The ride across London was rather uneventful for the red headed detective. Honestly it was good that nothing really disturbed her because if it had she likely would have ripped whatever, or whoever to shreds. Her thoughts raced around her head as she watched the city go by. Slowly she felt a pressure begin to rise between her temples signalling she was thinking too much. As the pain built in her head Jezebel placed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and watched the city go by. At some point during the ride the sky opened up and rain poured down onto the ground in waves. The noise of the rain was calming but painful to the detective until finally the cab stopped. A light was on upstairs in B and Jezebel knew that Sherlock and John must have beaten her home. Jezebel tightened her coat around her body before throwing a few bills at the cabbie and exiting the cab into the pouring rain. It took only two seconds for Jezebel's coat to become soaked and in the two minutes it took for her to get to the door and pick the lock to 221 she was soaked to the bone. On her way into the foyer her head was aching awfully, her left arm began to get pins and needles, and she was having trouble thinking. Slowly she began to move up the stairs, she was forced to focus on each step to be sure that she didn't fall. Finally she reached the top of the stairs and began to take off her wet coat. After taking five tries to get the coat on the rack she gave up and dropped the coat to the floor. There she began to take off her shoes. Losing her balance she began to fall and she hit the floor with a loud thump. John and Sherlock were soon there helping her up. John picked up her light form and laid her out on the couch before untying and removing her shoes for her.

"Jezebel, what happened?" Sherlock was asking from a crouched position next to her. Jezebel merely blinked as the wheels in her mind spun slowly.

"It's raining," she said quietly as a shiver went through her body. Sherlock watched her in confusion before glancing out the window.

"What about the rain?"

"It's cold," Jezebel moaned in pain as she tried to roll away from Sherlock and the light that was hurting her head only to find her left arm was completely numb. "I can't feel my arm." Sherlock watched her before turning to John. John merely shrugged.

"Jezebel, what's wrong?" Sherlock coaxed uncharacteristically gentle.

"My head, and my arm it's numb, I can't -" Jezebel paused and closed her eyes with a frown. "I can't, can't-" Her eyes opened again and she hit the couch with her hand.

"Think?" John offered.

"Think, I can't think," Jezebel declared loudly before whimpering at the pain in her head. Sherlock mind was buzzing as he mentally went through the symptoms before a look of comprehension crossed his face.

"Jezebel, do you have Multiple Sclerosis?" he asked quietly as he pushed the hair out of her face. Jezebel nodded. Sherlock moved to cradle her head and behind her knees as he carefully lifted her off the couch. Water dripped from her damp clothes as Sherlock carried her back into the bathroom. Once there John began to run her a warm bath and Sherlock headed into his bedroom to grab her some dry clothes. Jezebel blinked wearily from where she was sat on the counter and watched John fill the tub.

"I'm fine, the-" she paused.

"Symptoms," John filled in.

"They'll go away," Jezebel told him. John turned to look at her.

"Do you have your medication with you?" he asked simply. Jezebel paused long enough for John to turn off the water.

"No, I was going to fill it-"

"When you got here. What is it you take?"

"Betaseron, you can't shake it or-"

"It loses it's effectiveness."

"Stop that," Jezebel said with a small smile. "It's bizarre when you do it." John gave her a small smile and turned off the water in the tub. He checked the temperature to be sure it wasn't too warm, it would do her no good if the heat sent her body into shock, before he stood and looked at Jezebel.

"Do you-" he trailed off giving her a questioning look.

"No I think I can get it," she said as she slowly moved off the counter.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," he said and moved out the door shutting it quietly behind him. Jezebel's head felt as though it was full of cotton and the world became fuzzy as she slowly shed her cold, wet clothes before falling into the tub. The water splashed around her and some even escaped it's porcelain container to spill on the floor.

"Are you ok?" John's voice came muffled through the door.

"I'm fine," Jezebel called back as she rested her head on the edge of the tub doing nothing but watching the water swirl and ripple around her. She had only just closed her eyes when the bathroom door was opened and Sherlock came in with a change of clothes. Jezebel looked up at him from her position tiredly and eyed the pile of clothes.

"There are clothes in a box downstairs," she told him.

"This was easier," Sherlock said as he set the clothes on the counter. He then turned to face her, his eyes never straying from her face. "Do you need anything?" He asked her. Jezebel flushed lightly and mumbled something. "Say again?"

"I'm having trouble moving my left arm-" She trailed off. Sherlock paused for a moment before nodding.

"Of course," he said as he began rolling up his sleeves. He folded a towel and kneeled down on it before reaching over her for the soap and a flannel. Jezebel blushed furiously as Sherlock hands started with lathering the soap on her shoulders. Sherlock remained passive throughout the task, but his hands were gentle as he ran the flannel over her skin. The flesh beneath his fingers was soft and yet when he reached the skin on her thighs he paused. There was ridges under his fingers, scars left from what must have been a kitchen knife. Jezebel, who had become relaxed under his gentle touches, quickly stiffened and her eye snapped open to meet his gaze. They shared a moment where Sherlock gave her an indescribable look before he continued on with his task, taking note of each scar and track mark. When the last bit of soap had been rinsed from her body and her skin was rosy with warmth Sherlock pulled the plug and let the water begin to dry out as he gently wrapped a towel around Jezebel. Jezebel sat on the edge of the tub as Sherlock grabbed another towel and began to dry her hair.

"Where's John?" She asked quietly.

"Out getting your medication," Sherlock replied as he grabbed a comb and began to work it through her hair. It was silent for a moment.

"Why are you being so kind?" came the hesitant question. There was no reply as Sherlock finished with her hair. Jezebel's strength was returning now and the pins and needles were beginning to fade. Sherlock grabbed the pile of clothes and went to help her get into them but Jezebel stopped him.

"You've done enough, I can do this much," she insisted. There was a small debate before Sherlock simply turned his back. Jezebel let out an annoyed huff as she began to pull on the clothes he had brought her. The clothes hung off her small frame and made her look even smaller than she actually was. The silk black pajama pants hung what must have been a full foot past her toes, the gray a-frame undershirt fell to mid-thigh almost knee level, and a single shoulder strap continued to fall off her shoulder.

"I guess this is what I get for only being 5'1"" She said with a small grin. Sherlock took the damp towel and threw it in the hamper before they walked out to the living room. Jezebel insisted on walking by herself and despite her telling him repeatedly that she was feeling better he hovered like a mother hen to be sure she didn't fall. Granted his hovering was warranted since she did lose her balance three different times on the way to the couch, but it still annoyed Jezebel, who was fiercely independent, to no end. Sherlock went into the kitchen before coming back out with two cups of tea. They sat together in silence as they waited on John.

After ten or so minutes of waiting the front door opened and John squelched up the stairs. After removing his coat John came to sit beside Jezebel to open up the packaging. Jezebel watched as John checked the vial to be sure it wasn't damaged before attaching the pre-filled syringe containing the diluent to the vial and injecting exactly 1.2 ml of the diluent into the container. He took a few minutes to gently swirl the vial and make sure it had all dissolved before turning to Jezebel.

"How much do you take?" he asked.

"Full dose, 25cc," she replied. John prepped the syringe with the correct dosage, wiped the skin of her upper arm with an alcohol wipe, before injecting the dose just under the skin of her arm. Then he disposed of the vial and syringe in a special container that they only had because John lived there and Sherlock was a mad scientist. Once the needle left her arm Jezebel relaxed slightly into her seat and closed her eyes. John got up to make himself a cup of tea and it was peaceful as they all went about their various tasks. John was typing away at his computer, Sherlock was playing by the window, and Jezebel simply sat and watched as the fire crackled. Eventually Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs and knocked lightly on the door frame.

"Oh hello dears, I was just wanting to speak with Jezebel about where she would be sleeping tonight. I'm afraid I haven't gotten any furniture to go in C yet and there's no room in my flat at the moment either." She said before covering her mouth with a hand as she yawned softly. "I just wanted to make sure something was worked out before going to bed."

Jezebel looked up at Mrs. Hudson from her position on the couch before simply laying down and curling the too large robe around herself.

"Don't worry Mrs. Hudson, I'll just curl up here," Jezebel replied. A shrill note sounded from Sherlock's violin and he put it down to look at Jezebel.

"Absolutely not, you'll sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch." Sherlock asserted.

"No, I'll sleep here, on the couch." Jezebel reaffirmed. Sherlock moved to stand in front of her on the couch.

"You will sleep in my bed. You just had what was obviously a relapse of your symptoms. You are still weak and with your illness you are more prone to changes in temperature. For your own sake, I will take the couch." Sherlock lectured and Jezebel merely rolled her eyes.

"Give me plenty of blankets and pillows and I will be just fine here. Plus you are far too tall to fit on this couch comfortably."

"I can fit on the couch!" Sherlock cried in indignation. Mrs. Hudson took one look at the scene, shook her head, said goodnight to John, and headed downstairs to her bed. Meanwhile John slipped into his bedroom to head to bed as well. The two detectives stared each other down.

"Multiple sclerosis is nothing to be ashamed of Jezebel. Take care of yourself, let me sleep on the couch."

"A night on the couch isn't going to kill me."

"No it will just aggravate your symptoms."

The tension was thick enough that it could be cut with a knife as Jezebel looked up at Sherlock from her position. Slowly Sherlock lowered himself to her level and pushed a strand of bright red hair from her face. The tension drained from Jezebel's body and she nodded.

"Fine, but you won't be sleeping on the couch. We can share the bed." Jezebel stated. Sherlock began to speak and Jezebel turned her back on him. Sherlock bent down and picked Jezebel up bridal style.

"What are you doing, put me down!" Jezebel said as she kicked her feet and flailed around as much as she could. She paused for a moment before flipping herself over his arm and landed sitting on the couch before curling back up.

"Is it really so difficult as to accept something offered to you?" He asked her incredibly frustrated.

"You tell me." She shot back and Sherlock gave her a glare before turning himself, grabbing a few spare blankets, and curling up on the floor beside the couch. Jezebel rolled over and looked down at him from the couch.

"Tell me you don't actually plan to sleep there," she said with a small grin on her face.

"I'll stay right here until you agree to go back to bed."

Jezebel gave him an annoyed huff before nodding.

"Alright."

"Good," Sherlock said as he quickly hopped up and picked her up again before carrying her back to his room and placing her on the black sheets. He turned to head back to the living room and Jezebel's hand shot out to grab the waistband of his pants.

"If I'm going to sleep here you are too, the bed is big enough to share." They had heated glaring contest before Sherlock deflated somewhat and silently moved around to the other side of the bed. Jezebel pulled the robe from her shoulders to sleep in just the tank top and pajama pants. As she curled up underneath the white sheets and fluffy comforter she caught a glance of Sherlock pulling off his shirt and rolled her eyes as she turned her back to him. Shortly after she felt the bed dip as Sherlock laid down on the other side and she moved closer to the edge of the bed, Sherlock doing the same until the both of them were nearly falling off the edge on the bed and onto the cold floor below. Between them lay a cold, desolate no man's land, pitted with fears, doubts, and concerns. The flat was soon quiet, only the sounds of the building shifting and John's occasional snore could be heard. Despite the peace Sherlock and Jezebel lay awake, staring at their respective walls, both minds buzzing at a mile a minute. Jezebel knew perfectly well why she wasn't able to get to sleep, though she loathed to admit it, she needed something to hold. Something to ground her to the moment instead of allowing her thoughts to run rapid. Little did she know that on the other side of the bed Sherlock was struggling for the same thing. His thoughts raced and he had no way to ground them, he also knew human contact would do the job. When he was much younger he would go to Mycroft. Of course that stopped shortly after he hit puberty, but those were the best nights because he had actually been able to sleep properly. Minutes passed before Jezebel rolled onto her back and looked over to Sherlock.

"Sherlock." She called quietly, the man rolled onto his side, facing her as she shifted to mirror him. Silently they looked at each other, both knowing that the other was struggling to hold onto reality as well. Hesitantly Jezebel stretched out a hand, laying it in the middle of the no man's land between them. Sherlock merely looked at it and Jezebel sighed, preparing to roll back over and face a night of sleeplessness when a warm and much larger hand gently wrapped around her small one. Jezebel looked at Sherlock in surprise and smiled. They laid like that for several moments, the silence more comfortable now. Their eyes locked and without a thought they came together in the middle of the bed, Sherlock's arms wrapped around Jezebel's waist and he rested his head on the top of hers, her red curls pressed into his cheek gently. Jezebel's arms found their way around his neck loosely, resting more across the top of his shoulders as she buried her face in his chest. The two stayed like this and soon both of their breathing evened out and they fell asleep, anchored to reality through the comfortable sound of the others heartbeat and breathing.

In the morning everything was normal. John woke up, headed to the kitchen, boiled the tea, then sat with his paper in front of the telly. It became peculiar when Sherlock didn't wake up at his normal time. Precisely at 8 am everyday they didn't have a case Sherlock would walk out of him room searching for his tea. But as the clock crept past 8:15 John supposed that Sherlock was finally getting the sleep he needed and continued on with his morning ritual. John finished his tea, washed and put away the cup, headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth, comb his hair, shave, and shower. It was when all of this was done and John noted it was 9 am and Sherlock still wasn't awake that John began to worry. John padded lightly down the hallway and knocked gently on the door, getting no response he knocked a bit harder, still no response. Gently John turned the handle and opened the door.

"Sherlock?" He called out questioningly before pausing in the doorway at the sight in front of him. There in the middle of the large bed where Sherlock and Jezebel wrapped tightly around each other. Jezebel was laying mostly on top of Sherlock, her head resting on his chest, one arm rested on his his shoulder while the other rested alongside his head. Sherlock's head was pillowed on the arm next to him, the small hand cupping his face gently and his own arms were wrapped tightly around Jezebel's waist. Both detectives looked so peaceful in their sleep the John gently closed the door and headed back into the living room.

Hours passed and John went out to the store, had a row with the checkout machine, put away to groceries he finally got, and cleaned the kitchen up. He was in the process of preparing lunch when the door to Sherlock's room creaked slightly and two pairs of footsteps came down the hall. Jezebel came out, wrapped in the comforter from Sherlock's bed and Sherlock was tying her robe while carrying the excess of the comforter that was far too large of Jezebel by herself. After Jezebel had sat herself in a chair at the table Sherlock draped the rest of the comforter around her before taking his own seat at the table. The two were quite a pair at the moment. Sherlock's hair was even wilder than usual and his face slightly scraggly as he hadn't shaved yet. Jezebel was in no better condition, but somehow the two looked so debauched that John actually wondered if they shagged before shaking his head. He knew that they hadn't because Sherlock just isn't interested in people like that. As for Jezebel, well, John wasn't sure but she seemed fairly similar to Sherlock so far and therefore she wouldn't look at people that way either.

Finally lunch was ready and John placed the food on the table, watching to make sure the two detectives ate something instead of just sitting there thinking, before he grabbed his own plate and tucked in. The flat stayed quiet aside from the sound of utensils scraping plates and soon John stood, washing the dishes and putting them away.

"You seem well suited for domestic bliss, John." Jezebel said with a small smirk before standing and heading towards the living room. Sherlock stood and began to follow, catching her when she tripped over the edge of the blanket. Jezebel huffed quietly but allowed him to help her get situated in front of the telly before Sherlock sat next to her. John headed into the living room as well and sat down in his armchair silently hoping the peace would last a while.