Gwen entered the room again only hours later, to find that John was now sitting at his desk and typing up a blog post, while Sherlock had not moved from his spot on the couch. This time Gwen came in dragging one small suitcase with her.
"Is that all of your things?" asked John in surprise.
"Yes," she affirmed.
"Why do you have a bad relationship with your parents?" Sherlock asked, his dark eyes focused intently on the girl.
"Why do you say that?" she asked. Interestingly enough, Gwen seemed to be more curious than defensive, like most people tended to be when Sherlock said such things.
"Your clothes and your suitcase," said Sherlock simply. Gwen cocked her head, obviously waiting for more of an explanation. Sherlock slowly rose to a sitting position.
"Your clothes- very nice, obviously expensive, but your shirt is just a bit too large which means that it was likely a gift. Add that to your age, and that means wealthy parents. The fancy jewelry means they are not only wealthy parents but wealthy parents who are willing to spoil you. Yet when you come to live in a small flat for an undetermined amount of time, you bring a very small suitcase. So, why would a young rich girl not bring plenty of clothes and accessories? Because she does not get on with her parents and so does not want to rely on them or owe them for anything."
John was stunned and he looked intently at Gwen, wondering how much of what Sherlock said was true, and how she would react.
"Incredible," said Gwen softly. John's eyebrows rose slightly. This girl sounded rather like... well rather like John himself did when Sherlock was being his normal, brilliant self. "That was incredible. All very true of course."
"So why do you have a bad relationship with your parents?"
"Oh I'm sure you'll figure that out as well," teased Gwen gently, "Eventually."
In the weeks that followed, life at 221B Baker Street became a bit different but- true to her word- Gwen did not get in the way much. While it was strange to have an extra body in the apartment, Gwen generally remained quiet and allowed Sherlock and John to go about their business as usual.
Mrs. Hudson was rather flustered by the fact that such a "sweet, young girl" was sleeping on the couch, but Gwen managed to smooth things out. John almost felt bad himself that she was sleeping there, but he forced himself not to care. He still didn't trust her after all. And she had been the one that forced herself on them, not the other way around.
Still, John wondered what she hoped to get out of it. He tried to learn more about her, watching her and hoping that perhaps just once he would see things the way that Sherlock did. Perhaps the styling of her hair would tell something about the size of her family, or her nail polish would signify her grades in school.
But no such luck. John had no 'Sherlock' epiphanies, though he truly did his best to observe her as best he could without talking to her.
Every morning when John woke up, he would come down the stairs to find Gwen already awake, dressed, showered, and generally making herself breakfast. Gwen was always very polite and would say good morning, but that was as much contact as she initiated. John found himself sometimes watching her from across the room, peering out from behind his newspaper to observe her typing away on her computer.
That's what she did almost all the time. Anytime that John saw her during the day, she was sitting there on her computer.
"Don't you need to get a job or something?" he asked one day. Gwen looked up at him blankly. "To support yourself I mean. We aren't paying for your food, so don't you need a job to cover those expenses?"
"This is my job," she said simply, referring to whatever it was that she was doing on the computer. John left it at that and went to his own job at the hospital.
One night, Gwen lay awake on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in thought. The hour was late, and Sherlock and John had already retired, and yet for some reason... Gwen could not sleep. That happened rather frequently as a matter of fact.
Then, through the curtains drawn over the window, Gwen saw the light of a car on the street below. But unlike most car lights, this one did not go away as it passed by. Gwen heard the engine of the car turn off and she quickly jumped off the couch and looked down out the window.
Police car. And judging by the hour, it was something important.
A sound from behind her startled the girl, and she spun around to see Sherlock entering the kitchen.
"Sherlock-" she exclaimed excitedly.
"A case, I know," he said, holding up his phone as explanation. Sherlock was clearly as excited as she. "Go wake John." Nodding, Gwen ran across the floor and up the stairs, coming to a halt outside John's bedroom door.
Strangely enough, Gwen found that she was nervous to cross the threshold. It felt like intruding somehow. A bedroom was so personal, and John obviously liked his personal space. What would he think of her coming in? He would probably hate her more than ever.
Gwen didn't want that.
Seeing no other choice, Gwen softly pushed the door open and padded across the floor to the side of John's bed. Lying there on his side, John looked as calm and composed as ever, even in his sleep. No sound came from his lips and he did not move about at all. He looked entirely at peace.
Please God don't let him have a gun within reach... she thought, trying to amuse herself, though her fingers were trembling as she reached out to wake him.
"John," she whispered first. No response. Hesitantly, Gwen reached the rest of the way and gently shook his shoulder once. "John." That's all it took.
John's eyes shot open, immediately awake, and he was up and out of his bed in a flash. Grabbing hold of her arms, John's body was pressed up against Gwen's, and his eyes stared dangerously at her. Finding herself speechless, Gwen merely stared back at him, her blue eyes open larger than would be normal.
After a moment, John seemed to process who it was and his eyes opened wide in surprise. Her arms being released suddenly, Gwen stumbled back a bit, trying to calm her breathing and raging heartbeat. She wasn't entirely sure if her accelerated heartbeat was due to the fear that she had felt, or the feeling of being pressed close against his body in that way, especially in the current situation: alone in his dark bedroom, she in her pajamas and he in just a t-shirt and boxers.
Either way, Gwen managed to quickly regain control as John took a moment to clear his head.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" he asked after a moment, his voice strained. "I could have killed you."
"There's a case," she explained. Gwen took a moment to think how grateful she was that all the training she'd gone through had prepared her for such a time: none of her emotions were evident in her voice. As it should be. "Sherlock told me to wake you."
"That dolt..." Gwen thought she heard him mutter. Sighing, John turned back to Gwen.
"Yes, alright, I'll be right down. I'm just going to... pull on some trousers."
Gwen nodded and left his room, rushing back down the stairs- half because she wanted to find out what was going on, and half because she simply wanted to escape from the awkward situation.