Those were not her clothes though. He must have gotten them for her. A pair of tights; the expensive kind with a black line going up the back of the leg, a black pencil skirt with a slit up the left leg; a bit shorter than she preferred, a mint green silken shirt and a black blazer. Even the black lingerie was new. She swallowed.

She got dressed, stepped into her trusty black heels and grabbed her makeup purse from her pink suitcase and rushed to the bathroom.

Mira looked at herself in the mirror. She did feel that the clothes really made her look like a secretary. She found her brush and was trying to gain control of her long unruly hair then applied the makeup and went for the reddest lipstick she had. She nailed the brief. She thought.

…

"… Mira" John greeted her in the kitchen with a surprised look in his eyes. He must have just gotten up.

"Morning John" she winked at him. John swallowed. He was staring at her. "Something wrong?" she wondered innocently as she corrected the shirt.

"No, you're perfect" he shook his head.

"Can you approve, Mr. Holmes?" She turned to face Sherlock who had returned to his own chair and nodded coldly.

"It'll do" he shrugged. "When the second client comes in can you undo a few buttons? I have to test a theory". She nodded.

"Sure" She complied and sat herself down on the couch; crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. She grazed her burned left hand with the right. It was certainly survivable.

"Pen and paper" Sherlock pointed to the table in front of her and she eyed the tools of her trade.

The trio had toast for their breakfast and soon came the time when the clients started showing up. Mira sat on a wooden chair in the corner jotting down most of the information. She was careful not to miss anything. Yet she knew Sherlock really didn't need this. Not her notes anyway.

After the first client; a little girl whose dog had run away and whom Sherlock made cry by informing her and her mother that the father had run over the dog by with the car and couldn't own up to his mistake. Mira undid as many buttons of the top as she dared.

In came a business man and his wife. Both seeming anxious. Mira could feel the man's eyes on her as she sat there silently scribbling. She tried to appear ignorant and unaware of the unwanted attention. Her mouth felt dry and she found herself adjusting her hair.

"How many secretaries have you had over the last year?" Sherlock asked the man who had been explaining his case. A missing wedding ring of a high value.

"5, but why is that important?" The man cleared his throat.

"Oh that is very important" Sherlock rubbed his hands together.

"You had to find a way to pay them off so they wouldn't file sexual harassment charges; your ring isn't lost. You pawned it" Sherlock informed the couple. The wife was quick to slap her husband. "Oh, and you can stop looking at her, she's mine" Sherlock winked as he showed the couple out, having solved yet another case. The wife was shivering in anger. "Never work for that man" Sherlock told Mira just loud enough for the couple to hear before he closed the door. Mira's hands were on her buttons covering herself up to a point she was much more comfortable with.

"Thank you for the advice, daddy" she rolled her eyes.

…

Several hours passed with clients coming and going and as suddenly as it had started it was over. The flat was empty save for Sherlock, John and her. She swallowed and scratched her left arm. She couldn't stand that silence. Ugh. It was way too loud.

"I've got some stuff to do…" John coughed and left.

"See you then" Sherlock told him and let him leave. Mira felt there was an unspoken understanding between the two men.

Mira was taking deep breaths as she got on her feet. She walked over to the work desk and placed her notes. She couldn't find rest. She stood by the windows and looked at the life outside on the street. She saw John haul a cab. She needed to take her mind off the urges she didn't want to be feeling. She would do anything for a distraction.

It wasn't enough. She needed something to happen. Her hand was scratching harder at the dressing hidden by the blazer.

"You loved her" She heard Sherlock's voice cut through the dead silence. She shuddered. She kept her eyes on the street below. "You allowed yourself to fall for her". His voice had dropped an octave or two she was sure. The sound was an eerie presence in the darkening flat.

"Who?" she tried to appear unaffected. Composing herself the best she could.

"Why else would you carve the letter 'A' into the skin on your left breast?"

"I carved a star into my hand as well, so does that tell you I've dated Ringo Starr?" she retorted. Her fingers intertwined with the heavy curtains.

"The placement of the A tells me it was a romantic involvement; most likely one-way. You wouldn't have done it while you were still working for her, she would have seen you naked; so it would have been done after she let you go."

"Stop" she shivered. "Yes, yes I fell for her, and yes I made a silly mistake… she kicked me out and I didn't know what to do with myself".

"Suicide attempt, of course! You really are a romantic" he mocked. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply.

"Shut up!" she hissed. Her fingers clenching around the fabric.

"Pills was it? Carved that A and then you chickened out before taking them?"

"Shut up!" she turned to look him dead in the eye. She swallowed and ran to the bedroom; slamming the door shut behind her. Panicking. Her fingers were searching for her pockets; seeking for an outlet. It wasn't there. Sherlock had it. Her blade.

Her eyes quickly found the riding crop that had always been sitting there on his dresser. Yes. That was what she needed to happen... She grabbed it with her shivering hands and stomped back to the sitting room with it.

"Hit me" she put it on the coffee table in front of him. He tilted his head and steepled his fingers. "Hit me!" she whimpered "Take it, and hurt me, please" her bottom lip was quivering. Her body was numb. He didn't move a muscle. She knew she was out of her mind and she looked it too.

"Please" she was about to cry but rushed the tears along. "Please" she cried.

"Why?" He pretended to look confused.

"I can't… I need this… I… just please, please I beg you" she was drying her eyes with her hands. She should have used waterproof make up. He cocked his brow at her.

"I'll do anything, I will… just… please do this for me" she looked into his eyes. He got on his feet and grabbed the riding crop. Without a word he went into the kitchen and cleared the kitchen table neatly.