"I can't believe you stole a horse!" Watson scolded as he paid for my bail.

"Hey! I don't do the bike thing. How was riding all around Scotland?" He turned to look at me with that fatherly look of 'Say another word and I'll beat you with my cane'. "Right then. So, I'm guessing you found the castle that is being repaired, and the man gave you guys wrong information?" I said as we walked out.

"Yes. Holmes wants us to go onto-"

"The lake tonight to find another way in. Yeah, I know." He clenched his jaw and I felt he was tired and annoyed. "Don't worry Watson. Just remember to bring your stethoscope!" He stopped as I walked on, leaving the place to find Holmes and Sara waiting for us.

"It is quite un-lady like to be caught in such a foul place!" Sara said as Holmes had his back to me, looking all around with his hands behind his back.

"Sure is. Wanna know what else is un-lady like?" Her brows came together and I walked beside her, our shoulders touching. "Being a German spy." I whispered when I say Holmes walk off, looking at the dirt a couple of meters away. She flinched eyes wide, her head shooting to me. "No worries! He'll know tomorrow once he finds the castle with the submarine your looking for." I walked over to, knowing Watson had heard what I said.

"Stop!" he ordered, his on his stomach, surveying the grass with his face parallel to the ground. "This grass here seems to have been stepped upon by a wagon…" He shot up, looking towards the ocean. "Yes. Tonight shall prove to be quite useful." He murmured to his self. "Come now! Let us retreat!" he yelled, turning to face Watson, Sara and I.

"God, I hate trains." I muttered, looking blankly out the window. Holmes solved the case this morning. There was no husband, and the 'Lockness monster' that people saw was a disguise for a submarine Holmes brother, Mycroft, had developed for the queen, who rejected it. The women was a German spy to try and steal the submarine. Fellow 'Mormons' (German spays) died at the bottom of a lake somehow. She went to jail.

"And why is that?" Holmes asked, slouching in the seat and looking at me with a raised eyebrow. Watson had fallen asleep an hour ago, being as it was now two a.m.

"It's boring." I muttered, slouching in my own seat and staring at him with a bored look.

"Then make it un-boring." I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

"Well. we could play patty cake." There was a silence and I finally looked over to him to see he had on a blank look. "Kidding." I said, only to clench my jaw to stop my laughter as he leaned over, scooting to the end of the seat holding his hands up.

"Well?" He said in such a serious tone that I hunched over, trying not to wake John with my laughing. I looked up to see him sitting back, his eyes glaring but his mouth slightly smirking. I hit his knee, shaking my head as I tried to catch my breath.

"You did that on purpose!" I jeered, and merely shrugged, looking out the window.

"Everything I do has a purpose." I rolled my eyes and he looked at me. There was a moment of silence as we stared at each other, the air getting tense. "Are you afraid?" I couldn't look away. I wanted to, but his brown eyes became a vortex, locking onto me and there was no escape.

"Yes…"

"Why?" His voice was sharp, piercing every pore in my body.

"I don't-"

"Your lying." I got a hard look in my eye, making him raise an eyebrow at my sudden change of stature.

"I'm sorry if I don't feel like telling you that I'm scared for yourself!" I whispered harshly, and he suddenly froze, surprised at the comment. "Moriarty is bad news. And once he finds out I can't tell him anything about you he already knows, he'll kill me, then you! Or maybe the other way around. Hell! For the fun of it he might kill John in front of you." I looked out the window, the steam all out and now a bit embarrassed I said any of that, though didn't let him know it. "Sorry for making the mistake of caring weather or not you get hurt." I muttered, not looking to him. We stayed silent for another hour, unsure of what to say to the other. Watson woke up soon after, wincing some as he held onto his leg. I smiled some at him, sighing. "Here, take the seat." I said, standing and sitting next to Holmes, leaving a good two feet of space between us.

"Thank you." He said softly, putting his back to the window and stretching his leg across the bench. With a soft sigh, his head lulled to the side and he was back to sleep. Again, the tense silence took over. Only another 6 hours of this. Piece of cake.

*Holmes POV*

I took her words into account, but could not find logic in them. I dazed out, only to barley notice her presences besides me as Watson stretched his leg out. After a couple of minutes, she rested her head back and closed her eyes, so I decided to look at her. She had gooseflesh over her skin and her arms were wrapped around her body. I smirked, knowing I was right to tell her she should have worn a jacket onto the train. I looked back out the window with a smirk, thinking our odd occurrence earlier was nothing more then fatigue. She tended to be antsy when sleepy, and no matter what is always in the way. A person of no use to me say for the connection to Moriarty she provides.

Not a second could have gone by when I thought that, when a pressure was now on my shoulder. My head shot over, only to see Lara had her head on my shoulder, curled up on the seat as she shook lightly. I just stared, unable to comprehend what to do. I knew, somewhere in the empty walls of my heart, that she was by far more useful then a connection to the mad man. She was clever and strong, somehow knowing things before I. When talking with her, she actually seemed stimulated, unlike Watson who always either seemed bored or never tried to help.

I smirked some, moving to where she had her head on my leg, and I took off my over coat, draping it around her small frame. Her shivering ceased and she sighed, finally going into a peaceful slumber. I looked down at her for sometime, trying to decipher what she meant to me. Certainly something disposable. Work was my life, and frivols things such as ideas of possessing a person or fancying people. More of a obsession for now. Yes, that seems correct. A matter of how she got here, why she knows so much and why her presence affects me so.

I looked down at her, moving a strand of her hair that had come lose from her 'pony tail' as she called it, to behind her ear. I nearly hissed when my finger barley touched her skin. She scooted back, the back of her head now touching my hip, as she brought the jacket closer to her. I looked at my hand, unsure of why it felt like I was burned and- more importantly- why it had felt so good. Like I had to do it again? To consul her, comfort or just to plain hold her?

I glared out the window, fully enraged by the new events that had unfolded. Another queer clue to an almost unsolvable case.

Almost