I thought about uploading this on Christmas day, but got distracted by...well...Christmas. Then thought of New Years but then I thought why not wait until the 6th, when the filming of the Christmas Special begins. YAY!

Anyway, you should know by now how terrible I am at spotting mistakes and also how sorry I am about them. I have re-read this more than a few times and I'm getting a headache and desperate to publish it.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. This one's for you.

She could hear his words, his laughter through the floorboards. But the thing that made the tears roll down her cheeks was the fact that her brother and his best friend, the two boys she loved with every fibre of her being, were laughing along with him. The boy who had made her live a living hell, was currently standing in her Mother's kitchen having a good old, as her Mother would call it, 'Bitch and moan' about her.

Something inside of her snapped when the level of noise rose. Rational thought completely disappeared as she threw her bedroom door open and as quietly as she could, inched down the stairs, still listening to their words as she descended.

She felt as if her vision had turned red, that if someone attempted to steer her from her destination, she would hurt them more than the words of Timothy Pecker had ever hurt her.

She turned into the kitchen to see Jim and Sebastian facing the entrance she currently stood in. Their smiles diminished somewhat upon noticing her features. But they kept up their act in the hope that the bully before them would not turn and notice her for himself. But it was already too late. He had noticed, and slowly turned his whole body to face the doorway. His smirk growing all the more when he realised she had heard every word and every laugh that her brother and his friend had released.

"Well well." He began as she took a step forward towards him. "Looks like even your brother can't stand the sight of you. You heard us from upstairs laughing didn't you? But did you hear what I said?" She took another step closer. Too busy enjoying himself, Timothy didn't notice the look the young girl held in her eyes." I told these boys here, that you are a waste of space that you don't even deserve to be breathing. And do you know something? These boys here, the boys that you come running home too every day, agreed with me." He turned his head a fraction to look over his shoulder as if he needed to point out the other two boys in the room. He didn't know that would turn out to be his biggest mistake.

It was the smell that first made her realise she was no longer in the museum. Amongst the antiques, she had been surrounded by the smell that only a museum could contain. Here though, she was being smothered by the scent of disinfectant and other chemicals that screamed cleanliness.

As her eyelids fluttered open, she couldn't help but wish she had a pair of sunglasses to prevent herself from getting blinded by the artificial lights blaring from above her. These lights did nothing to help the tremendous headache she suddenly discovered she had.

"Oh God." She groaned as she raised her hand to her forehead to feel the bandages that prevented her from feeling the cut she could feel throbbing beneath it.

"Emily?" The familiar voice of one of her flatmates lifted her spirits. She turned her head to the left and quickly regretted it as a fresh wave of pain went through her head. "Emily. Can you hear me?"

"Course I can bloody hear you." John released the breath it felt like he had been holding since he had discovered her on the floor of the museum. His release of breath was quickly followed by a laugh as he grasped her hand in his.

"What happened?" With her free hand, she covered her eyes so as not to be blinded and allowed her eyelids to open.

"You scared the absolute shit out of me is what happened." She breathed a laugh but turned her expression to one of seriousness.

"John. What happened to make me scare the absolute shit out of you, to cause me to be lying in this bed with a splitting headache?"

"The gunman attacked you. I think you hit your head on the table. You were bloody lucky you weren't-"

"It wasn't the gunman."

"What?"

"It wasn't the gunman that did this. It was Soo Lin." She gasped as guilt took over her senses. "Where is she?" But at the look on John's face, she knew instantly. "She's dead isn't she?"

"It wasn-"

"Oh God, It's all my fault. We should have just run John." She covered her face with both hands now, her voice becoming muffled.

"Emily."

"We should have followed you."

"Emily."

"Left the building, hidden ourselves better!"

"EMILY!" John shouted effectively getting the woman's attention. He gently reclaimed her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

"It wasn't your fault. Now, tell me how you know it wasn't the gunman that injured you." It wasn't a question; it was a gentle demand that was intended to take her mind off the young woman's death.

She took a moment before answering. "I was about to be shot when Soo Lin pushed me out of the way. I guess she just pushed me into the table without realising." John had no reply when Emily's voice went quieter with every word.

It turned out neither of them had to reply as the door burst open.

"Emily!"

"Oh God!" She groaned ad threw the sheets over her head in an attempt to hide from her boss.

"I came as soon as I heard, what happened to her?"

John yanked down the sheets so she could speak for herself.

"Honestly Mr Roid, you should see the other guy."

"Even in a hospital bed Emily you don't lose your humour hmm?"

"Where's Sherlock, shouldn't he be gathered round my deathbed?" She opted to ignore her boss and turn back to talk to John.

"You're not on your deathbed Em." He spoke as if to a child. "He's speaking to Molly."

"You don't know I'm not on my deathbed." She released a pathetic cough and hid under the covers once more.

"I'm a Doctor Em." He decided to leave her under the sheets to prevent the lights from blinding her and turned his gaze to the other man in the room. "Was there anything else Mr Roid?"

The older man was still standing next to her bed, something that unnerved Emily to no end, like a third wheel on a first date.

"What? Oh, no. No no. I just wanted to make sure a member of my staff was alright." Emily groaned at this from beneath her hiding place.

"She'll be fine." John assured when he received a somewhat panicked look from Roid.

"Very well then. I'll just..." He pointed over his shoulder to the door before turning and leaving.

John waited until the door had shut. "He's gone." Emily's face reappeared as she threw the covers off her.

"Thank God, I think I was starting to suffocate in there. Probably not the best thing for a head injury." But as the door handle began to move downwards once more, she took a deep breath and yanked the covers over her head, thinking her boss had come back to annoy her with his presence again.

"Roid's gone you know." The unmistakable voice of Sherlock seemed muffled from under the covers. Again, they were quickly thrown away so she could look at the new arrival.

"Why were you not gathered around my deathbed when I woke up? I could be dead by now."

"Could be, but you're not. And it was hardly a deathbed Emily; you hit your head and lost consciousness."

"I bled." She stated somewhat childishly.

"Yet here you are awake and alive."

"Well, at least I know I'm not dreaming anymore. Sherlock would be crying on his knees on the floor if this was a dream, begging me to wake up or something completely un-Sherlock like." The man in question chuckled.

"How's your head?" He asked. Emily frowned, maybe she was dreaming after all.

"Killing me. When can I get out of here?"

"Right now." Her question was answered by the Doctor that had entered the room during their exchange. "I just need to check for any signs of concussion and have you sign some forms. Roid's given you tomorrow off just in case."

Slowly, so as not to cause herself any more pain than necessary, she sat up with the help of John, Sherlock waited patiently in the corner eyeing up the Doctor collecting information about the man now shining a light in Emily's eyes and asking her questions. The blood that had run down her face at the museum was still there. Dried and cracking slightly from where her cheeks had moved. Her complexion paler than usual, but it was to be expected. He wondered if the blow to her head was causing her to act the way she was. She hadn't been given any drugs to get rid of the pain; John had insisted she would be fine without them. He would make sure she would take some painkillers when they arrived home, or at the very least, get Mrs Hudson to make her take them.

"I don't want you falling asleep for at least another hour just in case of any concussion. There are no signs of one, but it's just to be certain. Take some pain killers if your head is still hurting when you get home, keep your bandages fresh and don't forget to wash the blood off your face." The Doctor instructed as John held Emily's coat out to her.

"Shouldn't that have been cleaned off by a Nurse or something?" She asked confused.

"It should have been yes, but we all know you prefer to spook people and inform them that they should 'see the other guy'." He smirked as he looked at her over the top of his clipboard with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"You know me too well."

"Sherlock Dear, where have you been?" The voice of the landlady could be heard as the three entered the hallway. "I've been meaning to talk to you about those toes in your freezer- God Greif Emily Cooper what has happened to your face now?!"

"You should see the other guy Mrs H." She winked back and instantly regretted it. Her head was still pounding. Even blinking seemed to be a struggle.

"Now is not the time for such nonsense Emily, get in my kitchen this instant!" Emily, who had never heard the woman sounding so angry over a bit of blood, quickly lost the smile she had been wearing. Her expression turned to one of fear when she noticed that John too had lost his smile, and was not saying anything to calm the livid looking landlady.

She managed to skirt around the older woman, not daring to look back at her flatmates and headed to the kitchen and sat down knowing if she didn't, then Mrs Hudson would more than likely force her to with nothing but a look. She could faintly hear the tell tale signs of the woman in question shouting at the boys, causing a smirk to grace Emily's face once again. But, once again, the smirk disappeared when a door slammed and Mrs Hudson marched into the kitchen moments later with a handful of cotton wool that she quickly ran under the tap.

"Honestly Mrs Hudson, it's just a scratch, and you should have seen the look on our taxi driver's face just now." She began to giggle and noticed that the older woman cracked a smile.

"You're alive Emily, and that's all that matters. Now, let me clean that blood off your face and give you some painkillers."

"You really don't have to Mrs Hudson, I can clean it myself."

"Oh but Emily dear, I want to, we haven't had a proper chat in so long."

"So you practically scream at me for having blood on my face and demand I enter your kitchen?"

"How else would I have got you here dear? You always seem to be with those boys. You need some female time you know."

"You really are something else aren't you?"

"So," Mrs Hudson began, ignoring the question as she gently wiped the dried blood from Emily's pale cheeks. "How are you and Sherlock getting along?"

"Fine. I think." She frowned.

"Oh, you know, I once dated a man when I was your age." Emily opened her mouth to protest, but Mrs Hudson carried on. "I forget his name, but he was one of the sweetest men I've ever known."

"What was he like?" She had never been involved in a conversation like this before and was eager to keep the words flowing. She was forgetting about her headache and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Oh, he had sparkling green eyes that you could get lost in and freckles all over his cheeks. I used to try to count them after a long night of-"

"Yes, I think I get what your long night consisted of."

"Dark brown hair that you just wanted to run your fingers through all the time. I miss him you know."

"What happened with him? Why didn't you marry him, you seem pretty infatuated." Emily hadn't missed the dreamy look that had taken over her landlady's face.

The doorbell rang, gaining the attention of the ladies. Emily had no doubt Sherlock hadn't heard it from upstairs.

"Oh. He went back to his wife." A nonchalant wave of the hand was the last thing Emily saw of Mrs Hudson as she vanished out of the kitchen door, the smile quickly vanishing from Emily's face as she stood.

"Men are pigs." She muttered to herself and followed Ms Hudson to the hallway. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and noticed the blood that had decorated her face was no longer there. Now all she had to do was shower and get ready for bed and she would finally feel clean.

"...Is he here?" Emily instantly recognised the voice of Dimmock.

"He's upstairs." She answered moving closer to the door.

"I've got the books he wanted. What happened to your head?"

"Books?" The two ladies asked together.

"He asked, or didn't really so much ask, for the books from the apartments."

"Whose apartments?" Emily questioned

"The apartments of Lukis and Van Coon. Did he not tell you?"

"No, he didn't. Mrs Hudson do you think you could go up and tell Sherlock, he probably ignored the doorbell."

"Wait there dear." The older woman took off upstairs.

"Do I want to know how many there are?"

Dimmock smirked. "Probably not. You didn't answer me earlier, about your head?"

"Oh, it's nothing. You should see the other guy." She waved her hand in dismissal as Mrs Hudson appeared on the stairs again.

"You can bring the books up."

"Do you need a hand?" Emily offered.

"No, I've bought a couple of the lads from uniform to carry them. Anyway, I don't think it would be a very good idea for you to help what with that bandage."

"It's really nothing."

"Emily." John called from the top of the stairs. He waited till she had turned to look at him before he had continued. "Your help would be appreciated up here. No heavy lifting involved."

"I'll just go. Leave your boys to it then." She awkwardly indicated over her shoulder and turned to head up the stairs.

"I hope that heals soon." Dimmock called to her. She turned and found him pointing to her forehead.

"Thanks." She felt a blush rise on her cheeks and decided to run the rest of the way up the stairs. A decision she instantly regretted as her head pounded in agony. "John, do we have any painkillers?"

"Already sorted." He had been waiting for her by the living room door with a glass of water in one hand and a couple of painkillers in the other.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" Emily sighed happily as she took the pills from his palm and swallowed them, only afterwards downing half of the glass. She missed the look Sherlock sent her way at her words.

"'Scuse us love." One of the uniformed officers came up behind her. She instantly moved from the living room and into the kitchen, taking a seat and slipping her coat off.

She watched as the two uniformed men bought box after box into the flat. She quickly lost sight of the two men she shared with and began to lose interest in what they were saying. Her eyelids were drooping, her thoughts were swimming. The land of dreams was calling to her, but she dreaded having a repeat of the dream she had had earlier.

"Emily." Sherlock spoke from behind her and woke her.

"Hmm."

"We're looking for books that both men had in their apartments."

"Yes."

"First word on page fifteen."

"What about them?" Sherlock merely looked at her as if the answer should be obvious. "You want my help." She stated.

"It would be very much appreciated." John spoke for the Consulting Detective.

"Alright." She stood slowly and looked around the room at all the boxes. "Where do we start?" She sighed.

Dimmock walked into the room carrying an evidence bag. "We found these at the museum." He showed the bag to John as Emily opened a box and practically drooled over all the books. "Is this your writing?"

"Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us. Ta." John answered and looked at Emily who appeared to be rooting through the box. "Emily don't you dare get distracted."

"I don't know what you mean." She didn't bother to look up from the treasure trove. "I don't get distracted."

"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?" Dimmock questioned watching as Emily all but fell into the box.

"Some silence right now would be marvellous." Sherlock replied without looking up.

"Do you want me to see you to the door?" Emily noticed the look Dimmock sent to John.

"No. No it's fine. I'll be seeing you soon I expect." He darted his eyes in the direction of Sherlock causing Emily to smirk.

"I don't doubt it." She smiled to him as he left the room but turned her attention back to the box before her. She currently had her hand clasped around a book that felt rather thick, her curiosity her been spiked and after shoving the other books out of the way, bought it to the top of the pile.

"Emily, you are supposed to be looking for books that they both own, not rooting through their belongings for your next bedtime story."

Sherlock briefly looked at the blonde and smirked at John's words.

"Again, I don't know what you mean; I am doing what Sherlock asked, or didn't ask and- OH! Harry Potter!"

"Em-Emily." John sighed as he watched the blonde head back to the kitchen, flicking through the pages of the heavy book, clearly not hearing him. He knew without a doubt that Emily would be of no use now. He turned back to the desk and took a seat, knowing it would be a long time before they had managed to clear the boxes. He might as well be comfortable.

It had been a long night and John was more than ready for bed. But the alarm that rung from his watch signified that he needed to move his arse and get ready for work. Bed and the comfort it bought would have to wait. With a faint glimmer of hope, he looked at the watch decorating his wrist before looking out of the window, confirming that it was in fact morning. The glimmer of hope died as a sense of slight panic took over.

He made his way to the kitchen to make himself a drink but was greeted with the sight of Emily, still sitting in her seat. Only now, she was slumped over onto the table, her cheek pressed into the pages of her book. He wondered how long she had managed to stay awake for, but judging by the amount of pages that she had apparently read, it had been a lot longer than just the hour she was supposed to stay awake for.

"Emily." He gently nudged her shoulder, not putting in the anger he felt at her having got away with not doing any of the work. "Emily."

"Weasley is our King." She mumbled and turned her face over to become more comfortable.

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