Author's note- 110 reviews! Wow, thank you all so much! Thank you for the feedback. I agree that the last chapter was a lot better than chapter 34. I do my best with all of the chapters but it is so hard to keep it interesting while working out how to keep the pace good and work out how to fit Lucy in and remember all that happened in the TV episode!

On with the show eh?

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Chapter 36

Sherlock had left John to look after Lucy. The good doctor woke her briefly to get her to drink some water, but she seemed a little disorientated when she woke, so John thought it was best to leave her to sleep- although he made sure to check on her every so often. It had been very awkward for the detective when they had gotten back, Mycroft had insisted on inviting himself in and making sure that Greg stayed as well- both of which were much to the annoyance of Sherlock Holmes. The consulting detective glared at his older brother as John returned from looking after the troubled teenager

"Here John," Lestrade smiled at the man as he passed around the hot cups of tea he had made for them all.

"Cheers," John managed a smile as he let out a worn out sigh. There was a silence, and it hung heavy in the air. Mycroft leaned forward as he decided to break the silence:

"You may not want to hear it Sherlock, but you are supposed to be looking after that young life in there," he gestured gracefully in the direction of the teenager's bedroom. "I don't see how letting her wander the streets when you knew she'd be in a state is classed as looking after someone."

"She had nothing to hurt herself with, and she needed the privacy, Mycroft." Sherlock fought to control his angry tone of voice.

"And look how that went down. She was near hysterical." The elder Holmes stated.

"She will be fine." The detective snapped.

"Christ, Sherlock, do you even care about her? What has happened?" John asked.

"Nothing has happened, I just don't see why this is all my fault."

"You know, if you couldn't look after her you should have called one of us to come round and get her." Lestrade said quietly, "I've said before that I'm more than happy to look after her."

"I don't see why we're making a big fuss out of this." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It's pointless trying to reason with you," John muttered.

"There's nothing to reason about. She wasn't in any immediate danger. If she was, then I assure you that I'll have helped her in any way that I can." Sherlock reasoned. Mycroft observed his younger brother for a moment before nodding in understanding. It was obvious that John still wasn't exactly happy, but knowing that Sherlock would help if she was in great danger was a little reassuring.

"So how is she doing?" Greg Lestrade asked as he sipped his tea.

"She's actually doing quite well." John informed them, "Sherlock keeps an eye on how her self harm is going..."

"I checked today," Sherlock interrupted, "While she does still cut, it's nowhere near as bad as before. I think that counselling rubbish may be starting to help."

"And she seems happier in general." John finished. "I don't know what happened today though."

"Past emotions being sorely resurfaced due to the high threat of danger that none other than James Moriarty has brought in the form of a rigged jury and a verdict of not guilty. It most likely shocked and scared her considering how he has affected her in the past, and the uncertainty of what may happen this time isn't the nicest thought." Sherlock deduced in response to John's statement.

"Just remember to be careful Sherlock." Mycroft told him as he finished his cup of tea. Grabbing his trademark umbrella, the elder Holmes brother rose from his seat, bid everyone goodnight and showed himself out of the flat. Sherlock sighed, knowing that this could be a potentially dangerous game and he was already concerned about the possible outcomes.

Lucy awoke late the next day, feeling tired and sore all over. She felt so stupid. As she sat up, she groaned at herself, regretting all of the events and how she had acted. In fairness, she struggled to remember why she ran from them and why she ended up walking herself to exhaustion. It wasn't clear to her but she remembered the original cause. Moriarty. Her arms itched again. She was too tired to fight it. With slightly shaking hands, she retrieved her shiny blade and went into the bathroom. Pressing the blade to her skin, she breathed a sigh of relief, swiftly dragging the metal across, she felt the familiar sensation of calm as the blood bubbled to the surface and dribbled down her scarred skin. Lucy repeated the motion several times, again and again until she lost count. Maybe she was overreacting again. And already she was feeling the twinge of regret. She dropped the blade, cleaning up her arms with some tissues and water. As she assessed the damaged, she was a little shocked to see how deep some of them were. Hoping she didn't need stitches, she felt her arms shake slightly and she choked out a sob. Lucy didn't want to do this anymore, she desperately wanted to stop cutting up her skin, and she wanted to be rid of the urge to mutilate her own body to feel better. For a while she held tissues to the fresh cuts, willing the blood to stop flowing.

A sharp knock on the door startled her.

"Lucy?" Sherlock's voice called, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I'll be out in a minute." Guessing that Sherlock had moved back into the living room, Lucy went back into her bedroom and got changed, although she could still feel a bit of blood seeping out of one of the cuts. With a heavy sigh, she walked steadily to where John and Sherlock were sitting in the living room.

"Lucy, thank God, how are you doing?" John asked as soon as she came into the room.

"Feel a little tired and sore all over, but other than that I'm fine." She replied quietly. Sherlock observed her for a second before asking:

"How bad?"

"Huh?" Lucy looked confused.

"How bad?" He repeated, nodding his head towards her arm.

"Not bad." She muttered. John looked between them, realising what they were talking about with a sad smile.

"You need stitches don't you?" The detective queried, although it seemed more like a statement. The teenager said nothing, causing John to move over to her. She offered her arm, not bothering to argue. John rolled up the sleeve and sigh softly.

"I think we'll be okay with just butterfly stitches on a couple of them," he mused while taking a good look. John Watson retrieved his medical kit before proceeding to put the butterfly stitches on the worst cuts.

"What happened last night?" Sherlock asked.

"I honestly don't remember," Lucy answered. "I can't remember why I ran away or why I walked for forever. I don't remember why. I just know I couldn't cope with hearing Moriarty's verdict." Sherlock listened and nodded, knowing she was telling the truth.

"Lucy, next time," Sherlock started, leaning forwards to look her in the eye while John finished stitching her up, "Please, talk to one of us. I know I wasn't the most helpful person yesterday, but you could have seriously hurt yourself. Even if you run off again, if you were to go to Lestrade's or even to see Mycroft- then that would be better for everyone. Or you could just ask me or John and we'll take you to theirs. Just talk to us okay?"

"Okay, thanks," Lucy smiled at them. "And I'm sorry."

But after that one time, things seemed to be improving again. Lucy was determined to stop cutting and the counselling sessions were helping her to reduce it greatly over the following two months. She found herself surprised that they hadn't yet heard from Moriarty, but she hadn't let her guard down (and neither had Sherlock.) But for now, all three of them were happy. John was going to work regularly again to pay the bills, and he would often convince Sherlock to accept the cash rewards he received from his cases so they bought Lucy a laptop for some of her studies. In fact, the teenager spent a fair amount of her time reading over her text books and making notes, getting ready for the exams that were in several months time.

And yet, she knew it wouldn't last. Her cutting wasn't deep, she was eating reasonably well. But she couldn't shake off that feeling that something bad would happen. Sherlock had still been a little distant, although he did his best to look after her- whereas John was as mothering as ever. Something was off with Sherlock. And she was scared to find out what it was that was making him distant.

Author's note- I'm sorry for how this chapter turned out as well. It was kind of a filler so that I could properly start the rest of the Reichenbach fall events. Please stick with it and hopefully it will go okay!