Rose sat in Sherlock's chair, covered with a blanket and cuddled up with a book, occasionally glancing up from the novel to catch sight of Sherlock in the kitchen. Molly had sent him the gift of a mutated hand and he was going through several experiments to pass the time because apparently, Rose being engrossed with a novel and John being busy at the hospital bored him.

Rose chuckled to herself and tried to refocus on the story, she'd read it before, "The Time Machine," but was reading it closer this time to pick out any differences from Pete's Universe and from the Original Universe. She'd stopped making comparisons as often after the Doctor left, but couldn't resist when she saw it in the bookstore with a different cover than she'd ever seen. So far though it was the only difference.

Life with Sherlock was better now that they had encountered the Doctor. Rose hadn't realized the extent of Sherlock's insecurities when it came to the Doctor, until she saw just how shocked he was that she picked him. For days after the Doctor and his companions left, he'd wake up in the morning and ask if she was sure, if she regretted her choice, but she always assured him she didn't. For her part, Rose felt lighter, happier than she had in almost a decade, because all of her demons had been laid to rest in those two hours she had with the Doctor and the TARDIS. She was now certain she loved Sherlock just as much, if not more, than how she use to love the Doctor. She was surprised to realize that she'd subconsciously been worried about who she would pick if given the choice, but now she knew, they both did. Sherlock and Rose were incandescently happy -and both on edge because of it.

"Sherlock?" John called as he walked up the stairs, Rose put the book down to watch as John walked in holding several envelopes in his hand. Sherlock didn't look up from his experiment of course. "All the bills decided to arrive on the same day and be due within the same week," John complained, throwing them down on the side table. "And they've gone up."

Rose bit her lip as she glanced over the bills, looking to John who was rubbing his face and to her boyfriend who was oblivious of their conversation. "Sherlock," she called. He glanced towards her but still proceeded with his experiment. "Bills arrived," she told him.

"Put them on the desk," he told her distractedly, but Rose walked into the kitchen and placed them on the table. "You're worrying needlessly again," Sherlock commented while he measured out two liquids.

"I never worry needlessly," Rose remarked. "And I'm not now, you've not taken a case in weeks, Sherlock, how are you going to pay for these?"

"Take more cases apparently." Rose rolled her eyes at his tone and pulled at his arm till he looked at her exasperatedly.

"You have a long list on the website, let me finish the experiment while you go look at them. I'll even follow your steps and refrain from fixing anything," Rose assured him, smiling with a tongue to show she was teasing him. Sherlock groaned, but did as she bid and started scrolling through the many requests for his genius-ness. Within minutes he was shouting out the answers to the easy cases for John and Rose to hear, though Rose tuned him out. John got to work on writing emails to the clients with cases Sherlock had already solved.

"Stolen painting," Sherlock muttered to himself after a few minutes of being quiet. Rose was putting away his experiment, but stopped to walk over to the desk and read over his shoulder, John joining her.

"Falls of the Reichenbach," John read, then went on to comment about the details of the disappearance of the painting, but Rose didn't hear any of it, she just laid her hand on Sherlock's shoulder and stood there.

It ends with a fall like it always has.

Sherlock and John continued talking, moving from the desk to the door to grab their coats. By the time Sherlock was turning to look at her, she was hysteric but no one would have been able to tell. "Are you coming?" Sherlock asked, moving to grab her coat, but Rose smiled and shook her head.

"Next time," Rose said with her straightest voice. Sherlock nodded, but stayed looking at her while John waved goodbye and went downstairs to hail a cab. Rose walked up to him and took his face in her hands, lightly kissing him but putting all of her feelings behind it. "I love you," she said when she pulled away.

"Whats wrong?" Sherlock asked, his head still in her hands.

"Please be careful," was all Rose said, before kissing him again then stepping back. "I'll see you when you get back, yeah?"

"Of course," Sherlock said, wrapping his scarf around his neck while he watched her. He was picking up on small signs of her distress, but she was too good for him to deduce what was wrong, not that she would ever tell him. As a rule they didn't bring up that she had read his novels and she never offered any information, when he went on cases she'd read, she stayed home waiting to hear about how it was different and how he solved it.

"Well, go on," Rose motioned for him to get going, hoping to get him out before she cracked.

Sherlock watched her, but John called up the stairs that the cab had arrived so Sherlock nodded and went to solve his case.

Rose stood in the living room, listening to him hurrying down the stairs and closing the door behind him. She walked slowly to the window and watched them enter the cab and drive off. She stayed staring after them for a long time, counting her breath and trying to think rationally.

The likelihood that Sherlock would die while recovering a missing painting that he appeared to have already partially solved was so low that on a normal situation she would have stayed home going over what information she had and try to solve it while he was gone. But Reichenbach? Just the name made her catch her breath, but there was nothing for her to do. She knew from traveling with a being that could read timelines that there was nothing anyone could do to stop a fixed event in a person's timeline from happening, and altering it in anyway would just lead to more destruction.

Rose went to sit in Sherlock's chair, and then couldn't get comfortable and moved to his bedroom, climbing into the bed on his side and holding his pillow. She felt as though she was her nineteen year old self before she went traveling with the Doctor, completely useless -but what was there to do? If she went with him, she'd be too close to the situation to help and would be too distracted to keep him safe if it did become dangerous.

Rose could feel her heart beating in her chest and hear it in her ears, but knew that it wasn't anywhere near her, but out in the world in Sherlock's hands, very much in danger of breaking today. She recalled the words she'd told the Doctor when she revealed she was picking Sherlock over the universe, and didn't know what she'd meant by it, what striking out would mean for her. After loosing all the people she had in her life, she didn't know if she could take her own life as well, but knew that loosing Sherlock would be like she had anyways.

Rose was left to her morbid, dangerous thoughts for hours. She didn't exactly cry, though tears were shed, she just laid there waiting. There was nothing to mourn, and her rational side convinced her there was nothing to worry about, but she could do nothing but wait.

"Rose?" John's voice carried through the flat, causing Rose to surge to her feet. "Hey," John said when Rose threw open the door and took a look into the hall. Behind him, Sherlock was taking off his coat watching her curiously. "Chinese sound good for dinner?" Rose grinned, her heart calming and her chest easing to where she could breathe again as she skipped to Sherlock, threw her arms around his neck, and snogged him without reserve. "Oh, god," John started complaining immediately, hurrying out of the room while Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and returned her fervor with his own.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, grinning and looking into his confused, but slightly dazed eyes.

"And I you, will you admit something is wrong now?" He asked, pulling away only slightly to look her over. "You've been in bed this whole time?"

Rose shook her head and chuckled. "I can't tell you everything, but lets just say that Reichenbach comes with negative connotations back home." Rose paused and looked at Sherlock's face and watched him look back at her, trying to read her and failing at it, which had her grinning even more. "What would you think about me moving my things from downstairs to up here?" Rose asked casually.

"Its rather lazy of you, actually," Sherlock said, not exactly getting what she was asking.

"Oh?" Rose chuckled, stepping out of his arms and around the room with a secret smile. "How so?"

"You don't want to go down two sets of stairs to get your clothes when you stay here," Sherlock explained, following her with his eyes.

"What if I didn't live downstairs?" Rose asked, hiding a chuckle when Sherlock frowned but tried to seem nonchalant about his misunderstanding that she wanted to move out.

"Where would you go?" He asked. "You're here all the time anyways, theres no need to go somewhere else."

"You're right," Rose plopped down in his chair and picked back up "The Time Machine."

"Of course I am," Sherlock said, walking into the kitchen to go over the notes she'd taken on the last half of his experiment.

"John," Rose called out to her friend. He poked his head out of his room, still wearing a disgusted face. "Chinese sounds great."

John came out of his room with the roll of his eyes, and sat on the other side of the desk, giving them both gross looks, which had Rose chuckling but Sherlock didn't notice. "Sherlock's been invited to the ceremony the museum is throwing in honor of him finding the painting," John informed Rose.

"I'm not going," Sherlock said from the kitchen, John and Rose locked eyes and rolled their eyes.

"It's good for getting new clients," John told him in a tone that made it clear they'd been arguing about it since the invitation was given. "You're welcome too," John added as an after thought.

Rose hummed her reply and went back to her book while John opened his laptop and started on his blog. Sherlock turned away from Rose's notes after a minute and stared at her till Rose looked up and stared back, a smile playing on her lips, while he pursed his. "Would you like to move in?" He asked, John paused in his typing but didn't look away from his computer to give the impression of giving them the room. Sherlock kept his voice steady to not show his nervousness, but Rose picked up on it anyways and smiled kindly at him.

"Great idea," she teased him.

"Okay," Sherlock said nonchalantly. He turned away but not before Rose saw his small smile. Rose looked over to John and they both shared a grin.