Author's note: Hey everyone! I hope if you are reading this story that you are enjoying it. Please please leave a review to let me know how I am doing. I will be honest and say that I find it very hard to write if I do not get feedback because I end up feeling that it is not adequate enough. So please review! Also, when I am changing the P.O.V. I will let you know through brackets [], otherwise it will mostly be told through Adelaide's point of view (third person). Hope you all like this chapter!

[Mycroft]

He sat in his plain, yet organized office, taking care to read through the meticulously placed documents. There was a sharp knock on the wooden door, shortly followed after by Anthea, opening the door allowing a gentleman in a suit to look in.

"Sir," Anthea started, Mycroft, who was still looking over the paperwork, simply hummed in response. "Mr. Carson is here to talk about the case information you requested."

At the news of that, Mycroft allowed himself to set the documents back down on his walnut wood desk, turning his calculating gaze instead, onto the man whom Anthea had let into his office. He was a plain man, nothing really spectacular about features or personality, but those were the type of people who Mycroft chose to discretely follow his younger brother around.

Anthea was back on her phone as she shut the door behind Mr. Carson, while said man was approaching Mycroft with yet another set of papers Mycroft would have to read through before the day was done. Once the gentleman arrived at his desk, Mycroft held out his hand for the documents, after which he received, he gestured for the man to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

All was quiet in the office as Mycroft Holmes' eyes scanned over the documents, focusing on the key points of his brother's recent escapades. After he had skimmed over who they thought was financing the cabbie, he set the papers down, turning his blue eyes to the man sitting across the desk.

"Are we sure he was behind it?" Mycroft asked intensely.

The man nodded, "As usual, he had no contact with the cabbie Mr. Holmes had interactions with, but we were able to... question...some of the individuals we have found he had worked through."

Humming in frustration, Mycroft set the papers down on his already paper filled desk. He closed his eyes brought his hands up, almost like praying, to his face, fingers resting just under his nose. He felt a headache coming on after receiving this. The two men sat in a tense silence while the man behind the British government assessed all of his options. He grimaced when he narrowed it down to one option. Dropping his hands, he opened his eyes and immediately started to gather the paperwork he would need from off of his desk. He kept trying to think of any other option that he might have had, but always it kept coming back to this one.

She is not going to like this.

Sighing Mycroft stood up, soon after, the man followed suit, waiting for orders. Mycroft donned his suit coat and grabbed his umbrella, then opened his office doors. He was ready to start calling out orders so that he could have everything prepared. There was no time to waste.

Not looking back to the man following him Mycroft simply ordered "Go back to surveying Sherlock, let me know when he gets his next case and any details along with that. Also, see if that land lady will free up her basement suite."

The man nodded and rushed off.

"Anthea, order the car to be pulled around."

"Would you like me to come with you?" The woman asked, never looking up from her phone.

"No, this is something I will be able to take care of myself." He paused from his walking as an idea struck his mind. He looked back to his trusted P.A. "Do we have any lady fingers?"

[Adelaide]

Living in Dover was nice and quiet. Sure, there were plenty of tourists to see the cliffs, but over all the population was pretty small. It allowed Adelaide for a quiet life that after a few tumultuous years, she felt she needed.

It was a rare sunny day, and while the ocean breeze was picking her brown hair up, it was quite nice. She had just having gotten off of work at the local book shop, and had picked up some take out at the Red House Chinese restaurant, just a few blocks away from her home on Dour street.

The walk back to her flat while, was nice, was also uneventful. She avoided the clusters of tourists with ease and tuned out their chatter about the cliffs and all other unimportant details and gossip that they wished to talk about. Adelaide kept a steady pace and after a five minute's walk, was finally could see her little red door that let to number 54. The key hole was a tad rusted from the salty air that was constantly blowing against it, making it a bit of a challenge to lock and unlock each time.

After the normal struggle, the door finally opened and granted her entrance into her flat. Locking the door behind her, Adelaide walked into her front room, throwing her coat and keys onto the sofa, then she herself followed suit. She sat quietly, looking out her front window, while opening her box of take away. As always she processed her thoughts about today, which, as the usual answer came to, was boring. But boring was good. It meant that she wasn't becoming stressed out with life.

Not even halfway through her meal, Adelaide was brought out of her ponderings by a sharp rap on the door. Raising a questioning brow, she went to answer the door.

[Mycroft]

The drive from London to Dover was nearly two hours. In that one hundred and twenty minutes, Mycroft Holmes planned over thirty ways in which to convince his visitee to come out of hiding. Some of which plans were more extreme and forceful, should she choose to be stubborn. Though he highly doubted she would be. Mycroft stopped planning when hi driver announced that they had pulled up on Dour street. The politician took notice of how the quaint, if even a little shabby, the neighborhood was. He knew for a certainty that she must be bored in this town.

"Wait here." He ordered the driver as he started climbing out of the back. The lukewarm, wet air, mixed with the smell of sea water hit the man as he left the comfort of his automobile. He sighed and straitened up his grey suit coat and firmed his grasp on his trusty black umbrella, then proceeded to march over to number 54.

Using the crook of his umbrella to knock on the chipping red door, he took the time to notice how much care the woman had taken into keeping the weeds at bay from the walkway to her door, very bored indeed. He heard light foots steps treading down a staircase, judging by the pace. A few more footsteps then he could hear the deadbolt unlocking on the door.

When the door gently opened, the familiar woman who was no older than 25, height about 5' 10", with mixed brown hair, and bright green eyes, stood there. Mycroft watched with a bit of humor as her eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed, not angrily, but in a calculating manner, before she addressed him.

"Mycroft." She smiled pleasantly at him.

He took this time to look over her. She had not gained any weight, suggesting that either she was active or that she was simply not eating as much due to too much thinking, which he assumed would be the latter on account of the fact that she did not look to be toned. Her brunette hair was the normal waviness when she did not do anything to it, she was not trying to impress anyone nor did she have any friends here that she care about. Her smile was preposterously big, letting him know that, she missed him, and she was also excited for his arrival.

"Adelaide, how are you?"

"Lady Fingers?" She smirked, cutting the pleasantries.

"They are your favorite if I recall." Mycroft responded pleasantly, pulling them out of his inner coat pocket before handing her the package of biscuits.

She smiled as she grabbed them and then moved out of the opening of the door to let the him into her small flat, which was unnecessarily tidy. After climbing up the stair case and moving into her front room, his old friend offered him to take the chair across from the sofa. To which he obliged, the taller man walked over and rested in the chair while the woman sat on the sofa, curling her legs up under her. Mycroft spun his umbrella in his hand, thinking about which plan he was going to take first. After a few moments he decided to be straight forward and not waste any time.

"Adelaide, it's time to come out. Mr. Redford has been incarcerated for over a year now, and there is no chance that he will be getting out." He explained, "and with no further reason to hide, I believe it is time for you to move back to London."

Frowning, Adelaide stared at her old friend, "Sorry, but I have a job and a life here Mycroft."

"I figured you would use your petty job as an excuse, so I have taken the liberty of helping you resign from the book store just last hour." He informed her, feeling bored about this topic.

"Mycroft Holmes!" Adelaide started scolding him, obviously offended that he had gone around her to quit her job.

"Dear Adelaide, if I can be quiet frank, I set this life up for you so that you could feel safe, now the time has come where you no longer need to hide away. It is quiet obvious as well that you are terribly bored, judging by the obscene cleanliness of your flat. The only reason you are opposing this is because you are afraid of what Sherlock will think. Which I can assure you, though he does not know now, he needs you to assist him."

Taking a moment to think about what he had said, Adelaide responded "First, I still do not appreciate quitting for me, second, Sherlock has no use of me. He has done well without me these past ten years, I am doubtful that he will need my assistance now."

Mycroft's lips tightened as he read through what she was trying to say, which was that she was scared to go back and face his younger brother after not seeing him for so long.

"My brother, while he may not like to admit it, does have compassion, and though it will take a while for you to get back in his good graces, I have complete faith that you will." He said in the kindest voice a Holmes could muster. Noticing that she was still hesitant he also let her in on another reason as to why she had to some. "It has to do with Moriarty."

Adelaide leaded back in her chair, Mycroft had emailed her what little information they had on Moriarty for her to psychoanalyze. She had informed him a little over a month ago that she was not able to pull much from the documents other than his psychopathic nature, and some of the ways he operates. Some of the information had been useful, in assisting them to finding some of the lackey's that Moriarty worked through.

He watched his friend as her green eyes looking around her flat while she was assessing the situation and how she felt.

"It is rather tidy in here, isn't it?" She mumbled, knowing now that she was needed.

"Perhaps even neater than mine." Agreed Mycroft while he stood up, pleased with the fact that there was not much argument on this point. "There is no need to pack your things, just grab your coat and we will be off."

"You already called the movers, didn't you?"

"They arrived just three minutes ago."

Chuckling, Adelaide stood up and walked over to Mycroft, hugging him around his torso. Mycroft, having grown used to this woman and her incessant, but charming need for physical touch, only hesitated a moment before hugging her as well.

"It's been a minute since I've last seen you." She said, still hugging the slightly taller man.

"About six months." He responded, letting go of the embrace as she did.

"Are we off?" She asked, grabbing her navy blue pea coat out of the closet.

Mycroft nodded, opening the door for her as they both walked out of the flat together.

"Did you know that I was coming to collect you? You seem unusually accepting of this." He questioned as the movers moved past them and into her house to start packing up her things.

"Well, I just was reading an fascinating blog about an, ' arrogant, imperious, pompous" flat mate that a Doctor John Watson recently acquired." She explained stepping into the car and sliding across the black leather seats to make room for him.

"Ah, I take it you read, 'A Study in Pink' then." Mycroft climbed in after her. "It really is a rather romanticized blog, but I guess that is to be expected from most people."

"Of course. Though the doctor seems to be a rather intelligent, thrill seeking individual. Which is good for your brother Anyways, when I read the name Moriarty, I figured I had about a week until you were at my door."

Mycroft frowned, pulling on the cuffs of his suit. "The faceless man, I take it that the psychoanalysis of our consulting criminal has not gone much further?"

Huffing Adelaide replied, "It's not as if I had much to go off of Mycroft, a name, the people that he works through, and a small number of cases we were able to track down. We don't even have a photograph. Right now all I can tell you about him is that he is clever, possibly just as clever as Sherlock, judging by the 'cases' he has taken, he is getting bored with untidy plans so he seems to be going after the psychopaths, because they are generally the more tidy and well thought out murderers, and just hiring the lower functioning sociopaths before he has them, I think as he would say, put down." She paused for a moment, taking a few seconds to process more information, "Now that Sherlock has heard the name, Moriarty, and it has been blogged, I have no doubt that said psychopath will be planning a game of wits against him, but seeing as how he needs to make sure everything is planned out, it may take anywhere from 3 to 5 months, depending on how anxious he gets."

"Which is why you will be moving into the flat just below brother dearest." Mycroft stated, surprising the woman, "Do not look so shocked Ms Holt, Sherlock may be intelligent when looking at evidence, but he does not understand the way people's minds work, which is why he will need you there when Moriarty decides to come around."

"In the flat below him?!" Adelaide started getting worked up "Mycroft! I haven't seen him in ten years and now you want me to just pop back into his life?!"

"Obviously," he said dully, pulling out his phone to make sure the arrangements were made, "It will make it easier for me to keep an eye on the both of you if you lived in the same vicinity."

"Oh thanks mum," She bit out, "I don't even have enough money to live in London!"

"All expenses will be paid for," Mycroft turned to give a slight smile to her before pulling a bank card out of his coat pocket. "The rent is taken care of, and this is for anything else that you might be needing... within limits of course." He eyed her seriously.

She looked at the card with a bit of fire in her green eyes "Are you making my job be to babysit your brother?"

"No, John Watson seems to be doing a good job of that. I am making your job be exactly what you've wanted, to be a criminal psychologist while working alongside an old friend."

She thought his word over for a moment before grabbing the card, "Just so you are aware, I will be purchasing whatever comes into my mind."

Sighing, Mycroft told the driver to take them to 221 baker street, after which the two fell into a companionable silence. Both thinking about what the outcome of Adelaide's arrival would be.

[John]

"JOHN! HELP!" The doctor heard his flatmate shout as soon he opened the front door. Immediatly, the army veteran dropped the groceries on the floor, and rushed up to the shared flat, adrenaline coursing through him. He had pulled his gun out from the back of his trousers, ready to fire. He pushed open the door to the flat, John checked the area onlyto see Sherlock sprawled out on his arm chair staring up at the ceiling, looking almost lifeless.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John asked walking towards the man cautiously.

Suddenly, Sherlock's head lifted up as he looked at the doctor.

"Of course I am not alright! I haven't had a case in ages! My mind is rotting!" The consulting detective dramatically proclaimed.

"Are you-" John shuffled angrily on his feet before pointing his finger at the man, "I thought you were dying Sherlock."

"My mind is." Sherlock said before turning to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Put your gun away John, we aren't in a war here."

"This is not a game!" John yelled. "I thought you were being attacked!"

"A game sounds lovely, what about cluedo?" Sherlock ignored the doctor, perking up in his seat.

"Oh boys!" Ms. Hudson called up from the bottom of the stairs, putting a pause on their argument, "Can you please pick up the shopping, our new renter will be here soon."

The men looked at each other puzzled before they both walked over to the door, looking down the staircase to their land lady.

"New renter?" John asked.

"Yes, she'll be here any minute. I told Sherlock hours ago." She replied before walking back into her flat.

"Hmm, I don't recall her coming up. Must have been while I was experimenting on the arm..." Sherlock muttered, looking down the stair case before trying to move back to his seat.

"Oh no you don't," John said, trying to ignore the fact that his flat mate conducts experiments while he is away, "Come help with the shopping."

Groaning but not resisting, Sherlock followed John down the stairs as they both began to pick up the groceries. Soon the argument started up again as Sherlock had made comments to John on how he needed to be entertained, and John arguing about how being bored does not classify as an emergency.

"I'm not some pet here to entertain you Sherlock! I won't just come running every time you are bored." He felt very heated as he waved a loaf of bread in his flatmates face. This had happened on more than one occasion over the last week without a case.

"You're too simple to really entertain me John," Sherlock responded.

John was ready to throw the bread at Sherlock before a voice sounded behind them.

"Now that's not very polite." A female voice broke between the argument as both men looked up to the woman who had opened the door and listened to their conversation a bit.

John did not recognize her, though she was very pretty. She was a bit on the tall side and her brown hair fell past her shoulders. Her green eyes stayed locked on Sherlock though as both men stood up from their original crouched position.

"Oh! Sorry, you must be the new renter, I'm John Watson," The doctor said a bit flustered holding out his hand to greet the woman.

She looked at him and smiled while grasping his hand "Adelaide Holt."

He watched as she turned to his flatmate, who, surprisingly, was giving her a cold stare that would put the way he looked at Agent Anderson to shame.

She opened her mouth to speak but was halted from doing so.

"Leave." He stopped her from uttering a word to him, then he promptly marched up the stairs leaving the doctor, the woman, and the shopping.