This one's a bit cheekier than the other...just saying. :)

Rose changed into a light pink pattern dress, another socialite disguise, after her shower. Sherlock should still be busy with the safe, but after yesterday she couldn't be sure about that. Only, she had a shopping trip she couldn't put off. She'd be too busy tomorrow and she didn't want to go last minute shopping before the party…well, posh event was a more accurate term.

She wasn't entirely sure what he'd make of the alloy Torchwood developed and she knew her dad would've had a row with her over wasting it on a home safe, but she needed to keep Sherlock occupied…and she knew it'd take him for a turn. Something she seemed unable to stop herself from doing. Stumping the world's greatest detective. She couldn't help smiling at the idea.

TROUBLE. Her mind reminded her, but she pushed that thought aside. From the moment he sat down at her table she'd been doomed. All she could hope for was to delay his inquest, keep him occupied. RUN. Yes, she could do that, but she wasn't in any real danger yet. He didn't have her name or anyway to trace things back to her.

She pushed all thoughts of Sherlock from her mind as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. The transporter was for emergencies, not everyday use. Wouldn't do to have someone notice her sudden appearance.

Sherlock climbed into the cab, another petri dish in his pocket containing more metal shavings from the safe. He'd been up all night trying to determine the chemical composition of the alloy she used, but he'd been unable to do so. His only option was a visit to the labs at the hospital. Molly would let him use the equipment. She rarely asked questions, well, she asked, but she was used to him not answering. Once he knew what he was dealing with he could tackle opening the safe.

He couldn't help smiling at this new puzzle she'd given him. Two puzzles actually. One inside the safe and the safe itself. She was as much fun as a serial killer, always something new. Of course, her intention was not to get caught, but catch her he would.

He could've caught her yesterday if not for the manner in which she distracted him and the handcuffs. Another grin surfaced as he wondered exactly why she'd carry handcuffs on her person. At that moment he sat up, his gaze out the window landing on…her.

"Stop the cab!" he shouted.

The driver pulled to a startled stop as Sherlock fished a handful of notes from his pocket and thrust them at the confused man before opening the door and dashing out, his eyes never leaving her. Once outside he paused, tracking her as he walked down the sidewalk.

She wore a pink pattern dress that stopped just below her knees, white belt and shoes, with her hair hanging loose. She appeared to be focused on her destination as she made her way down the road. He started following. Keeping a safe distance back, always with people between them.

She didn't seem to notice his presence. He had to be careful. Had to make sure she didn't spot him. This was his chance to get the drop on her. Finally catch her. He grinned.

Rose stepped into the shop and began browsing the dresses…gown length, it was a posh event. The kind that called for gowns. She hoped Mycroft wasn't going to be there, but she had a feeling that he'd turn up. It was the sort of thing he'd probably make an entrance at. She had to be careful. She'd already drawn the attention of one Holmes and Mycroft wasn't like his brother.

Sherlock was TROUBLE, but Mycroft was DANGEROUS. She'd drawn the attention of a dangerous man once. A long time ago. It was during her search for the Doctor back when the stars were going out. She drew in a breath and forced it out and with it those thoughts. She didn't like to think about that time, that universe. Those were memories she wished she could forget. Things best left in the past.

She chose three dresses off the rack and headed back to the changing rooms. She didn't want to rush, but she also didn't want to take her time and chance running into Sherlock again. She only had so many pairs of handcuffs. She couldn't help smiling at the memory as she stepped into the small changing room.

It was larger than some changing rooms with a full length mirror in the corner. She hung the dresses up, unzipped the one she wore and chose the black one with thin straps.

She stepped into it and pulled the straps onto her shoulders, but as she reached for the zipper the door opened. She could see him in the mirror, the man she was trying to avoid. How the hell had he found her? He ought to be busy with the safe, but even if he wasn't he couldn't have known she'd be there.

She kept the shock from reaching her eyes as he closed the door, never taking his gaze from her.

"Frequent many ladies' changing rooms?" she asked.

Sherlock caught the teasing lilt in her voice, something he would never openly admit that he'd grown fond of. He didn't reply because his eyes were locked on something…unexpected. A scar that ran nearly the length of her back, from the center of her shoulder blades following the dip to the base of her spine. It wasn't a knife wound, nor was it made by a scalpel. It appeared to have been a burn, severe, and created with precision. Not an accident. He found himself wanting to know exactly how she received the scar and who was at fault.

"If you insist on intruding you could at least make yourself useful," she continued, moving her hair away from the zipper.

He closed the few steps between them, but instead of pulling the zipper up. He reached out and traced her scar with his finger, wanting to determine the cause.

Rose closed her eyes, her breath catching as his soft finger glided skillfully down the scar that ran the length of her back, a reminder of one of the darkest times in her life. Something only one other person outside that universe knew about. Only because he saw it. Only because he asked.

"You were burned," Sherlock said, his warm breath caressing her back as he examined the thin red line that marked times she wished she could forget. She shivered. "A laser?"

They didn't have instruments like that here. There were medical lasers and other types, but nothing like what he'd had in that room. She shuddered, shoving the memories back into a room that needed to stay locked.

"Yes," she replied and a moment later their eyes connected in the mirror. She glanced away first and after a minute she felt his hand on her zipper, guiding it up. "Another sleepless night?" she asked, falling back into the teasing, into the game because it was safe.

"I was running an analysis," he replied.

"And what did you find?" she inquired, smoothing out the gown, but keeping watch of him in the mirror.

"The results were inconclusive."

"It must be frustrating to have something right in front of you and not know what to make of it."

He reached out and took her shoulder, leaning very close to her ear.

"Quite frustrating indeed," he whispered, his breath ghosting over her ear and across her cheek, making her breath hitch. Before she could regain control he spun her around. Their faces mere inches from each other and she found herself gazing into his startling eyes. Losing herself in them as she did every time she looked into them. "Who are you?" he asked in the same way he had after their kiss.

Sherlock gazed into her eyes, his hands on her bare shoulders. Who was she? This woman. Stardust, the word was still there though its meaning eluded him. He had to know who she was, wanted to remember what happened between them because he had a feeling that it was important. She stimulated him. Always another mystery, always a challenge to overcome.

His eyes traveled to her lips as his mind thought back to that safe. The lipstick. Her lipstick. A soft sheen of lip gloss covered them and he could smell the hint of tangerine from it, mingling with the strawberry and jasmine he remembered from their last encounter.

He was thinking about it. She could see that in the way he glanced at her mouth and, god, she was thinking about it too, hadn't stopped thinking about it since he walked in the door. It was too dangerous though. Seeing him was too dangerous. The memory dust wasn't fool proof and with a mind like his one jolt might be all it took. A kiss, a kiss would do it, then the game would be over. She'd have to run. She couldn't pull away though and she knew if he leaned just a bit closer…

A knock on the door drew her attention.

"Everything all right?" a woman called.

"Yes…fine," she called, her voice coming out a bit husky and she caught the look in Sherlock's eyes that told her he heard it too. Bullocks!

"We don't allow men in the changing rooms," the woman said.

"My husband wanted to see what the dress looked like, but I'll send him out," she said, catching the widening of Sherlock's eyes and unable to stop herself from grinning.

"All right then," the woman replied.

Sherlock stood up and released her shoulders, but he made no move toward the door.

"You heard her," she tried.

She needed him to leave so she could get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. She could see the look in his eyes, a look that told her he wasn't letting her out of his sight.

"And let you slip away?" he inquired.

"Where am I going to go? You'll be right outside the door."

Reluctantly he stepped out, but she could hear him right on the other side of the door. She picked up her dress and her pocketbook. This was going to complicate things and he probably wasn't going to be happy with the bill, but he was the one who followed her this time. She pulled out her transporter and teleported home.

Sherlock heard the zapping noise, same one he heard in that underground garage. A hint of ozone reached him even before he grabbed the handle and opened the door. Empty. He glanced around the room. Three walls and he was standing in the only exit. How the hell did she escape?

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)