First of all, I just wanted to thank all of you for being so amazing! I've gotten so many wonderful reviews and equally wonderful followers over the past month. Specific thanks go out to: Lady Gisborne 15, Witty Lady, AmeliaRoseOswald, and Little-Annie for their reviews on the last chapter! You guys have no idea how thrilled I was to read your thoughts about my story. It always makes my day.

I know I post irregularly, and I want to thank you for putting up with that! This chapter is a little shorter than usual, I hope you'll forgive that. I just wanted to post before I got busy and left you with nothing for two more weeks. So... here's chapter 10!

-lightinside

The next night, after what turned out to be a surprisingly successful dinner party with my friends and Sherlock's brother (whom I still wasn't sure I liked, but might be growing on me), I began to mentally prepare myself for what lay ahead the moment I left the flat to go to my family oriented dinner.

Deciding to dress it down was a smart decision, I thought. I could wear my red turtleneck and nice jeans if my hair and makeup were right. I had always been able to get away with little things like that… though once my mother saw me in comparison to last night's dinner, she would most likely be displeased.

Giving myself a once over in the mirror, I sighed heavily. But, really I looked fine. She would get over it.

As I was retrieving my jacket from my small closet, a knock sounded on my bedroom door. "Katherine?" The door opened without my saying a word and Sherlock peered in, "Are you decent?"

"It was always my understanding that you were supposed to ask that question before you walk into someone's room." I quipped dryly, pulling my hair out from its trap in between my shirt and coat. "Actually, now that I'm thinking of it, I believe that you're supposed to wait for permission before you even enter someone's room. Which are both things that you failed to do just then."

Sherlock huffed an aggravated sigh and withdrew his head from the small space between the cracked door and the door frame, pulling the door shut with him. A loud knock came then, "Katherine?" His voice was completely deadpan, "Are you decent?"

"Why, yes, Sherlock, I am." I called, actually fairly amused. I had been doing my best as of late to teach him some manners. He always burst into rooms at the worst of times. There had been several occasions over the past few weeks where he would stroll into the bathroom while I was in mid-shower to ask me a question over something inconsequential, to which I would answer by reminding him that I was, in fact, naked behind the curtain. His face would go blank, he would blink, say 'Right', and walk out of the room without closing the door.

And even now, it was like he hardly gave the possibility my indecency a thought until after he'd invaded my privacy.

"May I come in?"

"You may."

The door opened and I was met with his unamused stare. "Happy?"

I couldn't help it. I grinned. "Very. Now, did you have something to ask me?"

"More of something to tell." Sherlock clarified, strolling over to my bed and plopping down without hesitation. "I was thinking that I might go with you tonight."

"Go… to the dinner?" My eyebrows knitted together tightly on my forehead and I'm sure I must have been staring at him as if he'd sprouted a third eye because he suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Yes. I know it's a…" He cleared his throat. "A family affair, but I…"

"You…?"

"Hate to think of you going alone." He managed flatly. "But only because you came to my rescue numerous times while Mycroft was here. This is simply… necessary."

"Necessary?"

"I don't want to owe you anything."

Flying so high only to crash and burn.

"Your sentiment is absolutely touching, Sherlock, really." I said dryly. "But, you don't owe me anything. That's what friends do for each other."

Sherlock tensed visibly and I had to swallow my irritation. I hated that I couldn't call him my friend without him acting as though I'd made him ingest cyanide. And I also might have been irritated at myself some, too. I was in the process of falling out of like with him. I think that my voicing the status of our relationship (our non-existent relationship) was more to remind me than anyone else of where the line had to be drawn.

God, it all sounded so much like a western. Lines drawn in the sand. Brims pulled down low. Spurs clinking. Eyes shifting back and forth. Hands itching toward their guns. Dramatic zooming and ominous music. Only the rivals in this story were my subconscious and my level-headedness. And either way, one of them was going to end up dead.

"Good to know." Sherlock managed after an eternity of thick silence. "If that's the case then-"

"I still would like your company."

BANG! Moment of silence for my level-headedness. Victory lap for my subconscious.

He seemed a little thrown because of my sudden eagerness for him to accompany me instead of just being thoroughly confused, but instead of firmly disagreeing with me, he nodded, brown curls bobbing. "Let me grab my coat."

"Okay."

I was the picture of ease… right until the door closed behind him. My hand smacked my forehead lightly and I had to fight the urge to shout abuse at myself. So, I settled for a good dose of pacing and the incessant muttering of the word, "Stupid." Two or three minutes later, I took a deep breath, promised myself that if I made it through this night that the rest of my life would be a piece of cake, and exited my bedroom.

Sherlock and I left the flat together, both of us extremely preoccupied to the point that we tried to squeeze out of the front door at the same time. The moment my arm connected with his, I yanked myself away (acting very calm in front of him, but cursing the existence of physical contact on the inside), and allowed him to go first so that he could hail a cab.

In the few seconds I had while his back was turned to me, I tried to take several deep and cleansing breaths that I had hoped might help, but didn't. The realization that I was attracted to Sherlock on some small level wasn't helping me get over it. It was taking over. The more determined I was to stop liking him, the more I thought about it. And the more I thought about it, the deeper my grave was being dug.

And when he turned back to look at me, those otherworldly eyes so clueless but still so thrilling, I knew for certain that I would not make it through this evening alive.

The moon was shining its brilliant white light over the dim streets of London as Sherlock and I arrived at my parent's flat. As I rang the doorbell, I found myself praying that Sherlock would behave himself tonight. And seeing as how he had volunteered to come with me, it seemed that he was well aware of the consequences should he not, or he would have stayed home and allowed me to go alone. This relieved me a little, settling some of the restless butterflies that beat against my stomach.

"How long are we staying?" Sherlock murmured as we waited for someone to answer the door.

I glanced over my shoulder and shot him a look. "You can go if you want."

"No." He insisted, sounding as though he thought me an idiot for even suggesting it. "It was just a question."

After a few seconds, I shrugged. "Hopefully not long… unless my Aunt Sylvia is coming. And that means…" The butterflies came back with a vengeance. "Sherlock, I think I should probably warn you."

Sherlock had the good sense to look a little worried as he waited for me to continue.

"Look, my mum's sister Sylvia has a daughter, my cousin Rachel, who just got engaged this November. And that means that my mum is going to try and use me to compete with her. Your being here with me just sort of… sets the stage for-"

"I've got it!" A voice called from beyond the door. Before I had time to finish my warning, the door was wrenched open and I found myself staring at my father. "KW!" He cried happily (even if the happiness was a little forced), "You made it."

I put on my brightest smile and stepped inside, shrugging out of my coat as I did so. "Of course I did." My arms wound around his neck in a tight hug, and I pressed my lips close to his ear. "What is going on?"

"Sylvia is here." He murmured back, and then pulled away to escape the notice of any of my other relatives. That was about the time he saw Sherlock. The emotions on his face danced between shock, hesitation, and apprehension for a few seconds before he stuck out a stiff hand. "I'm James, Katherine's father."

Ohhhh boy, here it comes.

"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied cordially, shaking my father's hand.

I don't think either of them noticed my heavy sigh of relief. Sherlock had introduced himself, unlike the first time he'd met my mother, whom he had dutifully ignored.

"Glad to meet you."

"And you as well, sir."

Before I had time to faint from shock, my mother came speeding out of the living room like a bat out of hell.

"Sherlock!" She cried, "Darling! I'm so glad you made it. Katherine said you might be working tonight."

Sherlock shot me a confused glance, but shook his head. "No. I… er… took the night off."

In the back of my mind, I imagined Darth Vader's theme beginning to play. I had said no such thing, which meant that my fears of rivalry between my mother and Sylvia were quickly becoming a reality. And that meant that –

"Caroline?" Sylvia called from the living room, "Is Katherine here?"

"Yes! And she's brought her boyfriend."

Oh. My. God. This was not happening to me. This was not happening to me.

Sherlock stiffened by my side and I could feel his eyes staring daggers at me, though I hadn't the courage to look and see for myself. I took hold of my mother's small arm and pulled her to the side of the entry hall, heart hammering painfully against my ribs.

"Mother!" I hissed softly as I heard Sylvia begin to get off the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Just for tonight, dear." She promised. "Now, smile for your Aunt."

My aunt Sylvia rounded the corner with a huge (and entirely falsified) grin that stretched her already thin lips into near nonexistence. "Katherine!" She wrapped her arms around me, pinning mine at my sides.

"Aunt Sylvia!" I returned, hiding my dismay with skill. "It's so good to see you." Subject change… subject change, I need a subject change! "How's Rachel? I heard she was engaged recently."

Storm clouds could have been gathering over my mum's head and it would have been less obvious than the look of pure, unfiltered irritation she sent my way. I ignored her and led my aunt back into the living room, followed closely by my mum, noticing on the way that my father had kept Sherlock in the entry-way. I hoped that it was to explain all of this insanity and not to threaten him with death by pistol should he make any kind of advances toward me whatsoever.

"Yes, she was." Sylvia's voice brought me back to the present, nearly startling me as she droned on and on about my cousin Rachel, whom I hadn't seen in at least four years, and her fiancée George who apparently worked as a lawyer in Sussex and – (I'll stop there to save you a substantial amount of agonizing boredom).

"And what about you, dear?" My aunt's eyes shifted between me and Sherlock, who had come in around the time she was debating over Rachel's wedding dates. "Are the two of you thinking about marrying?"

Sherlock pressed his lips together, obviously exercising impressive restraint to save me embarrassment, and I found myself searching for the right answer. My mother would be furious to have my relationship in question tossed aside and traded for the truth, and I would be furious with myself if I allowed her to use me this way any longer than I already had. Considering her current living situation, in and out of our flat, I decided that it would be better to handle my own anger than to suffer through hers on a daily basis.

"We haven't talked about it yet." There. It wasn't a total lie. We hadn't talked about it and we would never talk about it because Sherlock was not interested in me, and I was not interested in him… (Still working on that.) "But I'm very happy for Rachel."

"Yes. Now, if only Kyle would propose to Breanna, then both of my children would be happy…" Kyle, Rachel's brother, was the 'Me' of my aunt's children. He had only recently started dating his current girlfriend Breanna Hyatt and was already being pushed into marriage. At least he was doing better than I was, appeasing his mum a little at a time. I didn't even have a boyfriend, and I had as good as picked out my wedding dress and was on the verge of walking down the aisle.

"Speaking of Kyle… where's Harry, Caroline?" Sylvia began to look around the room. "I haven't seen him in ages. Not since..."

I started to fiddle with my phone, frantically searching for my standard ringtone before I laid my phone down beside me, pressing the button just as I took my hand away. It interrupted my aunt's question, and gave me the golden opportunity to make my escape. Acting as though I was shocked that anyone would be calling, I snatched up my phone and 'answered' it.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Mrs. Hudson!? Are you alright?"

More silence.

"Of course. Sherlock and I will be right there."

I 'hung up' and shoved my phone back in my pocket before standing quickly from my seat between my mother and my aunt.

"That was our landlady." I made sure to make my tone sound as urgent as possible, shooting Sherlock a discreet look to haul ass and retrieve our coats from the rack by the door, which he understood immediately. "She took a bad fall. Sherlock and I need to run her to Bart's."

"Oh, no!" Sylvia pouted much too childishly for it to suit her age. "But you'll miss the rest of the family."

"They got here early, Sylvia." My father interjected. "You saw them. And now they need to go." He stood from his chair and glanced at Sherlock standing in the doorway, holding my coat. "C'mon. I'll walk you to the door."

"Thanks."

We walked quickly to the door, me calling out my goodbyes on the way at the same time I shoved my arms in my coat in a desperate attempt to speed up time and be home in the blink of an eye. When the front door closed behind us and my dad was sure that no one could hear us inside, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, you two. I should have warned you."

"It's not your fault." I insisted halfheartedly. "I just… can't stay. I can't face the inquisition. I mean, if I can't make it past Sylvia, then what will happen when everybody else shows up?"

"I understand." After a few beats, he looked over at Sherlock who had been observing both of us quietly for the past two minutes. "You'll get her home safely?"

Sherlock nodded. "Of course."

Even though it was frigid outside, I found myself wanting to buy a little more time with my father so that we could talk, just the two of us. So, I asked Sherlock to get us a cab and I stayed on the stoop.

"Okay. Spill."

My dad was still looking after Sherlock. "Spill what?"

"Why are you testing him?" I asked. "I saw the way you were watching him when mum and Sylvia were talking about weddings and me and then just now, with the safety thing. What are you doing?"

"Observing." He answered coolly. "Just like he does. It's amazing, you know? How clueless you both are."

Both? What did he mean, both?

"I'm not clueless."

That seemed to startle him substantially. "You like him?"

"Only a little, but – God, dad, that doesn't even matter. My liking him is like Pluto. It's tiny and now, it's like… really distant and cold and I-"

"You're babbling, Katherine." He said. "It's your tell."

It was then that I heard the opening of a car door. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw Sherlock standing by the cab, waiting for me, trying to be a gentleman. I turned back to look at my father, who was beginning to smile.

"We are never talking about this." I insisted quietly. "Ever."

"Okay." He conceded. "This is me. Not talking about it."

"Dad."

"Alright," My father chuckled softly before pulling me into a hug. "Be safe, KW."

"Will do."

"I love you."

"I love you, too Dad." I said as I began to descend the steps. "I'll see you soon."

With one last look at my father, his tall frame outlined by the sudden and soft sprinkling of rain amidst all of the cold, I took a deep breath and climbed inside the cab wondering all the while what Sherlock would have to say to me once he climbed in, too.

I supposed I would find out soon enough.