"Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox." the most recent post on the forum of The Science of Deduction read. Sherlock sat at Lestrade's desk, the two men either side of him, whilst Florence stood by the door. The phone, sitting on the table in front of them, rung almost instantly, and Sherlock picked it up. Florence didn't bother trying to get it from him – he knew it wasn't who she wanted it to be.

'Hello?' he hadn't put it on speakerphone this time, so no one could hear what the woman was saying, only his replies. 'Tell us where you are. Address.' Sherlock's voice took on a hint of panic as he answered the next time. 'No, no, no, no – tell me nothing about him. Nothing.' then his facial expression went slack, presumably as the line went dead. 'Hello ?'

'Sherlock?' Florence asked, stepping closer as she saw his expression.

'What's happened?' John asked, and Sherlock didn't reply – only bit his lip at Lestrade, his face saying everything.


Florence woke up late the next morning, on the couch in the living room of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock and John sat on the chairs she had come to know as their chairs, and the television was on. They spoke a little bit, unaware of Florence's presence.

'He killed that lady because she started to describe him. Just once, he put himself in the firing line.' Sherlock said, his hands in his prayer position.

'What do you mean?' John answered.

'Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organises these things, but no one ever has direct contact.'

'What, like the Connie Prince murder? He arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?'

Florence couldn't see their faces, but she imagined Sherlock's to be full of wonder as he replied. 'Novel.'

John sighed and looked back at the TV screen. 'Listen, Sherlock,' he said, his voice awkward. 'Florence..'

'Whatever you're going to say, I'll probably disagree.' Sherlock interrupted.

'No, no – listen. Before she came, you were... you. The emotionless bastard you always are-'

'Thank you-'

'-but now that she's here, you're different. Towards her, at least. And I don't know what you two... did... before she went missing.'

'She wasn't missing, she was hiding.' Sherlock said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. 'And we didn't do anything.'

'You're pissed that she was hiding.'

'I never said that.'

'You didn't have to.'

'Why does it matter to you?'

'Because you're my friend, Sherlock. Friends look out for each other. And I know she hasn't been the best of friends to you. I'm sure what she did was an accident at first, but when she didn't come back for eight years?'

'She said she didn't want me to see her like that.' Sherlock said, and his voice cracked with emotion. Florence frowned, careful to keep her breathing steady. She didn't want him to know she was awake.

'I'm fairly certain she was clean for most of that time, Sherlock-'

'She didn't come home because she thought I'd be upset – disappointed. And she was right.'

'You would have been disappointed with her?'

'No. At myself. For not being good enough, so she thought she had to take drugs to forget about her depression and her mother and everything that happened to her. I wasn't enough. So that's what drove me to drugs, too. It was a little experiment, at first. I wanted to test the effects on someone not addicted, compared to someone that was. But I became that someone who was. So goodbye normal Sherlock Holmes, I was suddenly the emotionless bastard.'

'You loved her, didn't you? That's why you were so broken when she left, and why you're acting different now? Because you love her, and always have.'

Sherlock was suddenly angry, but Florence did not want to "wake". She feared he would close up on her if they didn't resolve their little feud on her behalf now. 'Why,' he said in a quiet hiss. 'do you feel the need to presume that because I was "broken" when she left, and why I am "different" now, I was in love with her?'

'I didn't mean-'

'But you did. She's broken. She's still broken. I can't help her, and I feel useless. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that when this is all over, I can talk to her again. Get to know her. Because, God help me, we have a lot of catching up to do. Now please, can we change the subject? She's still in the room.'

'Fine. I'm sorry.' Sherlock ignored him, and John sighed. 'Anything on the Carl Powers case?'

'Nothing. All living classmates check out spotless. No connection.' Sherlock replied, and it was as if nothing had happened. His voice was perfectly normal.

'Maybe the killer was older than Carl?'

'The thought had occurred.'

'So why's he doing this, then – playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?'

'I think he wants to be distracted.'

John let out an unamused laugh, and stood. He began to walk towards the kitchen. 'I hope you'll be very happy together.' he muttered.

'Sorry, what?'

Florence could feel another argument coming along, so she decided to wake up.

'What?' she said, and Sherlock turned around and stared at her for a little bit, as if remembering she was there.

'Nothing.'

'Yes, something. There are lives at stake, here, Sherlock – actual, human lives. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?'

'Will caring about them help save them?'

'Nope.'

'Then I'll continue not to make that mistake.'

'And you find that easy, do you?'

'Yes. Very. Is that news to you?'

'No.' John said, and he smiled bitterly. Florence sat up on the sofa, rubbing her neck slightly, worried. 'No.' John repeated, and they stared at each other for a moment, Sherlock reading his friend's emotions.

'I've disappointed you.'

John's smile was still furious as he pointed at him. 'That's good. That's a good deduction – yeah.'

'Come off it, John.' Florence muttered, sensing the danger of the army doctor standing before her. He had seen the wars, and was literally about to unleash all the wars on Sherlock.

'Why, Florence? Because your "best friend" is a cold-hearted, senseless bitch?'

'You know better than that.' She replied softly, 'and I know better than that.'

'Do we, though? He's not saving these people because of the fact their lives are on the line. He's solving these cases because he wants to. He's solving them within the deadline because he wants to. To humour him, and the bomber. Not to be a good person. He is no hero.'

'Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.'

'You're damn-fucking-right you aren't.'

'That's enough!' Florence yelled, holding her head in her hands with stress. 'Honestly! You two are not six years old!' She earned a hard glare from both of them, and sighed. 'I'm having a shower. Don't you dare say anything contentious, either of you.'


Florence only made it halfway up the hall before she felt the tears coming, and had to lean against the wall. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the sobs escaping her lips, because she had left the door open. Tears streamed steadily down her cheeks, and she looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop their flow.

She let out a shuddery breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, and it was just loud enough for Sherlock to hear it.

'Florence?' he shouted, but she heard the phone ping and him running up to get it. He ran past the open door, and turned his head just slightly to see her crumpled against the wall. She shook his head slightly at him, and stumbled into the bathroom.


'Hey.'

Florence opened her eyes, and immediately wished she hadn't. Everywhere hurt. She was fairly certain her arms and one leg were broken, and her torso ached, and her head was throbbing so hard it felt like it had been wacked over the head with a baseball bat.

A man was standing over her, whispering for her to awaken. She couldn't make out the face, but she knew it was a man, and it set her heart racing.

'No!' she screeched, trying to scramble away from him desperately.

'Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you.' the man said, his voice barely more than a whisper. 'I'm going to take you somewhere safer.'

Florence closed her eyes. She hurt so much, she really didn't care what happened. She wanted to die. She wanted the man to take her away, and murder her. She just wanted darkness, eternal darkness that she could not wake up from. She let him take her.


'Hey.' Florence said quietly as she walked into the room, towelling her hair dry with a towel Mrs Hudson had given her when she had arrived.

John nodded at her, unaware of her emotional outburst before, but Sherlock's eyes were wide with curiosity and sympathy as he looked up at her. He said nothing, however, and the second John started talking his eyes went hard again, and he looked away.

'Tell her what he sent.' he said, and Sherlock immediately went into his unique explanation-mode.

'We were sent a picture of the South Bank. The Thames. Between Waterloo and Southpark Bridge. We found nothing online, but I called Lestrade and there's a body on the bank. We were waiting for you to come with us, if you'd like.' he sounded down.

'Yes, I'd like,' she said, and sighed. 'I'm sorry. Give me a few minutes.'

Sherlock let out a breathy laugh, and Florence jogged back to the bathroom, where she brushed her hair. She didn't bother drying it anymore, and let it cascade down her shoulders, moistening the shirt she was wearing. She moved to grab the light khaki jacket resting on the hook on the door. A folded slip of paper fell out of the pocket, and she bent down to pick it up, opening it. There was writing on it, and she read it quickly.

Dear Florence.

I am aware of the fact you think we're angry with you. That's why you're not returning any calls, but we can see you're active on your phone. We have stopped calling. We just need to know you're okay. Please contact us soon.

We also have... unfinished business. You know what I'm talking about.

Yours truly,

-Arthur Jackson.


Ooh, it's nearly time to meet the Gang (hate calling them that, but don't know what else to call them at this point)

If you're new here, hi! I realise I haven't been leaving many author's notes. So, if you really want to, why don't you follow and/or favourite? It would mean the world to me :)

Thank you for reading!

-H