to retaliate and was cut off by his phone ringing, Iris moved to their room… she supposed she would have to get dressed.

"Ris! Get-"

"Dressed!" She cut him off.

They were soon in a taxi only this time John felt vaguely confused… perhaps it was the quiet conversation going on next to him.

"You've never lied to me in your life."

"I didn't lie-"

"Let me rephrase, you've never been able to lie to me in your life."

… a bit of relief, "Like I said, you're slipping."

"Like I said, hardly. Mycroft only works with the best, you've simply gotten better."

"They weren't difficult; he just couldn't do them himself because they were across seas."

"So he sent you."

"I wasn't aware of it at the time."

"I wouldn't think you would be, else you wouldn't have gone."

It was silent for the rest of the cab ride and John had heard enough. These two were too unalike in some respects and too alike in either, and he knew they were the same in the fact that neither would admit they were wrong. As soon as the cab stopped he was almost jumping out of it as the two followed into New Scotland Yard's general building. They found Lestrade easily and he led them towards his office.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones?"

"Obviously." Sherlock remarked and Iris ignored the glare she got from Anderson as they passed Donovan's desk, where Anderson conveniently stood.

"Then you'll love this, that explosion…"

"The gas leak?" Iris asked.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Made to look like one."

"What?" John asked and Lestrade pulled the attention to an envelope sitting on his desk.

The envelope was white with blue ink writing, "Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box, a very strong box."

"You haven't opened it yet?" Sherlock asked.

"It's addressed to you isn't it?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows unimpressed and Lestrade went on, "We've x-rayed it, it's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring." Sherlock muttered sarcastically and cautiously handled the envelope, "Nice stationary, bohemian."

"What?"

Iris nodded to the detective inspector, "From the Czech Republic. I like the fountain pen she used, what is that? A park-duofold with an iridium nib?"

"She?"

"Obviously." Sherlock remarked.

"Obviously?" The doctor still wasn't used to the two geniuses.

Sherlock ignored John partial question as he opened the envelope carefully, while Iris resisted taking a precautionary step backwards. The surprise showed on his face before the phone fell into his hand.

"But that's- that's the pink phone."

"What from the study in Pink?" Lestrade asked and Iris looked at him and then John before laughing.

She laughed for real and completely, making those two men look at each other confused yet smiling, while Sherlock spun around concerned, "What's wrong?"

Sally Donovan chose then to enter and she threw some files on Lestrade's desk while eyeing the barely still standing Iris, "Freak- why is she…"

Sherlock realized exactly why she was laughing as he replayed the last events in the room and his eyes widened towards Lestrade, "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

Iris was taking deep breaths standing straight again as she pointed to John, "Grade A drama writing by the way- you should give up medicine, be a soap opera writer."

John smiled at her about to speak before Lestrade spoke over him, "Course I read his blog! We all do. Do you really not know the earth goes round the sun?"

Donovan sniggered and Iris stopped her laughing for Sherlock's sake but still held a huge smile as she put her hand on his arm and pulled his attention back to the phone, "This phone is new though. It looks like your blog has a following John; someone went through a lot of trouble to mimic the phone."

Sherlock glared at John who completely ignored the glance before turning the phone on. A message suddenly spoke, "You have one new message."

Then the Greenwich Time signal pips began, giving four short pips and one long.

"Well it that it?" The blonde shorter man asked.

Iris was looking over Sherlock's arm the entire time and shook her head even if he answered, "No." There was an image of an unfurnished room with a fireplace- it looked unused and almost deserted.

He turned it around to the others and Lestrade squints at it before throwing his hands in the air, "What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!"

"It could be a-"

"It's a warning."

"A warning?" John asked not following his train of thought while Iris hit herself for not thinking of it.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips,, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again." He looks back to the phone and remembered, "And I've seen this place before."

Sherlock moved purposefully out the office handing the phone to Iris who rolled her eyes putting it with her phone as Lestrade and John followed still confused, "Wait, what's going to happen again?"

Walking backwards the tall man turned and dramatically gestured, "Boom!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Apparently 221c does exist. Granted it was locked but after shouting Mrs. Hudson gladly handed the keys to Sherlock, "You had a look didn't you Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat?"

Iris spoke up inspecting the key lock, "Presuming that's the only key, someone has broken in recently." It was a bit freaky knowing someone can just enter where you live no problem.

"Oh? But there was-" Mrs. Hudson said and Sherlock took the padlock off as Iris stepped back, "Well, I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp I expect. That's the curse of basements." The door was opened and Sherlock immediately went down the stairs with no acknowledgment of Mrs. Hudson's rambling while Iris followed close behind with John and Lestrade on her tail.

Opening a door at the bottom of the stairs slowly they entered a room, identical to the photo except a pair of old shoes in the center of the room that the four edged around, "Thank god we're dating." Iris muttered taking in the crappy condition of her almost-room.

"Shoes." John stated and Iris rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for that John."

He shook his head at her while Sherlock walked towards them before Iris reached to grab him and John spoke, "He's a bomber, remember."

Sherlock slowed his walk and crouched with hands on the floor leaning over the shoes. They were pointed towards the door and Sherlock got closer and closer carefully, while no one in the room breathed.

Iris felt her pocket vibrate before it rung.

Everyone froze before letting out a breath they didn't know they were holding while Sherlock jumped back up to standing and Iris held out the pink phone for him to take. Blocked number. Sherlock looked at Iris who looked… worried?

Taking off his glove he took the phone from her and answered on speaker phone, "Hello?"

A woman took a deep breath and began to speak through what sounded like tears, "H-hello, sexy."

John and Lestrade exchanged glances, "Who is this?" Sherlock asked.

"I've sent you a little puzzle, just to say hi." The woman paused several times to breath and such while Iris turned to look at John with a pensive face.

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?" Sherlock wasn't very aware why people cry, or for what reason, especially girls- Iris didn't, so why would this woman.

"I'm, not, crying, I'm typing, and this, stupid, bitch, is reading it out." Iris turned to the phone as a million possibilities ran through her head.

"The curtain rises." Sherlock spoke softly and met her eyes. They had been getting coded messages and made them into their Saturday routine to solve them but never knew who sent them.

"What?" John asked not getting the point.

"Nothing."

"No, what did you mean?"

"I've been expecting this for some time." Sherlock gave as an explanation before turning back to the phone as the fearful voice shook again.

"Twelve hours to solve, my puzzle, Sherlock, or I'm going, to be so, naughty." The woman sobbed once before the phone cut out and Iris shook her head.

Taking a pair of gloves from her pocket and held them up to Sherlock, "Should I or should you?" He nodded throwing the phone to her and she threw the gloves to him, "I'll get us in the lab." Taking out her own phone she went up the stairs to call St. Bart's and ask Molly if she would mind letting her use it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Thanks Moll." Iris said into the morgue before going straight up to the lab and grabbing her white coat from the first hook in the lab put it on as well as a pair of gloves, "Why do you get dressed up and he doesn't?" John asked as they both took a shoe.

The honey colored hair was thrown up into a ponytail quickly as she explained, "I work here, so it's habitual."

John shrugged as he watched them both go about different tests and scans in different orders but he realized they were basically doing the same thing. He was surprised when Iris returned the shoe to Sherlock's before he seemed done, "Beat you." Iris said smirking and it was infectious as John smiled as well.

Sherlock was miffed as he looked up at her before excusing himself, "You work here." Iris raised her eyebrows; they both were chemists as far as college was concerned.

John got curious as Iris took a seat on one of the metal table next to Sherlock, "But do you know who the woman on the phone is?"

"No but-" Iris began only to be cut off.

"Oh she doesn't matter, she's just a hostage. There's no lead there." Sherlock spoke coldly.

"For god's sake I wasn't thinking about leads!" John claimed as he took a deep breath.

Sherlock once again had his usual calm and cold tone as he reminded John, "You're not going to be much use to her."

The screen claimed "no match" and Sherlock scowled while Iris smirked raising her eyebrows at his work. He may have her beat as a detective, but this was her territory.

Sherlock's phone went off and he completely ignored it while John inquired about the nature of the caller and all the other things that were a poor idea.

"Pass me my phone." Sherlock asked hunched over a microscope.

"Where is it?" John asked helpfully.

"Jacket." His concentration didn't break.

John exchanged an angered glance with Iris's tolerating one as she pushed herself off the table. She reached into his inside jacket left pocket carefully and retrieved his phone while he smirked and she spoke condescendingly, "I still beat you dear." She retook her seat on the table and Sherlock ignored her comment, "Text from Mycroft."

"Delete it."

Iris was opened it, "Any progress on Andrew West's death?"

"Delete. Plans out of country. We can't do anything."

John pointed to Iris, "Mycroft thinks there is."

Iris chuckled as she lay back on the metal table, "He's text you eight times, you'd think it was important."

"Maybe it is!" John defended him and Iris scoffed knowing Mycroft abhors texting.

Shelock didn't understand the humor Iris was seeing as he was turned to the doctor, "Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?"

"His what?" Iris asked in unison with John.

"Mycroft never texts when he can talk. Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

John sighed getting frustrated with the man, "Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

"What for?" Sherlock looked up from the microscope, "This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedsides and see what good it does them?"

John turned in anger at Sherlock's lack of empathy or sympathy for a woman whose life rests in his hands, "What if it was Iris?"

The words were preceded by silence. Sherlock stared down at the microscope still yet his gaze had stopped looking. Iris was still lying down on the table with her knees and feet hanging off and staring at Sherlock's phone but not seeing.

"If you recei-"

"Stop talking John." Sherlock instructed.

"What for?

That wouldn't happen, he wanted to say, she isn't that stupid. But he did know that if kidnapped by more than four men, or three armed, she wouldn't stand a short-term chance. She may have worked for Mycroft and they may train their agents well but that would've been years ago and a girl her size can only do so much.

Luckily he was excused by the screen flashing 'search complete' and Molly Hooper choosing to enter at that moment.

"Any luck?"

"Oh yes!" Sherlock said happily and Iris smile a little without moving.

"I still beat him." She spoke up getting bored and starting up the camera of Sherlock's phone.

Molly looked at Iris who held Sherlock's phone backwards and facing her and smiled at the idea of the selfie as she came round to see the screen, "She beat you?"

Sherlock's face took up an indignant childish look, "She works here."

Molly turned to Iris seeing her hold up the phone and smiled for a picture, she didn't know why they were dating, or how, but she had to admit, Iris was very good for him.

Just then another came in the door, a familiar figure to Iris who, not escaping Sherlock's notice, tensed immediately as she sat up with perfect posture.

The man wore slacks and a plain t-shirt with underwear visibly above the waist line. Sherlock made all the deductions and more that Iris made upon meeting this man for the first time, "Oh, sorry, I didn't…"

Molly jumped at his entrance and spoke loudly, if not proudly, "Jim! Hi! Come in, come in!" Iris glanced both of them up and down before stifling a groan, oh Molly, she thought disappointedly, "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes, and his girlfriend you've met I think, Iris."

"Ah! Yes, still won't shake my hand?" He said nervously and Iris looked down realizing she still wore gloves and put on a sickly sweet smile.

"I'd love to." She wiggled her fingers and held out her right hand, "Pleasure."

He shook her hand giving no hint of anything being wrong, "You should carry those with you." Jim suggested and Iris shrugged, not giving away that she does carry them with her, though usually for different purposes.

"Oh and Molly, Jim, this is our flatmate, John Watson."

"Hi." John said plainly while moly smiled with a nod at him.

Jim completely ignored the doctor however, "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you," He was staring at Sherlock admirably and circling him making John move back, "Are you working on one of your cases?"

"Jim works in I.T. office upstairs. That's how we met, office romance." Molly giggled and when Sherlock showed no interest she turned to Iris who smiled politely and decided to pretend interest, Molly was her friend after all.

She coughed trying to figure out how to begin, "That's so cute Mol, don't you think so dear?" She discreetly kicked Sherlock's side while swinging her legs from the table.

"Gay." Sherlock said with one look at the man and Iris winced while Molly's smile faded.

"Sorry, what?" Molly asked fearfully and Iris kicked him again.

Sherlock looked up from the microscope trying to figure out his mistake, "Nothing, um, hey." He covered with a fake smile and Iris ran her hand through her pony tail.

"Hey." Jim said star-struck before he lowered his hand and managing to hit a metal dish off the table and then scrambling to pick it up he laughed and apologized nervously. John turned away from the scene that had gone wrong and Iris winced again at the falling of the dish while Sherlock thinly glared at the man.

Nervously Jim wandered back around Sherlock to Molly's side, "I'd better be off, I'll see you at the Fox, about six-ish?"

"Yeah!" Molly said excitedly veiling her apprehensiveness.

"Bye."

"Bye." Molly said expecting him to walk out by now.

"It was nice to meet you." Jim said directly to Sherlock, who didn't care.

John looked between them and answered for him, "You too."

He smiled awkwardly and looked up at Iris, "See you around I'm sure?"

"I'm sure." She responded with another fake smile as the contradicting man left the room and Iris's smile disappeared immediately after.

Molly did the same before turning to Sherlock angrily, "What do you mean gay? We're together." Like that's a reason he wouldn't be gay, Iris thought.

Sherlock looked at her crossly, "And domestic bliss must suit you Molly, you've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

"Two and a half." Molly defended looking to Iris who debating saying anything.

"Three." Sherlock corrected.

"He's not gay. Why do you have to spoil… he's not!"

The detective scoffed, "With that level of personal grooming?"

John tried to defend Molly and Jim seeing how much Sherlock was hurting her through this, "Just because he puts a little product in his hair? I put product in my hair."

"You wash your hair," He went on, "You wash your hair. There's a difference. No, no, tinted eyelashes; clear signs of a taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."

"His underwear?" Molly asked and Iris sighed knowing exactly that there was more coming.

"Visible above the waistline, very visible, very particular brand," he reached for the metal dish that Jim had awkwardly messed up, "That plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just his number under this dish here," He showed the card with numbers written before placing it on the table between Iris and the microscope, "I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain."

Molly glared at Sherlock for a minute and Iris began, "Molly, it's not your faul…"

The young woman spun on her heels and ran.

When the door closed Iris hopped off the table and shook her head while John spoke sarcastically, "Charming, well done."

"Just saving her time, isn't that kinder?" He asked genuinely confused as Iris moved quickly to the door and throwing her gloves in the garbage without looking at him.

"Kinder? No Sherlock, that wasn't kind." John instructed and Iris opened the door and walked out of it to still Sherlock's confusion and John's relief.

"Molly!" She called picking up her pace in the hall after footsteps she could still hear. Following the sound she found Molly by the elevator, possibly… crying? Jogging up to her Iris spoke softly, "He didn't mean anything by it Molly, really, he didn't even know he did something wrong."

Molly took a deep breath and turned to the other girl with wet eyes, "I know, I know how he is. It's just, for the first time since I had finally thought I had met someone nice, someone I could…" She paused and shook her head, "No, never mind… it's a silly thing. Jim isn't gay."

Iris tilted her head, "Well… no, he is, but that's irrelevant because you don't need him not to be gay. You don't need him period."

Molly called the elevator and shook her head again, "You wouldn't understand."

Searching her mind for anything Iris shrugged, "So make me. Give me your scenario and I'll give you empathy."

The elevator came and Molly got in holding the door open, "There's this guy who's brilliant, handsome, perfect, and who leaves you stunned every time you're near him," Iris nodded, she could relate, "But he's not remotely interested in you, because of you or because he already has a girl who is brilliant, beautiful, and who he is clearly amazed by." Oh.

Iris shook her head catching the exact drift of Molly's point, "Molly, I'm not…" She couldn't disagree rationally except in the aspect, "There are plenty of guys out there, better than Sherlock, for you!"

The younger girl smiled small, "It's not that even, I respect the two of you because I can see it. You and him are… the lucky ones, and I wouldn't try to get between that. But since I met Sherlock, with the sliver of hope," She suddenly looked nervous, "I didn't know you were dating!" Iris just shook her head with a smile and she went on, "I haven't been interested in anyone, then Jim came and…"

"You don't need Sherlock Holmes to make you happy, you just think you do. You don't need Jim to make you happy, you just think you do. You might love the feeling of being in love but you aren't."

Molly smiled again and chuckled, "Thanks Iris," Iris nodded and made to step away as Molly took her hand off the hold elevator button, "I was right, but thank you."

She would take the half victory, she wouldn't understand how Molly felt, but one day maybe Molly could feel what Iris does… damn, those college chick flick movie nights with roommates came in handy after all.

She walked back into the lab, managing to catch a Sherlock's quick and short tone spoke to John, "He loved those shoes remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't let them go unless he had to. So a child with big feet gets…" His eyes widened a fraction as he saw Iris walk in, "Oh."

"What?" John asked.

"Carl Powers." Sherlock said and Iris smiled nodding, she hadn't gotten that far but she couldn't have been expected to.

"Sorry, who?"

"Carl Powers, John." Iris repeated to him as though it would help, sometimes she forgot they hadn't known John as long.

"What is it?"

Sherlock looked intensely at the shoes, "It's where I began."

The trio took a very explaining car ride home filling John in on it all while Iris was just happy she got Sherlock drunk enough once in college to play twenty questions, otherwise she would be just as confused.

They arrived at home with six hours to go and Sherlock took out all the newspapers to do with Carl Powers death and the events surrounding it. Surrounding himself with them Iris double checked his reading and they were both completely absorbed.

John, being the humanitarian that he is, was pacing and worried and stood in the kitchen archway asking, "Can I help?" No reaction from either of them caused him to ask again, I want to help. There's only five hours left."

His phone went off with a text, from an unknown number to him, 'Any developments? Mycroft Holmes' With an irritated sigh he held up his phone, "It's your brother, he's texting me now. How does he know my number?"

"Get used to it." Iris said with a smirk, she had turned her phone off after the first two text messages he had sent within the last hour.

Sherlock frowned but said thoughtfully, "Must be a root canal."

John paced again, "He did say national importance."

Sherlock scoffed and even Iris had a haughty smirk, "How quaint."

"What is?" John asked concerned.

"You are. Queen and country, isn't that how you described him before you even knew him Ris?"

"The bachelor, private school raised, queen and country man to be exact." They were both not looking from their reading again and John remembered that she hadn't asked who he was really and now he knew why- she already looked him up and heard from Sherlock.

"But don't worry John, I'm putting my best man onto it right now."

"Right good," John paced once more before pointing to Iris, "You going to get up or…?"

Sherlock scoffed, "John I'm afraid I've found the problem with your dating life. Iris is a woman, even I can tell that much."

John crossed his arms and spoke defensively, "I know that! But who are you sending then?"

Sherlock looked up at him and John rolled his eyes getting the hint and with muttering complaining grabbing his coat and left while Iris stood and went back to the shoes to run a few more tests.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Three hours later, and three hours to go.

About an hour ago she had called Sherlock over. There was something wrong, she just couldn't figure out the element to it. There was something on the shoes however and she intended to figure it out, even if it was with Sherlock's help.

"Poison!" He said with a smile.

Mrs. Hudson was coming along with tea and asked, "What are you going on about?"

Sherlock unexpectedly slammed his hand down on the table, "Clostridium botulinum!" Mrs. Hudson was scared away as she left quickly but Iris looked away from her scanning of the shoes.

"Is that what it was? Seriously?" John entered at the sound of those two finally talking.

"What's going on?" John asked and Iris looked at him.

"Clostridium botulinum, one of the deadliest poisons on the planet, you don't see it very often obviously."

Sherlock rose from his seat and moved to the shoes hanging in front of Iris, "Remember the shoe laces? The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect paralyzes the muscles and he drowns."

"What? How come the autopsy didn't pick that up?"

Iris shrugged, "It's basically undetectable unless you know what you're looking for." She stood and moved to take the shoes and explain while Sherlock ran to his laptop, "There were tiny amounts left that rubbed off from his fingers when he tied his shoes. The shoes weren't there afterwards because they had to be disposed of."

Sherlock hit enter just as Iris put the shoes on the side table again and he jumped up striding over to her by the time she turned grabbing her face with both hands kissing her. Surprised she kissed back deeply as he was and John rose an eyebrow before coughing.

The taller man pulled away as quickly as he had kissed her and then kissed her forehead softly, "Brilliant."

John shook his head knowing he could use it as ammo later and just asked, "So, the killer kept the shoes all those years."

"Meaning?" Sherlock hinted.

"He's the bomber." John followed the train of thought.

The pink phone rang right on cue almost and Sherlock picked it up quickly, "Well done you, come and get me." Iris let out a breath a relief.

"Where are you? Tell us where you are."

The woman was rescued safely and Lestrade requested that the trio come by New Scotland yard tomorrow morning once again and Sherlock had a hunch another round of this game would begin again. But for now, the bomber seemed to sleep, or plan, and Iris was trying to get Sherlock to do the same.

"Just come to bed."

"Why?"

"Because your mind works better when rested."

"Why?"

"Because I'm cold."

"Why?"

"Because you have nothing else to do?"

… "Perhaps in a while, get some sleep Ris." She obeyed knowing it was an uphill battle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Iris was up at her normal time, she had work today and Sherlock was still up in the living room lying on his back on the couch, "Morning."

"Is it?" He asked and she shook her head making tea.

"Yes."

"Mmm." Sherlock responded.

Iris went about her morning getting ready while John woke up and came down when she was putting on her coat, "Morning John, take care of yourselves today." She said meaningfully and John nodded half awake.

"Of 'course, have a good day Iris." He mumbled getting tea.

Moving to the couch she crouched to his level. His hands were steepled under his nose as his eyes were trained at the ceiling, "I'm going to work, careful today, you know where I am if you need me." She moved to kiss his cheek but he sat up too quickly for her to do so.

"You're going to miss the next puzzle?"

"Text me." She excused as she stood and leaned down kissing his lips quickly and gently, "And careful, alright?"

"This is your loss!" He shouted down when she was halfway down the stairs and for once, she agreed, this game did seem very entertaining- sardonically. She called the first cab she saw and it conveniently pulled up right away.

Sherlock and John went to the New Scotland Yard. They sat in Lestrade's office as all the details of the kidnapping and the woman. The bombs and the sniper all became apparent to the men as Sherlock grew in appreciation for these crimes and the one who planned them.

"Well – I can't be the only person who gets bored."

The pink phone went off and played four pips this time before a picture of a car with the driver's door opened and license plate in the shot.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asked inspecting what he could.

"I'll see if it's been reported." Lestrade commented picking up his phone to make the calls.

Sergeant Donovan opened the door to the office and held up a phone, "Freak, it's your girlfriend."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and he took his own phone from his pocket, why would Iris call on the police line and not his? If she was in trouble she would've called him, if she needed a police favor she still would've called him. Putting his phone back in his pocket he ignored John's concerned glance as he left the office to take the phone, "Ris?"

Her voice was not tearful; in fact he could imagine her glare just by her tone, "Hello Sherlock."

"Ris, what's wrong?"

"It's okay that you've gone to the police, I forgive you for that."

"What if it was Iris?"

Sherlock's heart dropped, even if it was nonexistent to most, "Ris? Who is this? Is this you again?"

"But don't rely on them." He could almost hear Iris debate saying something else but thinking better of it and he thanked every force that she didn't as he glared out the window and the possibilities ran through his head, why did she have to go to work today, "Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers, and such a clever girl to lead you on. I never liked him." Iris was at a bus shelter, lying quite comfortably in a big jacket with her back against the plastic wall and her feet up on the bench. The sniper could still get at her heart and she refused to cry for them as she stared into the direction the laser should've been aimed from, "Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing."

"Why have you stolen her voice though?" She's never going to work again. He didn't care. Not during a case.

"Why? Because, she was about to leave this game early, also, did you know she can defuse bombs?" Iris paled and she had to work to stop her voice from shaking, "She has, it seems, already done so, but that doesn't matter. Her death will be enough to prove my point to you I think. Right now, this is about you and me." The bus at the station appeared and people loaded on but Iris remained there.

"Who are you?" Sherlock, for once, told himself to thank Mycroft that agent-skill came in handy, "What's that noise?"

Iris looked around at the departing bus and continued to read off the pager, "The sounds of life Sherlock, but don't worry," She paused reading the sentence with a deep breath, "I can soon stop that." Once again stopping to breath she pulled her hood up feeling cold, "You solved my last puzzle in nine hours, this time you have eight."

She hung up as instructed and put the phone in her pocket leaning back and closing her eyes, such a boring thing, waiting to die. Finally she knew Sherlock's pain.

"We've found it!" Lestrade called out as he and John left the office but John knew something was wrong as Sherlock's eyes were wide and filled with… fear?

"Sherlock?" He didn't look away from the window as his mind raced with possibilities of where she could be. It sounded like a bus, all bus stops were- "Sherlock!" Sherlock shook out of his own thoughts to look at John with a glare that soon softened, "Is everything alright, with Iris?"

Sherlock turned and the two followed Lestrade, "She's in sniper's scope this time.