Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers. You all rock.

"You seem happier today, John," Agatha observed from her armchair.

Watson had to think about that one for a moment. Since Sherlock's fall he had gone through a wide range of emotions from anguish to mourning to guilt. After a while those feelings disappeared, but instead of feeling something else he felt nothing. Happiness was something he had grown unfamiliar with, and so after such a long period of feeling nothing he wasn't sure what happiness felt like anymore.

"I feel…different," he struggled to say.

"Good different?"

This he had to think about as well, but he found himself nodding with a smile on his face.

"What changed?" Agatha asked, crossing one leg over the other and clasping her hands together.

"I met someone…sort of," Watson corrected himself, "Well, I have a new neighbour and…we've been hanging out a bit and it's been…it's been good."

"What's your new neighbour like?"

"Um…well, she's nice! She's just nice to talk to - very easy to talk to. And being with her is just…easy. There's no drama or anything it's just…you know, normal."

"And this is what you want?"

"Oh, yes," Watson said with some conviction, "Bloody hell, yes. After everything with Sherlock… this is just good for me I think."

"Well, good," said Agatha assuredly, "This is good, John. I'm really happy for you."

Watson nodded, smiling to himself. This was the most positive response Agatha had shown since he started therapy. He felt he was making real progress.

"Do you think I should…you know…trust her?" he then asked a little awkwardly.

Agatha smiled softly and said, "That's entirely up to you, John."

"But if you were in my position what would you do?"

She sighed and seemed to regard Watson thoughtfully.

"I can't make you do anything you don't want to," she said, "But if I were in your position, I'd at least give this woman a chance. You never know. You could have a good thing going here."

Watson nodded again. She had a point. Ever since Sherlock announced that he was a fraud he had had a problem letting people into his life. But Samantha wasn't Sherlock, not even remotely. Sherlock was, as he described himself, a highly functioning sociopath. Samantha was just…normal.

"Maybe you're right," he said, "I should give her a chance. Thanks."

"Anytime, John. Let me know how things go with her."

Nika Abramovich was starting to grow very bored of her current job position. Sure, she appreciated the pay, but having to watch the prisoner 24/7 was beginning to try her patience. She could have been very trigger happy somewhere under someone else's employment. She glared at Moriarty from across the room, half thinking of handing him her resignation. Moriarty, who had not looked up from his laptop all afternoon, gave an angry sigh and said, "Ok, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" she replied, feigning innocence.

"Like a teenager who's life has been ruined because she wasn't allowed go to a party," Moriarty said impatiently.

Nika chuckled and approached Moriarty's desk.

"More like a teenager who has been stuck babysitting an angry Czech man while all the other teenagers get to blow up stuff," she said as she leaned against the desk.

"Oh god, not this again," Moriarty rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Look, I told you exactly what you were in for when you signed up for this. You knew this was going to be a slow operation. Now I have no problem finding someone else to replace you but I highly doubt you will find a better pay cheque than what you have now."

"Just say the word and I will kill whoever you want," she replied, trying to sound reasonable, "It will be like the good old days."
"No, Nika, not now. I can't risk you getting caught." He had all the composure of a parent trying to work at home while being surrounded by screaming kids. "You're on file with the FSB, CIA, MI-bloody-6," and almost as an afterthought he said, "and for some reason the Yakuza want you dead. Care to explain that one to me?"

"Pfft! The Yakuza," Nika derided, folding her arms, "I can pull a better organized crime ring out of my ass."

"Yes, well do it in your own time," Moriarty said returning to the laptop, "While I'm paying you, you do what I say."

"At least clue me on what you are working on so I can keep up."

Moriarty spun the laptop so that it was facing her. The screen showed several security images of someone's home. Nika raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's Baker Street," he said, "You think I just sit on my hands all day? This is what I've been up to."

"Ah," Nika smiled knowingly, "I take it you and your woman have trust issues?"

"We have a… complicated history," Moriarty grumbled, "But I do need to watch for any and all activity that could lead me to Sherlock."

"Now that sounds boring," Nika remarked.

Moriarty smirked.

"Welcome to the not-so-glamorous side of organized crime." He turned the laptop back to him. "How is our prisoner anyway?"
"I don't know, I don't speak Czech," Nika sighed as she rounded the desk to sit on the arm of his chair, "But he seems pretty pissed at the best of times."

"He'll be here with us a while," Moriarty said, eyes on the laptop screen, "Maybe it's about time we make him a little more comfortable."

Nika was used to Moriarty's changeable temperament. In fact, it was his unpredictable nature that made working for him so interesting to begin with. But this seemed different - uncharacteristic even. His expression flickered just then. Nika followed his gaze to the screen where the woman Samantha had just entered one of the rooms. She glanced from the screen to Moriarty and back, and suddenly she knew exactly what was going on inside his head.