A/N Sorry it's been an age, I've had some lovely feedback in the meantime. I really love it when people take the time to tell me they are enjoying my story. It means the world to me. I don't know about everyone else, but I can't contain my excitement for the Sherlock Christmas Special. It is almost here, everyone should watch River on Netflix to pass the time. It is an excellent series.
oooOOoooOOoooOOooo
"You have been avoiding me, Dr. Watson." The soft voice drifted from behind John as he watched Sherlock pace around the small postage stamp of yard. He barely inclined his head to acknowledge Serene as she stood behind him.
He did not know how he felt about the mysterious French doctor, but her arrival had caused turmoil in what had been a remarkably peaceful stretch for Holmes. He therefore kept his eyes trained forward and his hands in his pockets, he knew his shoulders had taken on a military set and he looked defensive.
"I assume you found the photographs upsetting." Damn psychics, her and Sherlock deserved each other. They'd never have to talk, just communicate by guessing the other's next move.
"You'd think with a wife and a baby I wouldn't have to defend my lack of interest in Sherlock's love life."
He could feel rather than see Serene's smile, she stood peacefully behind him. It was slightly infuriating.
"No, but you do love him. You don't want him to be hurt."
"I just don't have patience for playing games." John would not look at her.
Serene comes to stand beside him, her eyes trained on Sherlock as well. She considers his words silently; when she does speak she does so without looking at him.
"I think we have become part of a much larger game, and we're the only ones who don't know the rules."
"Listen, I know. I know facing death makes you - it changes you, but what you're playing at with Sherlock never ends well. He can out think God and he will never ever let someone else have the last move. So, I know you think you've ended it, but you haven't because it wasn't his turn."
John looked as if he could say another thousand words but he was silenced by the deliberate approach of Sherlock.
"I told you this would be an excellent evening, John. Just when one boring suspect has lined himself so conveniently in our crosshairs another one pops up and undoes it all. Dr. Laurent, is our mutual friend dead yet?"
"Did you find something exonerating Liam?" Serene asked ignoring his question and the wicked twist to his mouth. Sherlock inhales deeply as if pulling all the scent from the night air.
"Foot prints mostly, a man decidedly 6 inches shorter than our executive and walks with a limp. Not to mention the exhumed arm of a woman left at Lestrade's back door. No, this is about our dear detective and where he doesn't spend his nights." Sherlock held Serene's gaze intently, his eyes willing her to see everything he knew. "Do you have any other admirers we should know about or is it safe to assume this is about the bullet Lestrade lodged in his accomplice?"
"You know all my secrets, Mr. Holmes." Serene couldn't deny the energy between them was heated; she felt sympathy for John as he coughed awkwardly between them.
"She wasn't murdered though." Sherlock's eyes snapped back to John from Serene. "The owner of the arm I mean, she- it was suicide."
"We need Lestrade." Sherlock turned his coat whirling behind him as he walked back towards the house.
Serene and John follow behind him, their stilted conversation hanging between them.
Sherlock finds Lestrade in the kitchen staring rather helplessly at his phone, him in every instance, helpless. Sherlock is offended this is who their killer has decided to play with; Lestrade had apparently become desirable in his absence.
"Suicides? Have any particularly complicated ones?" Sherlock stops short of Lestrade, breaking his concentration.
"What?" Lestrade's eyes immediately go to Serene as she enters the kitchen. His eyebrows come together as if asking himself a million other questions.
"Focus, Detective. Suicides?" Lestrade looks back at him, his phone disappearing into his pocket. "I need to know if you have had a case recently, involving suicide, where something was not quite right?"
"Any suicide the Yard is called in on has something off about it, last one I had was over six months ago." Lestrade runs a hand through his hair trying to organize his thoughts. "Woman, 27, ummm found in her ex-boyfriend's flat. Only he wasn't in the country, Ibiza I think. Said she had broken up with him, he was strange about it. As if he expected it. She must have had emotional problems, it WAS a suicide, Sherlock."
"What was her name?"
"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Loewen? What does this have to do with anything?"
"You are being played with Detective, this is meant to be a message for you. The arm, belonged to a suicide, last one you had was a woman. The arm belongs to a woman. Elizabeth Loewen is the best place to start. I will need your files, of course."
"All right, that's where we'll start then. I will send you the files tomorrow. Serene, I will give you a lift home."
"I prefer not to delay once the game has begun."
"Sherlock, it is one in the morning. Go to bed."
"Christ, is it one? Sherlock-" John looks at his watch.
"Go home, John, you have been invaluable. I will take Dr. Laurent home and we will continue the case."
John nods his eyes darting between Sherlock and Lestrade. "Right, then."
Lestrade's eyes are fixed on Sherlock as John backs slowly from the room. "Serene will go home. Just because you are mad, doesn't mean the rest of us have to be."
"Then I will take Dr. Laurent home, after all I know her address." The meaning of Sherlock's words dig beneath Lestrade's skin and he grits his teeth, the Holmes brothers would be the death of him.
"Dr. Laurent will see herself home, thank you very much gentleman for being so concerned with my safety, but as you can see we are hardly on the moon and I should manage the cab ride on my own." Serene smiles sweetly at both of them while buttoning her coat against the cold. She turns and walks from the kitchen, Lestrade and Sherlock level accusatory stares at one another.
Lestrade pulls out his phone and dials a number. He holds it to his ear listening to the rings, his eyes holding Sherlock's silently. A voice picks up on the other end.
"This is DI Lestrade calling, I want copies of all the Elizabeth Loewen files sent to 221B Baker Street tonight. Right, right, no I will sign for it in the morning just do it, now." Lestrade ends the call, and points at Sherlock punctuating his words. "There. I don't know what you want with Serene, but keep her out of this Sherlock. She is a victim of this psychopath and I won't have you going behind my back on this. Got it?"
"We have no evidence he is a psychopath, Detective. As for Dr. Laurent I only want her for her mind, can you say the same?" Sherlock remains eerily calm, it makes Lestrade's blood boil.
"You- you couldn't even begin to understand what I need from her." Lestrade strides determinedly out of the house, hoping for all his pomp and gesturing he hasn't missed Serene.
She is standing on the curb when he walks out, bouncing a little against the cold. Her hand where it holds the phone to her ear is pink. Lestrade comes up behind and takes the phone from her hand. He ends the call before the cab company can pick up. He holds her pink hand in his, feeling it warm against his hand. Serene's eyes narrow at him, her mouth set angrily. He hands her back her phone and she takes her hand back.
"The car's here and it's late. Let me drive you."
Serene tucks her hand into her pockets when she speaks it is in a clear and measured tone. "Greg, I will not be caught in the middle of a tug'o'war with Sherlock."
"I don't know where you live, Serene, I don't know anything about you. Sherlock knows. That-that eats at me."
"Do you really feel like knowing my address is the same as knowing me?"
"No, no of course not, but it just seems so... so easy for him. You two are on this whole other plane and I can't join you there. I can't be like Sherlock, I can't just know everything and- and I can't go outside the law to solve this case. I can't protect you from-"
Serene silences him with a kiss, one moment he is pouring his heart awkwardly out onto his ex wife's front lawn and the next Serene is in his arms, her fists curled around his collar and her mouth pressing into the corner of his mouth. His hands instinctively hold onto her, awkwardly grasping her elbows. His brain shouting loudly that there are still MET officers about. Serene is being subtle, as quickly as she kissed him she is back on her feet once more.
"I can't tell you where I live because you aren't Sherlock, you're a good man and you would feel like you had to- to fix things. That doesn't mean I want you to be him. Take me to your flat, you can keep an eye on me all night long." Serene smiles knowingly at him and he can't help the awkward smile that breaks out over his face.
Sherlock watches through the window as Serene and Lestrade get into his car. He hates the feeling that rolls silently in the pit of his stomach. He refuses to give it any other name than disappointment. Serene was disappointing him. At least he had case files to take his attention once he returned home; he was saved the inconvenience of distraction.