Author's note- wow, thank you for all of the reviews! They really mean a lot. We are so close to 100 reviews now and I can't believe it!

Right, I'm writing this chapter in honour of self harm awareness day, which was yesterday (1st of March.) Because originally I wasn't going to write today, but I thought I would.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Chapter 31

It was several days after the incident with Donovan at the station, and Lucy was still as bad as ever. She found herself cutting more and more since the first counselling session. The teenager had gone to her second session on Tuesday, and needless to say, it didn't go too well either. After just fifteen minutes she found herself so worked up and angry that she just got up and left without a word to Lisa. They had been talking about her parents again and how it had affected her and right now, Lucy just couldn't find herself able to deal with it all. It was too soon to be discussing how it was killing her inside, and Lisa pushed her too far to talk about why it influenced the cutting- so the teenager had walked out (John had dropped her off on his way to work and Sherlock was at the flat after a new case arose) and she went into the park with her blade in her pocket, found a secluded spot, and cut. Sherlock and John asked her how it went, but they already could guess so she didn't bother replying.

John had told Lucy of his experience with his therapist when he had returned from Afghanistan. But he had said that it was ultimately meeting Sherlock that had helped him. The thrill of the chase, the manic life that Sherlock had offered him... John said he saw the battlefield in it. As Mycroft had told him, John wasn't haunted by the war, he missed it. But as he said to Lucy- his therapist had helped him get through a large majority of things. Hearing John's tale had eased her worries about counselling in the long run, but she was still sceptical due to what it was doing to her now.

But she had been thinking about the advice Greg gave her, and she really did want to tell Sherlock and John how she felt. So yesterday, she had written a note explaining how she was scared that one day she would push them too far and they would hate her. Lucy had left it in the living room before she had gone to have a shower that night. It had been nerve racking, writing the note and leaving it there, so she was fighting to keep her breathing calm when she had finished her shower. Immediately- as she walked into the living room- Sherlock wrapped his arms around her gently.

"Never." He said simply, his voice conveying all the emotion needed. John had embraced her when Sherlock stepped back and had murmured:

"You have nothing to be afraid of. You're our friend, you're like family, and nothing you could do would stop us loving you any less."

She was glad she had taken Greg's advice.

That night she had listened to John's recollection of their case 'The Hounds of Baskerville,' that had happened a couple months prior to them meeting Lucy. She was fascinated by the case, but something kept niggling in the back of her mind.

Moriarty.

Sherlock said they'd had very brief interactions before. At a swimming pool where they almost got blew up. But other than that, he hadn't made an appearance since Lucy showed up. And yet, she found that hard to believe. Surely if he was so obsessed, he'd have shown up more than those few times? She didn't really know. All Lucy knew was that she could feel as though he'd show his face around soon and make his presence known. And right now she was scared as to what may happen.

Shaking off the thoughts from the previous day, Lucy was surprised to hear the door bell ring downstairs. Sherlock wasn't pleased by it and as soon as footsteps could be heard, he groaned- already knowing who it was.

"Brilliant." He grumbled. John was at work again so it was just Lucy and Sherlock at the flat. Sherlock had a new case from Lestrade, but it was only small and he was so close to finishing it already. In fact, as the consulting detective said, he hoped to be able to catch the criminal tonight in a specific night bar located in London. The criminal was a kidnapper who had recently took a young child from Regent's park late on Monday; but Sherlock had his homeless network on the case. They had found the man in particular and traced him back to a rough part of London. The child was suspected to be there, so when the man would go to his daily night bar, the police would go into the house, and hopefully find the child and Sherlock would capture the criminal in the bar and have Dimmock arrest him there and then. Speaking of DI 'Dim' (as Sherlock like to call him), Sherlock had been complaining about him for the past few days. He didn't like the fact that Lestrade was busy with another case which the DI had finished the previous day, and the consulting detective had been complaining that he couldn't take Dimmock's place. John had told him to shut up after every rant but he would still carry on.

The footsteps sounded near as the door opened and Mycroft Holmes entered the living room with his trademark umbrella swinging from his hand.

"Hello dear brother," he said in his silky voice as he invited himself in, "So sweet to see you again." His voice had traces of sarcasm but he smiled- although patronisingly- nonetheless.

"Hmm, speaking of sweet, we don't have any cake at the moment, so very sorry. Maybe Mrs Hudson has some downstairs if you haven't already eaten the lot." Sherlock told him with equal sarcasm. Mycroft didn't reply and instead sat himself down.

"Good to see you Lucy." He gave her a more genuine smile.

"Hello Mycroft," she replied with a grin- trying to not laugh at Sherlock's previous comment. Even though Sherlock didn't seem to like his brother much, Lucy however quite liked the elder Holmes' brother.

"Enough with the pleasantries, why are you here?" Sherlock sighed. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"I wish to speak with Lucy." He replied simply.

"No." Sherlock immediately said, his eyes narrowing.

"Sherlock..."

"No Mycroft. You can't."

"Why not?"

"Just... no." Sherlock glared at his brother. Turning to look at a rather confused Lucy he said: "Could you make us some tea?"

"Sure..." she muttered, thinking it better for them to decide whether or not Mycroft was allowed to talk to her. The young girl gave them a bewildered look before going into the kitchen.

Sherlock stood up and Mycroft followed him to where Lucy would be unable to hear. The elder Holmes regarded his brother with more kindness than usual, but kept his stance firm.

"Sherlock..."

"Don't start Mycroft." The consulting detective muttered. "Listen, if you tell her, then that will immediately put her in danger if I can't find a way to get around him."

"And if you were to have to make a last minute plan on that matter, how do you think it will affect her if you go through with it?" Mycroft folded his arms. "She will be in danger if we don't tell her, more so than if we did."

"I doubt that." Sherlock shook his head.

"You think John will be able to support her on his own?"

"He wouldn't be on his own." Sherlock told him, keeping his voice low. "There's Lestrade and... you- although I doubt you'll do much."

"I will do whatever I can." Mycroft looked a little insulted. "I may avoid caring as much as possible, but I care for her in the way I do for you or John. And what if it goes as we anticipate? Will Lestrade still want to help her?"

"Of course he will," Sherlock said, "He's a... good man. He won't turn his back on her."

"Good."

"You won't tell her."

"I won't."

"Really?" Sherlock raised a single eyebrow.

"Yes." Mycroft said firmly, "I still want to talk to her, but I won't say anything about it."

"What could you- of all people- possibly want to talk about with her?" Sherlock asked, confused at his brother's social side, "Are you going to chat about how the weather has been? Or talk about your ideal flavour of cake?"

"Hilarious." Mycroft muttered emotionlessly as they headed back through to the living room, "I want to merely ask how she has been."

"Fine. I have an experiment to finish." Sherlock muttered as Lucy came back, carrying a tray of drinks. Sherlock smiled at her as he took his.

"What do you say?" Lucy stopped him before he moved off. Sherlock looked at her with a disgusted face.

"Thank you." He grumbled as he walked away, giving her a glare over his shoulder.

"That's better!" She said patronisingly. Mycroft smirked as his older brother went off to his bedroom. Lucy laughed softly as she put the tray down on the table while Mycroft Holmes took a seat in John's chair and Lucy sat down in Sherlock's chair.

"Thank you," the elder Holmes' said pointedly as he picked up his cup of tea.

"You're welcome," the teenager said as she picked up her own cup and took a tentative sip of the steaming hot liquid. "There's biscuits there, feel free to help yourself. It's not like Sherlock is watching you, ready to take the Mickey." Mycroft smiled slightly as he helped himself to a custard cream. "So have you two finished your little dispute?"

"Yes, we have. No need to worry." Mycroft shrugged it off. "But I did want to ask how everything is going with Lisa." Lucy looked at him in surprise and amusement. The British government rolled his eyes and said: "Yes, I am genuinely asking you a question that could be read as seemingly caring."

"You're just as sarcastic as you little brother," she commented quietly. "And honestly? It's going pretty rubbish at the moment."

"How so?"

"It just seems to be making things worse at the moment... if you know what I mean." Lucy mumbled, and Mycroft knew exactly what she meant as he glanced fleetingly at her sleeved arms.

"Have you told Sherlock and John?

"No. But they know. Sherlock can deduce it of course." She muttered.

"Well I hope things eventually work out," he said, although Lucy could only just stop herself from laughing at how caring he was attempting to be. "Anyway, back to why I originally came. Look," he glanced towards the direction of Sherlock's room to make sure he wouldn't hear. "I don't want you telling Sherlock this. I can't tell you what I really want to say. But please Lucy... bear this in mind. Sherlock would do a lot for both you and John. Please... believe in him."

"You're being cryptic Mycroft." Lucy set her finished cup down and crossed her arms.

"Good." He smirked.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"No." He paused. "Do you trust Sherlock?"

"Yes." Lucy frowned, "Of course I do, he's the reason I'm alive."

"Good... that's good." Mycroft nodded, sensing Lucy's annoyance at the cryptic nature of this conversation but not explaining himself regardless.

"Oh for God's sake!" Sherlock yelled as he all but ran out of his room. "I knew there was something I missed!" He went into the living room where Mycroft and Lucy were looking at him in shock at his sudden outburst. Going over to his desk, he picked up one of the files from a cold case. "It's the wedding ring of course!" He shouted. "Stolen!" He turned to grin at the two people staring at him as he jabbed his finger to a particular point in a picture he held up. "How on earth did I miss that? It's so blatantly obvious it's stolen! Just look at the size of it, too small for her finger so the husband must have stolen it without thinking of the correct size. Besides, look at the way he keeps his clothes, as if he could afford a diamond ring that big, both of their clothes are from cheaper shops and are all over a year and a half old!" He took a breath, unable to control his beaming smile. "Well I'm glad that's solved." He picked the file up and walked back to his room with a spring in his step.

"What just happened?" Lucy queried with a giggle.

"I've learnt its better not to ask." Mycroft shrugged as he stood up and quirked the corners of his lips. "I best be off anyway, I'll see you around Lucy."

"Goodbye Mycroft," she murmured, still a bit miffed that he wouldn't tell her why he was really there.

"Goodbye brother dear!" Mycroft raised his voice as he walked out. Sherlock came out of his room and grunted his goodbye before putting a plastic container in the bread bin.

They spent the rest of the day watching re-runs of The Big Bang Theory. Lucy would constantly tease Sherlock that there were a striking amount of similarities between him and Sheldon- to which Sherlock would just poke her in annoyance.

"I'd like you to stay at George's house tonight." Sherlock said suddenly. Lucy looked at him with a half smile on her face.

"Who?" The teenager asked, trying not to laugh.

"George Lestrade, you're new apparent best friend." Sherlock frowned.

"Greg." Lucy started laughing, "It's Greg Lestrade." Sherlock huffed.

"It doesn't matter what his name is," Sherlock waved his hand impatiently.

"And what do you mean by 'apparent best friend'?" Lucy folded her arms.

"You two seem to get along very well; there wasn't a hidden meaning behind it." Sherlock said as though it was obvious, "Anyway, you're staying at his."

"Why do you want me to stay with him?" Lucy looked upset, "I want to finish this case with you."

"I know you do and I am sorry but John doesn't want you to." Sherlock said apologetically, "he's just worried as per usual because of the nature of this current case. Due to the fact that a young boy has been kidnapped, he is reluctant to let you go on this in case you get kidnapped as well, stupid because you are more than capable to look after yourself which you have proven so many times over the past week or so but nonetheless he has started to take the role of 'mother hen'." Sherlock barely took a breath as he rattled on.

"I understand."

"You do?" Sherlock frowned down at her, "I was expecting more of an argument than that."

"Well, I think considering everything that recently happened to me with the last case, it's understandable that John would be worried. Maybe its best- just this once- that I give in and let him have his way to ease his mind. But I will put up more resistance next time." She said the last line firmly.

"You're turning soft," Sherlock said with mild disdain.

"I'll harden up, I promise." She smirked and Sherlock nodded approvingly.

That night, Sherlock and John dropped her off at Lestrade's house on their way to the night club to catch their kidnapper. John had hugged her, but Sherlock was far too excited for pleasantries so he smiled said 'goodbye' and practically ran off back to the taxi, leaving Lucy and Greg laughing while John shook his head in disbelief.

It was just Greg and Lucy that night. The DI was surprisingly happy to have her over and babysit the troubled teenager. They started off by watching a marathon of series 5 of Doctor Who with Matt Smith, and they ended up trying out fish fingers and custard as soon as they saw the Doctor eating it in his first episode The Eleventh Hour. And the two of them actually found it rather tasty despite both of their presumptions. It was around nine o'clock when they ordered a Chinese takeaway. Sherlock hadn't been sure what time they would find the kidnapper as –although he would go to the bar every day – the timings were often all over the place.

"How has the counselling been?" Lestrade asked.

"Well I went for the second session on Tuesday and... well it went as bad- if not worse- than the first session." Lucy sighed as she took a bite of her sweet and sour chicken. "I ended up walking out after fifteen minutes. I couldn't stay... we were talking about my parent's again and... It just killed me."

"And what about the self harm? How's that been?" Greg sounded genuinely interested in how she was so she smiled at him.

"Worse I think." She replied with startling honesty. The DI looked a little worried. Lucy had brought over a small rucksack of things in case she had to stay over- it was full of clothes and her Doctor Who DVDs. But Lestrade looked like he was concerned something else was in it. Lucy, sensing what he was worried about, said: "I haven't brought anything over. I'm trying my best Greg. I don't want to do it round your house of all places." Her voice was soft.

"I'm sorry," he looked a little ashamed, "I was just... worried that I might cause it or something."

"You couldn't do that," She assured him. He gave her a half hearted smile, the concern still not fully gone.

After they finished their food, they went back to the living room to watch some more Doctor Who.

"Amazing how he found that painting the other day." Lestrade mumbled conversationally once the episode had finished. "It only took him... what... less than a day." It suddenly occurred to Lucy that he was talking about Sherlock instead of the Doctor so she said:

"That really expensive painting?"

"Yeah."

"He said it was so easy to find it was a wonder how even Anderson didn't know where it was." She paused, thinking. "Stolen wasn't it? They found it in the messy house of an ex-businessman. He used to be rich but then became redundant and lost all of his money to his ex wife and his children. Apparently he thought that the painting would win back the love of his ex or something ridiculous like that... unless he was planning to sell it." Lucy sighed. "I spotted a muddy footprint not too far from where the painting had been stolen. Sherlock had a look and suddenly he knew exactly what he was looking for. Amazing really."

"He's a bloody idiot at times but also a great man." Greg agreed.

"The Reichenbach Falls." The teenager said the name of the painting out loud. But then she laughed: "They gave Sherlock a gift of diamond cufflinks. He started to complain to John that he 'doesn't wear cuffs I wear buttons'." Lucy did a rather impressive imitation of the detective. "John told him to pretty much shut up and say thank you." She smiled at the memory of the other day. "All three of us got our pictures in the newspaper. That's a first. After all, the case that I was heavily involved in wasn't allowed to be published thanks to a certain member of the British government."

"Hopefully they can catch that criminal tonight without too much trouble." Greg murmured, "The press have been getting quite interested in them again."

"Yeah, we had some of the press outside our door yesterday about the Reichenbach Falls painting. They wanted quotes from all three of us. Sherlock didn't say much- we got our photos taken and then got into the cab he immediately managed to hail. I don't know why, but he's always successful at getting taxis as soon as we get near a road."

"Well I've been hoping that Sherlock can help the yard out. Heard of Peter Ricoletti? Probably not. He's a criminal who is Interpol's most wanted criminal since 1982 and we still haven't managed to get him. Sherlock wasn't saying something about him yesterday when he was doing a statement at the yard, he only mentioned it in passing- but there are hopes that he knows where to find the bastard." Lestrade looked a little hopeful. He looked at the teenager, "I really don't know what we'd do without him."

"Neither do I," Lucy smiled, "I don't want to think about not having him around."

That night, Lucy ended up staying over. Greg had a spare room next to his bedroom so she slept in there. Admittedly, while she was having a shower, the DI had checked every space in her rucksack- and he was embarrassed and ashamed to have done so. But he wanted to be sure. And Lucy had told the truth. He grinned- proud of the teenager. She hadn't brought any kind of blade with her, which meant she had probably not done it at all today. He was happy for her. And he knew that she was lucky to be so supported by both John and even Sherlock.

Greg Lestrade just hoped she could get better.

But even he was scared as to what may happen in the future.