Guest: thank you so much for reviewing, I'm really glad to hear you like it. I can't wait until Sherlock and Thomas interact, especially with Sherlock and his being able to deduce just about everything (which you see a bit in this chapter). And also because Thomas will explain Alice's past, which might give me the chance to work in some flashbacks. I'm also really happy to hear you like that I'm picturing Thomas as Richard Armitage - woo, imagining those two men with one woman is too much for my poor mind, ideas are just buzzing. And about The Woman, her and Alice actually won't end up having many scenes together - however I'm kind of excited to write what I do have in mind, cause I think Irene in the show was great, and quite funny. Thanks so much again.

Sherlock and John were buttoning their coats prepared to go to the museum to speak to Soo Lin Yao, when they heard the bell ring. "Alice should really have her own key, she's here often enough," John said knowing it would be her, and Sherlock's mouth twitched as though to smile because he already knew she had a key. He also knew she wasn't coming with them, nor would she be allowing them to go anywhere. "What are you doing?" John asked when Sherlock took off his coat and scarf and hung them back up.

He didn't answer, instead he sat in his chair pressing his folding hands against his chin as he waited for her to come up.

"You look lovely dear, are you going out?" they both heard Mrs Hudson ask as she walked Alice up the stairs.

"I'm having dinner with Mycroft," Alice answered.

John realized then why Sherlock had given up on going out, she wouldn't allow it at all if she wouldn't be going with them. And so he pulled his arms out of the sleeves and then dropped his coat on the ground when he saw the dress Mycroft had had his assistant buy for her.

Mrs Hudson gave him a look before dusting his jacket off and hanging it up. "You'll catch a fly," she told him making him snap his lips together and avert his eyes.

Sherlock sat waiting until they quieted, until Alice stopped beside him. He glanced her way briefly before turning to her fully, taking note of the way the dress clung to her small frame – she hid herself better than he'd realized beneath her plain clothes, her breasts were something to be marveled at. "You expect us to remain here until you return," he said turning away, casting thoughts of her aside.

She looked over her shoulder and waited until Mrs Hudson had left, grabbing Sherlock's shoulder as he tried to stand and pushing him back down. "You will be going nowhere unless I am with you, at least for the time being," she said when Sherlock looked at her unhappily, though the last bit didn't please him any more. "You are digging deeper than you realize, Sherlock. I am not authorized to say any more about your case."

She was being useless again, he didn't like when she was useless especially when she had all the answers. But he held his tongue and nodded in agreement. "Fine," he said much to John's surprise.

She knew as stoic as he was he incredibly angry with her, he always was when she knew more than he did. "You can go to the museum tomorrow," she told them, bringing Sherlock to his feet with her knowing where they were going, to which she shoved him back into the chair. "I mean it," she said seriously, giving him a hard look that exposed the worry behind her eyes, "not a foot out of this flat." She waited until he exhaled heavily before standing upright and making for the stairs. "That goes for both of you," she said when she stopped in front John.

He nodded too, trying to keep his eyes from wandering. "Excuse me, who the bloody hell are you?" he demanded when a man reached the top step and stood very closely behind Alice.

"Thomas Clemens," he answered holding out his hand.

"John Watson," John said confusedly as he shook the man's hand – having thought the man with the dark hair Alice had been so worried about was a threat, yet she looked unconcerned; or if anything, a bit irritated. He was put a little at ease though when Thomas smiled, his face and eyes showing the perfect amount friendliness to charm most people.

"Yes, Alice has told me of you Dr Watson," he said, John looking at Alice curiously when she rolled her eyes. Thomas smiled slyly at her when she glanced up at him; she hadn't told him anything about either of her boys.

She shook her head turning back to John and then to Sherlock. "All night," she reminded them sternly, knowing more of the dangers they faced than they did – and she wished Mycroft would let her tell them both, it would make it simpler for them if they knew why she had to accompany them. As it was she was greatly unhappy about leaving them even for only an hour or two, she knew them both too well to ever be put at ease with their agreeing to listen to her. But Thomas' hand on her waist pulling her along with him forced her to move back down the stairs, whether she wanted to go or not.

John watched the two, seeing her shove his hand away before walking ahead of him, moving to the window to see the man open the door for her – she didn't look very happy at all, and it greatly amused him because it was so obvious she cared for him. "So are we really staying here?" John asked when the car was out of sight.

"Of course we are," Sherlock answered simply surprising John yet again with his full intention of listening to Alice. "Something is troubling her, the least we can do is sit in one night."

John was completely baffled by Sherlock's act of kindness, having never known him to stop in the middle of an investigation for anyone. And so John sat across from the other man and waited for what they would do, wondering if maybe he could sneak off and go to sleep since they wouldn't be going anywhere for the rest of the evening. He looked at his watch feeling the minutes creeping by, Sherlock having barely even moved an inch from the moment she'd left.

"Do you think they sleep together?" Sherlock asked randomly.

John's eyes widened hoping Alice hadn't heard that, she already was on edge and this would only irritate her. But they both sat waiting for her to send some sort of text, but nothing came.

Sherlock smiled and stood. "Ten minutes, she's clockwork. Come on John we're leaving," he said as he grabbed his coat.

"What? I thought we were staying because Alice didn't want us to leave," John said confused, to which Sherlock turned to him with a brow raised.

"We're in the middle of an investigation, now come on," he said already put together and heading for the stairs, leaving John to hurry and grab his coat so he could follow after.

…

"You look lovely Alice," Mycroft said kissing her cheek before sitting, having chosen to eat at a restaurant because she didn't yell as much.

She gave him a curt smile before sitting, not exactly happy with him throwing Thomas on her unannounced or uninvited. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked getting straight to business, wishing for a glass of wine.

Mycroft smiled with false pleasantness, already seeing this would be a short dinner and an even shorter conversation. "I would like for you to help Thomas, but you have already said your peace on that," he was quick to add at the flash of indignation in her eyes. "However, I do believe since you think Moriarty is such a threat that having Thomas would be, how would I say, extra insurance."

"That's out of the question," she said before he'd finished, earning herself a sharp look. "And it's not up for debate," she added when Mycroft opened his mouth to convince her to agree. He was beyond furious with her, she could see that in the way his jaw was clenched even though he said nothing; and she couldn't find it in herself to want to apologize.

"Is there any particular reason why you are refusing?" Mycroft asked trying to be calm, wishing they were at his home so he could raise his voice in a manner that portrayed his frustrations in a manner that would make her agree.

She looked to Thomas, who did nothing more than cock a brow as he waited entirely unbothered, before turning back to Mycroft. "You said earlier that the less you know of our business the better, this pertains to that. There is nothing to draw your alarm, but if you would like Thomas to succeed in capturing him, as well as your brother's safety then our working completely separate is necessary," she explained calmly, finding that she wanted Mycroft to understand to save herself from having this conversation again.

Mycroft stared at her for a moment before nodding. "I won't pretend this pleases me," he informed her, which she'd already known it didn't, "but for the time being I will accept it."

That ended the conversation for the moment, neither of the three known for their conversation or willingness to partake in one. It might have been a pleasant dinner if two of them were not highly trained assassins and the other a man deep in the British government.

"How is my brother?" Mycroft asked, seeing from the way she glanced at her watch continuously she would be leaving as soon as she finished.

She finished her second glass of wine before answering. "Still too smart for his own good," she answered.

Mycroft sighed heavily. "I suppose he knows all but your name."

"Just about," she muttered, having hoped Sherlock would not know – there was no doubt he would question her profusely at some point in the future, questions she'd sooner knock him out than answer.

"Do try to keep him in the dark on some matters, the less he knows the better," Mycroft said as she stood.

She gave him a look before downing his wine. "Then tell Sherlock to stop thinking," she said making him smile before she walked away.

"Our working separate would be for the best," Thomas said as he too made to leave.

"How ever did I know you would take her side?" Mycroft asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice. Even if she were wrong the other man would follow after her, blinded by love; it was one of the many reasons Mycroft preferred Alice more.

Thomas smiled as he stood grabbing his coat. "She does her job very well," he told Mycroft, knowing Sherlock was running her ragged and Mycroft hardly seemed to notice. "And she holds you in the highest regard."

He smiled and nodded, knowing there were very few people who'd earned Alice's loyalty – and they were staring at each other before one of them left to drive her home.

"What's the real reason?" Thomas asked as he drove, knowing there had to be more than just because it was the smart thing to do – any other time she would have welcomed him, something was bothering her and it slowly wearing her out.

She stared out of the window feeling his eyes glance over at her every so often. "Moriarty broke into my flat a few weeks ago, I realize now to search for you. He knows where I am, he knows where Sherlock is, there's a chance he doesn't know you. You should keep away from me, at least until you've caught him."

It was smart, possibly the best thing to do if he wanted to catch Moriarty – but he hadn't seen her in almost four years, at least up close. And he'd nearly slammed on the breaks at hearing Moriarty had been in her flat, he was getting much too close to her. But she wasn't offering Thomas' refusal, she'd run him out if she had to. "You like him," he said amused, nearly laughing when she turned to him appalled. "Sherlock Holmes has won you over, must say I'm surprised. For a while I thought you despised him."

She was quiet a minute as she fumbled for what to say, forgetting how well he knew her. "I used to," she told him, catching that he'd been watching her longer than even Mycroft had known.

He looked over at her, seeing her tired face. "What happened to have changed that?"

It was barely even a thought, it was the moment when everything had changed. "John Watson," she answered. "He's good for him."

"Seems like a good guy," he agreed making her smile. "You know," he said pulling behind where her car was parked, "you've got a little time."

She didn't even have to look at 221 B Baker street to see if the lights were off to know they'd left, she'd known it the moment she agreed to go to dinner. "I really should go," she told him, turning to find him smiling at her with hungry eyes. "I have a person to watch and all."

"That you do," he said, his deep voice rumbling as he sat waiting. "Give me five minutes."

Her brows rose. "All you need is five minutes?" she asked laughing, sitting back as he leaned over her and pushed her seat down.

"Maybe six," he mumbled against her throat as he undid her seat belt.

She felt his smile and she looked at her phone, seeing they were at the station. "Six minutes, and not a second more," she told him, letting him take the phone tracking Sherlock and John away from her.

…

Sherlock walked into the night, John close behind him, and Detective Inspector Dimmock behind him. "We'll take a cab and meet you there," he said forcing John to follow him.

"Why we can't ride in a car with other people," John grumbled as Sherlock tried to hail a taxi.

"Would you like a ride?" Alice asked as she pulled up beside them, seeing John's guilty face looking away and Sherlock's curious one staring at her.

"I assume you know where we're going," he said as he sat in the passenger seat, leaving John to sit in the back.

She didn't bother responding before pulling out and heading to where Sherlock worked, feeling his eyes as they scoured over every inch of her. He took note of everything, her hair now down and messy as though someone had fisted it, her dress only slightly askew on her shoulders and the back not all the way zipped which meant she'd been in a hurry, and her body was almost completely relaxed when a few hours before she'd been incredibly tense.

He turned away from her realizing they did in fact sleep together, something he hadn't thought she'd go for – thinking she was too much like him and had no time for it. She obviously made time for it, at least for one man; and again, Sherlock had a strange feeling of not liking those thoughts but he didn't understand why. "Are you upset we didn't listen to you?" he asked, having expected some form of reprimand but she only shrugged.

"I figured you wouldn't, you're in the middle of a case."

John gave a short silent laugh thinking there was no way she couldn't have known they'd leave, and he was glad she did because he liked her car better than a taxi. Sherlock left them both without another word when she pulled up to the hospital, his mind already onto something and forgetting about them both. "You want to get some coffee, or tea?" she asked knowing they might be waiting a while.

"I'd love some," he said before getting out of the car and walking with her across the street. "So," he said after they'd sat down and were both holding their mugs, "Thomas seems nice."

She looked at him with her brows drawn together, seeing he was trying to make some sort of conversation and realized that this was what most people did. "He is," she answered.

John nodded as he sipped his tea, remembering Sherlock's first deduction about him – which had been the same as Alice, another addict without knowing the substance; though Sherlock was pretty sure he knew what two former assassins would be addicted to. "How long have you known him?"

"Ten years," she said shrugging, giving him an estimate.

One that surprised him. "You were what, fourteen, fifteen," he said filling that part in, to which she nodded as she nursed her own tea. He sat back not knowing what to say, if he was right then the government had gotten their hands on her when she was barely a teenager – what could he possibly say to that. He was saved from too much silence by Sherlock texting him to let him know they had what they needed.

The drive back to their flat was quiet, Sherlock too busy thinking over his case and who the killer was, and John half asleep in the back. Alice herself wasn't one for idle chatter, and so not a word was said when she finally pulled up to their street.

It wouldn't be until later, hours later after Dimmock had the books brought over and dawn was approaching that John went upstairs to rest for the last two hours before work, and then came back down the stairs. "Sherlock," he said standing in the doorway, his brows creased and his hands swaying at his sides not knowing what to do with themselves.

"What?" Sherlock asked, his eyes on a book.

It took him a moment to answer, too tired and dazed to actually think about what was going on. "Alice is asleep," he said, causing Sherlock to turn to him confused because she should've been in her flat. "In my bed."

Sherlock's brows rose in surprise having not known she'd even come in, let alone had crawled into John's bed to sleep. "And?" he asked not seeing the problem.

John's mouth opened to give some sort of response before he gave up and turned away, returning to his room to see Alice still laying on one side of the bed. "Why I don't have normal friends," he mumbled as he set the alarm, laying down as close to the edge as he could be away from her so he could finally get a bit of sleep.