Chapter 25
'It always gets darkest just before it gets totally black'
Charlie Brown
John could hear Harriet's muffled sobs from the kitchen. "You do that?" he called to Sherlock whilst gesturing with his thumb to Sherlock's bedroom door.
"Nope," Sherlock drew the word out as he sat down at the table to flick through the paper.
"Sherlock!" John chided.
"What part of nope do you not believe?" Sherlock flicked his eyes dangerously towards John. Their conversation was not something he wanted to share with the army doctor.
"It's you. Why would I believe that you are not the cause of Harriet being upset?" John heard the kettle finish boiling but abandoned his tea making for now.
"John," the detective carefully folded the newspaper, "Miss Thornton has just lost someone she once felt sentiment towards. Her abduction, the trial and Moriarty are also limiting her ability to behave in a rational manner." John was not stupid. He already knew this fact.
"Are you not going to see if she is alright?" John wondered for a moment.
"No," Sherlock replied.
"You will lose her," John turned on his heel and returned to making tea. He also made Harriet a coffee and deliberately ignored Sherlock's request for a tea.
Sherlock scoffed at the thought of losing Harriet. It wasn't going to happen, was it? No because he kept her on her toes she'd said it herself. The only way he could lose her was if Moriarty played a part but Sherlock would stop him before it came to that. He was sure of it.
With both mug handles in one hand John knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door, "Harriet?" John heard shuffling and the door opened. "Coffee?" he held the cups up.
"Thanks," Harriet appreciated the gesture and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I don't think Sherlock is the type to want to be in the company of an overly emotional wreck, do you?" Harriet looked up at John. John had two choices. He could comfort Harriet and say that Sherlock wanted to be there for her but that wasn't realistic. His other option was to tell her the truth. Harriet wiped her eyes on her torn tissue and smiled, "don't worry I know what you're going to say and its okay."
"Right. That's good," she seemed to be genuinely okay with the matter.
"I'll be fine in a bit just needed to get it out of my system," she said feebly, "he just wanted to know about Dan."
"Ah. He's not the most considerate of others feelings," John sat down next to Harriet.
"He did pass comment on my mother's Sunday roasts, not that he has ever been to one," Harriet could at least see the funny side of it.
"Of course he did," John also shared the amusement and was glad to see Harriet smiling.
His stomach let out a rumble, "and that is my cue to leave." Harriet laughed. "Listen, if you ever want to talk then I'm all ears," it was an offer that Harriet appreciated greatly. With a final wipe of her eyes Harriet went for a shower to wash away the emotion.
Once John heard Harriet close the bathroom door he returned to the living room, "I should send you in there. She is your girlfriend." John was disappointed that his friend had not at least tried to be attentive to her needs.
"She is not my girlfriend," Sherlock retorted.
John was aware of his toast getting cold in the toaster, "for god's sake Sherlock! Girlfriend, partner, significant other they are all the same thing."
John tried his best to ignore the detective for the best part of the morning but with Harriet there it was hard not to engage in conversation. Lestrade called around mid-day to provide an update on her missing ex and some advice for the court proceedings the following day. John had also been helpful with this matter. Harriet was nervous she had never been to court before unlike John and Sherlock who had been far too many times.
"Do you mind if I cook tonight?" Harriet asked the consultant detective, she was running out of things to occupy her mind. John had been updating his blog for some time and Sherlock was engaged in some sort of internet search.
Sherlock regarded her for a moment, "by all means."
"Any ideas?" John asked. He thought it was for the best that she keeps busy before the trial to keep her mind occupied.
"It's going to be a surprise," she announced proudly.
"Hmmm, no. Its stir fry," Sherlock didn't bother to look up from laptop.
"How could you possibly know that?" John challenged as far as he was aware Harriet had only just proposed the idea.
"Miss Thornton has left a page open in her magazine detailing a recipe for a stir fry. As ever John you see but do not observe," Sherlock returned to his search. Harriet felt self-conscious, how long had been watching her?
Sherlock closed his laptop and got to his feet, "where are you going?" John asked.
"Out," the detective replied, "stay with Miss Thornton." His next line of enquiry was the security firm that the fiancé had worked for. Their main headquarters was based within the vicinity of Canary Wharf. Once outside he hailed a taxi and mulled over his thoughts. Harriet hadn't told him anything new, the file Mycroft gave him had been limited in its ability to further his investigations. The place of work was the next logical step.
The office building for Blake Security Consultants was a sophisticated sleek glass office block just like the many others in the area. Sherlock strode purposely through the doors and up to the receptionist. Blonde. Pink pencil skirt. Decorated nails. Botox. Sherlock smiled wide. This would be easy. "Hi, good afternoon Miss?"
"Miss Beckett, how can I help you sir?" she batted her mascara clad eyelashes.
"I wondered if it would be possible to make an appointment, you see my father is getting on in years and is worried for his safety at home," the woman smiled in awe at the concern the man in front of her was showing for his elderly father. Of course it was all an act on Sherlock's part.
"Certainly sir. When are you available?" Sherlock observed the woman, her pupils had dilated and her cheeks had a pink tinge.
"Sooner rather than later, I'm sure you understand my concern," Sherlock had to bite back a smile he was going for the deal clincher, "after my mother passed away, god bless her, he really has no one."
"He has you, I'm sure you do everything in your power to help him," he had her hook line and sinker.
"I try," he replied somewhat sadly.
The woman searched through the diary, "how about Monday at two?"
"That would be perfect, thank you," Sherlock gave a fake name and with a cheerful good bye left the building with his hands in his pockets. His right hand rested on a plastic card. A pass card. It would get him into the building when there were fewer people around. His visit had been child splay. Her pass card had been left in plain sight on the desk.
Harriet had rummaged through the freezer to find some chicken to put in the stir fry. There hadn't been any. In fact there had been very little of anything just a few frozen peas and an out of date tub of ice cream. The food contents was low but there were all manner of things tucked away in the draws of the freezer. A bag of toes sat forgotten at the back of the top draw and a selection of test tubes filled the entire third draw. Eventually Harriet found a freezer bag of dark red meat. Beef would have to do. It defrosted on the side for most of the afternoon.
By four in the afternoon Harriet had started cooking. Mrs Hudson had popped up during the afternoon to clean the flat and refused to let Harriet help. Harriet made tea and biscuits instead and chatted with Mrs Hudson about everything and nothing. It helped take her mind off the impending case.
Sherlock returned to Baker Street and walked straight into the kitchen. He had to find the rest of the fiancés body; it was a case like any other. He didn't eat on a case yet the sizzling pan smelt good. His stomach made a small protest at being ignored. Sherlock stood directly behind Harriet and leaned over her shoulder as she fried the beef, "Hmmm," he made a disapproving noise.
"What is it?" She was offended that he thought so little of her cooking.
"I wouldn't eat that," he commented.
"Why?" she asked wondering what on earth he would have to complain about.
"It's not beef," he stepped back in anticipation of her response.
"But it's," apparently the penny hadn't dropped yet.
"Human Miss Thornton," Harriet stared down at the browning read meat. She had just cooked a human.
"Oh god," she stepped away from the cooker in horror, "I'm a cannibal." Sherlock rolled his eyes at her stupidity. "Why do you have human flesh in your freezer?"
"Experiments," it was an obvious answer to Sherlock. It was as if he expected every household freezer to have some kind of frozen body part.
"Wish I hadn't asked," Harriet tipped the contents of the frying pan into the bin, "this is going to cost you dinner," she pointed at him with an accusing finger and went to tell John.
"John, Sherlock has kindly offered to take us out to dinner tonight," Harriet announced.
John couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, "are we talking about the same Sherlock?"
"Relax John. I have not offered anything yet it appears I have no other choice unless you would rather have human stir fry instead?" Sherlock had followed her in her search for the army doctor.
"Ah," John cast an eye on Harriet who looked disgusted, "that wasn't beef." He couldn't help it he laughed with the shake of his head. Harriet smiled wide now finding amusement and even Sherlock showed the briefest of amused smiles.
Within an hour the three were sat in Angelo's. "So going to tell us where you went today?" John started the conversation.
"I went to Blake's Security Consultants," Sherlock took the security pass card from his pocket and waved it in front of John. Harriet stiffened. Dan had worked a lot from home but the company's headquarters were in London.
"What did you find?" she asked quietly.
Sherlock put the card away, "nothing yet." Harriet didn't hide her disappointment. She wanted answers as much as Sherlock.
Harriet ordered a pasta dish and John had a pizza. Sherlock ordered nothing. John spent most of the meal explaining to Harriet about previous days in court that he had been too. Harriet was not surprised to hear that Sherlock had been dismissed on several occasions before the end of the trial she was even surprised to hear that John had an asbo. Despite John's best efforts to take away the worry she was still nervous. Her interview suit had been bought with her and she had consulted with a friend who was a solicitor. It was still daunting. She didn't want to share her horrific experience with a court room full of people. The abduction still plagued her from time to time. Her bruises had faded but there were times when she was alone that it crept into her thoughts.
Sherlock had observed Harriet intently as he explained about his visit to Blake's Security. There was no indication that Harriet thought anything on the security firm; she just considered them the company her fiancé had worked for. Sherlock hadn't expected her to hide anything from him but it was his job to make sure. Sentiment was involved and it clouded his judgement.
With dinner over the three walked back to Baker Street. Harriet passed through the front door with her usual hidden trepidation, well hidden to all but Sherlock. The TV was switched on and the three sat down to watch the Apprentice. Harriet was addicted to the show. John watched from his arm chair whilst Harriet and Sherlock sat on the settee. Harriet had tucked her legs beneath her and curled up against Sherlock. The detective took a moment to adjust to this new situation. John had a hint of smile at the consultant's obvious discomfort. Sherlock had no problem resting an arm around Harriet. What he had a problem with was their audience. John was definitely finding amusement in it. For John but it was nice to know that there was someone else important in Sherlock's life.
"The project manager is fired," Sherlock had no care for names. The contestants from the losing team were sat in the board room all arguing their case to stay in the running.
"Has it occurred to you-" John began.
"Probably not," Sherlock interrupted.
John sighed before ploughing on regardless, "Has it occurred to you that other people might like to figure it for themselves?"
"He will fire the project manager. It's obvious," Sherlock frowned at the TV's predictability.
"To you maybe," Harriet grumbled under her breath she personally thought the suave pharmaceuticals salesman was going. As it turned out Sherlock was right.
Harriet went to bed early with the hope a good night's sleep would give her strength for the trial the following day. Sherlock waited for a few minutes. He anticipated what John was going to say and went to join Harriet.
The woman in question was pulling back the bed sheets as Sherlock opened the door to the bedroom and slipped in ensuring it was closed behind him. The young teacher looked up in surprise after expecting him to stay awake all night doing lord knows what. Sherlock slid his blazer off and hung it on the door handle of the wardrobe. Harriet realised he was joining her as he began to unbutton the white shirt he had been wearing. She slid between the sheets and she fussed around with the alarm on her phone to avoid looking at the now shirtless Sherlock. It was difficult not to look. Her gaze slid to him on more than one occasion. Was he deliberately out to make this difficult for her? What an arse.
The trousers were off and oh god he was reaching for his boxers. Harriet had to concentrate on sending a text to her mother to let her know that she was okay and would call her tomorrow. When she looked back to Sherlock he had pulled on dark grey pyjama bottoms and a cotton t-shirt in a lighter grey.
After spending one night alone Harriet was expecting it for a second night in a row. She wasn't expecting the consultant detective to join her least of all for sleep. It crossed her mind that he was doing it because he felt he had to. With this in mind Harriet decided to let him suffer if that was the case. She didn't want him to do something because he felt he had to maybe he would learn not to.
Like the first time they had shared a bed together Sherlock lay out flat on his back with his limbs pressed against his body as if he was afraid to reach out and touch the woman in his bed. Harriet rolled onto her side to face the detective even in the dark she could still make out his prominent features. "You should sleep," Sherlock was aware of the woman watching him even with his eyes closed.
"I know," she sounded defeated.
Sherlock reached out with his hand to clasp hers. It was a movement that took a lot of effort on his part. He'd had sexual intercourse with the woman but couldn't hold her hand. His mind was in control not his body. Harriet shuffled closer so their bodies were touching and closed her eyes. Knowing that Sherlock was lying next to her in the bed kept away the niggling fear that Moriarty could do anything.
Harriet shifted slightly in her sleep. Sherlock stared up at the ceiling. He was waiting for John to fall asleep. As soon as he knew that he was he would be out the door. The toilet flushed and doors opened and closed. Forty five minutes later Sherlock slipped back into his clothes and left the flat. He would be in for it from both Harriet and John if he wasn't there in the morning. Harriet trusted him enough to fall into a comfortable sleep and he'd deserted her. Guilt began to creep up on him. Sherlock shook off the feeling and cast aside the sentiment. He had a case to solve.
With the lights off Blake's Security Consultancy was an imposing dark mass on the night sky. A security guard sat behind the reception instead of the well groomed lady from earlier. Sherlock entered and the security guard looked up in surprise. The consultant detective and master of disguise smiled apologetically, "sorry to startle you mate. Left my memory stick. You know how it is important client with an impossible deadline. Girlfriend all but strung me up for working all night." The last part wasn't entirely a lie on Sherlock's part. He smiled knowing exactly what Harriet would say in that situation. It certainly involved a few curses.
"Know the feeling. I've got a wife. Wants to go here for dinner this week, wants that dress, oh Peter buy me that diamond necklace," the security guard didn't check the image on the screen as the pass card was swiped. There was no rejection noise and that was all that mattered.
"But we wouldn't be able to function without them," Sherlock laughed and entered through the door his face once again becoming impassive.
According to the information board near the lift he wanted the eighth floor for the IT specialists. Sherlock stepped out of the lift, the music grating on his nerves, and strolled into the deserted corridor. He meandered down the hall checking doors for the ideal office to use. The office he chose belonged to man who had pictures of his wife and family plastered over every available wall and surface. Sherlock sat down at the computer. He flicked his way through post it notes on the desk until he came across a list of names relating to family. Notes to pick up such and such for such and such. Thingy needed this. Pointless things the man obviously cared out but caring was not an advantage. This man had cared about his family to the point that they were without a doubt the password to his computer. Sherlock waited for the computer to start up and entered in the names he'd come across. Password accepted.
The desktop appeared littered with files. Sherlock opened the search function and typed in the fiancés full name. According to the reports saved on the shared area his recent project had been that belonging to a Richard Brook. There was nothing on the folder to indicate any involvement with Moriarty. Disappointed Sherlock logged off and left the office.
"Did you get it then?" the security guard called.
"What? Oh, yes," Sherlock almost let the mask slip as he processed his findings.
"Cheer up, sure the girlfriend won't be that bad when you get home," thankfully the security guard had put it down to something else. Sherlock left the building and got a taxi back to Baker Street.
Back at Baker Street its inhabitants were still asleep allowing Sherlock to creep back in. He didn't return to the bed with Harriet but did open the door to check she was still sleeping soundly. Sherlock closed the door and sat down in his chair. Was he looking for something that wasn't there? He found no connection between the fiancé and Moriarty. Of course there could be something buried deeper but it was more likely that Moriarty had ordered him to be killed with the sole intention of breaking Harriet and he was doing a fine job. Had it been anyone other than Harriet then Sherlock would have applauded him.
The following morning Harriet awoke to an empty bed but didn't mind. She hadn't expected the consultant detective to stay the night. With purpose she put her suit on ensuring her pencil skirt was crease free. Shrugging on the jacket she took a deep breath and left the bedroom. She made an effort to have some breakfast despite her stomachs protests. With a slice of toast and a coffee Harriet sat at the table in the living room the kitchen one being hidden beneath one of Sherlock's experiments. She was about to take a bite when the slice was snatched from her hand. Harriet looked up at the consultant detective who smirked down at her. "You insufferable arse," she reached up to take it back not caring that he had already taken a bite. He held it high as she got to her feet. Crumbs fell onto her clean suit. She brushed them off as Sherlock stuffed the rest of the slice into his mouth. John chuckled and put another slice into the toaster.
"Thank you," Harriet stepped closer to him.
"What for?" the smirk had disappeared to be replaced by confusion. He didn't remember doing anything worthy of a thank you.
Harriet paused for a moment. This was about to go one of two ways, "for trying to take my mind off the trial," she reached up with a slight smirk and kissed him full on the lips in front of John.
"Right, okay I'll errrr just leave you to it," John took his toast into his room to finish getting ready.
Sherlock who had initially stiffened relaxed and put an arm around her waist. She had genuinely surprised him.
Harriet filed into the courtroom with Sherlock and John she heard a distinctive whisper from John aimed at Sherlock, "behave." It did little to calm her nerves. Harriet sat down and fiddled with one of the many tissues she had stashed on her person in her hand. Sherlock reached out and placed a hand over hers to still them. They were annoying. Harriet put the tissue away and instead fiddled with the hem of her suit jacket.
"All stand," the usher's voice silenced the chattering court room. Once the judge had sat down the court returned to their seats leaving the defendant standing. Harriet couldn't look at Cash. She was being ridiculous and kept her head bowed not wanting to see the pitying looks or sorrowful shakes of the head. The clerk read out the names of the case, the defendant and lawyers to the judge. He then proceeded to read out the charges. Harriet stiffened as her name was read out, all eyes were on her. John squeezed her hand in a sort of brotherly affection. Sherlock eyes flicked down at John's hand.
The charges were read out by the clerk, "Do you understand that?"
"Yes," Cash answered. Harriet was frozen to the spot at hearing his voice again.
"Do you plead guilty or not guilty?" the clerk asked.
Harriet finally plucked up the courage to look up at Cash a malicious smile spread across his face, "not guilty." The judge asked the defendant to sit and the prosecution made their opening speech.
"Your Honour, I now call Miss Harriet Thornton," Harriet had to be encouraged by John to stand. She was nervous. Her heels echoed on the tiled floor as the usher lead her to the witness box. She was sworn in. Her voice was quiet and lacked its usual presence. Harriet swallowed nervously as the prosecution took up its first question. Her voice faltered and stuttered as she was examined by the prosecution. John nodded encouragingly at her whilst Sherlock remained his usual stoic self. "Thank you. I have no further questions but please stay there as my learned friend may have some questions for you," the prosecution sat down. The defence lawyer got to his feet and cross-examined her. He spooked Harriet with his haunting eyes and slicked back hair. The man was creepy and reminded her of Moriarty but it wasn't him. His questions were tough and on more than one occasion Harriet had to pause to bite down on her lip to stop herself from collapsing into tears. "I have no further questions, Your Honour," the defence sat down with a smug look.
Harriet made to step from the stand, "Miss Thornton I'm sorry but may I ask you stay for just a few more minutes I have a question for you," embarrassed that she had moved without being told she returned to her spot for the judge's question.
The day came to a close after further witnesses from the prosecution. Lestrade, Donovan, Sherlock and John had all taken a turn in the stand. John had surprised that Sherlock had behaved himself. The defence still had to put forward its cause the following day. Harriet went to straight to bed when she got back to Baker Street. She was exhausted. Sherlock John sat in the living room and filled Mrs Hudson in on the day's progress. Harriet wanted to ask Sherlock to join her. The bed felt lonely but she wasn't going to lower herself to pleading with him when he clearly didn't want to.
The young teacher didn't realise she'd been shaking until she sat down between Sherlock and John in the courtroom the following morning. The consultant detective didn't move whereas John smiled reassuringly. Harriet listened to proceedings but couldn't face the courtroom again. The floor tiles had claimed her full attention.
Cash was the next to take the stand. He showed no remorse as he was examined by the defence and cross-examined by the prosecution. The slime of a man laughed in the face of the prosecution. Harriet felt sick. It was too much for her, she made to stand but Sherlock had anticipated her move and placed his hand firmly on her leg to keep her seated, "Sherlock, please," she begged.
"Remain seated Miss Thornton," was all he said. Harriet surrendered to him. His hand remained on her leg in his mind for comfort but Harriet's distressed mind didn't relate this action to typical Sherlock behaviour.
It was torturous. The wounds inflicted on her were talked about in detail and Cash took great pleasure in describing how he enjoyed her screams. Harriet couldn't take it anymore and a tear dropped from her cheek onto Sherlock's hand. He looked down at it and sighed. Forgetting the tissues she'd bought with her she wiped her cheek with her hand and sniffed quietly.
Closing speeches were made and the judge made a short speech summarising the case with instructions for the jury to retire. Harriet was out of the court room quicker than a bolt of lightning. She made a beeline for the loos and locked herself in a cubicle. She wasn't going to cry but needed to be away from the stares.
When she stepped from the bathroom John was ready with a bottle of water and a bar of chocolate. She didn't have the heart to tell him her stomach couldn't take it but thanked him nonetheless. Sherlock was talking with Lestrade at the other end of the foyer. "You're doing fine," John reassured her. Harriet nodded and picked the label from the bottle of water.
Twenty minutes passed. Harriet prayed that he was found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment. The murders and abduction would put him away for life.
"Have you considered your verdict?" the clerk addressed the jury once the court was called back.
An elderly woman got to her feet, "yes," she confirmed.
"Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?" the courtroom sat in suspended silence.
"Guilty," the words rang out to muttered comments from the court. Harriet was flooded with relief and slumped in her seat. It was one less think for her to worry about.
"The court will now consider the sentence that is appropriate," the judge's voice boomed over the court.
John and Sherlock had discussed the trial on their way home from the court room. Harriet had sat silently. Mrs Hudson pulled her into a hug as soon as she stepped over the threshold to Baker Street. John and Sherlock informed Mrs Hudson of the result. Well John informed her Sherlock passed snarky comments. He was no longer interested in a case once it was solved. The trials were boring at best. Finally Mrs Hudson allowed them to go upstairs.
Harriet changed out of her suit immediately and settled down in front of the television whilst they waited for John to return with the Chinese they ordered. Harriet ate most of her dinner as her stomach rumbled after a day without food. John's eyes as a doctor spurred her on to clear her plate. Even Sherlock had something to eat.
"I'm glad today turned out as expected," John and Harriet washed the dished together.
"Mmmm but Moriarty is still out there," Harriet answered as she dried the plates.
"Sherlock will stop him. Don't think otherwise," John was so sure and Harriet was hopeful but he had killed her fiancé what was to stop him from doing it again? They settled in for another night of Sherlock yelling at everything on the television. In the end John gave up and took his book to bed. He was deliberately manipulating the situation so that they were alone. John had been frustrated with the consultant detective for the past two days. Any normal person in a relationship would have been solid rock for the other person to rely on but Sherlock had been far from that. He had been detached from the whole affair and was more interested in picking apart every member of the court room to keep himself occupied. He'd never said it aloud but John had been to enough trials with Sherlock to know that it almost went without saying.
"You have been distant since the trial started," Harriet pounced on Sherlock as soon as John's bedroom door shut.
"I was under the impression that you understood," Sherlock's voice oozed boredom.
"I was but this is different," Sherlock decided not to retort with a witty remark. He didn't understand the female mind and judging by his multiple failed attempts at a relationship neither did John.
"I apologise," he sat down next to her with his arms resting on his knees. Harriet shuffled closer but didn't touch him. His apologise had no meaning.
"Sherlock, I want you to understand that the last two days have been the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I had to look into the eyes of the board that abducted me all because of a ridiculous game that you have entered into with Moriarty. You have barely said ten words to me since we stepped into the cab yesterday but I needed you. I'm not expecting you to be boyfriend-"
"Significant other," Sherlock interrupted.
Harriet sighed, "I'm not expecting you to be significant other of the year. Just some indication that you cared about what I was feeling."
"I do care," he answered her.
"Yeah well, it didn't seem like it. You made me sit there when I wanted to leave," sentiment crept up on Sherlock again and tugged at him. He had not considered how she felt but instead stopped her from performing such a cowardly act.
"If you had left you would have continued to receive those pitying looks that you despise," Sherlock had pushed himself to his feet sensing dangerous territory.
Harriet was speechless. In his own way he had cared. "Miss Thornton I have observed you all day. Bowed head. Unable to make eye contact. Quiet voice. Those are all indications of someone not wanting to be the centre of attention. Am I wrong?"
Harriet sighed, "No." The detective returned to the settee but didn't sit down he knelt down in front of Harriet and brushed the hair from her face. Sherlock didn't need an excuse to put the findings of his previous experiments into action. He brushed his thumb against her cheek as she grabbed at his shirt pulling closer. Harriet was at the end of rationality. She kissed him hard on the lips. The day had taken its toll and left her with a desire to be close to Sherlock. She was seeking comfort in what they were about to do. Harriet needed him.
"We should move," Harriet spoke breathlessly. The buttons on Sherlock's shirt had been undone and her t-shirt was dishevelled before they even made it to the bedroom.
Harriet lay with her head resting on Sherlock's bare chest, "There was no connection between your fiancé and Moriarty," Sherlock spoke.
Harriet sighed and shifted her head so she could catch his eyes, "you're bringing this up now?"
"Yes," he stated.
"You are unbelievable," she moved off him and turned over to face the wall, "good night Sherlock." Sherlock was baffled; didn't she expect him to share thoughts? He was under the distinct impression that a relationship entailed such behaviour. She shrugged his hand off that had reached out for her shoulder. He would ask John tomorrow, he would know what to do.
Alright so long chapter :D I'm away next weekend for my birthday so chances are I won't be able to update but hopefully this makes up for it. If I finish the next chapter before the weekend then I will post it but I need to finish all my planning for the following monday. Thanks to everyone is reading. Oh and I went shopping yesterday and was amused by a biscuit tin that said Baking Street in the style of a London street sign pointless bit of info but made me think of Sherlock. Thank you all for your reviews.
xXxCastielxXx- John's reactions are brilliant definitely the best way to deal with Sherlock.
Lady Nightlord- Absolutely love your review. Hard is one way of putting it for writing Sherlock, sometimes he's a pain in the arse to write.
Gwilwillith- I don't want to rush their relationship but slowly they are getting there. Glad you like it.
88dragon06- trust Sherlock not to consider the connotations of his sleeping comment.
kie 1993- there's more John in this chapter :D