Firstly, I apologise for ridiculous wait. It's an extremely busy time at the moment, and as you all know, life gets even more hectic around Christmas! So, I did initially write chapter twenty one and post it, but re-read it and flaked out. I seriously lost confidence in myself for a minute and writers block hit me like a wall. HOWEVER, I aim to plough through and get this written.

On the plus side, SERIES THREE EPISODE ONE AIRS ON NEW YEARS DAY! Excited just isn't the word right now!

Right, onwards and upwards! I hope everyone likes this and let me know what you think! Thanks for being so patient guys!

Jess xx

Chapter 21

Meredith took purposeful steps towards Callum's apartment building. She was mad, no, furious at him, not only for ruining her birthday, but acting like a complete arse, yet again. Fed up of always being the one sticking up for him, she had decided once and for all to tell him how she felt.

Of course, that was easier said than done. With everything the pair had gone through, guilt washed over her as she pressed the buzzer to enter the tall block of flats. No! You stay strong Meredith! She told herself sternly.

"Yeah?" Callum's sleepy voice sounded through the little speaker on the wall.

"Hey Cal it's me,"

"Who's me?"

"Meredith, you idiot!" She snapped impatiently, wondering how on Earth he could possibly still be in bed at three in the afternoon.

He looked half dead as he opened his apartment door. His nose, now strapped up, still looked pretty painful, and his eyes had deep dark circles beneath them. Meredith narrowed her own tired green eyes at him, ignoring his look of pure misery.

"Didn't you have work today?" Meredith asked him as she paced meaningfully into his place, her eyes snapping up every little detail, from the pristine white walls, to the expensive looking marble topped counters in the kitchen. He was clearly making the money he needed to afford the huge LED TV glaring the news in mute.

He scoffed. "No, Mom, I don't,"

"Hey, I don't need the tone." She warned with a pointed finger.

"What do you want Mer? You're clearly pissed at me, so just get it out and let's move on," Callum threw himself down onto his plush white couch and stretched his long legs up onto the coffee table, littered with papers Meredith assumed were from work. A wave of anger welled up inside of her as she heard his words.

"Well that's just the problem isn't it Cal? You are constantly doing awful things, and I am always around to forgive and forget,"

"I thought that's what friends did?" Callum argued, his eyes flashing in annoyance.

"You can't expect me to keep on covering for you and defending you, when all you do is mess up! It's tiring Cal, I'm exhausted!" Meredith ran her hand through her long curly hair, her weaker side prompting her to give in and call it a day. She wouldn't let it win. Not this time.

Callum rolled his eyes, not taking her words seriously and smiling. "Oh come on, stop being stupid and give it a rest,"

"No Cal, you're not listening to me," Meredith kept her face straight and serious. "I've had enough,"

Callum's face dropped, his eyes immediately becoming hostile. "Is this all because of that freak? Sherlock bloody Holmes?" He spat out Sherlock's name like poison, making her inwardly flinch. Knowing he was trying to get a reaction from her, she remained stoic and still.

"This has nothing to do with him, Cal. This is about you and me."

"What are you saying then Meredith?"

"I'm saying I've had enough of your shit, Callum. I'm saying you need to stop expecting everyone else to sort you out and get on with your life! We aren't little kids anymore, we are adults now with lives to lead, and all you seem to do is arse around and prove to everyone that you are a complete mess! It's time to grow up, Cal!"

The silence that followed her words was deafening.

Callum let an icy laugh filter through his lips. "Who was there for you Meredith, when your life went to shit, huh?" He stood up, his tone slightly menacing, his eyes firing up threateningly.

"Callum don't-"

"Who was there when your own mother attacked you? When she drank so much she nearly choked on her own vomit and died?"

"Cal-"

"I'm the one who got you through the times when you couldn't go home, when you had no one else to turn to, when shit really hit the fan!"

Meredith stared at him, her bottom lip threatening to tremble as he continued his assault.

"You've clung on to me ever since the night we slept together. You think I'm the one who needs you? You are a joke!"

Believing he had won the argument, Callum backed away from Meredith, a look of triumph in his eyes. There was another tense silence. The quiet gave Meredith time to let his words really sink in; to let them hit her heart and burn. She refused the tears that threatened to form in her eyes, her disappointment in him almost too much to bear. Was this really the Callum who had done all he said for her? Or had he, from day one, used her vulnerable state to manipulate her into liking him? She had been wearing rose tinted glasses for too long.

"Maybe you're right Cal, which is exactly why we need to end this," Meredith let the small bag of his random belongings he'd left at her flat hit the floor besides her.

Callum wasn't looking at her anymore, rather the illuminating view of London which stretched out ahead of them through the enormous glass window. She sighed quietly. "I want you to stay out of my life, Cal. Stay away from me, from John, from anyone I know. I think it will be for the best," She turned to leave.

"He won't say it you know,"

Meredith froze.

"Sherlock Holmes. He won't tell you he's in love with you. He'll keep putting you in danger, putting John in danger..." Callum was facing her back now, but she couldn't face turning to look at him. "...and one day, you will end up paying the price,"

Meredith let a small tear fall down her cheek. "Goodbye Cal."

...

Meredith let the condensation pour from her mouth as she stood staring up at the large building that was the Pace gallery. Her mouth hung open a little as the pearly white walls were illuminated by icy blue lights, the stairs leading up to the large doorway full of glamorously dressed people chattering away into the night air.

Her invitation held in a vice like grip between her numb fingers, she proceeded up the stairs as confidently as she could. Thin black heels clicked over the white stone as she reached the doors, a large man in a grey suit staring down at her with no emotion in his face.

"Invitation," He grumbled in a low voice.

"Oh erm yeah here," Meredith smiled nervously as he checked her invite. "Cold tonight," She added.

"Extremely. Can I check ya bag love?"

"Sure," Meredith opened up her small clutch, before hearing a rather familiar voice behind her. She turned, looking down the steps and seeing Sherlock in particularly heated argument with some random guy. The security guard checking her bag took notice to the dark haired consultant, who by now was doing his 'I will analyse your whole life' trick to the poor unsuspecting man.

"You know that guy?" The bouncer asked with his eyebrows raised.

Meredith shook her head. "Nope. Haven't the faintest idea who he is."

Once inside, Meredith handed her coat to the clerk in the cloak room and made her way into the main gallery, immediately noticing that the artist had a very deep love of the colour red.

Every single painting in the room used a deep, blood red colour. The drawings were mostly very macabre, skulls and corpses...even strange looking demons. Not really to Meredith's taste but they were painted very well.

She was staring at a canvas with a grave stone illustrated slightly to the left. A long haired woman knelt besides it, her arms limp at her sides. The really disturbing part was the woman looked happy. She had a twisted smile on face, sort of like the way Donna had smiled at Meredith as she held the gun to her head...

"Sort of strange, aren't they?"

Meredith jumped. She whirled around and found a pair of dark eyes staring back. "Jim?" She blurted.

"Sorry, I scared you didn't I?" He grinned, though the grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "I just didn't expect to see you here,"

"I erm, got an invite for my birthday, I wouldn't be here otherwise,"

"Ah, so who is the lucky fellow then? I am assuming you are on a date?" This Jim guy was extremely forward. Meredith wasn't sure if she liked him, there was still something so off about the way he looked a her. That and the fact he had not only randomly turned up to her workplace the other day, but now he was here. Was it a coincidence?

Hearing the word 'date' made her thoughts come to a full stop. She felt a blush creeping over her face. The thought of this being a date hadn't even occurred to her! Had Sherlock actually asked her to the gallery for a date?

"No no, not a date, just...mutual acquaintances," Meredith managed. "It's a long story really,"

A man in a tux suddenly appeared besides them with a tray full of golden bubbles. "Champagne?"

Meredith had already shaken her head before Jim took two glasses and handed one to her. Feeling extremely put on the spot, she took the glass quickly. Jim just shrugged.

"You only live once, am I right?"

She smiled sheepishly, gazing at the alcohol in her hand and rapidly thinking of a way to be rid of it. Jim seemed to have spotted something from afar, for he drained the champagne in one quick swig. Meredith's eyes widened as he took her hand and kissed the back of it lengthily. "It was nice to see you again Meredith, we should bump into each other again sometime. Third time lucky,"

The glass in Meredith's hand very nearly slipped from her fingers. Jim seemed to liquidise into the crowd as she tried to keep her heart from stopping, the look of pure madness in his eyes stamped behind her own. The dark blue dress she wore suddenly felt too tight and clingy, her heels too high and uncomfortable.

She thought back to the night Donna had almost killed her...

"Would that name, perhaps...be Moriarty?"

The woman's eyes grew wide, and she visibly started shaking. "Who...who told you that?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed. "So it is Moriarty. Interesting."

...was this Jim something to do with Moriarty?

Meredith hadn't a clue what or who this Moriarty character was. The fact she had survived almost being murdered had overshadowed anything else, so any thought on Moriarty had been forgotten. Until now, of course.

"...redith...Meredith. Meredith!"

Meredith blinked, finding Sherlock standing in front of her with what could only be his equivalent of concern etched into his sharp features. "Are you all right?" he said to her in his rumble of a voice. The sense of panic that had risen in her chest seemed to calm, as if his presence had soothed it. She felt...safe.

"I just...met this man and I think he's something to do with Moriarty,"

"Who?" Sherlock demanded.

"He just left, I don't know where he went!" She cried, grabbing his arm as he circled around like a crazy loon. "There's no point now, there's too many people here,"

"Well this evening has been utterly tedious," He grumbled.

"Why? And who were you arguing with outside?"

"It hardly matters, I may have commented on the fact he was married with three children,"

Meredith looked at him questioningly.

Sherlock sighed dramatically. "In front of his girlfriend,"

Meredith didn't know whether it was nerves, or because Sherlock's proximity made her feel giddy, but laughter erupted from her throat before she could stop it. Sherlock stared down at her stoically, but she did see his mouth twitch, which only made her laugh more.

"I can see why you like the artwork here," She said once she had recovered, the flutters in her chest never ceasing.

"And why is that?" Sherlock responded.

"Well it screams death and mystery. You do love a good death,"

"A good murder. Death can be natural, in other words boring."

"So what would you prefer? To die naturally or go out with a bang?" Meredith placed her champagne glass on a tray as a waiter waltzed past.

Sherlock's eyes grew darker. "I don't think there is a choice,"

"But if you had a choice?"

"I would choice neither. I don't consider death an option,"

"You can't avoid death, Sherlock," Meredith was itching to touch him, her hands were twitching as she felt her whole body heating up. A warmth curled it's way below her waist, something she hadn't felt in a long time, as the people around the room became vague and shadowed.

"I can try," He murmured, his hand stretching out. His fingers barely touched the curve of her cheek, the sensation sending her into overdrive...

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!"

The loud voice startled not just Meredith but Sherlock as well. He withdrew his hand quickly, as if he had been electrocuted, and just stared at her with his eyes slightly wider than usual. She stared right back, her face so hot she felt as if she were on fire.

The loud intruding voice belonged to an older man who spoke in good grace, thanking the guests for coming to the event and introducing the artist. The artist himself was a tall, lean man in his mid thirties, with slicked back dark hair and almost vacant but intelligent eyes. He seemed to be watching but not paying much attention, choosing not to make a speech as the older gentleman finished.

Meredith, who by now had managed to tear her gaze away from Sherlock, listened with forced rapture, her pulse still racing. There was no denying it any more, her feelings for Sherlock were not platonic in the slightest. How she had managed to let him crawl under her skin, she didn't know.

Damn Sherlock.

"Greyson Hunter and Charles Right." Sherlock said out loud. The older man, who's name was Charles Right, seemed to be trying to get the Artist, Greyson Hunter, to make conversation and was failing rather miserably. Meredith looked at Sherlock once again, a million questions buzzing inside her head as usual.

"What about them?"

"One of them is a murderer," He grinned. "Three murders, to be exact,"

"Oh I bloody knew it," Meredith huffed, folding her arms. "You are unbelievable."

"We have to speak to them, get as much information as we can. The only way to break them is to find a weakness," Sherlock mused happily.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "And how are we going to do that?"

"Not we. You,"

"What?!"

…