I know this update is short and it isn't very different from the scene in the episode, but I really wanted to update before tonight. If like me you are watching His Last Vow tonight, stay strong, wrap up in a shock blanket, and have some tissues ready.

This fandom is amazing, and while the wait for Series three was painful and long, it was fun. The Gifs, the theories, the falling in love with Benedict. I don't know what the next hiatus will bring, but I hope it's filled with even more of those things.

So, from one Sherlockian to rather a few others... It will be an honour to wait with you all.

It was with what felt like the hundredth sigh that morning that Emily tucked some stray hairs behind her ear and scanned her practically empty desk. Upon arrival, she had discovered no new paperwork. She had managed to finish yesterdays in the nick of time, thinking that she would still be stuck doing it today.

It was a welcome relief to find no work waiting for her. The boredom however, was less then pleasant. She had texted John a few minutes ago, wondering what he was up to, asking if he wanted to meet up for lunch, but he hadn't replied. She rested her head against the desk with a bang and closed her eyes for a few moments. She didn't particularly care that her door was wide open and anyone walking past would notice the fact that she wasn't working hard. But barely a soul had passed all morning, the likeliness of that happening now were slim. Although, knowing her luck a group of people consisting of every member of staff would walk past any second and make a complaint against her, and set an example to everyone else, that slacking in the workplace was not acceptable.

As her phone buzzed on the desk, she shook those thoughts away and quickly grabbed it. She finally had a reply from John.

We can meet you for lunch. Got a case though I don't know where Sherlock has got to. We're at a bank but you wouldn't think it from the inside. Or the outside actually. x

She smiled as she begun to type out her reply.

Where shall I meet you? Anything interesting? I literally have noting to do here. My desk was empty when I got here. x

It didn't take him very long to get back to her. He really must have lost Sherlock.

I'll let you know closer to the time. If you have nothing to do don't go back. Stay with us and break the rules. x

She could tell he was being sarcastic, but the temptation to not come back was too much to ignore. She reasoned that she had no work at the moment and anything that might come in in the next few hours she could work on when she did eventually return. She was sure Mr Roid wouldn't mind.

You're on. x

She figured she should probably grab a bite to eat now however. If Sherlock was on a case, she didn't see much opportunity of getting to eat at lunch time or until she got back to the flat. With her mind made up, she made her way to the cloak room to seize some change from her coat pocket for the vending machine. She smiled to herself when she remembered the vending machine had Wotsits.

She checked her phone to make sure she had the right address before checking the names next to the buzzers. Van Coon. There it was. She pressed a finger on the buzzer and didn't let go. The noise was annoying enough to her, she could only imagine how it sounded to the people inside. She took her finger away when a voice sounded.

"Hello?" It wasn't anyone she recognised. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the police cars. That probably meant there was a dead body in the building somewhere seeing as John had texted her this particular address and told her they would meet her there.

"Umm. Hi. I'm here to meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." She spoke timidly to the wall. She had never used these things before, and was sure she was making a complete tit out of herself.

There was a sigh from the other end before the voice spoke up again. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, I'm Emily. Emily Cooper." She informed the wall, her confidence slowly coming back to her when she discovered that she wasn't just talking to the wall in front of her, but to the person upstairs.

"Well I'm sorry bu-" The voice was interrupted by someone else's voice that she didn't recognise.

"Just let her up or he'll go off on one." There was another sigh before another buzzing sound was heard, one much louder than before.

The floor she needed wasn't hard to find. She just had to follow the police officers.

"Emily Cooper?" A plain clothed man was leaning against the wall next to a door.

"Yes?" She replied coming to a stop a few feet ahead in front of him.

"Come with me." He told her sounding fed up. "You know I don't normally allow this."

"I'm not surprised. I'm sure it's not the proper way of doing things." She sent him a brief smile that went unnoticed as he was already talking to someone else.

"...and see if you can get prints off this glass."

"Oh Emily. You're here. Good." Sherlock spoke without taking his eyes from the body lying across the bed.

"I can't see what's good about it." She mumbled more to herself than anyone else. She was more focused on taking deep breaths and ignoring the scent of chlorine that filled her senses at the sight of the body.

"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met." Sherlock had finally turned his attention to the man standing next to her. He moved forward and offered a hand to shake. But it went overlooked as the man decided to place his hands on his hips instead. Emily rolled her eyes. It seemed as if he was trying to seem more important then Sherlock, trying to tell him exactly who the boss was.

"Yeah, I know who you are; it's one thing inviting your friends over as if it's a party, but another to search the body before the professionals have had a chance, and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." The hand that Sherlock had offered slowly descended. The other hand raised to pass the young man the evidence bag and looked at Emily. He sent her a questioning look. One that asked who the hell this man thought he was. Emily merely shrugged in return and leant against the wall to listen as the conversation continued. She had to hide a smile behind a hand when she spotted Sherlock's stroppy look.

"I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"

"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock." Sherlock looked at the Inspector in surprise. As did Emily. This man didn't look old enough to even be in the police, let alone be at the rank of D.I. The look was quickly shared with Emily, before it turned to John.

With the 'pleasantries' out of the way, if you could even have called it that, Dimmock walked out of the room, to be followed by the three who were still slightly in shock.

"You found your way here okay then?" John whispered to her as he caught up with her. She opened her mouth to reply but was beaten by Sherlock.

"No John. She's still on the tube." It seemed as if Sherlock was sulking. Lestrade wasn't here which meant he probably wouldn't get his way. Something he was used to when the other man was around. Emily rolled her eyes at John as they entered the living room.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." Dimmock's voice broke the silence as he spoke to another officer.

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts." John added his input.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts." He turned to the Inspector. "You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?"

"The wound was on the right side of his head." Sherlock started straight away.

"And?"

"Van Coon was left-handed." He started miming pointing a gun with his left had to his right temple. It looked slightly like her was dancing. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

"Left-handed?"

"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." His sarcastic tone was back. He pointed to the table beside the seetee. "Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: habitually used the ones on the left...Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?"

"No, I think you've covered it." John sounded tired.

"Emily you want to give it a go? It's rather easy."

"Not really." She sighed. Again.

"Oh, then I might as well; I'm almost at the bottom of the list." He pointed towards the kitchen. "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." Impatience was written all over his features as he looked at Dimmock. "It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts."

"But the gun: why..." Sherlock interrupted before Dimmock could even finish his sentence.

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened." With that, Sherlock moved away and started to put on his scarf, coat and gloves.

"What?" Dimmock asked, sounding as if he genuinely didn't know this part of the story.

"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning." John answered him. Emily listened with rapt attention as she didn't know the details either.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock added.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock questioned.

"Went through the open window."

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?!"

"Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it." Emily rolled her eyes.

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

Sherlock, who was ready to leave spoke condescendingly. "Good! You're finally asking the right questions." He turned and departed from the room. John pointed apologetically towards the Consulting Detective/Drama Queen before he followed.

"It was nice meeting you." Emily made her presence known again.

"Is he always...?" He left the question hanging.

"Oh yeah. He-" But Emily's speech was disrupted when a gentle hand took hols of her wrist and guided her from the room.

"Sorry Em." John murmured in her ear.

"Where are we going now?" She couldn't help but sound like a whining three year old, but she had only been there for what felt like thirty seconds.

"No Idea." He replied in his tired voice.

All that stuff I usually say at the top, well that goes for this chapter too.

Believe In Sherlock.

FB