I am so sorry! School has gotten me so busy that I have not updated. I will try harder I swear! Thank you guys for still sticking with this!

xoxo Ashley

{013}

Tension.

Hannah was picking at her thumbnail. The silence in the flat was normal. Sherlock tapping at the keys on John's laptop, John flipping through the newspaper. It was driving her mad. The thought of what happened the night before pressing on the back of her mind, along with Richard Brook's... Jim Moriarty's visit. She didn't know what to do. "Spit it out." Hannah looked up from her thumb to Sherlock, who sat at the desk, with his fingers still tapping on the keys. She began to think she imagined it until he spoke again. "Well come on now, talk."

"What?" Hannah asked. Apparent confusion on her face.

"You're picking at your thumbnail, your knee is bouncing rapidly... you don't have to be a genius to figure it out." Sherlock sighed. "You wish to ask about yesterday?" Snow had begun to fall outside.

"Yeah..." Hannah's eyes were intent on Sherlock. His lip twitched.

"It's none of your concern." Hannah sighed and rolled her eyes. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as his eyes stayed on hers. She was frightened and he knew it. About what was something he was still trying to deduce. Her eyes darted down, his intense stare too much for her, the pale flesh of her cheeks flushing. John looked up from his paper, between the two trying to figure out why the room suddenly felt tense.

"I should get going... lots to do before the dinner party." Hannah almost forgot. Christmas was in a few days and John thought it would do everyone some good to have a small dinner party at the flat, also an excuse for us to meet his newest girlfriend. While Hannah was begging him not to go mentally, the words wouldn't pass her lips. The door to the flat shut and the two of them sat at opposite ends of the room.

The steady typing of laptop keys filled the awkward, strained silence between them. A few minutes it continued on like that before a woman's moan broke through the air. Hannah's eyes darted up to Sherlock who was staring down at his phone. "What was that?" He didn't make a motion to recognize her question, only stuck the phone back into his pocket. "Sherlock." He hummed in response. "What was that?"

"A text message."

"A text message?" Sherlock's upperlip curled.

"You can hear clearly can't you." Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Sherlock, it was a woman's moan. That's what I was asking about."

"Well if you knew what it was, why would you ask me?" Hannah groaned and stood from Sherlock's armchair where she had been sitting. She shut the laptop on him and his glare couldn't have been colder.

"I wanted to know why."

"Then ask why don't ask what."

"I can ask what and still imply why, for someone so intelligent you're very stupid." Sherlock stood.

"You're showing your lack of intelligence by asking what when you mean why." Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Why did you not tell me you were going to a dominatrix yesterday?"

"My other cases do not involve you." Hannah sighed heavily.

"Seems like something is the matter when you avoid the question of what you are doing. You were hiding the fact you were going to see her."

"I did not." Sherlock moved away from her to the kitchen, peering into the glass set on the bunsen burner.

"Yes, you did. The only reason I knew was because John left the file on the desk."

"So you were snooping?" Hannah shook her head.

"I was not snooping. The pictures just so happen to have been on the desk in plain sight." Sherlock looked to her.

"They were in a folder." Hannah moved into the kitchen, grimacing at what looked to have been a human eyeball at some point.

"They were out." Sherlock scoffed.

"How are you feeling?" Hannah shrugged. "What happened while we were out?" Hannah stiffened beside him.

"Nothing." Sherlock stood to his full height, towering over the small girl. He knew something horrible happened.

"He was here." Hannah's eyes widened.

"How did you know?" Sherlock's large hands cupped her cheeks.

"What did he do?" She shook her head, tears were building in the corners of her eyes. "You have to tell me." She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head again. "Hannah, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing." She said through clenched teeth. Her hands gripped his and tried to pry them from her face, her cheeks flushing beneath them, skin becoming hot. His eyes were stuck on hers, the pads of his thumbs move to wipe the tears that fell from her eyes.

"I told you he shouldn't come with us." It dawned on her then, with those words, that he didn't know about Moriarty. This was Jacob he was talking about. She tried to turn away, his hands kept her head still. "He's working with Brooke." Hannah shook her head.

"No." She tried to push him away.

"He is working with him. I asked some of the townspeople. He returned just days before we arrived."

"Coincidence?"

"Stop being so blind." His hands dropped to rest on his hips. The tiny break in conversation gave him time to look at her. Something he has tried to avoid since being at the manor. Her hair slightly messy, she wore it wet to bed, showering right before. Her skin still pale from sickness, but slight color returning to it. Her cheeks rosy, eyes bright, lips red and parted, slightly chapped. Tear stains down her cheeks, corners of her lips turned into a frown. He felt a grip around his heart never before felt, not when looking at any others but her.

Her lips were parted in a way that stirred something in him, the urge to capture them with his own rose into his chest. An animalistic notion sprung into his mind to toss his experiments off the table and take her on it, do the things that normal people do. Intercourse, coutius, sex. The feeling was quickly repressed.

"What?" Her hands rose to her face, rubbing her cheeks. He shook his head.

"Go rest, you look horrible." His concentration was back onto the table. Hannah shook her head and turned around, not catching Sherlock's eyes drift back towards her frame as she walked away. His pants becoming uncomfortably tight, he shifted and waiting until he heard the front door shut and her fading footsteps to ponder his release. Inner turmoil flooded through him, small attempts to make the throbbing below his belt go away were futile. He quickly walked to his bedroom and shut the door.

Hannah sighed outside of the small room Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to let her use. She wondered if Richard... Jim, had made a move to keep in touch yet. The thought of it made her heart burn in her chest. She then began thinking over what Sherlock had said. Jacob was working with Richard Brooke, Jim Moriarty. Her phone. She checked her pocket, finding it empty and rolled her eyes. She had left her phone upstairs. She quickly turned and walked back up the stairs, quietly entering the flat as to not disturb Sherlock, she figured he wouldn't pay attention to her anyway.

She heard something odd. Freezing in the middle of the flat she turned her ear towards the noise. Something breathy, strangled noise. "Sherlock?" she called. The strangled noise grew louder, more frequent. Hannah walked down the hallway and paused in front of Sherlock's room. Pressing her ear to the door she heard the noise again. "Sherlock!" She opened the door, "Oh my god."

She thought something was wrong. Someone could have come through the window and he was in a fight, getting strangled. But no. This wasn't someting she was expecting. Sherlock hand gripped tightly around his cock, face flushed, eyes were now wide a sort of shock. She could feel his embarassment from where she was standing. The white liquid was drying on his thighs. "Get out!" She quickly nodded and shut the door, rapidly apologizing. Her hands went up to her mouth, she was unsure how to feel about what she just saw. She blamed her mind for tricking her into maybe hearing her name pass through the door right before she opened it.

She quickly looked for her phone and stepped quickly down the stairs and into her bedroom. The junction between her legs heated. The sight of him like that was unlike any position she had ever seen him in before. His face had never been so red, mouth parted... he had been moaning. His hand wrapped around his cock, he was still stroking it for a few seconds after she saw it. Hannah bit her lip, pressing her hand against her heart feeling the rapid beat of excitement, arousal, embarassment... something she couldn't place. Possibly all three.

Her temperment was quickly cooled when she lit the screen to her phone and a text had arrived.

Your flat is so lonely without you.

Chills ran down her spine. She didn't think he would contact her this quickly. He said he would keep in touch but it hadn't even been a full day. The brunetter walked down the steps and turned into Mrs. Hudson's flat, picking up her coat she exit 221B Baker Street and hailed a cab.

Hurry up.

She ground her teeth together and stepped off the curb to enter the cab, mumbling her address to the cabbie she slammed the door shut, the rapid change in emotion left her heart throbbing with a dull ache that would not subside. As the seconds ticked by she knew she was growing closer to her flat, the one she resided in before Sherlock Holmes insisted she stay close for protection. She felt a fear, apprihension, terror gripping her heart. Her body was shaking as the cab pulled up beside her building.

She slowly counted the money she owed and handed it to the driver, giving a weak smile and thank you she exited. The shiny building, the very expensive high rise apartments that she called home. She shoved her hands in her pockets and walked swiftly to the elevator pressing the number for her floor she leant her head against the shiny metal behind her.

The doors opened too soon and she feared exiting the elevator. As she paused her phone went off again, this time it was John calling her. She didn't want the questions right now, she quickly silenced it and stepped from the small box and into the hallway. She stood in front of her door, remembering that she didn't have the key and brought her knuckles up to knock, the door sliding open before she could. Half of the man of whom she feared grinned at her.

"Come in." Her skin seemed to be more pink than it was the day before, and this fact pleased him. Her flat was just as she had left it, minus the few personal items that resided with her at 221 B Baker Street. It was the way he was dressed that caught her off guard. A plain shirt and jeans, hair askew. He looked more like Richard Brook than Jim Moriarty and she wondered what he had up his sleeve. Once the door was shut behind her he wiped his hands on his jeans. "Can I take your jacket?" She nodded wordlessly. The tone of his voice almost seemed nervous. The material slipped from her shoulders and into his hands.

He smiled and gestured to the floor. "The floor felt so impersonal." He grasped her hand and yanked her to him. "I thought you might like the bed this time." Her bottom lip quivered.

"Please don't do this." He pressed his lips to her neck.

"You used to beg me," She cringed, "You love me." She shook her head.

"Stop." She felt his mouth pull into a grin.

"You will do what I tell you." His lips moved up to her ear. "I've got a very close friend watching over loverboy and his doctor and I'm not afraid to tell him to pull the trigger." Her lips pressed together tightly as his fingers passed the waist of her pants. "Let me have you." She cried out as his hand reached it's destination before relenting.

I'm so sorry Sherlock.