I hurried out of the cab before Sherlock could. I smiled vindictively as I pulled out my keys. He could pay for the cab at least once. Unfortunately, he was behind me again in moments. I had a feeling that we were going to have a conversation about the scene.

I pushed the door open and headed straight for the stairs. With any luck, I'd be able to slip up the stairs to my room before he had the chance to corner me.

Just as I turned to walk up the stairs, however, Sherlock said my name.

"Yes, Sherlock?" I asked wearily. So much for that plan.

"At the crime scene, you recognized that tattoo." He paused for confirmation. I didn't give it.

"You save me a great deal of time if you told me what it was."

I sighed and turned to face him. "I thought I did, but I was wrong."

"What did you think it was?"

"I saw something like it in Afghanistan," I improvised. Maybe he'd buy that. Going by his expression, he didn't.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded resolutely. He didn't look like he believed me. "Fine. Any other ideas about the cause of death?"

"Not really. Look, Sherlock, I'm exhausted, and I have to work in the morning. Can I please just go up to bed?"

He nodded jerkily. "Very well.' Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen. I quickly made my way up the stairs and into my room before I groaned. He was never going to buy any excuse I gave him. That is the disadvantage to living with a man who can see through just about anything.

I shed my clothes and changed into my pyjamas before slipping into bed. I had to face Sarah in the morning. At first, I thought things were going great, but things had gone downhill a bit since the whole nearly getting killed thing. We both tried, but I really didn't think things were going to work out. She was wary of my mad, dangerous lifestyle, and I was a bit hung up on my mad, dangerous flatmate.

After a long, torturous night of not sleeping, I was grumpy and exhausted. I slipped out of bed, grabbed my clothes for the day, and ambled sleepily down the stairs to the bathroom. Passing the door, I saw Sherlock sitting in his chair with my laptop balanced on his knees. Of course he was using mine. Still, if it kept him from bothering me….

One long shower later, I was ready to go out and face him. He was still sitting in his chair as if he hadn't moved. I flipped on the kettle and opened the fridge, rooting around for breakfast. "Tea?" I called over my shoulder. I got a vague sort of grunt from the vicinity of the living room that I took as a yes.

Once both cups were made, I set one on the table next to his elbow and sat down at the table with my toast. I was just finishing up the last couple of bites when the temperature behind me seemed to change. I whipped my head around and saw Sherlock standing behind me.

"Jesus, Sherlock!" I exclaimed, slopping my tea down the front of my jumper. "Did you need anything?"

"Did you come up with anything overnight? You didn't sleep."

"How did you-nevermind." I stood up from the table. "No, I didn't come up with anything."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow at me. I shrugged and went back upstairs to change. I waved to Sherlock on my way out the door. Not that he paid any attention.

The walk to the surgery was enough to clear my head, and by the time I was at work, that welling panic that had been building up since the night before had eased.

Speaking of last night, I really needed to go tell Minerva what happened. She was waiting for something, and this was something I really could not keep from her. After work, assuming Sherlock doesn't drag me off all over London again tonight.

As I walked into the surgery, I kept an eye out for Sarah. It wasn't that I was avoiding her, per se, but I more the awkward conversation we would need to have.

I was successful until I'd finished with my third patient. Nasty stomach flu, nearly threw up on me, but I was thankful to send her on her way. Sarah came in as soon as she cleared the doorway with her anti-nausea medication.

"Hey," Sarah said with a slight smile. "Can, er, can we talk?"

I hesitated. Technically I had a break, but she would know that. "Yeah. Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," she said as she sat on the empty stool. She looked uncomfortable.

"Is it about us?" I prompted.

She nodded. "I just don't think it's working between us. Maybe we should start seeing other people."

I nodded. "I was kind of thinking the same thing. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"It's not you," she added hastily. "I just think we're looking for different things."

I nodded yet again. I really didn't know what to say. "Er, if that's all…?" I started.

"Oh, yeah, of course. I'll let you get on with it." She stood and quickly left the room.

I should be upset by that, I thought as I sat down on the deserted stool, but I felt relief. It was probably a good thing that was taken care of. I had plenty of other things to think about.