Hello all! Sorry for not updating again... I was ill, which would have been good 'cause I could get more done, but then I got more ill and couldn't really escape from constant sicky moments. :/ So there'll be two chapters today! Huzzah!

Time for chapter four!

Chapter Four

Twenty four minutes to go.

I paced around the flowerbeds, still at the park, and wondered if things could get any better. I never would have thought that Sherlock would notice – but I suppose he does notice practically anything. He's the world's only consulting detective, it's what he does.

Whistling, I remembered that I had turned my phone to silent before walking to meet Sherlock, since I really didn't want to be interrupted. I flicked it to the inbox, and saw three texts. The first one:

Sherlock seems worked up about something. Hide. -MH

Well, that made sense. Two:

John, darling, I'd like if you could bring me a loaf of bread on the way back from wherever you're off to. Much obliged. –Mrs. H

I laughed. To think there was actually a normal world out there while I was busy daydreaming was a surreal feeling. I figured I could get the bread, and then be back at about the right time. I set off, checking the final text while I was at it:

You. Tell me what Freak's up to, I need something. –A

"Damn Anderson. Stop trying to annoy me!" I muttered to myself as I wandered down to the bakery. As I opened the door, I saw a familiar face waiting on the windowsill, Blackberry in hand.

"Ah, hello. And today you're..."

"Lorna. I had a friend called Lorna once, and it stuck." 'Lorna' smiled, peeking over her smartphone. "And I take it Sherlock's got you out on errands again?"

"The landlady, actually."

"Oh. A minor change then." I chuckled.

"More than minor, actually. I can't explain much, but tell Mycroft to get ready for a shock. It could change everything he knows, honestly." Lorna gave me a confused look, the returned to her usual charming gaze. "Oh, and tell him I want my jumper back."

"What? Why does he have your jumper?"

"You know just as much as I do."

Nineteen minutes to go.

Carrying the loaf of farmer's bread in a bag down the road, I pondered what exactly Sherlock had felt when he discovered my accounts. Was he surprised? I don't even know. Maybe he was relieved. Maybe he had always felt the same way. It didn't matter, because he clearly felt something now. Smiling at everyone I saw, I wonder what they thought I was so happy about. Maybe they think I have a girlfriend. Almost, I think. But what does it matter? Sherlock's mine now, and I'm so happy. I practically skipped down to Baker Street.

Fourteen minutes to go.

I remember that I need a drink. Quickly, I walk over to the corner shop and grab some posh looking Morello Cherry fruit crush. I take a tester sip, and the taste melts onto my tongue with pleasure. Like something else will soon.

Eight minutes.

I walk into the main hall at 221, and drop Mrs. Hudson's loaf off, taking the time to stop and tell her as much as I can say – that there will be changes soon. I smile some more and look at my watch for the millionth time.

Two minutes.

Now will do.

I open the door to our part of the house, 221B. I can smell something deliciously sweet from the kitchen, and I can't believe how amazing it is. Did Sherlock actually make this? Probably not, but I still feel so happy at the effort he's made.

Thirty seconds!

"Sherlock? I'm here." I call out into the flat, wondering where exactly he is. "I love that smell! What is it...?"

A face popped down from the ceiling. "You bellowed?"

"Ah! What the - did you cut a hole in the ceiling? Mrs. Hudson'll kill you for this!" I can't help but laugh at how eccentric everything is here. Perhaps I've only just noticed. For the first time ever, I notice the insanity, truly notice it, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest.

"Well then." Sherlock says. "Let's get this started."

Another chapter shall be up in a couple of hours. Are you excited? I know I am! (Boy, that sounded cheesy...)