Thanks so much for the reviews and favourites! Vivi, Mustangwoman and SQ, it's thanks to you guys that I'm continuing this so there's the proof ladies and gentlemen! your comments DO have an effect! Sorry that this is an inbetweenish kinda chapter, hope you like it none the less.
If you want me to continue, I do have another chapter lined up but I will need a certain amount of encouragement ( you see there's this button...)
Enjoy, love BellaD

I was lying curled up in the back seat of the car, the radio blaring in the background. My head resting against the side window, I was trying to sort out the thoughts that had been haunting my mind over the last two weeks. All the different perspectives, ideas, suspicions and doubts that were racing through my mind. They seemed so busy and loud that I was surprised Sherlock couldn't hear them from the where he was sitting next to me.

I had tried to discuss them with Sherlock a few times but to no avail.
Then again, when I say discuss I really mean that I tried to tell him I got jealous once, and tried to make him jealous on two occasions.

When I mentioned I got jealous, he raised an eyebrow at me and turned around, mumbling something that sounded like Latin for idiot.
Trying to make Sherlock jealous ended even better, namely with him laughing at me when I mentioned a series of VERY flattering messages I had received on my blog.

Either way, this wasn't going well and I couldn't even figure out why these things elicited such non-reactions from him. Was it because he didn't feel threatened by other men, or was it simple because he did. not. care.

We were on our way to a case for Mycroft ("for your country" seemed to have the same effect on Sherlock as "could be dangerous" had on me; he really was the more noble one of us...) and I knew I had a fair few hours to think this through .

I settled myself down and closed my eyes, forcing myself into the deep state of relaxation I had learned to apply while in Afghanistan; making me look like I was fast asleep. I could do this for hours, completely detached from my body I could think, undisturbed by Sherlock.

How was anyone meant to know what Sherlock thought, about anything, let alone something he tried to conceal (once again I wondered. Was it for fear of seeming vulnerable? Or something more sinister?)

I heard the songs reel past one by one, Sherlock softly singing along to some of them, his deep baritone vibrating through the car like a lullaby. Uninhibited in his supposed solitude. I forced the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth to relax, loosening my muscles until once more Sherlock would no longer be able to tell I was not asleep.

I tried to focus on all the things we shared, all the signs that maybe, perhaps, possibly, you had been telling me the truth when you said those three words. We spent so much time together, laughed together at peoples idiocy, hurt together at humanity's cruelty.
Neither of us were particularly eloquent when it came to emotions, I was fine as long as I could 'backspace', 'Ctrl Z', or 'delete' what I had put out there but spontaneous decelerations never sounded right somehow; and you... well you're YOU, need I say more? We both showed our affection in brief touches, small private smiles and gentle kisses.

Surely these things meant you cared? But how, how was it possible for you to be at all interested by me? Dull, quiet, normal, all the things you despised, me.
As we passed the last of the proper towns surrounding London, I realized that there was no way you could be truly interested in me. Better by far that I made this easier on both of us.
I'd sign up to the army again, save some lives somewhere, if I couldn't save my own heart.
But I would try something, just one last time, before I left my heart behind for good.

Remeber, the future of this fic is in your hands!
Love BellaD