Author's note- Sorry this took a while to get up, I've been on holiday! Oh and I got my GCSE results the other day and for anyone who's interested I achieved 4 A*'s, 4 A's and 4 B's.

Thank you for the reviews. To the anonymous reviewer, I will be adding Mary in the story and for a few chapters I will be exploring her relationship with Lucy and some moments after Sherlock's 'death.' I feel it would be important, although I won't be writing millions of chapters in between. With the self harm description, I really wanted to get across the it is very habitual- and the way I keep on doing the same description for it shows how she's so used to doing it she just does it in the same way without thinking. I'm not sure how to change the description of it but I will continue to focus on it and perhaps explore it more- so wait and see!

To .161446, I will be focusing on the eating disorder side of this probably more after Sherlock's death, but I will be exploring it more. And also, Lucy hasn't 'gotten over her cutting' she still does it, just less than before. I did this for a reason, to show how she started to make progress. But trust me, if I haven't made it clear enough- she has by no means 'gotten over it.' I for one should know that it isn't that simple. Thank you and here's your 20 day late update!

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Chapter 44

Needless to say, a certain dark haired teenager was really not enjoying the glances her flatmates were giving her- despite the fact that they did have the decency to try and hide it. They knew she knew something, but Lucy would rather they found out another way, after all, she didn't even know what to believe and would hate to relay false information. From inside her pocket, her phone vibrated. Checking it swiftly, it turned out to be from Greg Lestrade. It read:

Please Lucy, where are you? I need to know you're alright.

-Greg x

Lucy hated to ignore it, but she had no choice. She couldn't risk giving her whereabouts away, not when it jeopardised the safety of Sherlock. Speaking of which, the detective had since led them up to a door. The house itself appeared to be unoccupied at the present time. But Sherlock didn't care; he found his way into the house in a heartbeat. They made themselves comfortable on the white sofa in the living room.

"Who is Rich Brook?" Sherlock asked aloud. He received no response. With careful eyes, he stared at the teenager. "I know you know."

"I don't want to say." She managed to mutter through gritted teeth.

A certain Kitty Riley turned up not too long afterwards. Her shocked face turned towards the trio as she entered the room. Sherlock was obviously talking to her in quite a rude manner, but Lucy had long since zoned out.

The stings of the cuts from earlier were one of the few things keeping her grounded. And the hunger pains in her starved stomach gave her enough pain to distract herself from picking up something sharp there and then and stabbing herself with it repeatedly. Sometimes her dark thoughts scared her. But she wasn't herself without them.

"Who is your client?" She heard Sherlock half shout half growl.

And it was then, in a ridiculously well timed moment, that none other than James Moriarty himself decided to make an entrance mumbling about tea.

"Rich Brook is James Moriarty..." She heard John say incredulously, after having zoned out again in shock. "You knew this Lucy?" John turned to her and she could barely move. The teenager managed a small nod, and Sherlock glanced at her once in surprise, hurt and anger; though whether he was angry at her she couldn't tell. But, most befuddling of all to Lucy, was how well this man had his story mapped out, and how well rehearsed it seemed to be. She'd heard this all before obviously. And yet, it was still almost enough to make her change her mind and question everything she thought she knew about Sherlock Holmes.

"You have to believe me," He begged, hands together, his hair all scruffy, "Even Lucy knows the truth, she knows! She knows you made me try to hurt her. It's all over now."

"Stop it! Stop it now!" The detective's usually cool and calm exterior had shattered, leaving an angry man in its place. It scared Lucy, he hadn't spoken a word before that moment- something extremely unusual for the detective- and suddenly he shouts. This wasn't like Sherlock at all. There was something wrong...

In a split second however, before anyone had a chance to blink, Moriarty had turned around and bolted from the room- presumably out of the window. Sherlock and John had stormed out after having Kitty growl 'you repel me.' Lucy stopped however and took a good look around the place. The whole room seemed... wrong. It was like it was all staged. Mind you, that would go along very well with this whole actor story. Lucy ignored Kitty Riley, and instead walked over to the candles on one side of the wall. There was one missing. And, if it was to fit with the other candles in her home, it would be the exact same type and colour as the one they found in the abandoned sweet factory. Coincidence? Lucy narrowed her eyes at the journalist.

"Problem?" The ginger haired lady asked rather rudely.

"Yes actually, you're my problem." Lucy responded. The lady looked taken aback at the teenager's tone.

"Well, you're just like Sherlock then. Rude, arrogant..."

"You are a little piece of shit." Lucy said matter of factly, cutting her off midsentence before storming out of her house, slamming the door behind her.

"That felt good." She said to her flatmates as she reached them in the street.

"What did?" John Watson frowned.

"I told her that she was a little piece of shit." Lucy smiled.

"Well done." John congratulated smiling, usually he was opposed to that kind of behaviour, but in this case, he felt very proud of the young girl.

"Sherlock," Lucy started tentatively. "For what it's worth, I don't believe Moriarty. James Moriarty is real."

"Why didn't you tell us who Rich Brook was then?" Sherlock muttered, facing her with cold eyes.

"At the time, I was worried, scared that what he said was true. But I'm not now." She admitted, "Because nothing, absolutely nothing could stop me from believing in you. I know you wouldn't do those things; you don't have it in you to order something to harm anyone or me. You aren't a psychopath. Hell, you aren't even a sociopath! Do you know why? Because you care too much. You may not admit it, but you care about people." Sherlock's eyes warmed and softened at this.

"There's something I need to do. Alone." He said after a pause, he looked sad and defeated. And both Lucy and John had half a mind to go with him in case he did something stupid... but they let him go, alone.

"Where do you think he's going?" Lucy asked in a small voice once Sherlock had gone out of sight.

"I have no idea. There's no telling with that man." John looked down at her. "Come on, let's get something to eat, you haven't eaten all day."

Lucy shot him a glance, but he didn't pay any attention as he practically dragged her to a small cafe quite close to Baker Street.

"Do you think it's safe to be close to home?" Lucy grumbled.

"It's Sherlock they really want." John pointed out. "We should be fine." He paused, "What are you having to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry..."

"Stop it."

"John..."

"No." He said softly, but firmly, "I'm not having you fall ill. Now choose something bigger than a salad, and eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Fine, then I'll order for you." John Watson gave her a look as he got up to place their order. Lucy ignored him as he sat back down again. "You aren't doing yourself any favours." He said quietly.

"You need to keep your nose out of my business." Lucy snapped, "You don't understand."

"I reckon I understand quite well," John mumbled.

Their food arrived. John had a burger and chips, and it looked like he'd ordered the teenager a jacket potato with cheese and beans piled on top. She gave him a murderous glare.

"If only looks could kill eh?" He smiled cheerfully as he dug into his burger. Damn John Watson for being so damn cheerful and happy despite the situation. Slowly, Lucy reluctantly started to eat small bites of her food, making sure to chew each bite plenty of times. Truthfully, she'd never properly starved herself. A day or two without food, yes, but not enough to seriously injure her or make herself fall ill. She'd always been very careful.

John had watched her eat, much to her annoyance. She knew he meant well, even though he didn't really go about it all the right way. Lucy had ended up eating half of her jacket potato and filling and the small salad it came with. It was enough for John to be happy, and more than enough to make her feel fat and sick. However, her phone vibrated again in her pocket, she took it out and read the message.

Lucy please, just... tell me you're okay. I'm worried. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I had to do that to you and Sherlock. I didn't want to. Just please let me know you're alright.

-Greg x

She felt awful. Remembering what had happened only hours ago, she realised with horror that she told him she hated him. No wonder he was so apologetic.

"John..." She started. "Can I phone Lestrade?"

"Why?" He asked. She showed him the text. "Well it's nice to know he still cares and that he's probably still our friend..." John sighed, "Yeah phone him." Lucy smiled thankfully as she went outside, letting John pay for their food, as she dialled the number for the detective inspector.

"Hello?" His tired voice answered.

"Greg it's me, Lucy." She said softly.

"Oh Lucy! Thank goodness I was so worried!" He sounded relieved.

"I just called to let you know that I'm alright," She murmured. "And I'm so sorry Greg..." her voice broke.

"Hey now sweetie, what on earth are you sorry for?"

"For saying that I hated you." She sniffed. "I really don't hate you. I like you, I love you. You're my friend and I'm sorry I said that."

"There's no need to apologise. I'm sorry too; I didn't want to have to do that back at the flat."

"It's alright; you were doing your job."

"Are you with John and Sherlock?" He asked.

"I'm with John." She said as the ex army doctor walked out to stand beside her, "I need to go now. I'll be in touch soon." She hung up before he had a chance to reply or ask any more questions.

"Sherlock just texted me." John mumbled. "Said he wanted us to go to Bart's whenever we could. He's been on his own for quite a while now." It was still night time, and the cool air nipped at John's cheeks, he sounded worried. "I'm not sure what he's doing but he was pretty distressed when he stormed out of Kitty's house."

"What do you think is going to happen now?" Lucy asked, referring to the Moriarty mystery and Sherlock.

"I have no idea." John gave her a sad smile.

Author's note- I understand this is short and not up to my usual quality, but I didn't have much time to write and this was a hard chapter to do. Anyways, next couple of chapters will have everything come to a head!

Please review.