I'm really not keen on this chapter but I'm so tired of rewriting it and I'm so ready to move on quite frankly. I hope at least one of you enjoys it.

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Emily had waited patiently outside the hospital room Sherlock had been seen in and had stuck closely to him when he was deemed ok enough to go home. She had barely paid any attention to the hospital staff as they had explained to John that the Detective would be fine and just to let him sleep it off.

John had called Lestrade, though Emily - too worried about the Consulting Detective - wasn't entirely sure why, who had come over at the first opportunity and upon seeing the state Sherlock was in (woozy, unsteady on his feet and mumbling incoherently) had immediately taken his phone out and started filming him. While the action had irritated the blonde at the time, she had quickly forgiven him when he promised to send her them when she next felt miserable. Or when Roid was next annoying her.

It had taken them a good few minutes (long enough for Mrs Hudson to boil the kettle and make them all cups of tea in between watching and trying not to laugh) to get the Detective up to his bedroom where John and Emily had argued over who should stay with him to make sure he was alright.

Emily had lost. Not that she minded too much and had dragged a chair in from the kitchen to sit on along with her book so she had something to do.

After they had tucked the Detective in, John had told her if she really didn't want to sit with him then he would be fine. But a part of her mind couldn't help but question if he really would be alright and made her worry to leave him just in case. John had eased her mind by telling her that he would stay close by should Sherlock wake up or if she needed anything and she watched him as he gently closed the bedroom door behind him with one last understanding look at her.

Sherlock's back was facing her and she was thankful for that at least. She wanted to be able to focus on her book after all and not think about what she had just been part of.

With her legs stretched out and her feet rested on Sherlock's bed she had been dozing off after a couple of chapters when a muttering had roused her. Sherlock was fidgeting, if only slightly, and she was about to call John just to be safe and check he was alright and not about to die on her watch when she heard him mutter again. Though he was speaking so low, she couldn't make out what he was saying. She bookmarked her page and knelt on the bed next to his figure, leaning down so her ear was next to his head.

"Milmmm." She frowned. What on earth was he trying to say? "Emmmm."

It sounded as if he was trying to speak her name. "Yeah?" She responded not expecting anything at all, but his fidgeting ceased.

"Sooo lomely."

"And for those of us that speak English?"

He sighed, and Emily had to stifle her giggle. Even when he had been injected with god knows what and was incoherent he was seemingly getting fed up with her not being able to understand him. "Emmmly, lomely." Her eyebrows raised.

Lonely? Why would he say I'm lonely - oh. "You think I'm lovely?" He hummed what she took to be a positive answer but was abruptly stopped from interrogating him more when his bedroom window was pulled open from the outside.

The figure she had watched topple backwards from a window a few hours before, still dressed in the Detectives coat, clambered through the frame and into the room. As soon as she was stood she dusted the coat down and made eye contact with the blonde. If she was surprised to see her there she didn't show it. Only smirked as Emily moved back to her seat.

"We do have a front door you know." Emily stated.

"You're not surprised to see me?" She questioned the blonde, her words, much as they had earlier ended with the sound of her breath. Emily wondered if people found it sexy when they sounded all...breathy.

"Could ask you the same thing." She answered casually, lifting her feet back onto the bed and crossing her ankles.

"Touché." She walked round the bed and sat next to Emily's feet on the bed.

"Any particular reason you're here in Baker Street?" Emily asked, resting her chin on her palm.

"Came to return what's not mine." She indicated the coat she still wore and Emily felt a wave of relief rush through her that the woman before her seemed to have clothes on this time. "Looks good on me doesn't it?"

"I'm going to assume that you can make anything look good on you." Emily commented without really thinking about it. "How did you know about their case earlier?" She asked before the woman could make a comment on her words. Though judging by the smirk she was sent, Irene Adler knew exactly why she had changed the subject so quickly.

"I told you, there's a policeman and I know what he likes."

Emily leant forward, closer to the woman as Sherlock stirred somewhat as they spoke. Surely John could hear them? She rested her forearms on her knees. "What was the case?"

Irene leant forward too, copying Emily's pose, "They didn't tell you?"

"I was working this morning before I got whisked away to the Palace. Didn't have the chance to hear about it before we arrived at your place. It has been rather a busy day hasn't it?" She asked more to herself than the woman before her.

"You make it sound as if you'd have it any other way." Irene teased, reaching out to tuck some loose hair behind Emily's ear. The blonde frowned at the action but said nothing of it. "Shall I tell you about it? The case?"

Emily shrugged. "Why not?" She relaxed back into her seat, gaze flickering between the woman talking and the Detective who was seemingly waking up a little at the sound of Irene's voice.

And so, the woman before her began telling her of the case her flatmate's hadn't filled her in on, though she had to admit she wasn't paying all that much attention; too busy wondering why people might find the breath at the end of each sentence sexy. And was it her measurements that Sherlock had known since she had moved in? How? Did it mean he'd seen her naked at some point without her knowledge? But if that was the case, then when?

The Woman was just going into the little details she had been informed of when she paused, eyes lighting up. "Got it!" Emily raised her eyebrows as she watched the woman stand and begin to pace around the room. Sherlock mumbled in his slumber and looked as if he was trying to turn over. The Woman held a finger up in the Detective's direction as she addressed him. "Oh, shh, shh. Don't get up. I'll do the talking." But as she continued, Emily felt as if she was watching someone talking more to themselves than someone else. "So the car's about to backfire... and the hiker, he's staring at the sky. Now, you said he could be watching birds but he wasn't, was he?" She pointed her finger again at the man on the bed and Emily wondered if the woman she was watching was even talking to herself anymore or actually talking to Sherlock despite his lack of consciousness. Either way, the blonde felt like a third wheel and didn't much appreciate it. "He was watching another kind of flying thing. The car backfires and the hiker turns to look..."

Now, the woman turned to look at her briefly, making sure she was still listening. "... which was his big mistake. By the time the driver looks up, the hiker's already dead. What he doesn't see is what killed him because it's already being washed downstream." Miss Adler sat back down in the spot she had moments before abandoned. "An accomplished sportsman recently returned from foreign travel with...a boomerang...You got that from one look? Definitely the new sexy." She turned to look at the male over her shoulder, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.

Emily felt as if she had just watched an Agatha Christie on fast forward but had missed the first half (definitely her own fault) and felt more confused now than she had before hearing of the case. Perhaps she would just ask John for the details later. Then maybe the conclusion of said case wouldn't be throwing her off.

"I should get going. Wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting. If he hasn't already, he won't vomit now." Irene stood from the bed, pressing her hand against Emily's chin to close her mouth, exactly as she had done to John earlier.

Sherlock stirred. "I...I..." Irene sent Emily a raised eyebrow. Emily felt this was a challenge to stop whatever was about to happen.

Irene climbed back carefully onto the bed, crawling closer to the Detective on her knees until she was leaning over him. "Hush now..." She soothed him. "It's okay. I'm only returning your coat." She bent her head down though she kept her gaze on Emily to watch for a reaction and placed a kiss next to his mouth that would no doubt leave a lipstick stain. Emily rolled her eyes to hide her annoyance. Slowly, the woman backed off from the bed again and unfastened the buttons on the coat. She beckoned the blonde over with a finger and Emily obliged. "I've added a little something to his phone." She hung the coat on its hook, smoothing it down and Emily got the impression she would miss wearing it. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Depends on what it is." Irene moved to the window frame and rested against it.

"You'll have to tell me if he does. I got your number from his phone. Hope you don't mind."

"Is it like I have much of a choice?"

Irene smirked. "Not really." With that, she turned and made her second escape through a window of the day. Emily leant out and watched her climb down to make sure she made it safely to the ground. Irene looked back once, placing a finger over her lips telling Emily to let no one know she had been there. She rolled her eyes again and moved back to her seat, not bothering to shut the window. Perhaps the fresh air would help get rid of the smell of the woman's perfume.

Emily reopened her book and began her next chapter, feeling her belly rumble with hunger just as the Detective lifted his head from his pillows, finally awake enough to speak and have his words understood.

"John?" He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "John!" He called louder. Emily ignored him and continued with her book even as he attempted to get up and throw his covers off himself and stand up but failed, ending up falling to the floor after losing his balance. She hid her face behind her book to hide her laughter.

"You okay?" John asked as he took in the sight before him.

"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked from the floor at the foot of his bed.

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you: I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone." He looked over at Emily for confirmation.

Emily nodded as she spoke. "He definitely filmed him on his phone."

"Where is she?" Sherlock stood.

"Emily's behind you." John told him.

"No, no. She. Where is she?"

"Where's who?"

"The woman. That woman."

"What woman?"

The Detective stumbled around his room. "The woman. The woman woman!"

"What, Irene Adler? She got away. No-one saw her." Sherlock glanced at Emily who only shrugged. He sent her a look back as if to suggest he new better but she couldn't take it seriously as he continued to stumble to the window. "She wasn't here, Sherlock."

Emily managed to contain her sigh as Sherlock fell to the floor again and dragged himself closer to his bed. She assumed so he could check if the woman was underneath it. When he doesn't find her he looks back up at Emily. "You know where she is." He accused.

"I really don't." She informed him and he began to turn his head in different directions as if expecting her to come out from hiding any second now.

"What are you...? What...? No, no, no, no." John hauled their flatmate from the floor and dropped him face down on the bed. "Back to bed." He covered him with the sheet. "You could help with this you know." He informed her.

"But it's so much more fun to watch you do it." She teased as John spoke to Sherlock again.

"You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."

"Ooof course I'll be fine. I am fine. I'm absolutely fine."

"Yes, you're great."

"And I'm lovely." Emily joined in.

"Very." John pointed to her in agreement. "Now I'll be next door if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

"Since I was talking more to Em than you...No reason at all."

"John." The Doctor paused his movements, waiting for Emily to keep talking. "I'm hungry."

"What would you like to eat?"

"Nothing." Sherlock responded sluggishly. The pair ignored him.

"Can we get some chips from the chip shop?" They exited the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Let's go then."

"Shall we see if Mrs H wants anything? She could eat up here with us?" Though as Emily flicked her gaze back over to the door of the room they had just vacated she decided to change her last question to: "Or we could see if she'll maybe let us eat downstairs with her?"

"That," John started, sliding his arms into his jacket, "Is a very good idea."

"Do you think she'll keep an eye on his highness for us while we pop out?" The pair paused. John wondering if Emily had a point and Emily waiting to hear what the answer would be.

"Ok. New plan." Emily nodded, keen to hear the new idea. "We can ask Mrs Hudson to come and check on him while we're out. It's not like we'll be very long is it?"

Emily shook her head now. "Are we bribing her with chips?"

John nodded. "Bribe her with chips." Together, they made their way downstairs, chatting about what a day they'd had.

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