I KNOW I KNOW IT'S BEEN LITERAL MONTHS SINCE THE LAST UPDATE PLEASE FORGIVE ME

Chapter 29

"So inspector, what did you want to talk to me about?" Lestrade had led me away from the boys as Sherlock and John waited for us off in the distance. "Hardly seems like I have anything worthwhile to know about."

"I'm going to be straight with you, Ms. Richardson. I don't trust you."

"Of course you don't, why should you?" I asked, snorting in derision. "I showed up from nowhere, was literally handcuffed to Sherlock when we first met, and don't exist in any public databases from before the time I met the boys in their flat. Did Donovan make a big deal out of that? I bet she did, sounds like something she'd do. Look me up, research me." I smirked. "Kinda makes me feel happy, that she so clearly wasted her time."

"Ms. Richardson," he growled. "You are speaking about one of my employees in a very bad light and I do not like it." I went silent, my face glazing over to show no emotion. "Yes, she did spend the time and she did find nothing. That man over there is my friend, and as much of a git he can be I look out for him." Lestrade folded his arms. "I'm not sure what your aim is with him, but whatever it is, if you hurt him I swear to God I will not stop until I find you. Do you understand?"

I nodded my head mechanically.

He passed me, hitting my shoulder on the way as he did so. I fell into step as Sherlock and John followed us into the morgue. My mind blanked out, trying to ignore what was going on around me. I didn't chime in or make a single jab, just waited as the three discussed the woman laying before us.

"Helen, you go with him," Sherlock said, pulling me out of my state.

"Yes, of course," I replied quietly, following John out of the room and the two of them alone.

Sherlock began to leave when Lestrade commented.

"There's something else we haven't thought of," he said.

Sherlock kept walking. "Is there?"

"Yes, why is he doing this, the bomber?" Sherlock stopped in his tracks. "If this woman's death is suspicious why point it out?"

Sherlock looked back at him, but not in his eyes. "Good samaritan."

"Who press gangs suicide bombers?" Lestrade insisted.

"Bad samaritan," Sherlock countered.

"I'm serious Sherlock. Listen, I'm cutting you slack here, I'm trusting you, but out there some poor bastard is out there covered in sem tecks and just waiting for you to solve the puzzle so just tell me, what are we dealing with?"

Sherlock paused, a smile developing on the corner of his mouth. "Something new," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Lestrade said, grabbing his arm. "Something else Sherlock." He faced back to the grey haired man. "That girl..."

"Oh her? She's nothing," Sherlock said quickly.

"That's not what I meant, listen." He rubbed the back of his neck."I don't trust her. And you shouldn't either, what with your taking her everywhere, and not to mention the handcuffs. There's something funny about her and it doesn't sit well with me or anyone else for that matter."

Sherlock looked at him. "The 'anyone else' being?" The detective swallowed, but didn't answer. "Oh I see, she caught the attention of Donovan." Lestrade looked at the floor. "Anderson too, strange. Didn't think he'd want to anger me what with his wife back in town. I assure you inspector, I've been most careful. Very careful indeed." He watched as the other man rubbed his forehead. "Don't worry, I've got it all under control."

As he walked away, Lestrade muttered out a very quiet, "Do you really, Sherlock?"

John and I sat in the cab, and it was an incredibly awkward atmosphere that I did my best to ignore. Part of me, (well, most of me, but who's keeping track?) was still in a blank state of indifference.

"So," John said finally, not looking at me. "What did he say?"

"Hmm?" I replied, also not looking at him.

"Your face was dead after talking to him. I may not be Sherlock but I'm not stupid. Lestrade said something to you, and it didn't look like he was asking you out. So, what did he say?" At this point I could feel his eyes on me, but didn't dare to look over. "Helen, you're still doing it. The face, the bad one. I don't like it."

I looked over at him and put on a scary slasher smile. "Better?" I asked.

"God know, that's horrifying. Put that thing away," he said. I laughed at his reaction and relaxed a bit. "Please, never again, what was even with that face? It was like you wanted to eat me or something."

"Hardly my intention John," I said, dropping into an innocent smile. Suddenly my pocket beeped. "Aww, come on." I pulled it out and looked at the screen, seeing the name Mycroft show up like a recurring cold sore on the lips. "Jesus christ, one second. Got to deal with the other brother." My fingers opened the text and read carefully.

Trouble with the police?

Mycroft

It was like he wanted to me punch him the next time I saw his face. Without answering I put the phone away, disliking the idea of texting him after he sent such a message so obviously aimed at making me upset. Which it did. And I didn't want him to know that godamnit.

A few minutes later we found ourselves crammed onto a small pristine couch with a very bald and wrinkly cat pawing at the both of us.

My attention was supposed to be focused on the Kenny, but every so often I would get a little beep telling me that I got another text from Mycroft. Indeed I got them so often that I turned my phone to vibrate. It was so bad that I nearly turned it off, except he decided to just call instead.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this." I turned to John and mouthed, 'the boss', to which he played along with quite nicely.

"Yes, sorry sir. Our boss must be wanting to know how it's going," he explained.

"Oh no, it's fine." The man said, licking his lips at John. I grimaced and walked outside.

"How are things?" Mycroft asked nonchalantly.

"Just fine thanks," I said nastily. "But at the moment I'm busy so if you could please call me back at a more convenient time that would be lovely." I ground my toe into the pavement as I said these words, so frustrated I could barely see straight.

"Calm down," he said lazily. "Is someone calling you out for what your are really that upsetting?" I didn't say anything, and he laughed. "So it is upsetting to you. How quaint. It's not as if it's untrue. Lestrade won't be the first to see you for what you are and he certainly won't be the last. It's simply something you've got to live with. No use in letting it affect you."

I paused. "Mycroft," I said, eyes squinting. "Are you... trying to cheer me up?"

It was his turn to pause. "I don't know how you came to that conclusion and I don't want to know. I assure you that your conjecture is wrong."

"Oh really?" I said. "Then why did you, after I had been reprimanded by Lestrade, proceed to call me and inform me that I shouldn't "let it affect me" and that it's "something I've got to live with", because if that isn't trying to cheer someone up, as callous as you were about it, then I don't know what's what anymore."

"Believe me dear Helen, it's all in your head," he replied. "But I shouldn't say that necessarily should I? Interpret it however you wish, just get your job done."

And with that a little click sounded. I shoved the phone back in my pocket. "That little shit," I muttered with a laugh. John texted me a moment after that.

Sherlock will be here soon, he's bringing some stuff. Wait outside to meet him, I'll keep them distracted in here.

John Watson

It's funny, how everyone here ends their texts with their name out initials. Hell, even I've been doing it since I came. Nobody back at home ever did it though, it was just here that people did that. Strange how nobody ever questioned it either.

Update, Sherlock will be at the Prince residence shortly

HR

How's that for an update Mycroft? I pressed send and giggled to myself. Moments later he replied.

Yes I know. Don't forget I see all texts that come and go from your phone.

Mycroft Holmes

"Bastard," I said to my phone.

"What's Mycroft done this time?" Sherlock asked. I looked up and saw him standing there with a bag on his arm and camera around his neck. I opened my mouth to ask how the fuck he knew but he cut me off. "Yes yes I know it was Mycroft. It can't be John because he's most likely still distracting the people inside and won't have had the time to anger you. It can't be myself because I haven't texted you recently and you were clearly directing your rage towards your mobile. So unless you've been in contact with other persons within the past five minutes, which is unlikely because you've not had the time to meet other people, that leaves Mycroft. He's hardly fond of you, so his behaviour is likely to grate on your nerves. Now let's get this over with before that abominable man tries something with John."

We both walked a few steps and then my phone rang. I grimaced rather unattractively. "Uh, one moment. Mycroft probably wants a word with me." Sherlock nodded and kept going, stealing a tiny glance as I answered the phone. "Really Mycroft we talked just minutes ago I don't see why you felt the need to call again." Sherlock rounded a corner to the front door and (thankfully) was out of site.

"Don't you ever," the old woman said, "check your phone before you answer it?"

My heart rattled around in my chest, feeling knocked about from the fear. "I will endeavour to do so in the future," I replied as mechanically as I could. "But do tell me why you are calling me and not Sherlock? And what about John? Surely someone who knows Sherlock well would better suit-"

"I ask questions, not answer them," she said slowly.

I rubbed the area between my brows. "Alright," I said quietly. "Ask away."

"Not now," she spoke. "But I will soon, don't you worry about that."

"On the contrary, I feel compelled to worry." My knees shook slightly, serving as proof of my worry. At that moment I saw Sherlock and John exiting the building, triumphant in their mission. "Indeed I can't control my worry." My voice shook too as Sherlock came closer, eyeing me up and down.

"It'll be fine," the woman said. "You have my promise." My legs were proper shaky now, and in two steps Sherlock deftly plucked the phone from my fingers and spoke into it angrily.

"Moriarty," he spat. I sunk to the ground, staring at my twitching hands and trying to control the rapid beating in my chest. Why was I so afraid? Why was I so affected by this? Why did it all feel so real? Sherlock went stone faced. "I do not," he said, then hung up. He crouched down and held my chin roughly, looking into my eyes. "Helen, you need to breathe."

As soon as he said that I realised my lungs were shut, so I unclenched my throat and let the air fall into them.

"Did he say anything about the case? Did he give you any clues? Anything?" Sherlock was nearly shouting at me. I looked at him blankly. He shook my shoulders. "What did he say?"

"He didn't..." I trailed off. Why was I so scared at the thought of being near Moriarty? Shouldn't I know how the story goes? Or would something happen? "Soon..." I said. Sherlock looked at me impatiently. "He said, soon..."

I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT HOW LAZY I HAVE BEEN BUT THERE HAS BEEN COLLEGE AND J-TAKU AND FAMILY AND THINGS AND SHOOT ME. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

In other news, if I were to write a book, would any of you read it? I have a ton of ideas, ranging from a zombie apocalypse to a Tolkien-esque fantasy land. It's so hard choosing which one to write first. So yeah, any takers?

Review or I'll do college assignments and sleep instead of this write monstrosity of a fanfic.