"Sherlock Holmes," Scarlett Holmes stated as she stood in front of the desk. She was looking frail and was annoyed. She was never too tired to be annoyed with her husband. The man behind the desk began clicking on his computer as she leant against the desk, unable to stand on her own and hold all of her weight. She had been forced to gain a taxi down to the station all so that she could sign on a piece of paper.

"I need you to place your signature at the bottom here ma'am," he told her. "It basically says that you intend to keep your husband at your address and that he won't live anywhere else."

"Fine," Scarlett replied curtly and she scribbled onto the bottom of the paper.

"If you'd like to take a seat I will be back in a moment," the man spoke and Scarlett managed to nod at him, slowly moving over to a seat and falling into it. She crossed her legs and ran a hand through her hair, only to feel it as if it was lose. She pulled something from her head and it was her blonde locks. They had fallen out easily. Trying not to cry, she dealt with the situation with extreme haste before she saw Sherlock snatching his jacket from the officer who had escorted him out.

"Scarlett, I-"

"- Save it," she hissed at him, standing up and moving over to the door. Sherlock managed to quickly catch up with her as she moved through the small courtyard and onto the main street.

"You know," Scarlett turned to face him, "I thought that you may have helped me."

"It was a misunderstanding," Sherlock told her. "The police had no right to do that."

"You're on bail Sherlock!" she snapped at him. "This isn't alright!"

"Unlawful bail," he pointed out, playing on his phone for a moment.

"What are you doing?" Scarlett asked him.

"Texting Lestrade," he muttered. "I know something about the case."

Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek before she moved her hand, swatting the phone from Sherlock so that it hit the ground, breaking apart. The consulting detective looked up at her as he picked it up again.

"What was that for?" he asked her.

"Do you know what it is like being married to you?" she snapped at him. "Do you know how I feel?"

"Of course," he told her.

"Without reading me," she replied. "You haven't once asked how I feel. I'm dying...and I'm fed up...and you expect me to come down to this place when I can barely move from bed all so that I can help save you from your crazy antics?"

"Scarlett-"

"-No," she replied quickly. "I can't deal with this anymore...I know the case comes first...I always have known...but I had hoped that maybe you'd find your dying wife more important than socialising with corpses."

"I'm trying to help," Sherlock told her and she wiped a tear away.

"Do you know what last night was?" she asked him.

"I've been in a police cell since last night Scarlett," he told her as if it was a good excuse.

"It was your daughter's parents evening," she told him and he closed his eyes, looking genuinely hurt as he scratched his cheek.

"Your own daughter..." Scarlett shook her head as she hailed a taxi and Sherlock opened the door.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked her as she sat in the seat and refused to move up for him.

"I'm going home," she told him. "You're staying out of my way for the rest of the day because if I see you again then I'll do something I may regret."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm being sensible," she snapped back at him.

"Scarlett...your hair..." Sherlock simply said when he saw her move her hand through her blonde curls and a lump fell out.

"That would be the illness," she told him as she began to shut the door. "The thing which comes after your case."

...

"Where is Elizabeth?" Scarlett asked when she saw Sherlock walk into the flat.

"I took her to John's and Sarah's for a bit...we need to talk," Sherlock told her simply as he held the flowers in his hand and Scarlett snorted once.

"And do you really think that flowers are going to solve this?" she snapped at him and he looked at them and then back at her.

"I thought that flowers made women forgive?" he said. "John told me that."

"Well they're not going to solve this," Scarlett snapped back.

"What will solve this?" Sherlock asked, throwing the flowers onto the coffee table as Scarlett remained sat on his sofa.

"I don't know," she said. "You could start by saying sorry."

"I didn't mean to get arrested," Sherlock told her. "And I didn't phone you last night because I knew you'd be tired."

"How considerate," she drawled.

"I thought so," Sherlock said seriously.

"Your text simply just said you were busy on the case and that you may not be back for the night."

"I didn't technically lie," Sherlock responded. "I know you're ill Scarlett."

"Oh good," she rolled her eyes.

"But do you want to know how I feel?" Sherlock asked her. "Do you want to know why I've been running around London?"

She remained silent and Sherlock simply continued.

"Being here with you is a constant reminder that I could lose you any day and it is something I am powerless about," Sherlock told her, his voice hoarse and his hands shaking as he spoke. "I need the case to take my mind off of that fact...I need to think of something else...preoccupy myself with something other than my thoughts. If I stay here with you all the time then I'd go mad Scarlett. I know I may not seem caring by leaving but time to myself is something I need. The thought of losing you is something which I can't handle because I may not show it...but I care for you...and then there is Lizzie...Scarlett...our daughter...I can't look after her without you...I'm a terrible father without you..."

"Sherlock," Scarlett simply said as she saw something wet form in the corner of his eye. She looked up at him and stood up, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her around the waist, his head burying itself into her shoulder as his body shook.

...

A/N: I know I may have been neglecting this story for a while and so I am trying to update often. But that may be difficult as time goes on and exams loom but I do hope you are enjoying it and let me know what you think. Any thoughts or future ideas are welcome!