Molly was back within an hour with Rachel's suitcase, camera bag and a myriad of other things that Rachel had brought on her trip. Sherlock, without thinking to help, motioned her up the stairs with the items. John, who had only just arrived, rushed over to Molly's side to help her up the stairs. He took a load from her arms and ran up the stairs, skipping steps.

Rachel was sitting on the sofa, now sipping a cup of tea that the kind Mrs. Hudson had brought up after Sherlock's shouting. Rachel had taken a liking to Mrs. Hudson, she found her funny, and caring. She had a blanket draped over her shoulders, and Mrs. Hudson had her hand on Rachel's shoulder while listening to the past week of her life as she retold everything to John.

"There must be a reason she alone can put Mycroft on high alert." Sherlock directed his comment to John. John sat in his chair, befuddled.

"So, you're telling me, that this poor girl is the reason the nation is now on a silent alert?" John was perplexed. He occasionally received notices from his military buddies about current alerts. Obviously he had been informed of some sort of goings on within the ranks. "Any ideas?"

"Four, so far." Sherlock was back at the computer typing. His frustration was growing as it was apparent he was not getting the results he had hoped for in his searches.

"Care to share, Sherlock?" John was irritable.

"Nope."

"Right, well then. I must be off. Mary will be wanting help with the baby, no doubt." John rose from his chair and stood in front of Rachel offering a hand. Rachel obliged, and shook his hand. "Let me know if I can do anything for you. I know exactly what it will be like living above Sherlock. I will remove that cast for you in about four weeks. It seems to be healing quite well."

"Thank you, Mr. Watson." Rachel was indeed very grateful for all the help he had provided.

"I'll be leaving too, I suppose." Molly's voice came from the doorway.

Rachel had entirely forgotten she was here. She was too transfixed on Sherlock to notice much of anything, really. She jumped up off the seat and rushed over to where Molly was. "Thank you so much for everything. I am so sorry that I got you into such trouble." She embraced her friend.

"No trouble at all. I enjoy helping a friend. I just wish we could have gotten some answers for you." Molly returned the hug.

"Should have consulted a professional." Sherlock's voice said from behind Rachel.

"Good luck with him. All the years I've known him and he's always been like that. He seems to notice everything but what you want him to." Molly let her bitterness be known.

"Your hair suits you well, Molly." Sherlock groaned out.

Rachel giggled. It was the first laugh she had all day. It was nice to know that Molly had gotten some recognition from the man she seemed to be so fixed on. "Be safe." Rachel offered one last hug before Molly went out the door. Rachel went back to the sofa, putting the blanket back around her shoulders. Mrs. Hudson must have left in the last flurry of activity. She was alone with Sherlock now.

She sat there for several minutes, watching the man before her. His eyes sparkled several rich colors of blue, green and flecks of gold. His chiseled cheekbones stood out as a bold feature on his face. She couldn't help but to stare at him. She felt a shudder down her spine, not knowing whether it was from cold, shock, her injuries, or her growing attraction to Sherlock. No, I will not allow myself to go there. I cannot allow myself.

Sherlock walked over to her, handing her an iPhone. "You'll be needing this. I always keep a spare, and I'm assuming yours was lost in the crash." He sat across from her now, unmoving, fingers steepled under his chin. He was simply staring at her and taking in her features. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes. Much like 'the woman'. Smart, cunning, photographer, observant. large eyes, anglo nose, strong jaw, slight frame, beautiful. No, don't allow yourself there, Sherlock. Focus. The possibility is there. strongest yet. Sherlock left the chair and went back to his computer. He sat down once again typing. He pulled up a picture of King George VI, Czar Nicholas II and William the Conqueror. Striking similarities, but no proof. He sat back in his chair, his right arm supporting his head, while his fingers massaged his chin and occasionally lips.

Rachel was transfixed. She bit her lip while watching him. She found similarities between the man before her and herself. She would often find herself so consumed in her work that she would ignore other people around her. It was one of the things that Jason hated about her. Jason. She looked down at the phone in front of her. She logged into facebook on the phone and several notifications immediately filled the screen. All of which were messages from Jason.

11:46 a.m. What is going on?

11:46 a.m. Haven't heard from you…

12.22 p.m. Rachel?

12:42 p.m. Rachel!

1:04 p.m. Whatever

1:37 p.m. You are doing this again to me.

2:02 p.m. Why must you always shut people out?

2:07 p.m. Rachel, I'm sorry, but I just cant do this anymore. I can't handle you shutting me out again and ignoring me. I don't deserve this. I tried to help you. I really did, but you are so blind to what others need that you never noticed all that I had managed to do for you.

2:09 p.m. I will bring your stuff to your apartment and leave the key.

2:09 p.m. Goodbye

Rachel sat staring at her phone. She felt nothing. No heartbreak, no disappointment, no tears. She felt relief. She got up off the sofa and walked over to where Sherlock was. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, for helping me find answers." She bent down and lightly touched her lips to his cheeks. "I'll be going up to my room now and putting my things away. I'm sure I'll be hearing from you if you might need anything."

Sherlock sat unmoving. She had surprised him. The small kiss had sent a tingle down his back. The sincerity of it was something new. Irene had done similar, coincidentally in the same seat as where he was now. But the feeling that it cause was entirely different. Where Irene had left suspicion, Rachel had left curiosity. It had been quite some time since a woman had made him feel anything other than mistrust. He turned his head and watched her leave the room. His eyes scanned her body, as if he were reading a book. 36-24-38. Just as simply as he had done with the woman he did with Rachel. He would be needing this information for what he had planned later.

Rachel made her way upstairs, taking in the room that would be hers for the foreseeable future. A full size, metal framed bed was to left as she walked into the room. On either side of that were two wooden antique night tables, small details of flowers carved into the two drawers. Stepping further into the room, she saw a lamp on both the night stands, a braided rug in front of the bed, a door that lead to the private bathroom with a large claw foot bathtub and a door leading to the small closet. There was a dresser, matching the nightstands with a cd player on top opposite the bed on the far wall, and a large, red antique chair to the right of the dresser, positioned in the corner next to one of two windows covered in lovely curtains that were to the left of the door. She found the room to be cozy. Mrs. Hudson must have done some work in here. The bed was freshly made, a dark brown comforter with flecks of red and gold embroidery covered the bed.

Her suitcase was on the bed. The purple printed Vera Bradley had been a gift from her mother for her senior year of university. She approached the bed and unzipped the bag. Her clothes were all neatly folded thanks to Molly. She smiled at the nice gesture, appreciating the time it must have taken her. She found it nearly impossible to accomplish even the most simple of tasks with her arm mending. She carefully took the clothes out and arranged them on the bed. She had brought some of her favorite clothes, a grey, double breasted peacoat, several scarves, sweaters in various colors, jackets, almost anything she might need while in London. The second suitcase contained shoes which she carefully arranged on the floor of the closet. She tucked her underwear carefully away in the dresser drawers and hung the clothes in the closet. The scarves were rolled and put into another drawer in the dresser.

She had been so busy that she had failed to notice Sherlock's quiet presence at the doorway. She turned from the dresser and let out a sound that could only be described as a squeak as she jumped when she saw him leaning against the door frame. "You startled me." She put her free hand to her chest as she leaned forward a bit to catch her breath.

"That was not my intention." He stepped into the room, approaching the bed and picked up her suitcases. "I came to help." She stepped out of his way as he put the empty cases on the top shelf of the closet.

"Thank you, I would have never been able to do that on my own." She sat on the chair, watching him.

"Clearly." He stepped out of the closet. "Normally, I don't eat while on cases, but yours, I'm afraid is at a standstill until I can acquire something." He moved closer to her, standing directly in front of the chair now. "Would you accompany me to dinner?" He offered his hand to her.

She was starving, if she was to be honest with herself. She wished she had actually ate the breakfast that was served to her at the hospital today. "I'd love to." She accepted his hand as he helped her upright. The touch of his skin on hers jolted her, and her heart quickened. She told herself it was because she was dizzy from standing too quickly. Looking directly into his eyes, she noticed no change in his expression and was silently relieved. "Just give me a moment to change into something more appropriate for the weather?"

Sherlock moved to her closet, selecting her cream colored, cowl neck cable knit sweater. "This should do just fine with the trousers you are wearing" He said while placing the sweater on the bed. He offered the slightest smile as he tucked his hands behind his back and exited the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

She appreciated the help in selecting clothes. She had no idea what would have been appropriate where they might have been going. She unbuttoned the grey sweater she had been wearing and pulled the cream one over her head, working her arms into the sleeves as carefully as possible. She looked at herself in the mirror, somewhat satisfied with the look. She pulled a pair of brown boots that fit just below the knee out of the closet and put them on, tucking her jeans into them. She freshened her makeup, applying some eyeliner and mascara and the slightest bit of shadow. Running her fingers through her hair, she walked out the door, checking to make sure the phone he had given her was secure in her pocket.

She found Sherlock waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, and he motioned her down the next set. He followed her out the front door.