[A/N: This part contains minor smut.]

Part Eleven.

"I'm coming with."

"You're not."

"Like hell I'm not! You're in no state to go alone."

"I'll be with your uncle; I won't be alone."

"The fact that you refer to him as my uncle instead of your brother speaks volumes of your relationship in and of itself. I'm coming with, and you can't stop me."

Hem, John, and Jeanine sat on the loveseat in the flat, each with a drink in their hand, as they watched Sherlock and Thea argue. She was standing in front of the door, arms folded across her chest as she stared down her father with intensity. He stood across from her, his coat over his left arm as he tied his signature blue scarf around his neck. It had been about half an hour before they'd emerged from Sherlock's bedroom, and Thea regretfully informed their party guests that there had been an incident and they would have to cut their time short.

"You're more than welcome to stay," she'd insisted, putting on a gracious smile even as she'd wrung her hands nervously, "You've all been so patient with us tonight – please feel free to chat and eat and drink to your heart's content! Mrs Hudson made such a lovely spread, I'd hate to see it go to waste."

The detective inspector and Molly had made their excuses and saw themselves out, though they hadn't escaped without Mrs H filling their arms with all sorts of food to take home. She was currently back in her flat, getting containers from her cabinets to store the rest of the leftover food.

Sherlock sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Hem. "Matthew, my daughter will not be coming with me. Please ensure she does not follow me. Or if you must leave the flat, please have her back by tomorrow morning. We'll be leaving for the countryside at noon so we can spend Christmas evening with her grandparents."

Hem nodded and stood, setting his glass on the table in front of him, as Thea began to protest, but Sherlock pushed past her and started down the stairs. She turned to follow, but Hem grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him, her back against his chest. "Leave him, dove. He has to do this on his own."

She pouted, feeling an overwhelming sadness come over her that was intensified in a blue haze by the alcohol she'd consumed earlier. "He always leaves. Why does he always leave?"

Hem unwrapped himself from her and slipped her coat from her shoulders. He hung it up on the back of the door as he closed it. "He doesn't mean to hurt you, you know." He steered her to John's armchair in front of the fire and kneeled before her. "Can I make you a cuppa?"

She nodded, kicking off her shoes and curling herself up. "Please."

Hem patted her knee comfortingly as he stood, giving John a concerned glance before proceeding to the kitchen. The army doctor sighed and walked to the young woman, sitting on the edge of her father's armchair and looking at her face.

"Tee, what's happened?"

She bit her lip. "Irene gifted him her mobile."

The doctor looked surprised before his brows furrowed, "And that means…?"

"She's dead, Watson."

A heavy silence settled over the room; Hem had glanced up at her from where he was at the stove and John swallowed before asking, "How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure. That mobile was her life." She went quiet before making a hissing noise between her teeth. "God, I was so close to figuring out her endgame. There was more to her, I'm sure of it. There were too many coincidences, too many patterns, too many loose ends." Thea waved her hand around her head, as if trying to clear something from the air. John observed the faraway look in her eyes, startled to see Sherlock hiding in the depths of them. "It's all so tangled together."

Hem emerged and pushed a cup of tea into her hands. "You need some sobering up, is all."

Her eyes found him and softened at the corners. "I've had a bit too much to drink, haven't I?" She shook her head slightly and closed her eyes as she pressed one hand to her temple. "I don't normally drink excessively. Addiction in the family and all."

The army doctor pulled the girl's thin wrist toward him and looked over her veins. "You've lost a lot of weight in the past year, I'm sure that didn't help with the drinking. It could be beneficial to take a break from working cases and focus more on other facets of your life."

But Thea frowned and her eyes opened to find him as she hastily pulled her hand away. "I'm not sick. I don't need to take a break." Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her gaze to the fire beside her.

Hem cleared his throat and John exchanged thoughts with him, seeming to understand the message. He gave a forced smile at the young woman and stood to join Jeanine again as Hem sat where he'd just been. He stood much taller than the doctor, so when he perched on the armchair, his knees practically brushed against Thea's toes, curled against the edge of the softer, worn chair as her legs touched her chest. He pulled the blanket from the armrest of her chair and threw it over her lap when he saw her begin to shiver. "Thea," he said softly.

Her eyes found him again, and he found his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. He had always found her intrinsically beautiful, but her gaze now was nothing short of striking with the firelight catching every delicate facet of her features. But even as he studied her, he realised how right the army doctor had been. She was a shadow of her former self, if that could even be possible. Hem knew she had always had trouble sleeping if there were many things taking up her headspace, such as a case or a project at her internship, but it had gotten worse over the months he'd had the pleasure of knowing her. She would force herself to stay awake for three nights at a time before collapsing onto a bed or sofa and sleeping for up to twelve hours. She had hardly eaten that night, and he couldn't remember the last time she'd stopped to eat a full meal. It couldn't help that her father was rubbish at keeping the kitchen stocked, but she had been so good at taking care of herself before that Hem had never stopped to consider that she had suddenly forgotten how to, or that she simply didn't care to anymore.

"You know that I love you very deeply," he started, twisting his hands together, "but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned about your health." Her body language shifted infinitesimally, and he noted it with careful eyes. Switching tactic, he brightened suddenly, "Let's take a vacation, you and me."

Thea cocked an eyebrow at him even as her mouth twisted into a small smile, "Are you serious?"

"I've got a bunch of vacation days that I've saved up for something special." He shrugged and grinned at her, "Name a place. We'll go after New Year's."

A tiny light ignited behind Thea's eyes, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I've always wanted to see Paris. Nan says it's perfectly dreamy, and it won't be crowded with tourists in winter."

"Paris it is," he smiled adoringly at her and leaned over to press a long kiss to her forehead. "Now drink your cuppa, it's getting cold. Do you want to stay here tonight? I've got all my things in boxes at the moment, so my room in the flat is a bit unfit for company."

She gazed at him and ran her fingers along his jaw, cradling his cheek. "Here's fine. I'd forgotten you found a new flat for yourself. When can I see it? The suspense is killing me."

He waggled his eyebrows at her mischievously. "How about when I carry you across the threshold, ma lionne?"

"Is that a marriage proposal, Mr Hemingway?" Thea tried to remain some semblance of calm as she sipped at her tea, but the idea of being bonded to Matthew Hemingway for the remainder of her life held some gravitas over everything else parading in her mind. Her stomach somersaulted with excitement, despite herself.

"When I propose to you, Ms Holmes, you will know." He winked at her before standing and heading to the kitchen, squeezing her shoulder as he passed her. "I'm going to finish cleaning up, let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you," Thea said sincerely over her shoulder before staring again into the depths of the fireplace. She could feel her thoughts untangling, one by one, as she sobered slowly.

Irene Adler was dead – and a part of Thea was upset that their game had never played out to its full extent. She had been riveted by The Woman, albeit begrudgingly due to her suspicions of Irene's potentially criminal connections, and the loss of a compellingly brilliant woman was cause for mourning in any case. She felt she'd had so much to learn from Irene, both in an intellectual and wicked sense.

Thea cocked her head as a fresh thought bloomed in her mind, and she set her teacup aside. The Woman had known she was going to die. How long had she suspected that her time on this earthly plane was ticking to its final seconds? The mobile hadn't been on the mantle forever; Thea and John had started decorating the room a couple of days prior to the Christmas party and there had been a distinct lack of a small red box. She closed her eyes and ruminated the thought, imagining it as a ball that she tossed back and forth between her hands. If she'd known she were going to die, why Sherlock? Why leave her lifeline in the hands of the man with whom she deliberately played keep-away?

Sentiment, Thea mused as her father's voice slipped through her ears like a whisper in the wind. Irene liked the consulting detective, though in what context was elusive to Thea. Certainly, it was a clear mutual attraction, but emotions were actively avoided by both parties. It would be nearly impossible to decipher if there were any real feelings involved.

"Did you say something?" Hem asked from Thea's right, and she opened her eyes to see him kneeling beside the armchair, his arm draped across the back. Jeanine and John had moved to the kitchen, and Mrs Hudson was chattering animatedly with them as they continued to drink and pick at the remaining food.

Thea glanced around the room with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, what?"

"You muttered something, and you were making gestures with your hands. John had said it was something Sherlock did when he was thinking, and that you'd recently started doing it, too." Hem pressed his cheek into his hand and gazed at her. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She shook her head and smiled. "I must have dived too deeply into my contemplations. I was pondering the mystery of Irene Adler." She stretched and uncurled her legs from beneath her, letting the tension drip from her toes. "How long's it been?"

"Almost an hour," Hem answered with a glance at his watch.

"Papa will be on his way home soon." Thea stood and grabbed her mobile from the table nearby, quickly calling her uncle. He picked up on the first ring.

"I was about to call you," he drawled, and Thea could picture the sour expression on his face. "It was her."

She let out a small breath and rubbed the back of her neck. "Did you offer him a cig?"

"Yes."

"Did he take it?" Her uncle didn't respond, and she muttered, "Shit." She turned to the others in the kitchen and covered the mouthpiece of her phone. "Code Yellow."

The landlady and John's faces dropped, and Mrs Hudson set aside her cup of mulled wine before quickly bustling toward Sherlock's bedroom and giving militant orders. "I've got his room; you check the cupboards. Thea'll cover the study." The army doctor nodded and made excuses to a bewildered Jeanine before starting to rummage through the contents of the kitchen.

Thea nodded and turned back to face Hem, reaching for his hand and rubbing the back of it with her thumb when he willingly gave it. His forehead was creased with worry. "How bad was it?"

"She was unrecognizable." In the background, there was the click of his shoes on the linoleum of the hospital as he walked. "Whoever finally got to her made sure she would never be able to take photographs again."

But Thea frowned and closed her eyes as her previous thoughts came back to mind. "You mean you couldn't identify her from her face?"

"Correct. He confirmed from…. other aspects of her body."

Thea shook her head. "No… Isn't this all a bit convenient? Not being able to identify her face – something feels wrong here."

"Thea," Mycroft said gently, "I have confirmation on my side of things, as well."

The knot in her stomach didn't abate even at her uncle's reassurances, but she nodded anyway. "Right. Of course, you would've had. I'm afraid I had a bit too much to drink earlier, it's made me silly in the head. I'll take care of him tonight, don't worry."

"And John, as well."

"Uncle, he's got plans – " she started to protest, but Mycroft interrupted her without delay.

"He stays with the three of you tonight. Tell Mr Hemingway that he'd better stay as well, though I've no doubt that was already in the works." Then her uncle's tone changed, and he said quietly, "I wish I'd been more…." Then he stopped and cleared his throat. "He needs you, Thea, more than he realizes. Let me know if things go awry."

"I will, Uncle. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Thea."

She hung up the call and set the phone back on the table, running her hands over her unruly, stray hairs and exhaling deeply. Hem took her hands in his and squeezed them.

"What do we have to do?" he asked softly, and she bit her lip.

"We'll need to practically overturn the room – it's a danger night for my dad. I don't think he has anything in the flat, but if he does, I'll be able to find it."

"And by anything you mean…"

"Drugs," she responded bluntly, struggling to meet Hem's eyes as the words tumbled from her lips. "I don't keep my stash here, and it's been months since I last used, so I won't need to look upstairs. But if he's keeping anything secretly, it'll be down here."

Hem tipped her chin up to him and nodded. It was the kind of gesture that sealed his fate as her keeper of secrets, her confidante in the most trying of times. "Then we'll look. Where do we start?"

They were sitting on the loveseat, Thea's legs draped over Hem's lap as she played with the hair curled around his ear and listened to him talk softly of literature, when Sherlock came through the doorway. John was sat in his armchair with a book in hand, slightly forlorn after a terse argument – most likely a breakup – with Jeanine after he explained he couldn't go out with her that evening. But he didn't portray this mix of emotions as he turned to look up at the consulting detective, standing suspect in the doorway. His eyes were wandering over the room, taking in the miniscule details of their search. Thea had known it would be pointless to try and hide the evidence that they had gone through the flat with the intention of finding any secrets he'd stashed away for safekeeping.

"Papa," she called softly, and he glanced at her before continuing to eye the flat. "Are you okay?" He didn't answer, and she found it hard to read his features and body language. She tried to make her tone airy and mentioned, "I fixed your sock index, if that's what you're worried about."

Even the smallest jest seemed to help, and he relaxed somewhat into the atmosphere of the room. "Good." And without another word, he slipped down the hallway and shut the door to his bedroom. Thea exhaled and leaned into Hem with a tired smile.

"The danger has passed." Then she stood and started to undo the pins and bobbies from her hair as she turned to John. "We're going to head up, Watson. How long will you be up, do you think?"

The army doctor sighed and held up his book with a grimace. "I'll read a couple more chapters and turn in, I think. Long enough to ensure he's fine."

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder as she passed him, letting her hair fall around her face. Then Hem placed his hand on her back and they started for her bedroom. It had changed slightly in the two years they'd lived in the flat; she'd begun decluttering when she'd graduated school and it had become a minimalist haven for her in colours of white and light green, though the walls were still stacked with enough books to fill a school library. Hem sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her close to him after she'd set her hair things on her table to put away later and locked her bedroom door.

"Y'know," he started, tracing his thumb over her cheek and lips, her hands folded over his beating heart, "I sometimes wonder if you spend too much time taking care of others and not enough time taking care of yourself."

Thea's lips upturned in a half-smile and she nipped at his thumb playfully, "I've heard that a lot, actually. What can I say? I have a bleeding heart."

"Well tonight," he said suddenly, standing and picking her up so they had switched places, with her sitting on her bed and him kneeling between her knees, "I'm going to take care of you."

Her breath hitched when his lips touched hers, and his hands gently pulled down the black stockings she'd worn under her Christmas dress. Under normal circumstances, she would eagerly be ripping his clothes from his body, desperate for them to become one, but tonight…

Tonight, she'd savour his lingering touch.

When his fingers found her centre, she gasped lightly against his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him anchored to her. He was gentle at first, but when she took his bottom lip between her teeth, he growled deep in his chest and began moving rhythmically, circling her sensitive parts with his thumb. She longed to return the favor, but when she reached for his belt, he pulled away slightly and smiled with his forehead against hers.

"Let me take care of you, Thea," he murmured in a low voice. He pushed her back against the bed and slipped her dress just above her hips. He smiled sensually at her once more before he pressed feather-light kisses up her thighs. Thea closed her eyes and let herself feel for once, taking in the smallest shivers up her spine, the growing coil deep within her that tightened with each touch, each kiss.

And when she was sent over the edge, sheets tight in her fist in ecstasy, the world erupted into colourful supernovas, and she was at the centre of the universe.

A/N: Hello again to you, lovelies! I'm so sorry for my absence; I've been battling my mental illnesses for about a year now and the last eight to ten months have been absolutely brutal. But I promise you that I will finish this story - I've already got the ideas brewing, I've just got to get serious and write!

I hope you all loved this part - I certainly loved writing it. I've been wanting to dive more into Hem's character and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Much more of him and Thea coming. I saw Scandal in Belgravia as an opportunity to explore the topic of love - the love between Sherlock and Irene and the love between Thea and Matthew.

As always, read, review, and favourite/follow for future updates! Love you all!