Hey sorry its been a while, i've had stuff to deal with, i wrote this instead of doing Uni coursework to tide everyone over until i can get into the meatier/angstier bits, after ivedone my essays (plural D: ) ENjoy, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 6. Stalkers and Secrets.

When John had finally stopped feeling like he was going to burst into tears like a sentimental teenage girl on prom night, he proceeded to open the other birthday presents. As expected from the shape, Molly had bought him a bottle of wine, red, which he never drunk but thought he could give it to someone else for a present, which would save him money. Mrs Hudson had given him a beautiful set of Stirling cufflinks, for which he decided warranted a thank you bunch of flowers, or at least a hug. Mycroft had bought John an interesting book on modern day techniques of secret intelligence agencies and all things sleuth, this had made him smile and look forward to the days, hopefully coming soon, where he and Sherlock would be chasing criminals down London's busy streets, and stuck at Bart's analysing dust samples. Harry had bought him a pair of hideous pyjamas that he suspected she never intended him to wear, and the DVD of the newest superhero movie, which after missing it at the cinema made him quite eager to watch it; even it would mean listening to Sherlock moan about it. None of the other presents quite matched up to his new watch though, which had been immediately displayed on his left wrist. He kept looking at it, not to check the time, which didn't really alter much every few seconds, but just to take in the surreal feeling that Sherlock Holmes had bought him such a wonderful gift; it was just unbelievable.

What was believable however, was Sherlock handing John his plate and mug from breakfast and declaring 'I cooked breakfast and bought you a present, seems only fair that you wash up!'

John agreed to, and took his watch off and placed it back in its box. 'It's waterproof up to thirty metres John' Said Sherlock looking offended.

'I know, it's a great watch, I just- I dunno, don't want to dunk it into soapy water that's all.' Sherlock looked at him like he thought him mad but then merely shrugged and got up to search for the TV remote.

'I thought we could watch the film my sister got me?' John asked hopefully as he turned his back on Sherlock and bent over the sink. He heard a derisive snort and rolled his eyes. 'Fine, what shall we do then? It's my birthday; I should get some say in it.'

'Well John, we have a new case.' John span around and Sherlock was stood beaming at him hopefully. 'Happy Birthday John, we have a stalker to deal with!' it was his honest pleasure at this that made John laugh and continue to wash the pots, shaking his head at his eccentric and quite frankly mental flatmate.

'Wait, I thought we were going to the pub tonight?' John had actually quite fancied drink.

'We are, we can sort this case in a matter of hours, now we're together again the criminals of London should be very afraid, I know you're a bit rusty but It seems a simple enough case.' Sherlock was talking in that rapid, excited voice that John had missed so much, it was almost too much to handle.

'Fine. We'll take the case-' Sherlock started jumping around the living room, '-but you're buying lunch. And you're getting me a pint in the pub.' Sherlock waved a hand dismissively which John took to mean a yes.

Dressed and fed they turned up at a flat in Hackney, it was fairly run down but seemed nice enough, a woman answered the door, John already knew she was the victim, Claire Mowbray aged 28. They were invited in and so Sherlock and John made their way into the small living space and sat side by side on the somewhat uncomfortable sofa bed.

'So,' began Sherlock, removing his scarf, 'When did the stalking, as you call it, begin?'

The woman took a long deep breath and began, 'Well, I started working for this firm, I'm a receptionist, so I'm the face of the company.'

What a face. John thought. She was very beautiful, it was obvious why she should be chosen to meet and greet people.

'So what you're saying is that you see hundreds of people every week, are very nice to them but never take in their name or faces or personality?' Sherlock had clearly not noted her attractiveness, something that oddly pleased John.

'Yes. So anyway, I'd been working there about three months when I got a bunch of flowers delivered to me, on the front desk, I got into trouble for it actually, then, every few weeks I got another bunch, well you can imagine, my boss was so angry. I explained to him I had no idea who was doing it so he suggested I must have a secret admirer, that's what first made me wonder. Then they stopped for a couple of months but then started up again, but this time it was other things, teddy bears, potted plants, I got one of those kissogram things one week, came in and started singing at me, I had to get security to escort him of the premises. Then a couple of days later an entire choir showed up, filled the entire lobby, that was the last straw, my boss called me in and dismissed me. I've lost my job just because someone hasn't got the guts to tell me they fancy me.' She put her head in her hands and John reached out and patted her knee, Sherlock glared at him for a second.

'So have you been contacted since you left work?' Sherlock nodded at John to start taking notes,

'No, well I don't know, no one from work had spoken to me, but he could still be sending stuff there'

'He?'

'Well, yes, it's probably a man, isn't it?' She looked puzzled

'Not necessarily. ' Sherlock steepled his fingers together before continuing. 'You said the gifts stopped and then started again, how long had you been receiving them the first time?'

'I'd been there four months and got five bunches of flowers, nearly one a month,'

'Yes, one a month plus an extra one, probably sent the day after you had met.'

'Do you think so?'

'Obvious. How long was the gap? When it stopped how long was it before it started again? With the more extravagant gifts?'

'Oh. Erm. So it was four months, then it stopped for about, two months, then it started again, and carried on for another three months, I got something nearly every day. It was a nightmare.'

Sherlock frowned, John had noted down everything but he could see by Sherlock's face that he would figure it out before John had even time to go through his notes and make any kind of connection. Sherlock gave him a sideways glance and a curt nod, his way of asking John to carry on the line of enquiry.

'Ok. Erm.' John wasn't as adept at precise interviewing as Sherlock was, 'So, is there anyone you can think of that might have done it? Someone who seemed to want to spend as much time talking to you as possible, or maybe someone you've seen hanging around a few times?'

'I told you, there's so many, and none of them stick out.'

'Right, erm, ok. Is there anyway of figuring out who the gifts are from? Notes? Receipts?'

'No the only thing that would have helped was the company the hired singers were from and that was a fake name. Joe Bloggs, paid in cash and wore a hat pulled low over his face.'

'Yea, not very helpful.' John was stuck and Sherlock knew it, so he stepped in,

'How well did you get on with your colleagues Claire?' The woman looked confused, 'Did you make any friends? Enemies? Any work romances?' She looked at the ground for a few seconds before answering

'No, no enemies. Or work romances.'

'Right, plenty of friends then?'

'Yes. I guess so'

'Out of those friends, how many of them were male?'

Why? Do you think it's someone who actually works there?'

'How many Claire?'

'It's a big company but I'd say I know seven of the guys' names and then the rest faces.'

' Ok and out of the seven men whose names you know is there a man whose name you remembered because he wasn't like the others?'

'What? No. Wait. How did you know?'

Sherlock smiled his cat like smile, 'Who was it and why did you remember his name Claire?'

'Peter. He was sweet, nervous, not like the others, they were all quite, well you know, city boys. Oh my god it was Peter wasn't it? Why couldn't he just come and ask me out?' She seemed annoyed but it quickly faded, 'Poor Peter, they were always having a go, saying he was weird, Pete the Perv they called him, I always defended him but looks like they were right.'

'No.' Sherlock stood up; Claire looked startled and looked up at him

'No? What do you mean?'

' This Peter fancied you, sent you flowers but after four months and five bunches of flowers he stopped, he wasn't a pervert or a stalker, which is why he gave up when you couldn't figure out it was him sending you the flowers.'

'Wait a minute.' John stood up as well, 'What do you mean he stopped because she couldn't figure it out? What made him start up again and get the sack? Revenge?' Sherlock smiled at him and gave him the Come on John you're nearly there look. It was a shame, John was never really nearly there, Sherlock just couldn't see how he couldn't be.

'Sherlock I'm sorry I don't see why he-'

'Exactly!' Sherlock grasped Johns shoulders and looked hopeful

'It doesn't make sense for him to do it-'

'Yes…'

'So, the second time round, it wasn't him?'

'YES JOHN! YOU'VE GOT IT. I told you it would be an easy one!'

'Excuse me?' Claire stood up and looked at one man then the other, 'I don't understand what's going on.'

'Who has replaced you as receptionist, better yet, who didn't like you, I know you said you didn't have enemies but you're an attractive young woman with career prospects, somebody, probably another woman, didn't like you. Jealousy. Stupid.'

'Well, I mean, Jeanette once said that it should have been her job, but she never seemed annoyed, just pointing it out.'

'And is this Jeanette older and less attractive than you?'

'Well, erm, she's older and, I don't know, she's a bit, well bigger than me I guess'

John admired her tact, even towards a woman who had possibly got her fired, Sherlock however had no such scruples 'So you, young, pretty and nice to everyone gets the job that some old, fat and probably bitter woman wanted, she saw you get into trouble for the flowers so after they stopped she upped the anti and carried it on herself. Come along you too, we have an appointment!'

And with that he grabbed his coat and scarf and dashed out of the room, leaving John to explain to Claire that they were going to her former place of work to confront Jeanette and inform the boss.

As it transpired, the great Sherlock Holmes, rusty from years of early retirement, was wrong. Although not entirely through fault of his own,

'Why didn't she just tell me she was having an affair with her boss?' Sherlock had raved thus since they had stormed out of the accountancy firms building. John had tried to calm him down ever since

'Because some people don't like telling people their secrets.'

'Then why hire a private detective? I mean it wasn't hard to guess when you have all the facts like she did, they started having an affair, she got cold feet, he wanted an excuse to sack her, started sending gifts, they got back together so he stopped, then she wanted out again so he gave himself a reason to fire her by overloading the lobby with teddy bears and choral groups and saying that the attentions of her secret admirer were disrupting business! How could she not see that it was his doing?'

'Maybe she was in denial Sherlock?'

'She was wasting my time.' He threw himself down on the sofa and curled up into a foetal position.

'Well, cheer up, pub tonight' John attempted to lighten the mood whilst also reminding Sherlock of previous engagements.

'Not going.'

'Why not? It's my birthday.'

'Don't want to, your birthday, your friends, you go. I'll stay here.'

'But- but I want you to come, you're my best friend.'

The silence lingered for a few moments longer than John would have liked, before he heard a great intake of breath and then a sigh

'Fine, but only because it's your birthday. What's for tea anyway?'

John grinned triumphantly and went to prepare his own birthday meal of chicken Korma and garlic naan bread.