AN: Cynicism is in season apparently, but there is this much fluff (-) if you squint really hard. Most of it is just arguing as usual though, so don't think I've gone soft.

Chapter 16

I smiled awkwardly, I stood awkwardly, hell, I even breathed awkwardly. The silence that followed my strange outburst was uncomfortable to say the least. John struggled for words while Sherlock narrowed his eyes at me, trying to figure out how I knew what his plan might have been had what I had just said actually occurred.

"Helen," John said, a furrow in his brow. "Are you telling me that if I had had a date tonight, Sherlock would have crashed it to serve his own purposes?"

"Yeah," I answered lamely.

"Really John? That's what you focus on?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "How incredibly pedestrian of you."

"No, no, that is not pedestrian Sherlock, it is principle. My blasted principle against your megalomania, and I'll lose out every time." John was getting worked up now. I began to back out, but Sherlock gave me a warning look. "Is there a place in your brain where you filter out any grain of human decency? Tell me Sherlock, is there? Because although I couldn't follow all of that," John said, pointing his finger at me, "I did catch on to that much, and it certainly didn't sound unlike you."

Sherlock walked closer to his flatmate. "John, I-"

"You know what, just forget it Sherlock. Just forget it." John picked up his coat and put it on. "I'm going for a walk. Don't wait up for me." He left in a hurry, not making eye contact with either of us the entire time.

"Congratulations," Sherlock said. "I expect you'll be satisfied then."

"W-what?" I asked. I was thoroughly confused and more then a little bit afraid.

"You've achieved your goal, driving a wedge between he and I," Sherlock told me. "Rather theatrical way of doing it, don't you think? A bit heavy handed for my taste, but extremely effective." He picked up his violin and bow, placing the instrument underneath his chin. "You can let yourself out." He walked over to the window, presumably to watch John walk away.

I stood there, not sure what to say or do. Was he angry? Upset? Confused? All three? "I don't understand..."

"Well apparently you do," Sherlock said, whipping around to face me. "In fact you understand too much for my liking, and I have found it to be insufferable. Every moment in your presence ranks among the most displeasureable moments in my life and, indeed, has toppled previous records." He moved closer, predatory. "You are now the one who has overstepped their bounds, and it is a grievous breach I assure you." We were standing centimetres apart. "It is your insincerity that has caused this." His breath was cold, swallowing me in ice.

"Was it really my insincerity, Mr. Holmes, or your lack of tact?" I asked. "We both know that would have been your precise course of action had I been right. I apologise for paining Doctor Watson, but I am not sorry that your character is perhaps a bit plainer to him now." I walked away from him and towards the door when he seized my wrist. "Let go!" I tugged and looked back at him, violin and bow in one hand, hair mussed, frown etched into his features. "Let go you bastard! Let go!" A lump formed in my throat, but why I didn't know.

He pulled me closer until our noses were nearly touching, placing his instrument on a side table. My eyes threatened tears, but I shoved them back down, turning sadness into anger. He looked at me intensely, eyes not quivering, chest heaving, and I could hear his heartbeat drumming. The whole world slowed as I listened to that thrum, and although we made no contact I could feel the heat of his body through the air as it radiated warmth.

I snapped out of my reverie as quickly as I had fallen in, and brought up my other hand to punch him, but he grabbed that one also.

"Let go," I whispered.

"And if I say no?" He replied icily.

"Will you say no?" I asked.

"I might," he answered.

"Then go ahead and do it," I said. "See what happens."

We remained in this position for some minutes, until he opened his palms. My hands stayed where they were for a moment, and then I drew them back. He stared me down as I retreated, refusing to turn my back on him. I ran into several tables, stumbling as I went. When I reached the door, I opened it slowly. He hadn't moved the entire time I backed up. My own heartbeat, while strangely calm while he had me trapped, began to beat wildly out of fear and uncertainty. I inched the door open and slid behind it, keeping one eye on him until the last second when I scurried away, shutting the door with a thud. I ran as fast as I could, barricading myself behind the door to my own flat.

I had to get out of here. There had to be a way to wake up. I ran to the kitchen and turned on the cold water, sticking my head in the sink to let the chill seep through my hair and scalp.

"Wake up," I muttered through gritted teeth. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" My head was screaming from the ice cold tap, dancing between a sharp pain and a dull ache. Oh, wait, the ache was just a migraine. Great. That's just what I needed. To have a headache in the middle of a dream. Sounds wonderful. God I wanted to punch something. I turned the water off and squeezed my hair to rid it of the dampness. I pulled my head out and sighed, hands gripping either side of the sink firmly.

What else could I manage? I pinched my arm again, but it just left a welt and a stinging sensation. And there it was again. Actual pain. It didn't feel the way normal dream pain did. This time it actually hurt. And not just physically, but I was emotionally hurt too. Hurt by Sherlock. Regardless of whether or not this was real, it was still no fun. When is pain ever fun? Isn't that the purpose of dreams? To be fun? Take you to worlds that don't exist anywhere else except in your mind? So, if this wasn't a dream, then it must be a nightmare. But it couldn't be that. I wasn't in a perpetual state of terror. I was in a perpetual state of irritation, but that hardly paralleled. The only thing I could do was ignore the matter as long as possible until it was solved for me. You know, like how Americans react to trouble.

My head was throbbing. I had no money, so I couldn't buy anything such as aspirin or the like. There certainly was no way I was going to bum some off of Sherlock. I wasn't going to go near him with a ten foot pole if at all possible. John was off to god knows where. So that left...

Knock knock

"Oh dear, it's so good to see you!" Mrs. Hudson gave me a kiss on the cheek. "How are you doing? I know you had a hard time getting that flat livable. I had a bit of a look see, it looks nice down there." She let me inside and led me to an eating area. "And I do so appreciate your working so hard. Especially with the boys around. Shall I make some tea?"

"I'd love some," I said, taking a seat at her dining table. "How's your hip doing?"

"Oh, it's fine." She went down the hall to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and got out a plate. "Just resting it up most days does the trick. I noticed I've been out with the boys though. Bit exciting I bet, all that running around looking for clues." She set a dish of snacks in front of me, and I reached for them gratefully. "What kind of tea would you like dear? I've got earl grey, breakfast tea, and Darjeeling."

"Breakfast tea," I answered. I picked up a chocolate looking treat and but into it, grinning at the taste. "These are really good Mrs. Hudson. Where'd you get them?"

"My kitchen," she said with a laugh. "I'm an old woman Helen. I bake things."

"Baking in Baker St, what will the neighbours say?" I joked.

"That's a good one, I'll have to remember it." The kettle began to whistle. "Do you take cream in your tea?"

"Yes ma'am." She came in and set a cuppa in front of me and a little jug next to it. The old lady went back into the kitchen for her own cup and brought a cup of sugar cubes with her. I took two and stirred them in, then added cream. "Mmm," I said after taking a sip. "This is a good brand."

"Never scrimp on tea my mother used to say," Mrs. Hudson said with a smile. "I think it's a good philosophy to live by." She clapped a hand to get face. "I forgot to turn off the oven! Oh dear!" She ran off, leaving me by myself.

"Mrs. Hudson, the door was open and I just-" Sherlock deadpanned upon entering her flat and spied me sitting down at her table. I gave him a wry smile and drank from my cup meaningfully. He didn't move his head, but spoke loudly. "Mrs. Hudson, it appears you've vermin in your dining room. Would you like me to dispose of it for you?"

"That won't be necessary," I called over his voice. "Sherlock just had a bad fright after looking into your mirror. The matter can be duly resolved once he comes to terms with the fact that he will be forever remembered as an otter." My smile was an utter lie, and so forced the sides of my mouth began to twitch slightly.

"What are the two of you on about?" Mrs. Hudson said, returning to find us throttling each other using the ever suggestive and imperceptible movements of our eyes. "Oh dear, I feel like I'm interrupting something," she said with a giggle. "I'll just leave to give you some privacy, shall I? I've got some shopping that needs doing. If you could close the door on your way out." She left us alone to our stasis.

He stared at me.

I stared at him.

He narrowed his eyes.

I raised my eyebrows.

He tilted his head in one direction.

I tilted mine in the other direction.

He tilted his head back normal.

I tilted my head back normal.

His nostrils flared.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"You are an underhanded and unashamed precipitator of discord and mischief whose very presence evokes that of chaos, misunderstanding, brutal betrayal, and disgust, and ninety percent of the time your character is imbued with a sense of frustrating complacency, while the other ten percent with a misguided mission of dissolution into the very hearts and souls of all people who walk this earth," He spat at me, drawing a long intake of air after he had finished.

"You are a miserable, vomitous mass who's temperament is akin to a castrated beast stuffed inside a cage where it is impossible to either sit or stand comfortably, whilst also being sprayed with an ice cold jet of water that was sifted from an underground sewer, and in your misery saw fit to wail and bemoan your fate in such a vociferous manner that it viciously cut the ears of all innocent beings who, by happenstance, were close enough to listen," I shot back.

He took a step closer. "If I was tasked with sealing your pestilence away into one room, it would have to be custom built so as to accommodate your wretched and loathsome tongue, and I would be forced to build the foundations deep within the icy desert of Antarctica, so as to freeze out the bitterness."

I stood up. "And I'd lock you in a room with twenty small children."

"Your behaviour is utterly insupportable," he informed me.

"And your behaviour is most inexcusable," I informed him.

"I wish you the most vigorous ill."

"I wish you the most heinous boredom."

There was an awkward silence following this. I revelled in the mysterious disappearance of my headache. He turned up his coat collar.

"Want to come to the Chinese circus?" He asked me.

"Love to," I said, following him out.

So they had a moment, if you could call it one. Personally, I didn't write their little moment with any romantic intention, but it's there if you look hard.

First off, I need to thank pruplup4 after she left me the longest and most flattering review I have ever received ever. It was so long, my email cut it short and said I had to go onto here to read it in full. Thanks little popcorn kernel!

Next. I am sooo done with this episode. Seriously, I want to get to the next one so I can be all evil and crap. And what do I mean by that? I'll never tell! (Except I'll tell my friend Jennifer cuz she basically already knows the whole plot) Yeah, I have a plan for what I want to happen in every episode. It's gonna be sweet (and by that I mean devious).

Next, it may be a week before the next update. This is a birthday present to me, as my birthday is tomorrow. It's hard to write this cynical stuff you guys seem to love so much (can't imagine why you do).

Finally, have a wonderful day, leave a review as a b-day present, friend me on Facebook, follow me on tumblr, or just ask me anon asks there. Please? I'll even give spoilers if you ask. Seriously, I'm not good at keeping plot bunnies to myself.