"I don't understand," Ginny told Doctor Walker holding her head in her hands in frustration as she sat in a chair near the window. Doctor Walker and herself were hardly five minutes into their session. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, of course not," he assured her trying to speak calmly to keep her in the same state. She wasn't a pleasant person to deal with when angry. "You've done nothing wrong, Ginevra. You're doing very well. That's why I'm suggesting this. Being home will help you develop a stronger connection to the real world."

"Being at Baker Street will destroy me!" she shouted at him.

"It's just nights, Ginevra," he emphasized. "From nine to six, you will be here. It's just a trial."

"A trial!?" she shouted standing knocking her chair over. "Your little trial will destroy me, Doctor Walker! Baker Street and Sherlock Holmes are my demise!"

"They are your salvation," he informed her. "Ginevra, you will not improve here, not really. It'll be false improvement, and I want to see you actually get better. The best way to do that is for you to be around those that care for you like Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes doesn't know what you wants and what he cares for," she snapped at him as she looked at the window with her hands leaning on the frame as if she was too weak to continue holding herself up. "He knows two women who aren't me."

"He knows and cares for two women who make up you," he told her. "That man won't leave you, and he's gotten to know you. Do you really think he doesn't care?" She sighed still ignoring him. She had no hope of getting better, she was sure. Anything he did was a vain attempt. "I can't make you do anything, Ginevra. I can only make suggestions. I asked Holmes about this idea first. He didn't come to me, but he is good for you."

"He's bloody psychopath," she argued back. "How is that good for me?"

"He's not a psychopath," Doctor Walker said. "Best I can tell he has Asperger's, and what is wrong or right about him is of no concern. It's what he does for you."

"What he does for me?" she scoffed. "What does he do for you, Doctor?"

"He accepts you, Ginevra. In a way no one has." Doctor Walker sighed and stood before taking her side to look out the window. "They've always wanted one or the other. James preferred Raine as did a number of others, but just as many, your brother Robbie included, preferred Jen."

"Sherlock preferred Jen," she uttered.

"Sherlock had the choice to try and save Jen or save you, and who did he choose?" She was silent for a moment as she thought this over.

"I'm not saying that it's a good idea," she informed, "but… if it's just for the nights… we can try."

"Good," he smiled at her. She scoffed and looked away. It was only to appease him.

She rubbed the green cloth between her fingers as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Sherlock said nothing to her as they drove toward Baker Street. He had picked her up that morning with a fresh set of clothes she knew were brand new. The green sweater was nearly an exact match to her old one, but it needed to be worn a bit before it had the same comforting feel her old one did, and the jeans Sherlock had picked out sat at her hips comfortably but didn't strangle her as jeans tended to do.

"You shouldn't be nervous," he assured her noticing her rubbed her hands together. She also seemed to be fidgeting far too much.

"No, I'm… I'm not," she lied.

"Good, because there are plenty of people who are very happy to hear you'll be home," he replied choosing to ignore the lie. "Molly's requested having dinner with you."

"Molly?" she asked having heard from the woman in months. "… What have you told her?"

"I told her the same thing I told Mrs. Hudson," he replied. "I told her you were visiting your mother… until Molly informed me you don't speak to your mother, and I had to lie about the lie and tell her that the truth was we had a row, and we're working through it."

"Oh?"

"You shot me," he told her making her laugh before she started hyperventilating, because she had really shot him, and she was still trying to work through it. "If you really look at it, I was the one who pulled the trigger," he reminded her causing her to calm down. "It didn't set me back much."

"I still shot you," she grimaced.

"My choice," he replied. "It was the only way to get you back."

"You could have died," she reminded him.

"The consequences outweighed the outcome," he admitted to her.

"You do realize," she teased, "that you have succumbed to the most uninteresting human faults? You're in a love, and you're sentimental. You love me."

"Just because you know your solution will heat when you add a catalyst, doesn't stop it from heating up," he answered, but it only seemed to confuse her. Averay's chemistry lessons for months ago seemed to have spilled from her brain.

"I don't understand," she confessed with a slight frown hating to admit she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Just because I know love is a chemical defect, doesn't mean I can stop it from happening," he replied. Of course, he seemed less than thrilled with this confession.

"No, I know, but you have to admit it's… nice," she smiled.

"What's nice?" he asked.

"Being human," she teased again, "and not a machine.

"Hm… I suppose it's… nice," he admitted knowing that even though she was teasing, there was some truth in her statement.

"Um… Sherlock," she muttered wishing to bring up one of her worries with going back to Baker Street.

"Hm?" he questioned.

"I… I'm not sure how comfortable I'll be… in Baker Street," she sighed thinking of the flat and of Jen. "It's not my home. It's hers."

"You're right," he agreed. "Jen did live in Baker Street, but I have a slight adjustment that might help."

"What's that?"

"We share a room," he replied simply. "Jen slept upstairs. You don't even have to go in the room if you don't want."

"Oh," she said considering his idea.

"That is… if it doesn't bother you," he told her back tracking a bit in case the idea made her uncomfortable. That's a thing right? People get uncomfortable sharing sleeping arrangements.

"Oh, no… um… I thought it might make you uncomfortable…"

"No."

"Okay."

"Okay," he agreed. "Will that… will that help?" he asked her.

"I think so."

"Good."

"Good," she repeated with a nod. "Thank you."

"Well, I figured studies have shown that individuals who sleep with their partner tend to get a better night's sleep and-" Ginny cut him off as she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Partner, huh?" she teased. "Is that what we are? Partners?"

"I suppose it's preferable to the word couple," he uttered distastefully, "or we could just get married." He was making fun of her now. She didn't mind much; he liked when he teased her as it gave her the opportunity to tease back.

"Hm, you'd have to be religious for that to work," she told him before kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Just go to the court house and sign an unimportant sheet of paper," he remarked taking his eyes off the road to look at her. "Hm," he mused glancing her up and down.

"What?" she asked.

"You're aroused," he deduced.

"Very much so," she agreed with a grin. "You know you could do something about that."

"Driving," he remaindered her gesturing to the road.

"I think you're avoiding giving me what I want," she complained putting a hand on his cheek and pushing him to face her before pressing her lips hard against his. One of his hands wrapped around her neck pulling her close as he could while the other hand remained on the wheel. Not that it mattered much as he couldn't even tell if he was still on the road. "Sherlock," she panted as his lips went from her lips to her neck.

"Ginny," he growled.

"Sherlock… Sherlock, break!" she shouted catching the view out the windshield through half-lidded eyes

"What?" he frowned looking up at her dazed.

"Break!" He shot forward to see a car stopped at an intersection in front of them forcing him to slam on the break causing them both to jolt forward.

"I told you I was driving," he grumbled as the light turned green.

"And I'm pretty sure you weren't complaining," she reminded him with a breath leaning against the car seat annoyed. He rolled his eyes before he tugged the loop on her jeans, so that he could kiss her cheek.

"Needy," he told her.

"Arsehole," she quipped. "All I want is-"

"I know what you want," he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and I'm currently coupled with a man who's afraid of sex," she grumbled causing him to press on the brake again. "You're holding up traffic," she informed him as he pushed the car in park before grabbing the edge of her jeans and pulling her close enough that she could feel his breath on her. "Sherlock?" she uttered curiously.

"Perhaps you don't understand," he mused looking her up and down. She wasn't sure what he was doing. She would say that he was letting his imagination go to places it never roams, but Sherlock Holmes couldn't possibly...

"What?"

"I'm an addict, Ginny," he told her. "When I find something I want, need I obsess over it."

"I know," she scoffed. He stared at her waiting for it to click. "Wait… are you calling me your addiction?"

"I'm telling you you'll become an addiction," he answered simply. "Do you want that?"

"Well-"

"Do you want me to demand you every second of the day? To go to you with nothing but sex on my mind when I have no case? To discard you the minute I get something to stimulate my mind? Do you want that?"

"No," she said shaking her head.

"You think I don't want you. You are mistaken," he informed her.

"I… I am?" she asked.

"I have remarkable self-control," he assured her, "and I don't want you to be an addiction. You're better than that."

"Then…when?"

"When it's right," he answered her as several more cars honked at him as he pushed the car out of park.

"Which is?"

"I'll know," he replied making her groan in opposition to the answer. It was another five minutes before they reached Baker Street. She looked up at it distastefully despite being build the exact way it was before Raine decided to blow the place apart. "Come."

"I'll make you come," she uttered.

"I heard that," he called back to her as he opened the door to Baker Street making her grin as she hoped up the steps.

"There are people here," she noted hearing the noise.

"Friends," he reassured her as they both climbed the steps.

"Can I have a drink?" she asked moodily. "I get the fun and excitement of being questioned whether I'm a psycho, and I've just been rejected by my sort of boyfriend… lover person-"

You aren't being rejected," he told her scoffing at her. She did like being melodramatic.

"Maybe I'll ask Laura how one traps a man," she muttered.

"Laura?" he asked.

"She's a nympho, who's always fucking the orderlies," Ginny replied offhandedly. "She's rather nice."

"I've never met Laura," he answered doubting her.

"That's because she's a whore with a nice rack and pretty eyes," she informed him with a heavy sigh.

"And you thought I would be tempted?" he guessed seeing as she had never introduced him to this Laura.

"Well, you never know. You were tempted by Irene." She would never tell him, but it always bothered her a little that Irene had almost succeeded in playing him.

"Because she reminded me of you."

"Ha! So you were tempted by Irene!" she pointed out teasing him, but she felt a bit queasy knowing that she was right.

"At the time… I couldn't figure out why," he replied looking at her. "Now, it's obvious really."

"Well, maybe, I didn't want you to be tempted by Laura's large breasts."

"You have nice breasts," he uttered making her laugh.

"You can see them if you'd like," she teased him kissing his cheek right before they reached the landing.

"I'll take a rain check."

"You're no fun," she grinned before they stepped into the room. Mary and John were sitting on the couch chatting while Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen. Sherrinford, Mycroft, and Robbie were sitting at the table talking quietly among themselves while Ulric and Damon were talking. Ulric sat in Sherlock's chair and Damon in John's. Regina was sitting at the piano talking with Myra. "You didn't tell me it would be everyone," she growled.

"There's a bottle of wine in the fridge," he replied knowing it would be the quickest way to appease her, "and I haven't told them about… our situation."

"Best not. People like to talk."

"It's all they ever do," he agreed with a sigh as she stepped into the room. Toby started barking as he ran to her.

"Hi, Toby," she grinned ruffling his fur. "How have you been?"

"Needy," Sherlock replied making her scowl.

"Ah, just like his owner," she told Toby making Sherlock roll his eyes.

"Wine?" he offered to get it for her.

"Please."

"It's a little early for that, don't you think?" Mycroft asked. She looked up to see the whole room watching her. She slowly stood.

"Go fuck yourself," she replied with a smile as Sherlock came back with a glass. "Thank you." She took a sip before throwing herself down next to Mary. "How's the baby?" She started off. The first trimester was the most dangerous especially for first mothers.

"Good, real good," John told her. "How uh… how are you?"

"Er… good," she nodded before looking at the wine. "Getting better."

"Good, and he wasn't too much of an arse on the way over here?" John asked her nodding to Sherlock, who was now standing at the window as Regina spoke to him in a soft voice. She wasn't sure what they were talking about, but she had a feeling it had something to do with her.

"Oh, no… he was, but you know, I'm used to it," she smiled at him. "I heard... I heard you bought a house?" she questioned.

"Yes, yeah," John told her. "We thought that somewhere bigger would be a nice change."

"The suburbs are... nice," she replied, "but I'm sure Sherlock will miss you."

"Well, he's got you now," Mary grinned patting her knee. "He does, doesn't he?"

"Of course," Ginny nodded with a smile.

"He's been in a good mood for days," Mary told her with a slight whisper.

"Oh? Not shooting any walls then?"

"He's been surprisingly well behaved," John informed her though eve he seemed confused by the statement, "especially considering he hasn't taken any cases."

"I think you are his case right now," Mary winked making her laugh, but she was stopped when he saw Damon entering the kitchen to speak to Mrs. Hudson. It gave her a good opportunity.

"Excuse me," she uttered before heading for the kitchen. Damon had Mrs. Hudson laughing, and she didn't really want to interrupt, but it was urgent. "Mrs. Hudson, can I have word with Damon in private?"

"Of course, dear," she smiled leading the two alone. Damon didn't look up at her as he fiddled with a tea pot on the stove. "I heard about you and Myra... congratulations."

"Thanks," he breathed out.

"Damon, I-"

"I know," he assured her not wanting to hear anymore. "It... It wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't make it anymore real," she replied. "I killed your sister, Damon, and I can never take that back or earn your forgiveness. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She could feel the tears falling down her cheeks, and he lifted her head and watched her cry. He wasn't sure if he should be glad that she was suffering for what she had done or feel pity for her because she couldn't control it. He found himself unable to feel happy for her suffering and took a step and embracing her.

"It's okay, Lupa," he uttered. "I know it wasn't your fault, and... it'll be hard, and it'll come out every once in while, but I still love you." He pulled away and looked at her before quickly kissing her forehead. "Now, tea?" He offered picking up the tea tray. She smiled and took one of the cups before heading back in the living room.

"Hello mother," Ginny created her mum before stepping to Sherlock's side. "So boring out there?" she teased making him scoff.

"If I get a case, you're coming with me," he informed her.

"Sounds dull," she teased.

"How have you been, Ginevra?" her mother asked.

"Oh as good as one can be considering everything," she remarked leaning against the wall and looking at the woman. "I suppose you understand."

"I do," Regina nodded, "and your father would too if he was alive, but what matters is that you are trying to get better. Listen to your doctors. They know you better than you think, and listen to the people who love you like Mr. Holmes here," she gestured to Sherlock as Ginny sat on the bench next to her mother. He watched the woman with interest, and then his eyes flashed to Ginny, who seemed much more comfortable with Regina than Raine or Jen. "He did a lot for you, Ginny."

"I know," she smiled looking up at Sherlock.

"Don't take it for granted," Regina told her putting an arm around her. "I suggest you marry him before he comes to his senses."

"Marriage is for the religious," Sherlock informed her.

"And for couples who actually have sex," Ginny remarked causing Regina to let out an unattractive laugh.

"That's the Adler in you," Regina laughed.

"Speaking of Adler's," she mused before she stood and joined the table with the two Holmes brothers and her own brother. "Hello, Robbie," she smiled, "and Sherrinford... Mycroft... you can still go fuck yourself. How are we doing today?" Sherrinford was about to answer when she cut him off. "I don't really care. May I steal my brother?" she asked standing again. She grabbed her brother's arm. "Of course, I may," she grinned bringing him off to the side.

"It won't matter what you say," he told her looking at the Holmes. "They'll deduce it."

"I know," she smiled. "I just... I wanted to tell you I know about everything you've done for me, and that while Jen didn't care for you, I do. You're my brother... my older brother, the one who watches out for me, and I just wanted to thank you is all."

"You're welcome," he said with a nod.

"And I'm sorry for all the trouble," she rubbed the back of her head nervously.

"No trouble that I wasn't ready for," he assured her.

"I will visit you more when I can," she offered.

"You're thinking about staying out then?"

"We'll see," she smiled. "Sherlock has been fighting against me; he... has quite the influence on me."

"I'm aware as Sherrinford has pointed out from your body language... you two seem in a rather affirming place."

"You read that from a book," she accused.

"One of Susan's," he grumbled causing her to laugh. "Well, go on then," he shuffled her toward him. She picked up one of the free cups from the tray Damon had set down on her way back to Sherlock.

"Tea, Mr. Holmes," she offered holding it out to him. He took it from her as he continued to look outside. "Is there something wrong?"

"I miss the silence of Hanwell," he admitted closing his eyes, and she knew it wasn't the calm he missed but rather the opportunity to think without being surrounded by people.

"Well," she grinned, "if you would like we could leave this God forsaken place and go get dinner at that little Italian restaurant."

"Social duties," he grumbled not happy with it, and she was beginning to tire of it already. There were simply too many people.

"Again, Mr. Holmes, you underestimate my acting abilities," she teased before she stumbled and collapsed on the couch with an exasperated sigh. She was being over-dramatic again, but that was the point.

"Are you alright?" Myra asked her.

"Oh, I suddenly feel so under the weather, love," she replied fanning herself with her hand. "It must be all the people, the emotions. I'm simply not used to it."

"Oh, well, we'd hate to harm you," she smiled standing up and smoothing out her skirt. "I'll take Damon, and we'll pop off." And one by one, they began trickling out until just Mary and John remained.

"Well, we better be off too," Mary urged John, who didn't seem ready to leave quite yet.

"What we have no where to-"

"We have so much to do," Mary argued pushing him out the door. "Perhaps lunch sometime." The door shut leaving John and Mary on the landing.

"What was that about?" John asked.

"Honestly, are you so dense?" Mary scolded her husband. He should have seen it before she did. "They obviously wanted to be left alone."

"Those two?" he gestured to the door.

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised if they're snogging already," Mary told him with a laugh as they made their way toward the door out onto the street.

Ginny laid on the couch watching him. She liked watching him. His movement were often erratic, and then they were lazy before quickly going back to erratic. It was like watching a dog. She smiled to herself, but really, he was a cat. Right now, however, he was composing. He started as soon as John and Mary were out the door- of course, that was after Ginny ordered take away since neither of them really wanted to go out, so they would stay in.

"We should get a cat," she told him lazily letting her eyes linger on his hands that were letting music echo through the air.

"A cat?" he scoffed stopping to write a couple notes on the music sheet. "They're independent, arrogant creatures. I'd rather you get another dog."

"Could we?" she asked slowly moseying her way to him before wrapping her arms around his middle. She leaned her head between his shoulder blades.

"Could we what?" he questioned pausing as his head began to swim from her lavender soap though he was beginning to wonder if it was soap or just her natural scent. No one could smell that could naturally.

"I forget," she sighed. "You smell nice," she told him with a smile as if she knew what he was thinking. "At first, it's not so nice: chemicals, tobacco, but then you smell it mixing with rosin and polish mixed with books, and it's heaven to me. You smell like my childhood home, Sherlock Holmes."

"Good thing?"

"It makes me nostalgic," she admitted, "but it makes me feel home."

"You are home," he reminded her. She smiled. "Speaking of, you're much kinder to your mother and brother."

"I understand them in a way that Raine nor Jen did," she replied. "They did nothing to me that I wouldn't have done. If I was my mother, I would have left as she did, and my brother has done nothing but try to help me. Raine and Jen both focused on the bad of my childhood, but it wasn't all bad, Sherlock. Before my mother left, she was a mother. She doted on me and my siblings, and it was a great sacrifice on her end to leave, but she felt it was best. It would have been nice to have one stable parent, but we can't have it all."

"Would you like to learn?" he asked her holding the instrument up to her.

"If you can be patient enough," she teased as she slowly let go of him. He held the instrument out to her, and she put it on her shoulder as she had seen Sherlock do many times before. He was quick to make small adjustments.

"Frog, middle, tip," he pointed to the position closest to her hand, the middle, and the farthest from her hand on the bow. "The closer to the bridge and the more pressure you put on the strings the louder it will be. The farther and lighter you are the quieter. Simple. You've played a string instrument?"

"Yes."

"A," he told her pressing her first finger on a string. She tried to play only to have it screech a painful noise. She cringed.

"Take it," she offered holding it out as if she was scared.

"Again," he demanded. She tried again and again, and before long, the doorbell rang, and Sherlock went to go get their dinner from the delivery boy. He came into to finally see her getting the first note. "Hardly Paganini, but you're getting there."

"Who?" she asked carefully setting down the instrument and sitting in her chair across from Sherlock. He handed her a fork before replying as she picked up a pint of chinese food.

"He was a violinist so good that many claimed he made a deal with the devil," Sherlock replied.

"For violinist skills?" she asked doubtfully. "He could ask for anything, and he asked for violin skills. That's pathetic."

"What would you ask for?" he questioned, and she considered it for a moment as she shuffled her found around.

"Anything?"

"Anything," he confirmed, "with a few of the usual exceptions: can't raise the dead, can't make people fall in love, ect."

"Well, if I'm making deals with the devil I imagine I would be too distracted asking him questions to worry about what I would want, and somehow would get tricked into asking for socks," she laughed. "What about you? What would you ask for?"

"A criminal worth my time," he answered making her laugh.

"Hypothetically, wouldn't the devil be the ultimate criminal? You know stealing people's immortal souls?" she asked him curiously.

"You want my to investigate supernatural forces now?" he questioned her. "Let's just investigate spontaneous human combustion while we're at it!"

"Wait..., so you don't know what causes spontaneous human combustion?" she wondered seriously staring at him for the answer she was sure he has. There was a moment of silence before he began riffing.

"There are several possible causes of SHC," he informed her. "One including the wick effect-" she cut him off laughing.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head. "I'm just not surprised that you know the potential reasons human combustion occurs. Tea?" she asked standing and heading to the kitchen. They finished their dinner in remote silence, and when all was said and done, Sherlock was the first to stand. He offered her his violin, and she shook her head. "Play for me, Mr. Holmes." He rolled her eyes at the request but did not deny it.

He wasn't ten minutes in to playing when he heard a crash come from Ginny. He whipped around to see she had fallen asleep in the chair. He would not deny her a bed either and was prompt to bring her to the room careful not to jostle her.

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is both late and a bit rubbish. I'm so very busy right now. No update probably until Saturday, July 12. I'm so sorry about that. I've recently acquired a job and that's with school as well, so I find myself with very little time with anything else to do.

Thanks to reviewers: TinkerbellxO, Dream01, hannahhobnob, Defender93, zare . downey . okumura, and invictusalma. Review please! I'll see you when I see you.