The next day, Danielle prepared for John's arrival.

Danielle fed the dog and cat, pouring herself a nice bowl of breakfast. Nightwing was demanding to be held today, so Danielle had to walk around her flat with the cat in her arms. The cat was finicky today.

She let her mind wander while she got herself ready for a shower. She was thinking about which outfit she should wear. It was supposed to rain wasn't it always raining now a days? later tonight so she should think with that in mind. She stepped into her shower, briefly letting herself wander to memories of last night.

She washed her hair while wondering what to do about the thing last night. It didn't seem important to tell anyone, if anyone would believe her anyway. The man had asked for the silence, regardless. He seemed the type of Bond villain to make sure of it. Danielle felt she could give him that much.

There was a loud crash from the living room. Erika started barking wildly. Danielle groaned. Nightwing must've knocked something down onto Erika again. She hadn't had a chance to wash her hair yet! It was always such a pain to brush it when dried!

She turned the shower off, quickly putting on a towel around her hair to keep it from dripping on the hardwood.

"Nightwing what's with all the rack-holy crap!"

There was an obvious difference. Last she checked, Sherlock didn't have a key to her flat. So that meant he shouldn't be sitting on her couch, with Erika barking madly at his toes and Nightwing on the cushion beside him.

"What the hell are you doing in my flat?!" Danielle squeaked loudly. She crossed her arms over her chest, knowing the action was futile. Sherlock had seen everything. "Did you break into my flat?" Danielle snapped harshly. She ducked back towards her bathroom, looking for a spare towel.

Sherlock threw her an unamused look. She knew she couldn't see it. The thing was just audible. "You weren't answering your phone."

That was odd. Danielle knew her phone was charged, with the ringer on high. She really liked her ringtone. How could she have missed her phone ringing? Was it the shower?

No, wait. They was a bigger question there. "How do you have my number?!" Danielle shouted in addition. She pulled a second towel over her body. She could feel heat still in her cheeks so she didn't dare walk out yet. "Erika, quit barking!" The dog ignored her.

"Mrs Hudson gave it to me." Sherlock answered easily. "You weren't answering, so I needed to confirm that nothing could have happened since last night."

The redhead blinked, unsure if she should be touched or weirded out by the concern.

Probably supposed to be weirded out.

Danielle decided she was touched. (Probably not a good thing to think when your neighbor sees you naked.)

Sherlock chose a third option. The one he always seemed to have, because quite frankly the other options were too dull. "Oh quit being stupid. It wouldn't do if John moved in only for myself to be arrested. I left Bart's. I was under the assumption that you were clever enough to follow me. Obviously I thought wrong."

"You were...worried?" Danielle asked. She searched for something to throw on, at least until she could finish her shower. 'I don't know why Umbrella Man said he doesn't have friends. He's a mess at it, but he's trying.' "Enough to get my number from Mrs Hudson, then come into my flat?"

"No. I simply confirming a theory." Sherlock argued after a short pause. So short it didn't need to be mentioned. So shut it.

"The theory that you didn't need to be worried?" Danielle pressed on.

"No!"

"Yes."

"I'm saying no!"

"Well I'm saying yes!"

"Then what you're saying is wrong!"

"I'm in the wrong here?"

"Yes you are!"

"You broke into my flat while I was having a shower." Danielle countered. "How am I in the wrong?"

"You didn't lock your door."

"Yes I did!"

"Your lock is rubbish. Get a new one."

Danielle huffed. She had just found a decent night shirt and trousers, quickly throwing them on so she could throttle the man. "Erika! I said stop it!" She snapped. The dog stopped barking, then started growling.

"...what the hell was that crashing noise?" Danielle remembered suddenly. "There a noise. A loud one. What did you break?!"

"Oh good. You noticed that."

"Give me a fucking prize. What did you break?"

"They're not broken. A shelf fell over. Why did you put this shelf by the window?"

She gasped as she ran out to see her shelf. She had just gotten her books organized how she liked them!

"Damn it!" She snapped, seeing the large pile of books on her floor as well as some of her Pop Vinyls. "You knocked over my Spock!" She knelt down to grab the shelf, setting it back up in it's proper place before getting to the books.

"Ah yes. That's which one he was." Sherlock remarked, gazing down at the mess like it did him a disservice. It didn't help her anger. "I could never remember his name."

"What? You didn't watch Star Trek?" Danielle asked, struggling with the board. 'It'd be great if there was someone in the flat-maybe the person that made this mess-that could help me clean.' "You look like the type that'd watch it."

"I had little interest for watching the telly as a child." Sherlock argued.

'Great. Now I've got an image of tiny Sherlock in a too-big coat and scarf running around London, shouting at the police.' "Next time you're in my flat, be more careful! Spock liked being with the books." She started to put the books back up.

"He's an inanimate object, he doesn't have feelings." Sherlock reminded her, in his 'I'm smarter than everyone' voice. "Maybe you should remember that for later."

"I know! But...it was cute to have Spock with the books, okay?" Danielle snapped harshly. "What if I put your skull on the mantle? Would that be good enough for you?"

Erika barked harshly at Sherlock again.

"She holds a grudge from yesterday." Danielle explained to Sherlock. "Erika. Stop it now. Mum's handled it!"

The labrador seemed chastised now. She gave a glare to Sherlock before going to the kitchen, probably to sulk. She didn't sulk that often. Dammit, Danielle wanted to take it back. The redhead hating upsetting her dog.

"At least Nightwing likes you. He hates everyone, 'cept me."

"Next time?" Sherlock suddenly commented.

"What?"

"You said 'next time you're in my flat'. I presume that means I'm allowed back in?" Sherlock asked.

Danielle blinked in surprise. She had said that, hadn't she?

"I guess so, yeah." She replied, as she stacked books back on her shelf. "But next time wait for me to say it's alright. I don't fancy this happening again."

Sherlock actually looked delighted (and if Danielle was honest, a bit confused) to be let back in. "Perfect. We should get ready. John will be here in a few hours. It won't be good to welcome our new neighbor looking like tramps."

"Gee I should take a shower. Do you mind?" Danielle requested, giving him a quick glare.

"Yes. I need to go back to Scotland Yard." Sherlock rose off the couch, floating off like king of the flat. "I need to see if they arrested the brother yet."

"For which case? The one with the green ladder, or the body you flogged yesterday?"

"The one with the ladder." Sherlock answered. His blue eyes crinkled in delight. "You read my blog?"

"Yeah...please never talk about the 243 types of tobacco. I'd get lost, and I don't want to be rude." Danielle explained, lifting her Spock Pop off the ground. "And I like the idea of you telling that one lady-the one with those fancy shoes- that her husband was cheating on her with her boss. It's hilarious, cause I could actually hear you saying it to her! And she'd shout back in this really snooty voice!"

That was probably the best response about his blog that Sherlock had ever heard.

==NKMHLY==

At seven o'clock, Danielle went over to 221 to meet John, the newest addition to Baker Street.

She decided on wearing a deep blue dress, that was similar to a sundress except had longer sleeves. The dress fell to her knees. She also had a pair of long black leggings, the London breeze in January was no joke. Her shoes were a simple pair of black moccasins (she loved these shoes). Her hair had been done in one long curl, over her left shoulder. She tended to curl her hair like that when she was nervous.

She walked out of her flat to see John walking up, his cane making a distinct clapping noise against the pavement. She smiled at him, walking over.

John smiled back, once he saw her. "Hello. Miss Nolan, yeah?"

"Yeah. Doctor Watson?"

"Just John, if you don't mind."

"Then I'm just Danielle." Danielle countered, with a victorious smile.

"Alright." He smiled warmly. Danielle had a feeling that he was a mighty fine doctor, with that smile. He turned to 221. "Is he up there?"

"Nah. He should be here any-" Danielle stopped herself, seeing Sherlock pull up in a taxi. "There he is."

"Hello." Sherlock greeted John. He turned back, quickly handing money to the cabbie. "Thank you."

John and Danielle turned towards him. John stretched out his hand. "Ah, Mr Holmes."

"Sherlock, please." The consulting detective asked. The two men shook hands.

Danielle smiled a bit awkwardly. She hadn't seen Sherlock since that morning. It was humiliating, for one, and the man had broken into her flat. She could remember how hot her cheeks had gotten.

"Well, this is a prime spot." John commented, while looking up at the flats. "Must be expensive."

"Oh, Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal." Sherlock excused. "Owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out."

"Sorry-you stopped her husband being executed?" John asked.

"Oh no. I ensured it." He gave that 'let's start with a riding crop' smile.

It was perfect timing. Mrs Hudson opened the door for the three of them. The elder landlady pulled Sherlock in for a hug, which was about the sweetest thing Danielle had ever seen. "Sherlock, hello."

Sherlock gave her a brief hug, before turning back to John and Danielle. The man was keeping a face firmly denying he had ever done something so human as to give someone a friendly hug. "Mrs Hudson, Doctor John Watson, you know Danielle Nolan."

Mrs Hudson smiled warmly at them. "Hello."

"How do?" John greeted.

"Good to be back." Danielle replied.

Mrs Hudson led them inside. "Come in." She opened the door wide enough for everyone to shuffle in.

"Thank you." The doctor breathed.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked, impatient.

Mrs Hudson nodded. "Yeah."

Danielle followed them up to 221b. She ended up behind John, who hobbled up the steps with his walking cane. Sherlock bounced up the steps, two at a time. He was at least decent enough to wait at the door for them.

The door was opened wide. Danielle saw Sherlock was still in the process of putting all his things away.

'He had the nerve to judge my decoration? I should have brought this up. Smug arse!'

"Well, this could be very nice." John stated. He looked around the new flat. "Very nice indeed."

"Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely." Sherlock bobbed his head, keeping focus on John.

"So I went straight ahead and moved in."

"Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out...Oh."

Danielle couldn't help but giggle at the awkward scene that followed.

"So this is all-"

"Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit."

Sherlock tried to tidy up, but it wasn't getting anywhere. This place would be a good house someday. Danielle caught sight of a mirror, quickly glancing to check her hair.

"That's a skull." John pointed out.

"Friend of mine." Sherlock answered. "When I say 'friend'."

"I like it." Danielle complimented.

Sherlock smiled at her again.

She'd never admit her heart felt warm at that smile.

She didn't even notice Mrs Hudson come up with empty tea cups.

"What do you think, then, Doctor Watson?" Mrs Hudson asked. "There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

"Of course we'll be needing two." John stated, scrunching up how face in confusion.

"Oh, don't worry; there's all sorts round here." Mrs Hudson leaned over to Danielle, whispering in conspiracy. "You know Mrs Turner next door's got married ones."

Danielle blushed at Mrs Hudson's words. Yes, Mrs Turner was usually bragging about her 'married ones' to the other landlords/ladies on Baker Street. The Hames' were decent blokes, they didn't deserve to be called 'the married ones'.

John seemed to have caught that comment. He didn't dignify it with a didn't noticed any of this. He was idling through some of the boxes.

Trying to think about anything else, Danielle noticed a bull's head with white headphones on. 'Not even the furniture likes hearing Sherlock when he's in a mood.' She found herself thinking. She let herself smile.

"Oh, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson tsked. Sherlock's head popped straight up. "The mess you've made." She chided him, moving into the kitchen to tidy up.

"I'm trying not to look at it." Danielle acknowledged.

John fell down in the older looking chair. Danielle took that as an invite to relax, so she settled herself down on the couch. She quite liked it. It was surprisingly comfortable.

"I looked you up on the internet last night." John spoke, more like a start to some small talk really.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked, nonchalant.

"Found your website, The Science of Deduction." John went on.

"What did you think?" Sherlock didn't even hide that he was fishing for compliments.

Danielle nearly snorted at John's face. She couldn't hold much back at Sherlock's.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." John recited, skeptical.

"Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." Sherlock explained. He gave Danielle a pointed stare. "And I can see your family history in your keychain."

"How?" John and Danielle asked.

The maddening man turned away with a knowing smile. The kind you wanted to smack off someone so they wouldn't look so smug.

She never had much thought for slapping people until Sherlock. Maybe the occasionally bloke on the street, or someone she saw on the telly, but never someone who's name she knew. Danielle would have, except there were witnesses. She never like doing things in front of witnesses.

(That was a lot less menacing in her head)

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson encouraged, coming out from the kitchen with the newspaper. "I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same."

"Four."

Danielle turned over to Sherlock. The man had said it with such certainty. "What?"

The man was staring out the window on the street.

"There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time." Sherlock added, cryptically.

"A fourth?" Mrs Hudson asked.

Sherlock turned to the door, just as a man Danielle had never seen before ran in. He was bit old, but he was looking at Sherlock like the pale man was his last hope.

"Where?"

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

"What's new about this one?" Sherlock asked. "You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did." "That's a bit different, yeah.' Danielle thought. "Will you come?" The older man near begged.

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock replied instead.

The man gave him a look of 'now don't hate me for these words'. "It's Anderson."

Sherlock gave a quiet noise of disgust. "Anderson won't work with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant." The other man tried to say it as a positive.

"I need an assistant." Sherlock countered.

Meanwhile, Danielle was watching them argue with a literal front row seat.

The man huffed, before staring at Sherlock in patience. "Will you come?" He asked again.

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind." Sherlock decided

The man bowed his head, playing to Sherlock as if giving this man the time was like being given gold from a king. "Thank you." The stranger glanced at Mrs Hudson, John, and Danielle before walking back out.

It wasn't until the man was long gone, did Danielle turn to ask a question. Before she could get the first syllable out, Sherlock was jumping up and down in childlike excitement.

"Brilliant! Yes!" He cheered. He did a little twirl in the middle of the room. "Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" The unbridled enthusiasm was infectious. It was making Danielle smile, though she was confused.

Picking up his scarf and that long coat, Sherlock made his way to the kitchen. "Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food." Sherlock explained in a rush.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." Mrs Hudson chided.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home." Sherlock carried on. "The biscuits Danielle left yesterday are cold, have at them. Don't wait up!" Then he ran out the door.

The older landlady tsked at the man running down the stairs. "Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same." Mrs Hudson assured John.

John grimaced in discomfort. Danielle didn't understand why, until she realized Mrs Hudson still thought he and Sherlock were-ahem.

"But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell." Mrs Hudson went on.

Both John and Danielle shifted nervously in their respective seats as Mrs Hudson went on.

"I'll make you and her those cuppas. You rest your leg." Mrs Hudson assured.

"Damn my leg!" John snapped. The two women jumped. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing-" He apologized, face turning a pale pink as he avoided looking both women in the eyes.

"I understand, dear; I've got a hip." She made her way out the back.

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you." John spoke, picking up the newspaper.

Danielle sat up on the couch, walking up to one of the many boxes Sherlock had. If he was gonna criticize her library, she was gonna criticize his! 'Ginger justice rules Baker Street!' She joked. She pulled out a book on the study of human bones.

"Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper." Mrs Hudson reminded.

"Maybe some of those biscuits too." John went on. Danielle caught glance at the paper, seeing a photo of the man who'd just come in. DI Lestrade, the paper said.

"Not your housekeeper!" Mrs Hudson shouted over her shoulder. Danielle giggled "Danielle, you get him the biscuits!" She scolded.

"Yes ma'am." Danielle laughed. Though that meant going in the kitchen...which the eldest Nolan was in no hurry to do. "I'm not in a hurry to go in that kitchen. No kitchen should have a bunsen burner that's got scorch marks around it." She told John.

The doctor just smiled kindly at her. He glanced at the kitchen, seeing the virtual lab Sherlock had created. "It's alright, I'm not mad enough to go in their either."

"Sorry if I've been a bit quiet." She found herself saying. "It's just...I was a bit sidetracked by bull-head wearing headphones...and I'm pretty sure I see a crossbow in one of these boxes."

"'S a bit weird, yeah." John agreed. The two laughed. "You don't have to live with it."

"I live next to it. You only live on top of it, apparently." Danielle pointed out, with a giggle.

She stopped just as she put the book down, hearing Sherlock come back up the steps. He was being very quiet about it. Danielle always a sort of sixth sense (this morning excluded. No one ever came in her flat while she showered!) when someone came in a room.

"You're a doctor." Sherlock spoke, startling John in his chair. The consulting detective was putting his gloves on. "In fact you're an Army doctor."

"Yes." John answered, rising up to his feet.

"Any good?" Sherlock pressed.

It occurred to John and Danielle that he was being interviewed for more than just being a flatmate. "Very good." John stated.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths." Sherlock went on.

"Mmm, yes." John agreed.

"Bit of trouble too, I bet." Sherlock tested.

The next words were spoken quietly. Danielle strained to hear John speak of the harsh topics of his army days. "Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

"Wanna see some more?" Sherlock offered.

"Oh God, yes."

"And you?" He asked Danielle.

"What, you want me to see the fourth serial suicide?" Danielle asked. "Why? I'm not a doctor, or with the police."

"Exactly." Sherlock stated. "And I bet you're still smarter than any of that lot."

Danielle grinned a tongue on tooth smile. Oh now she was being given a challenge. She couldn't just mosey on down to her flat after this, could she? "I'll take that bet, yeah."

Sherlock smirked, smugly.

Again, Danielle had the urge to smack it off.

Again, witness.

Sherlock, Danielle, and John made their way down the stairs. It was exciting, Danielle thought. Yes also a mighty bit terrifying, but wasn't all the best stuff?

"Sorry, Mrs Hudson, we'll skip the tea. Off out." John called out.

Their landlady looked up at them, having just gotten to the bottom of the stairs herself. "All of you?" She asked as Danielle hopped down the last three steps.

Sherlock made a dramatic spin just as he reached the door. He went right up to Mrs Hudson, holding her shoulders in his hands. "Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" He gave her a happy kiss on the cheek.

Mrs Hudson smiled. Danielle thought it was all so sweet and- oh my god could we get going please? "Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mrs Hudson chastised the lot of them.

Danielle realized that she was exciting to see a dead woman's body. A woman who, probably not even a day ago, had been alive and unknowingly living her last day. Danielle herself was wearing a bright sundress, with a beautiful curl in her hair and definitely some pink on her cheeks. Her mother would've slapped her arm for looking so happy while running to the police like this. Her mother would slap her for what happened that very morning!

Then, Sherlock zoomed past her, uttering words that Danielle knew she could never forget. "Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!"

Yeah. When had Danielle started to care about being decent? She was wearing a blue sundress in January in London!

So she followed Sherlock to the taxi.

==NKMHLY==

AN: HOLY CRAP I DID IT! THREE CHAPTERS OF THREE STORIES IN ONE! DAY! I haven't written like that in YEARS! Things must be looking up for me!

I've had four plays in the past month, plus my laptop was hacked (if you read my other stories, you know this already) so I've had to change all my passwords and get COMPLETELY new bank accounts. Also I'm officially unemployed come this Friday. There are still families I babysit for, so that's extra cash. (Though I think there's one family that's hesitant. Their son joked about calling 911 to tell them 'my babysitter's beating me' because I was taking away his nerf gun, and he apparently made them same joke about his parents a few days prior.) It was a scary night. Especially cause I'm nannying that kid in the month of July.

Thankfully, I'm eight days away from a solo roadtrip to Florida, where I'll spend two and a half weeks relaxing on the beach then straight to Disney World. June's looking to be a good month. I've already got jobs set up for July, and the next school year. Everything should work out for the best.

Thanks to wolfcorgi, nhaquyen, AnaBrasil, BloodyGrim, thisgirlinthebackground, LKNs, SamanthaManga, poisedrose, Sweet Petit, and shika93 for favoriting

Thanks to AnaBrasil, SkyAzusa, iwantthenamebutitistaken, BloodyGrim, LKNs, sillystring-roxs-the-earth, MagnusBane044, SamanthaManga, camibitch, Sweet Petit, Scarlett-Warrior66, and shika93 for following