A/N: Sorry to anyone eager for an update, end of term at school has kept me busy and determinedly uncreative. Hopefully this instalment hasn't suffered too much. Only a few more sleeps until the Christmas special, I know I am beyond excited. Thanks for the nice reviews and follows, they are much appreciated.

oOoOoOo

Lestrade opened the door to his flat apprehensively, he could never remember what sort of state he had left it in before work. Seeing nothing immediately biohazardous or embarrassing he stepped to the side allowing Serene to enter. The night had caught up with them during the car ride home; Lestrade felt drained and Serene's eyes had begun to droop as he pulled into his parking spot. Lestrade shucks his coat and throws it on the hook in the hallway, he holds out his hand and Serene passes him hers. He likes the way they look together; it gives him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looks to Serene and she is leaning drowsily against his hall table.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." He takes her by the elbow and steers her through the living room into the small bedroom. The laundry is still on the floor but he had kicked it farther under the bed so it was no longer under foot. He shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the door of his wardrobe. Serene is sleepily kicking off her shoes and socks. He leans against the wardrobe watching her as pulls her jeans off, leaving her only in her long oxford shirt. She unwinds the scarf from her neck and drops it on the pile.

"Are you going to sleep like that?" she asks her voice lower with sleep. His stomach clenches at the sound. He laughs to himself, looking down at his slacks and dress shirt. Normally he doesn't sleep in anything, but given his company this feels presumptuous.

He closes the small gap between them and kicks off his shoes. He pulls back the sheets and takes Serene by the shoulders and gently lowers her to the bed. He joins her, still fully clothed; her body curled against him his arm behind her head. Being so close to him seems to rouse Serene, she looks at him her eyes more focused. She leans up and kisses him. He responds fingers of his free hand ghosting slowly down her abdomen. He finds the edge of lace and slips his fingers beneath. Serene gasps against his mouth and he slips his tongue quickly passed her lips. He grips her hand, as her other one knots itself into his dress shirt. Her body begins to lift as he strokes her and he kisses her more firmly pinning her to the mattress.

Serene felt she was melting into Greg; his heavy body holding her down and his dexterous fingers making her breath catch in her throat. She could feel her skin flushing, growing warm against his fully clothed body. They had been interrupted so many times before, she felt like a tightly pulled string and Greg was easily plucking notes from her. He bit her bottom lip and groaned as he felt her tighten. He held her more firmly against him and she couldn't remember the last time sex had felt so intimate. Lestrade pulled back and watched her. She felt her eyes focus on him, questioning why he had stopped kissing her when she felt him begin rocking his fingers inside her. Her eyes rolled back and she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as she fell over the edge of orgasm. When she found herself able to breath again Greg had released his hold on her. She was tucked by his side his lips pressed reverently to her temple. She turned into him, her hands going to his belt. Her body felt like liquid as she fumbled to return the affection. Greg took her hands and rolled her against him.

"Just go to sleep, you're tired." He murmured into her ear. She could feel the warm drowsy feeling creeping up from her toes. She rolled her hips, pressing her backside into his groin. He felt so hard and good pressed against her. A heavy hand dropped to her hips stilling her purposeful rubbing. "Serene, you're falling asleep"

Serene looked over her shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being so tightly wrapped around each other. "Only because you put the idea in my head."

Lestrade laughed as he began smoothing her hair. She felt so good in his arms. He felt her body still and relax she dropped easily into sleep. He watched her in the darkness of his bedroom. He heard his phone vibrate in the depths of his suit jacket; he sees the light glowing through the pocket. He moves from Serene, keeping his eyes on her as she resettles under the covers. He tries to walk soundlessly across the floor and extract his phone. The screen once again says "Private-Blocked" Lestrade inhales sharply through his teeth. This is not a call he can ignore, but as he looks back to Serene he realizes he may not be able to bear what it has to tell him.

He accepts the call using the empty space and whir of the phone connecting on the other end to sneak into the next room. He hears the click as he reaches his living room window.

"Good evening Detective, I do hope I am not interrupting anything" The older Holmes' voice drops in a melodious octave implying with it all that had just passed between Serene and him had been well documented by her Majesty's secret service.

"No."

"I meant what I said, Lestrade, I won't allow my brother to be in contact with an unknown."

"Dr. Laurent is not an unknown. She is a vetted consultant with the MET, which is more than I can say about Sherlock." Lestrade's statement is met with a moment of echoing silence and he suddenly feels he has played his hand poorly.

"One Hyde Park. Have you heard of it?"

"Posh set of flats."

"To say the least. The one Dr. Laurent resides in is worth approximately 30 million pounds. In case you were wondering Entomology does not pay that well even when one is a vetted consultant for the MET. I trust you will have more questions for the good doctor, perhaps once she wakes up."

"Did you call just to give me Serene's address?"

"It's Serene now, is it? No I called merely to confirm her location this evening. Despite my distrust I would like to spare her some... unpleasantness."

The line went dead and Lestrade was left looking out into the night. This was the second time Mycroft had given him this particular clue about Serene. It was clearly important to him. He felt suddenly more behind than ever before. He couldn't protect Serene from whatever was about to happen, from what was being uncovered with this case. He also couldn't bring himself to regret involving her, not entirely. She was asleep in the next room because of it, he would never have held her or kissed her. He couldn't regret it because he knew she was stronger than this, whatever was coming their way, looking out into the glowing darkness of the city he knew they would unmask it. Nightmares rendered helpless by the light of day.

He left his phone on the windowsill and returned to the bedroom. He stripped down to his underwear and climbed in next to her. She rolled into him, one long lean leg immediately slipping between his, tangling them together. Her long hair was already a mess around her, brushing against his skin. He found he had no comparison for this moment, nothing had ever felt like holding Serene against him, her body warm and soft with sleep. In the back of his head a thought writhed making his grip on her tighter as he fought to keep from giving it a name. Although it whispered to him in Katherine's voice, all this was too good to last.

Sherlock was roused from the blackness of sleep by a firm prod of an umbrella into the soft back of his knee. He jerked awake in the white swirl of sheets he'd crawled into barely an hour before. He turned his head to see Mycroft standing at his bedside.

"There was a woman here." Mycroft's tone drips with disgust. Sherlock buries his head beneath a pillow.

"THE woman was never here."

"Not her, you fool. The one seen leaving your flat at-" Mycroft consults a folder in his hands. "-2:17 this morning."

Sherlock groans into the mattress, his hands clenching the pillow tighter over his head.

"She was a courier, a courier. She brought me some of Lestrade's files."

"And yet you invited her up?" Mycroft barely dodges the pillow hurled haphazardly at him. "Really brother mine, I don't mind you having filthy habits I just want a say in the matter."

Sherlock lets out an irritated howl as he pulls the sheet up over his head.

"She came up, because I never went down. She had specific instructions to hand deliver them to me. She was here less than ten minutes, what do your guard dogs think of me?"

Mycroft punctuates each of his sentences with a firm jab of his umbrella, forcing grunts and swats out of his increasingly tormented brother. "They think that is enough time to bring you drugs. Did she get you high? Was it a danger night, Sherlock? Do I need to find you a new keeper?"

Sherlock sits up, the sheets falling into his lap, exposing his pale torso. "I have my work, Mycroft. I don't need anything besides that."

"Your doctor spent the night at Detective Lestrade's. I will remove her Sherlock, if she is having any sort effect on you."

"She isn't my doctor and I don't care where she spends her nights. If she isn't on the case she is of no use to me. Stop bothering me with meaningless details."

"Do I need to remind you who her benefactor is? Nothing about her is meaningless. And you, brother dear, look exactly like a man who cares."

Mycroft took a final stab, crucifying Sherlock's hand to the mattress. He knew without looking what his brother saw. The small red marks, faded with sleep from where he had been itching at the nicotine patches, the gummy sheen of where they had been before he had ripped them off. Finally, the gum and plastic were under his nails from clawing them from his skin. The ash spread about the apartment as he had smoked constantly from one of his hidden packets. He had been unable to focus last night, the case eluding him at every turn and the mocking silence of his flat. He had thought he worked better alone, but John had given him habits. Now John was gone and he was alone. It no longer suited him as it had. He had talked, paced and shouted at the TV screen until Mrs. Hudson had threatened to put up his rent for noise compensation. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

"If you've finished Mycroft -"

"Where is he, Sherlock?"

"Where is who?" Sherlock began rubbing the red mark on his hand sulkily.

"You know who, I know he is in the country, I know you spoke with him against my express instructions at the flat of Dr. Laurent, what I want to know is where you told him to go."

"Why? Lost audio on your surveillance?"

"You know as well as I do that they have mysteriously gone offline. Judging by what they did pick up you owe Dr. Laurent a new microwave."

"Does her Majesty know how you drain her MOD budget on chasing worn out billionaires?"

"He is a terrorist and a discredit to his country. Sherlock you have been taken in by something much bigger than yourself. For your own good tell me where you've sent him so I can clean up your mess. Again."

"Don't worry, Mycroft. I haven't been playing with your toys. If he's gone it's his own doing. He should be easy enough to find."

Mycroft, the wind taken out of his sails looks around disdainfully. Before parting he smiles sharply and inclines his head.

"I hope next time I see you brother mine you've found it in yourself to clean your room."

With that Mycroft walks from the room, leaving Sherlock to fall back into the abyss of sleep.