When Sherlock opened his eyes it was slowly with a pain in his skull just above his left ear.

At first he didn't understand until his brain started working again and he relised he was laying someplace most likely his own bed, and the room was partly dark and only filled with warm light from the hearth that provided heat.

He didn't dare guess what time it was.

Closing his eyes again he heard someone speaking softly, obviously not to him but he didn't know to whom or even who it was speaking for a moment.

He heard a clinking sound of glass tapping ceramic then his bed shifted and something warm was placed on his head.

It felt surprising marvelous.

"Sherlock? I heard your breathing change I know you've come back"

With a soft sound of disappointment that he couldn't contain he did open his eyes again almost expecting to see Watson tending to whatever injury he had obtained this time.

Instead he found the new tenant Stephen Rowen.

He didn't know if he was disappointed or not.

Groaning softly from aching muscles he moved as if to raise from his bed, but a strong yet smooth hand on his shoulder stopped him along with a sound of warning "just stay down for a moment, if you black out from raising to fast I won't be able to catch you" Sherlock's lips pursed into a frown "you underestimate my endurance"

Steve rolled his eyes drawing away his hand and making Sherlock notice the bandage around it "or maybe I overestimated you and underestimated myself, after all you weren't the one carrying me to my bed"

Sherlock frowned but didn't take the obvious bait instead he was cataloging Steve's overall appearance.

He had changed from his street clothing into pair of dark trousers and a white shirt loose around his slight frame, dark bruises were starting to form on his throat up the left side of his jaw.

His hair had been swept back from his face accept for the few strands that always fell over his forehead and had been tied with blue ribbon.

Sherlock's overall assessment of his condition was that other than some bruising and the obvious wounds on his hand he was fine and would recover in a matter of days.

Satisfied with that he turned his eyes to examine his room, nothing was noticeably out of place other than the ceramic bowl placed on the small stand beside his bed, the water was faintly steaming and a cloth was hanging over the side.

He identified that as the source of the warm feeling still on his face but he saw something strange in its center

"what is that?" following his line of sight Steve looked at the bowl "I believe people have started calling that object a baby bottle" he said Sherlock looked back at him "why is it there?" Steve rolled his eyes and finally Sherlock noticed something.

Steve was sitting with a separate blanket over his lap it was small, perhaps more a afghan than a blanket and he kept one hand around whatever was causing the bulge in its shape.

He was almost uncomfortable until the bulge moved and a paw was stretched out slightly a tiny sound coming from the bundle "he's only a few days old" Steve stroked the mass that had half felt its way out of the blanket.

It was small and its fur was a pore impersonation of gold, only as large as both his hands cupped together, its bones were almost completely visible, from a distance he could count its ribs.

The eyes were closed and Sherlock's mind though retaining little information retaining toured puppy's delivered sad news to him that the chances of its survival were very slim.

Hopelessly so.

"his eyes haven't even opened yet and I get the impression, not to make light a bad situation, but if we had not stumbled across him he would have suffered the same fate as the others"

"he still might" Steve looked at him with almost sad eyes and Sherlock wished he had kept his mouth shut "I know, the chances of him living through the night are very slim, I am intelligent remember?"

Looking down at the bundle Steve's sad expression turned soft "but there is still a chance" he moved his hand stroking a soft ear with his thumb "if I gave up every time the chances were slim, I wouldn't be what I am today, I am not someone who gives up easily"

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment "I am beginning to believe that, it is the most aggravating of traits" Steve smirked at the man "someday I will remind you of this conversation"

The man snorted "and I shall remind you of the winner of this argument"

That rose a laugh out of Steve "believe you me Sherlock, this is not an argument, there will be no winner or loser" he turned a large smile toured the man "this is just me saying I don't give up on things which others conclude to be hopeless, there is always hope"

Sherlock snorted again but remained otherwise silent, thoughts obscured by his current case he wondered who would want to kill a recently widowed duchess who had no other family and not bother to take any valuables to make it appear to be a robbery?

He heard a whimpering sound and felt his bed shift, peeking with one eye he saw Steve pulling the puppy up closer against his chest settling it more comfortably and then held out the bottle.

The puppy sniffed then latched onto the nib making tiny little grunting noises as it drank.

Sherlock was momentarily distracted by the way Steve's fingers were long enough to both hold the bottle slightly angled but also support the weak puppy's head with his fingertips so it didn't tire itself while trying to build its strength.

The fact that the puppy was eating was a good sign and Sherlock silently rose its chances but not by much.

Then it hit him.

"of course" he said and moved standing from bed "careful" Steve chastised him but didn't repeat his warning of being unable to catch him if he blacked out.

Other than a moment of unsteadiness he felt no worse than usual.

"how did I not see this before, or better how did even the world's most inept detective not even notice"

His brain was still slightly sluggish but he was beginning to put the pieces together steadily faster now that he was standing and looking over the notes from the yard "Sherlock would you be so kind as to inform me of what you are going on about?"

Turning he looked as Steve, he was still holding up the puppy but he had one leg crossed under the other and bundle of blankets stuffed into the space inside it was obviously where he had been keeping the puppy, just as obvious was the fact he had not moved since he had returned them to the building.

If he tried to move to suddenly he would be in quite a bit of pain.

"A murder of a duchess" he muttered turning the page and digging out a piece of paper with scribbles on it Steve made a sound of enlightenment "ah yes, the one who's home you went to investigate and stumbled upon some brutes trying to destroy evidence"

Sherlock gave a half nod "why would she be murdered, and so obviously no less, nothing was taken" Steve shifted his head "other than her life" another nod "I was unable to put it all together until now, perhaps it was money that caused her death, though not from an inheritance, she had no family, her recently deceased husband had no family, but he did own a fairly large factory"

Turning Sherlock returned to his bed with the file and notes and held up an article on the recently deceased man "Andrew Edmond, recently deceased by cause of asphyxiation caused by injury's obtained in a riding accident" Steve hummed quickly reading then paused and looked closer "dose that say he owned"

Sherlock cut him off "a steel factory that makes metal notaries for its use in weapons, it was a business his father owned, recently it was merged with another steel plantation in Brittan, resulting a growth in production and income"

"when he died they would not let a supplier of steel as large as his shut down, they would have promoted someone, clearly not the wife, a business partner perhaps?"
Nodding he dug through his notes and pulled out another newspaper clipping "Damion green to be exact"

"The second in command would be promoted if Mr. Edmond didn't have a son" Sherlock nodded "and he is the only one to profit from Mrs. Edmond's death" Steve furrowed his brow and then they rose almost meeting the short dark blonde strands on his forehead.

"she was pregnant" Sherlock held up another report this time looking over it himself "it would explain the extensive injury to the abdominal area, rather than waiting to see and it becoming obvious if she happened to have a boy he had her and the child killed. I have my suspicions that Mr. Edmond's death was also not an accident but one case at a time"
Sherlock noticed the way his lips twitched but ignored it instead looking at his notes again.

Then finally he looked up "I must send word to lestrand" Steve held out a calming hand, he hadn't noticed the man tuck the puppy back into its blanket nest between his legs "it is nearly 10 o'clock, the detective will not be awake, let the murderer enjoy his last few hours of freedom, I suspect he shall never see it again"

Sherlock twisted his lips slightly but he had to admit the man was correct and lestrand was remarkably unhelpful when just woken up, he knew he would have to wait until morning but that rose another problem.

He doubted Steve would be able to move without disturbing the puppy and the man was still situated at the end of his bed, the way he was looking down at his lap he was clearly thinking of the best way to move without disturbing his charge.

Deciding it wasn't his problem he closed the files and dropped them on the floor before settling back into his place in bed he stubbornly closed his eyes against the light "give me a moment and I will leave you to rest" he heard Steve speak.

He simply humphed at the man "stay if you must" he muttered and knew the man looked at him possibly strangely.

Tuning it out he went about the task of shutting down his brain to sleep, it was a long and grueling proses and he had to begin again at least twice every night.

He was surprised how this time it was almost simple to accomplish.

Sometime later after the light had disappeared, he felt something on his bed move and then get off, through the fog of sleep he heard a soft whine and hushed softly spoken words.

He thought he felt his hair being pushed back and words in a language he didn't know spoken softly close to his ear.

Then everything was silent and he slipped fully into sleep.

-

When Steve woke up blinking sunlight from his eyes he discovered something small and warm curled against his chest under his chin.

Blinking heavily he shifted to move and found his entire body ached in a way that could only involve someone trying to beat his to death and then choke him.

He wished he could say it was a new feeling but he did grow up on the street from the age of five.

Pushing passed the pain he shifted away stiffly and looked at the bundle of fur, at first it wasn't moving and he feared the worst but then its head moved and it yawned widely small pink tongue poking out.

Steve couldn't hold in his laugh of happiness and picked up the puppy with gentle hands holding it to his chest "good boy, good boy" he stroked the length of its small body and couldn't pull the smile from his face, the puppy might not be out of the woods yet, but Steve could tell, light was shining through the trees.