Another 'extended' scene from episode 1, Series 2 (Not a follow on from my previous chapter though). This is the scene back at the flat after Sherlock has been drugged by 'The Woman'. I loved this scene. I will be making my way through the rest of the episodes soon, so please Read and Review with any suggestions. JX

No characters are mine bla, bla, bla

Chapter 2

The Monster under the Bed

Hush now don't worry. I'm only returning your coat.

"John. John?"

"You ok?"- I say, flinging the door wide on its hinges.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"That Woman, The Woman, the Woman Woman. She was here John."

"Irene Adler? She got away, no one saw her. She wasn't here Sherlock."

I watch him stumble about and finally hit the floor with a thud. Bit early to be gallivanting then, God knows what she gave him.

"What are you doing?"-I say stretching out to catch him as he tries to scramble to his feet failing miserably. "Ok, that's enough Sherlock." I drag him to his feet and push him towards the bed, holding him down for a few seconds to make sure he remains there. "Stay. There's a god boy. You'll be fine in the morning."

"Of course I'll be fine, I am fine. Absolutely fine."

"Yes" – I sigh. "You're great. Now I'll be next door if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"-He says quickly, sinking into the pillows which muffles his voice.

"No reason at all Sherlock. No reason at all."

I watch for a second until I hear the signal of soft breathing and decide that it's safe to retreat back to the living room, leaving the door slightly ajar. I sit with a fresh cup of tea and look through the paper from earlier. I'm close to dozing off in my chair only minutes later.

"John. John?"

Oh God not again.

This time I find him on the floor by his bed, holding his phone and riffling through the pockets of his coat. His coat. How did that get there? 'She' had taken it.

"John", he says again with relief as I appear at the door his balance non-existent. "She got in. How did she get in? Why did she get in? My head is upside down."

I scan the room and see the window cracked ever so slightly. "I'm guessing by that window and in order to return the possessions that she…'borrowed'. And your head is the same way up as it always has been."

"Get the gun John. We're not safe." He scrambles to his feet again and trips over sending the contents of his side table to the floor.

"We don't need the gun Sherlock, believe me. Come on now back to bed please. You're going to hurt yourself."

"She's dangerous John."- He says grabbing on to my jumper whilst I shove him back towards the bed.

"Come on Sherlock. I really don't think she wants to hurt you…...Much anyway." I remove his hands from my jumper and he looks at me with a hazy curiosity. "Seriously, you need me to tell you that she likes you Sherlock?"

"What do you mean?" –He says trying to sit up, but unable to keep his eyes focused. I pull the sheet back up about his shoulders and tuck it in trying to pin him there. A little trick I picked up in med school.

"She WANTS you Sherlock". I say in quiet amusement.

"Wants me for what?"- He scoffs. After a pause I see the cogs turning, albeit a little more slowly than usual of course. Then the almond eyes widen.

"Get the gun John."

I chuckle to myself. "She was just returning your coat. Relax. If you keep on like this you're going to make yourself sick."- I say pulling the pillow underneath his head.

"My eyes are fluffy John. I can't see."

Such a drama queen. I sigh and think about the cup of tea awaiting me along with the TV and a comfy chair. "If I give you the gun will you stay in bed and go to sleep?"

"There are no guarantees."

"There never are with you."

I go to the living room and find my gun. The bottom line was that she could still be dangerous. I couldn't actually be sure what she'd do next and she had just broken into our flat after all. I call Lestrade to catch him up and check that the barrel of the gun is loaded, sliding it in to my back pocket and grabbing a small banana from the kitchen on my way out.

When I return, he is hidden in the mountain of sheets from the bed muttering to himself. "Put the gun under the pillow."-He says drowsily.

"Sure." I say, slipping the banana under the pillow next to him and pausing for a second as his hand checks its position. I can't help a small snigger when he is seemingly satisfied with the fruit-based weaponry. I'll be filing this away for future mockery. I close the window and see that the latch is indeed broken. Maybe I won't be sleeping sound tonight then. I begin to back out quietly and get as far as the door.

"Where are you going?" says a slurred voice.

"It's late Sherlock, go to sleep. I'll be in the living room."

"Why would you leave me John? I've been drugged. I'm vulnerable."- His voice getting louder. " You'd leave me for that, that woman? I can't feel my ears John! MY EARS."

He thrashes about within the sheets for a while making it clear that he won't be sleeping unless I stay with him. Honestly, the great Sherlock Holmes needing protection from a woman. I'm not going to get any peace otherwise and so I grab a stool from the kitchen and place it alongside his bed. I lean over and turn off the bedside light.

I feel him fighting sleep in the dark 30 minutes later; the only noise being the occasional groan.

"Your leg is hurting you," says a voice in the dark.

"It's fine, go to sleep."

"If you're going to stand guard you may as well do it on the bed."

I haven't got the energy to remind him that he asked me to stay, so I pause for a second then slip my shoes off and head to the other side of the bed, feeling a little uncomfortable as I pull some pillows up to the head board.

"I take it you have armed yourself with more than just fruit? I fear my banana won't be as effective as needed."

I look down at him catching a small piece of light within his eyes despite the dark. We giggle a little. He stops when it obviously hurts his head and turns to face me, curling up a little. I take the gun out of my pocket and place it on the night stand and as I turn, he places a hand on my forearm, leaning his forehead to it.

"John."

"Hmmm?"

"I feel nauseous. Plus I can't guarantee that my head won't explode."

I take a second to lean down far enough to take in his face; eyes all scrunched up, huddled up against my arm, trying to persuade the room to stop spinning. I straighten up against the headboard and sigh. This is my place for the night it seems.

I Remove his hands from my arm with a small noise of protest and place the imprisoned hand upon his forehead. I begin to trail fingers around his head, rubbing away the tension that I find there. His eyes relax and he curls further into my side.

"I personally guarantee you that your head won't explode Sherlock." – I say gently. All I get in return is a soft snore.