A/N: new chappie! enjoy!

Chapter 25: Relief

Sherlock and John made their way down the steps, trudging their luggage with them, one bag each, with John carrying both, while Quennel shuffled after them as they stepped toward the cab waiting for them. She frowned when she heard shouting in the café and all three of them turned to see Mrs. Hudson yelling at a man before she threw something and it hit the glass of the door, making Quennel jump and stare wide eyes at the door.

"Looks like Mrs. Hudson got to that wife in Doncaster," Quennel noticed, wincing slightly as she turned back to Sherlock who was holding the door of the cab open.

"Wait until she finds out about the one in Islamabad," Sherlock smirked, making John chuckle before the doctor piled their bags into the cab as Sherlock stepped away. Quennel smiled up at him, making him narrow his gaze at her and she only grinned wider at him. "Miss Yule, please stop being ridiculous."

"But Mr. Holmes, I thought by now you would know that I am a ridiculous woman," she shot back, making him roll his eyes.

"You sure you're not coming with us, Quennel?" John asked, waiting for her answer to climb into the cab.

"Thanks John, but I'm sure," she nodded, making him shrug before sliding into the cab and she looked to Sherlock as he stepped in front of her.

"Well, Miss Yule, I shall see you again when this case is over," he nodded and turned, about to climb into the cab, but was stopped when Quennel gripped his sleeve.

"Excuse me, Mr. Holmes, I believe you're forgetting something," she smirked, turning him toward her as he frowned at her in wonder.

"What could I possibly—?"

Sherlock was cut off when Quennel gripped the lapels of his coat to pull him toward her, planting her lips to his and making his eyes shoot wide in shock. He didn't push away as they remained in their position for a moment longer before Quennel pulled back and grinned up at his shocked expression.

"Kiss goodbye," she smiled before her expression became serious as she straightened his lapels again, lifting her hands to pull up his collar and chancing to go further by tousling his hair. "You behave over there. I best not get a call from the police about you."

He could only stare back at her in wide-eyed shock as she only smiled, coyly back and lifted a hand to gently stroke his cheek.

"Seriously, Sherlock…please be careful," she urged, and his shock seemed to subside as his eyes returned to normal size and he straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders and lifting a brow at her. "I don't think I could bear it if anything happened to you. Just…watch your back."

That made him frown at her, making her heart jump in panic. Had she said too much? Did he know? Would he tell her?

"I shall strive to remain out of trouble," he replied before glancing back at John, who was fiddling with his phone, then turned back to Quennel to lean closer to her ear to whisper, "For you, I'll keep out of too much trouble."

Her eyes shot wide as he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek then turned in a fluid motion and climbed into the cab, telling the cabby to take them to Paddington station. The door shut behind him as he looked to her and she stared back, still in shock before the cab rolled away. He watched her as much as he could to see her turn and head back toward her flat, then shifted in his seat to face forward.

"You're smitten, mate," John blurted, still fiddling with his phone and making Sherlock turn a frown at his friend.

"Pardon?"

"You," John chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day, but it's happened. I should've seen it the moment you two met."

"John, would you mind enlightening me as to what my part in this conversation is?" Sherlock wondered, and John finally lowered his phone to smirk up at him.

"You and Quennel fancy each other," John began. "I've noticed. Rather hard not to, considering you don't even bother trying to hide it. I was saying that I thought I'd never see the day the Sherlock Holmes actually fancied someone."

Sherlock glared at him for a moment before folding his arms and turning to face the window of the cab like a petulant child.

"Brood all ya like, it doesn't change the fact that you've been a bit easier to live with since you met her," John smirked, turning back to his phone again.

And, if Sherlock was being completely honest with himself, he knew it too.

Meanwhile...

Quennel sighed as she entered her flat, only to frown in wonder when Caesar didn't greet her at the door…then looked up to see someone sitting on her sofa, Caesar right next to him as the man patted his head. Her heart thumped in panic as she slid her hand into her jeans pocket where she kept her small pistol at all times.

"Who are you and how did you get into my flat," she snapped, sounding far braver than she felt.

"It's been some time since we've spoken, Miss Yule."

Recognizing the voice she sighed in exasperation, releasing the gun and pulling her hand from her pocket as Mycroft stood and turned to her, buttoning his suit jacket.

"I could have told Caesar to kill you," she muttered, stepping deeper into her flat to head into her kitchen. "What do you want?"

"I know, Miss Yule," Mycroft instantly replied, making her freeze as she reached for a glass in a cabinet.

"Know?" she echoed, feigning ignorance as she grabbed the glass and placed it on the counter in front of her.

She needed wine. Thank God Andy and Will had brought a bottle of wine the last time they were there. She made her way to the fridge, quickly, not noticing Mycroft strolling toward her.

"Sherlock has a point," he smirked, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen and watching her open her fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. "Playing coy doesn't suit you. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Your adopted father and brother dying was no accident. And I know exactly who helped you with it."

Quennel froze as she was about to open the bottle. She set her jaw in anger as she turned to glare at him, making raise a brow at her, expectantly.

"How dare you, Mycroft Holmes," she growled, her fists balling at her sides and Caesar stood from where he'd been sitting and watching the two. "How dare you suggest that I had anything to do with it?! It wasn't my idea! If you know what happened – seen the real CCTV footage – then you know had nothing to do with what happened! They may have been disgusting and evil, but I would never arrange thei execution!"

"Of course," Mycroft nodded, unfazed by her rage. "But, as I said, I know exactly who killed them, and I know he's using you to spy on Sherlock."

Quennel felt her heart pound harder as she swallowed, hard before holding her head high to look braver than she felt.

"And you're here to kill me," she assumed.

"No, of course not," Mycroft scoffed, making her frown in confusion. "If I wanted you killed I would've sent someone else to take care of it. And more importantly, you're far too precious to my brother than even he would care to admit. No, I've come to help you, Miss Yule, and protect you from Jim Moriarty and his accomplice, Sebastian Moran."

She stared at him in wide-eyed shock, but let out a huge sigh of relief as she leaned back on the table. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she tried to hide them from him by lowered her head into her hand, giving a small sob, making Caesar trot over to her and nuzzle against her leg. She let one of her hands scratch at his head, assuring him that she was really alright. Better than alright. She finally had a huge weight lifted off her shoulders by Mycroft Holmes.

"How are you going to help me?" she shuddered, looking up at him as tears streamed down her cheeks. "What do I have to do?"

"Moriarty must believe you are still under his control," Mycroft explained, ignoring her emotional state. "Which means you must keep reporting to him as if nothing has changed. Play everything out as he wishes. And I'll be feeding you some information to give to him as well. We are very close to capturing him, but even so, you shall have to keep up the charade."

"So you have a plan," she guessed.

"But of course," Mycroft replied, lifting his chin with a frown, as if he didn't understand why she doubted it. "But all you need to know is that you are safe, no matter what happens. I have my people watching you. We know Moran came to see you, and if he had tried anything, we would've interfered. You'll help me, of course, and keep all of this secret from Sherlock. He cannot know until it's time."

"Of course," she nodded, without hesitation. "I'll help you in any way I can. Just promise that my sister and mother will be safe, too."

"Yes, they are being watched over as well," he assured her, making her sigh again in more relief as she looked to Caesar with a smile, scratching at his head a little more before looking back at Mycroft with a grin, more tears running down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Mycroft," she shuddered, making him frown in confusion.

"For what?" he wondered.

"For saving me."

That Evening...

Quennel sat on her sofa, thinking over everything she and Mycroft talked about after he assured her she was protected. Plans within plans, he'd assured her, even though he only told her what she needed to know, rather than tell her everything. She was on a need-to-know basis, and if she was being completely honest, she didn't mind. She figured the less she knew the better.

"Plausible deniability, and all that," she murmured, stroking Caesar's side as he lay next to her on the sofa. "Of all the men, I had to call the great Sherlock Holmes to solve my mystery and fall for him."

Her phone buzzed, making her jump and dig into the pocket of her jeans to pull it out, looking to the screen and smiling as she read the text.

Arrived safely. I may be calling you tonight if I don't sleep SH

She still smiled as she typed up her answer.

Why don't you just call me now?

A moment later, instead of a text, she received a call, making her grin widely as she answered, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Mr. Holmes," she greeted.

"Miss Yule," Sherlock greeted in return.

"Can't sleep?" she smirked.

"I have yet to attempt," he replied. "We rented a car. Tomorrow we head over to Baskerville to investigate."

"How do you intend to do that when you can't get in?" she wondered.

"I may or may not have stolen one of Mycroft's passes at some point and saved it in case I had use of it," he replied, and she rolled her eyes with a smirk and a chuckle.

"Of course, how sill of me. How could I not have guessed?"

There was a brief pause before he said, "Quennel."

"Yes, I'm here."

"What…What is it that I'm supposed to ask you?"

Quennel frowned in wonder before asking, "What do you mean?"

"You know…what ordinary men ask their…significant other. Ah, yes. How…how was your day?"

Quennel's eyes shot wide in disbelief as she stared ahead. Had Sherlock Holmes just called her his significant other and asked how her day was? She could hardly believe it, but she certainly wasn't going to tease him, knowing that must have gone against his views on sentiment.

"My day…was fine," she replied, vaguely. "Pretty boring compared to what a day with you is like most of the time. What about you? How was your day?"

"Uneventful as well. The train ride was excessively boring. I would have much rather have had you there. I could have deduced people for you."

"And have my take my clothes off in exchange I suppose," she laughed, recalling their dinner together.

"Possibly."

Quennel stared ahead in absolute shock and disbelief.

"I was joking."

"I wasn't."

Her eyes widened even more, making her afraid her eyes were going to fall out.

"I have to go."

She hung up the phone without waiting for a response and nearly slammed her phone on the coffee table in front of her, making Caesar lift his head to look at her and she looked back at him, meeting his gaze as he tilted his head to the side.

"What?" she nearly snapped. "He was getting…strange. Sherlock doesn't do small talk, and he certainly doesn't do sentiment. He's bloody Sherlock, for God's sake! He wouldn't know sentiment if it hit him upside the head!"

She sighed and sat back as Caesar still stared at her and she used both hands to rub her face in exasperation at herself.

"I shouldn't have hung up on him," she grumbled.

Meanwhile...

Sherlock frowned at the phone as he lay on his back. He and John had stopped for the night somewhere outside town and rented a room at an inn, where he lay in one of the beds. John sat with his laptop in the second bed, typing away.

"She hung up," Sherlock blurted, making John look up at him with a frown before looking back to his laptop.

"Ok…"John replied warily before asking, "Did you say something to make her hang up on you?"

"I don't think so," Sherlock replied, still staring at the phone as if willing her to call back. "I only asked how her day was and then told her about the train ride here."

"Yeah, I heard," John assured him. "You did call her your significant other. Is that how you're classifying your relationship?"

"She suggested we not have a title," Sherlock reported. "I agree. But why did she hang up?"

"Why don't you ask her?" John suggested.

Sherlock didn't reply as he instantly began typing at his phone.

Did I say something wrong? SH

He stared at the phone, waiting for an answer from Quennel. She was taking longer than usual to reply, making him frown when he didn't get an instantaneous response.

"She's not answering," he reported.

"Well give her a minute," John retorted. "She might have company over."

"She doesn't," Sherlock replied. "I didn't hear anyone in the background."

"Sherlock, you're getting a little ridiculous," John warned. "Just leave it until morning, alright?"

Sherlock's phone finally ran with a text, making him instantly open it.

No you didn't. I'm sorry. I'm tired. I'll talk to you tomorrow and you can tell me all about how you got caught in Baskerville…because you will get caught ;)

"Apparently she's tired," Sherlock reported before growling in irritation, making John roll his eyes, but keep his gaze on his laptop.

"What now?"

"She's done that…face again! I hate it!"

"Face?"

"The text face that looks like it's winking at you. She calls them smileys."

John burst into laughter as Sherlock texted back to her rapidly before looking to the doctor with a frown of wonder.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"You," John replied simply, turning back to his work and Sherlock sneered at him before turning back to his text to Quennel.

I will not be caught, Miss Yule, and what have I told you about those faces? SH

Her response was instantaneous this time.

That they are adorable and you love it when I do them? ;P

Sherlock growled as he typed away on his phone, making John chuckle again.

Stop that!

;-*

Sherlock finally slammed his phone onto the mattress at his side and turned over, his back facing John who glanced over at him with a smirk.

"I take it she won that battle?"

"Shut up!"

A/N: I wanted to break up the days a little more because I didn't want it to go too fast. reviews?