OMG! Thank you to the follow for following/favoriting both my stories and myself as an author. It really does blow me away everytime, because I see new people coming and enjoying what I write. It's oddly humbling lol: Oceanid85, TimePhoenix10, echo2013, Snakewhisperer, and Smiele!

To the reviewers: I love all of my reviewers equally but nobody has ever expressed their liking my story so much that they needed to thank me for being alive :D you gave me the feels having the feels! I almost exploded with happiness! And I can't thank you all enough for enjoying it so much! The pairing is really a dilemma and I don't really want to decide haha, I also loved the nicknames

MORDELE/ADELOCK! Those were great! kie1993 & TimePhoenix10! You guys are so awesome!

Playing Detective

More than a 1/4 of individuals with severe mental illness (SMI) were victims of violent crimes in the past year. That is eleven times the rate in the general population. Other studies have also shown that people suffering from SMI that live in a community are in a vulnerable position to becoming victims of crime. Symptoms associated with severe mental illness, such as disorganized thought processes, impulsivity and poor planning and problem solving may compromise one's ability to perceive risks and protect oneself from posed danger.

Jim Moriarty

He tapped his pen, staring down at the photographs and articles before him. Both past and present. Some being from newspapers, others from police reports and even top secret documents that he had smuggled away from Mycroft Holmes, which had been an astonishing disappointment, because even his source was limited.

Clever Jim was searching for was something far more valuable. Because something wasn't adding up. Everything he pursued was studied and learned like the back of his hand. But not Adele, she was as smudged and blurry as her mind was, making it hard to really know her as if she were a part of him. Something was off and Jim was determined to find out what.

Shifting slowly, Jim flipped the newspaper articles, skimming through them. In early 1995 she had spent the year in the hospital for reasons that were not to be disclosed under her mother and father's wishes. Jim wondered what happened in that time to Adele, his damsel that would have landed her in the infirmary for a whole solid year. At first glance he had figured she had gotten sick. It wasn't until later on that Jim discovered that her hospital trips were abundant between 1995-1997, but no permanent stays.

With nearly three years accumulated time Adele had roughly spent about 156 weeks visiting the doctor. Either she needed to consume more apples, or she had a terminal illness. Apples being entirely irrelevant to anything, Jim set out to find out about an illness that Adele had failed to mention only to come out empty handed. She had never been terminally ill in fact was physically healthy, hardly ever grazing the common cold. Scouring her medical records was like trying to break into Fort Knox, an easy enough feat for Jim, but you get the point. If not sick why hide it the way her parents were hiding it?

Then sometime shortly after 1997 at age six, she was once again omitted to the hospital and stayed much longer, a total of two years to be exact. It's also around this time newspapers started writing about her sister Rachel, talking of her self-destruction. Which fit into the time-line that Adele had originally given the consultant criminal.

Where it got really confusing was Adele's parents. They never did an open interview to anyone and even went as far as not holding a funeral for their lost kid. Nor did the paper ever mention either twin's name, merely stating the 'Banks child' over and over again. Most was speculation and a lot of it rumor. Nobody even knew their names Jim thought which was strange for a place of a small population. Not until Adele had allegedly escaped from the hospital, wandering town until a local police officer spotted her. Jim grasped the only record of an outside witness to Adele.

"She just walked around, looking for a friend. I didn't know she was the Bank's kid until she said her name, 'Addy Banks'. Nobody even knows what those kids look like. She wasn't anything like I thought. She just nodded politely and talked like any normal kid would and waited with me until her parents came.

After that event Adele moved back in with her parents and seemingly lived a quiet and normal life. Going to school, participating in activities, joined a book club and art class. It was like nothing had ever happened. Her parents were content in it being that way it seemed.

Jim picked up the recent photograph of Adele. She was standing outside her complex, hands stuffed in her jacket as she looked up at the Sherlock Holmes who was glancing down at her, lips parted as he said something to her. Adele's mouth was pulled in a tight line, most likely because of Irene Adler who's silhouette could be seen from inside. Irene had a more 'personal mission' of her own, but why not kill two birds with one stone? Jim was fascinated with Adele's relationship with Sherlock, it was almost love/hate being brought together by their own uniqueness. However, as 'fascinating' as it was, Jim had already decided that Adele was his prize. After all, he'd seen Adele first, well for what she really was anyway.

Jim felt like it was time to find out just how much his little damsel could handle, starting with the girl's parents. He figured it was time to meet them.

"We're going to have a lot of fun my dear. Lots and lots of fun." Jim planted a quick kiss on her picture before dropping it onto the dark stained desk and picked up his cell.

"Get me a flight to America."

Adele Banks

For a little while Sherlock had been in a snappy bad mood, having believed that Irene Adler was dead. In fact she'd done a stupendous job fooling us. We'd even gone to the city morgue and looked at Irene's defaced body. I had learned that when Sherlock was in a bad mood to steer clear of him. But all that seemed chip-chip-cheerio now that said woman was back from the dead and was apparently sticking around. He even expressed some kindness to when some secret agents attacked her.

Now I had to sit here upon Sherlock's insistence while she talked in her silk like robe of dark blue. It's not like I was part of the case so why did I even need to be here? A part of me wondered if the whole Christmas thing had been a 'rebound' sort of thing. Irene dies, so Sherlock moves on to the next best thing? Didn't seem like something the detective would do but here I was, staring at him staring at her like I wasn't here.

"Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take an advance then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up in the back." John said his face serious.

"Very good John. Excellent plan. Full of intelligent precautions." Sherlock replied, something gave me the feeling he was being very sarcastic.

"Thank you so why don't I phone-?" John sighed with agitation as Sherlock pulled out Irene's phone from his pocket. I let my knee drop down, uncrossing my legs and stood.

"Well I'm off, I've had enough of you 'smart people' games for today and probably forever. Need to go job hunting like regular 'normies'. See ya." I grabbed my wool sweated and backpack , swinging it over my shoulder.

"Sit down Adele. You're not job hunting. Your father forbade you, which is why he sent you money to your account." Sherlock said, still staring at Irene who was looking at me bemused.

"Hm, first off I'm not going to ask how you know that, secondly I suppose you think I just do as I'm told." Sherlock cocked his head, the first time that day his eyes meeting mine.

"I would expect you to do something that has to do with you caring for your health." I shrugged, "I'm not doing anything to hurt me, dad knows that. Besides everyone misbehaves. Look at Irene she's a shining bad girl."

I turned on my heel ignoring Sherlock's half surprised look. Except he always had a way of stopping people in their tracks.

"You live here Adele, whoever is after Irene is going to assume you are associated with her." I let my hands drop to my sides, letting my shoulders slump a little.

"I hardly know her!" I snapped once I faced him again.

"We could get acquainted." Irene replied haughtily, even without makeup she looked flawless.

"He's right Adele, you should stay here." John joined in, pressing his mouth in a tight smile, like he were telling me he was sorry for not being on my side.

With a scoff I sat back down, seat still warm. Traitor.

"So, what do you keep on here, in general I mean?" Sherlock rolled the device in his hand, causing me to feel sick. I hated full functioning cellular devices. Irene traced her way in a small half circle, stopping short as she folded her arms.

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"You mean blackmail?" John asked to which the woman replied promptly with 'protection'. In my opinion it was the same thing, but if you wanted to make it fancy that was fine.

"I make my way in the world. I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

You misbehave too, all the time. –Q

No I don't. I used to but not anymore. –Adele

But you want to. Don't lie. –Q

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked coyly, tipping his chin so he met Irene's vigor despite sitting down. It bothered me, literally bothered me. And it's not like we were dating or anything so I had no right to be bothered at all. But Sherlock only ever looked down to me, I don't think he believed I could match his intelligence, but then again I couldn't and once again why am I complaining? All I knew was that I wanted to tie Irene's hair in carefully constructed knots to the bed like the fairies did in legends.

"I told you, I misbehave." Irene smiled, pulling me out of my thoughts. "But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" I resisted the urge to openly sigh, as the seemingly endless banter went on and on.

"Yes. But I don't understand it." Irene's smile slowly fell, she must hate to admit that she couldn't figure something out.

"I assumed. Show me."

"Can I please be excused?" I asked, "I really don't need to know any of this." The detective replied without looking, keeping his icy gaze on the domainitrix .

"Too late, you already know too much. If you wanted to leave you should have done so five minutes ago." I almost snapped at him,

"You mean when I was actually trying to leave?"

"Precisely." Oh how Sherlock could be aggravating, how did John put up with him? On queue the former military medic shrugged when I gazed at him, perhaps even he didn't know.

"It's not working." Irene mumbled, looking at her phone in bewilderment. Sherlock rose, brushing past me. I was close to tying both of their hairs into knots.

"No, because it's a duplicate that I have made into what you've just entered the numbers 1058, assumed you'd choose something more specific than that. But, oh, thanks anyway." Irene winked at me, her brows knitted together, hiding her smug face. If she really was in league with Jim Moriarty then she had to have some smarts at least. I think Sherlock was about to have his panties knocked right off of him.

The device made a soft blaring noise, causing Sherlock to stare at the phone exaggeratedly, I snorted with laughter.

"Way to toot your own horn detective." Irene appeared to agree, she looked so delighted bouncing on the heels of her feet.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand." The detective's lip pursed tightly, he hated to admit defeat more than anyone.

"Oh, you're rather good." Which was followed by a 'shut up Adele'. I didn't mind much, it was nice to see him so edgy after he'd been a total butt to me this past week.

"You're not so bad." Irene purred seductively. Catching both John and I's attention, we glanced awkwardly between each other.

"Hamish." John said finally, sick of the tense, lustrous feeling in the air. "John Hamish Watson. Just if you're looking for baby names."

"Or Adele, Adele's a nice name. Don't you think so John?"

"Very much, quite clever." John replied.

As usual, our snide remarks did not stump , instead she went on as if nothing had ever happened.

"There was a man. An M.O.D. official, and I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this E-mail was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it…he was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on the screen, can you read it?" Irene glanced at me, her lips curling in their usual seductress way.

"Yes." Sherlock mumbled more to himself than to anyone else.

"Code, obviously…Do you like to be tied up Addy?" I blushed and looked away from the woman's smoldering gaze. Trying to sound witty when I spoke.

"I thought you and Sherlock were up to making baby names?" The older woman chuckled, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm gay. I'd prefer to tie you up."

"Hm, well I hate to break it to you but I don't swing that way. And to answer your question I've never been tied up, and would like to keep it that way." Boy, was it getting awkward in here. At least John and I thought so.

"I had one of the best cryptologists in the world look at it. Though he was mostly upside down as I recall, couldn't figure it out." Sherlock pulled the phone closer to his face, tapping the screen occasionally.

"What can you do ? Go on. Impress a girl." I almost screamed, 'Q' fighting to get out as Irene planted her lips directly against Sherlock. He didn't seem to mind at all, not one bit. And like everyone else in the room, went on like everything was absolutely normal.

"There's a margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world."

Whatever else Sherlock said I ignored, hurriedly checking the vibration in my pocket.

Having fun? –J.M

No –A.B

Is it because of Irene? –J.M

She's got nothing to do with it. Where've you been anyway? –A.B

Doing some research. Let's meet up. How bout where we first met? –J.M

Be there in 10 –A.B

I stood up abruptly, stuffing the phone in my coat.

"Got a date, be back whenever." I said with relief. Wanting to escape these people.

"I thought it was to look for jobs?" Sherlock asked casually, eyes drawling lazily over me.

"Evidently I lied about that."

"Funny, you didn't seem like the easy type." Sherlock bit out, trying to cover the malice underneath. I stopped just short of the door, having the option of not saying something, but I was tired of not saying something so I turned on my heels with 'Q's much input.

"The same could be said for you Mr. Holmes." And just like that I snapped the door behind me, hopping down the stairs carefully. Making sure I had my pills with me.

"What…just happened?" John asked, glancing from the door, to Irene, and then to Sherlock. With only Irene being quick enough to understand what was going on.

OK! That's chapter 14! Hope you all enjoyed and paid attention to it. I also hope you are reading the little informative pieces that I put in about mental illness, more specifically Schizophrenia. I do want to try and raise it's awareness. Thanks again for all you old/new readers!