I picked up my phone, while placing my spoon back into my cereal bowl.

John's name flashed up on the screen, indicating that my brother was calling. I answered the call without hesitation, resting my elbows on the table.

'Hey, John,' I greeted. 'Everything OK?'

He chuckled. 'Everything's fine, sis. Just fine.'

I smiled. 'Any reason for the laugh there?'

A pause. 'I think…'

The smile disappeared, being replaced by a frown. John's antics were about to come into play here. I knew it. 'Yes?'

'I think you're going to like what I'm about to send to you.'

'What are you going to send to me?' I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

'You'll see. Hang up a sec and I'll get it to you.'

'O… K…' I said slowly and uncertainly, not really putting the pieces together. 'Bye, I guess?'

'Catch you later, sis.'

The phone line went dead and I slowly took my phone from my ear, bemused. I shrugged and was about to resume eating my Tuesday morning breakfast when my phone buzzed.

John had sent me a recording, along with a message:

I suggest you're alone when listening to this. - JW

My confusion continued to grow as I pushed my chair back. I placed my bowl into the sink, groaning internally as I caught sight of the washing up I'd have to do later. I walked up to my room, shutting the door. With slightly shaking hands, I pressed the play button on the recording as I flopped onto my bed.

'Right,' I heard my brother sigh. 'We need to talk.'

'Do we?' I heard a distinct thud and assumed Sherlock was putting down what he had been holding.

'Yes. We do,' John replied.

'What about?' I could just about imagine Sherlock slumping into his chair, feeling defeated.

'You. And Kodi,' John stated firmly.

I gasped. Me? What in the world did John need to talk to Sherlock about me for?

'And what about us do you possibly need to talk about?' was Sherlock's reply. Ohhh, the way Sherlock said 'us' sent shivers through my spine.

'The fact that you've… oh, I don't know, changed since you met her?' John's voice was mildly questioning, like he thought the answer was obvious.

'Changed? What on Earth are you talking about?' Sherlock sounded so confused. So was I, now I thought about it.

'You're so different. You're opening up. You're smiling around her. You're joking around her. You called her beautiful.'

And? Was that a bad thing?

Sherlock chuckled. 'You say that like it's a bad thing, John.'

'No, I'm just saying, you better fucking look after her.'

'Hold on, stop. You better fucking look after her? How can I when she doesn't even like me?' Sherlock protested.

How wrong could such an intelligent mind be? Of course I liked him. I might even say I-

John laughed. 'You, my dear friend, have an IQ of at least one fifty, categorising you as a genius, and yet you're telling me you're missing a few simple signs of love?'

'You know love,' (The word came out as if Sherlock was disgusted) 'isn't exactly one of my strong points, John.'

'I've seen the way you look at her-'

What?

'- and I kind of have to disagree, Sherlock.'

A really long pause followed. I could sense that both Sherlock and John were really uncomfortable.

Finally, after what seemed like years, Sherlock replied. 'John,' he whispered. 'If I tell you something, you must promise that it doesn't go past the walls of this room. Especially not to Kodi. OK?'

'Well…'

'Promise me, John. Please.' The please sounded so desperate that I was tempted to stop listening. My brother could be so wicked sometimes.

'Alright,' he said. 'I promise.'

'Well… If I had to change my ways for a woman, I'd have to hope that that woman was your sister.'

… Was he saying what I think he was saying?

'Really?' John replied, surprised.

'Mm. She's really one of a kind, she is.'

Oh god. I needed to breathe. Was Sherlock saying that he… loved me?

'And… I think… I think I… love her.'

I paused the recording, trying to get my thoughts in order. Sherlock loved me. Sherlock loved me. Sherlock loved me.

I didn't think he was capable of love. From what John had told me, I'd have said love was the last thing on Sherlock's mind.

'Seriously?' John replied.

'No, I'm obviously joking.' Sherlock said dryly. He paused and I literally came down from my high in two seconds flat. 'Of course I'm serious, John. Why wouldn't I be?'

And the high was back.

That was enough. That was all I needed to hear. Sherlock loved me and that was all that mattered to me right now.

Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. - SH

I stared at the text in a dazed state. It was not something I had been expecting to receive on a Tuesday afternoon.

If inconvenient, come anyway. - SH

I raised an eyebrow. Slowly standing up from my arm chair in the living room, I said to my parents, 'Guys, I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back in time for dinner.'

Dad looked at me, pausing the movie he and Mum were watching. 'Everything OK, Kodes?'

'Yeah, I think,' I replied.

'Let us know if there's a problem, love,' Mum cut in.

'Jeez, Mum, last I checked I was twenty seven, not seventeen.' I rolled my eyes.

'I know, honey. I just worry about you,' Mum replied.

I smiled, shaking my head. I walked up to her and bent down to kiss her cheek. 'Well, you don't need to worry about me anymore,' I told her, straightening up. 'Love you guys!' I said as I walked out of the living room.

I knocked on the door of 221b Baker Street, stepping back as I waited. The door opened a few seconds later and Mrs Hudson stood on the other side.

'Hello, dear,' she greeted with a smile.

'Hi, Mrs Hudson!' I replied eagerly. 'How are you?'

She stepped back to let me into the flat. 'Oh, I'm very well, thank you, dearie,' she said brightly. 'But I don't think I can say the same for our scientist upstairs,' she added in a whisper.

I frowned. 'Is he OK?' I asked, matching her quiet tone.

'I think he's feeling lonely since John left. Why don't you go and talk to him, hmm?'

'I will. Thank you.' I smiled at her and then started walking upstairs.

I opened the door to the flat. Sherlock was slouched on his chair. His legs were outstretched in front of him, his ankles crossed and a gun was in his hands as they limped over the armrests.

'Sherlock?' I asked tentatively. Why the hell did he have a gun?

His arm flew up and his finger pulled the trigger. I yelped, covering my ears and turning my face away. 'Bored!'

'What?' I said, looking at him abruptly.

'BORED!' he said as he fired another gunshot.

'Excuse me?' My eyes widened.

'BORED!' After another gunshot (and what I hoped would be the final one), his arm resumed its position as it hung over the armrest.

I chanced a glanced at the wall behind me. There on the purple patterned wallpaper, a yellow, spray-painted, smirking face stared directly at me. Embedded inside the circle were at least two dozen holes, all made by Sherlock's gun.

'Sherlock, how long have you been doing this?' I asked him.

'Since I realised I was bored,' he replied flatly.

I sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. I took pigeon steps towards him. 'Listen, Sherlock, you can't ruin Mrs Hudson's walls like this.' I knelt beside the chair.

'What else can I do?' he asked indignantly.

His arm rose once again, and in a flurry of panic, I took the ultimate risk. I put my hand over the muzzle, hoping against hope that Sherlock had seen my hand and was humane enough not to shoot.

Our hands stayed in that position for what felt like years and I really thought he was going to do it. I really thought he was heartless enough to shoot a hole through my hand.

But then I remembered his words to John: I think I… love her.

If that was really the case, then he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't pull the trigger.

Finally, he lowered his arm, and I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Slowly, I took hold of the barrel, and with my other hand, pried Sherlock's fingers off the grip. I took the remaining three bullets out of the gun, closing my hand around them.

Suddenly, he muttered a word, so softly that it took me a couple of seconds to work out what he meant. 'Stay.'

'Stay?' I repeated.

'Yes, stay,' he clarified. 'Here.'

I hesitated. 'I-I guess I can stay for a couple of hours, yeah.' My heart pounded against my chest.

Sherlock shook his head viciously, sitting up in the chair. 'No. I mean stay. Here. Forever.'

'As in: move in with you?' I asked.

I heard him heave a sigh of annoyance. 'Yes.'

'Well…' I stood up, backing away from the chair, the barrel of the gun and the bullets still clutched in both my hands. 'I don't… I don't know if I can… I mean, John left three days ago…'

He sighed again, though this time I sensed a feeling of self-loathing behind it. 'I've frightened you,' he stated bluntly.

'What, no!' I protested instantly. 'No, you haven't, Sherlock. I'm just… overreacting.'

'So would you? Move in?' he asked hopefully.

'I don't…' I sighed this time. 'I'll see. I'll talk to my parents tonight and I'll see what I can do.'

'But… from what I've observed, your parents have an obvious… dislike towards me. You've even said so yourself.'

I smiled slightly. 'You really haven't met my parents, Sherlock. I bet with a little persuading, they can be swayed from their… rigid mindset.'

I watched as he was obviously processing my words in that palace in his head (John had called it a Mind Palace, I believe) and then as his straight face gave way to a smirk.

'So how much should we say? Fifty?'

It took me a minute to get what he was hinting at.

'Yeah,' I replied, grinning. 'We'll settle for fifty.'

'By tomorrow morning, I could become fifty pounds richer,' he mused more to himself.

I smirked. 'Try saying that the other way round, yeah?'

'No,' he said almost instantly. 'So you said you'd stay for a couple of hours, then.'

I shook my head fondly. 'Maybe, if you promise not to shoot the flat down.'

He dismissed my words with a wave of his hand. 'You can get rid of them. I won't be needing them anymore. I doubt I'll be bored for a while now.'

I gave him a weird look, keeping myself silent, and then turned away into the kitchen. I flipped the lid of the bin and dropped the gun and bullets into it.

When I went back into the living room, Sherlock had sat forward in the chair, with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together.

'What are you thinking?' I said as I settled myself into John's chair.

'What? Nothing, don't worry.' He sat back up again, shaking his head.

'Emelia Ricoletti?' I suggested.

'No… no. Not her,' he replied slowly.

'What then?' I asked, growing concerned. 'Sherlock?'

'Do you remember on Saturday when I had that letter in my hands and I suddenly got up and left?'

I nodded. 'Sure.'

'That letter… that was from my grandad. It was…' He took in a breath. 'It was the last letter he sent me before Alzheimer's took him away.' Sherlock sighed. 'I just… I didn't want you and John to see me broken like that so I fled.'

'Where'd you go?'

'To his grave. I stayed there for hours.'

'Oh, Sherlock… I'm so sorry.'

'No, don't be. It wasn't anything to do with you.'

'I know…'

'I just… Everything I loved, everyone I loved, either left without an explanation, or if there was an explanation, it would be a rather grim one.' He grimaced. 'So I decided to stop loving.'

He stood up. 'I'm going into my bedroom for a bit.' He walked to the doorway and then turned back. 'I would like it if you stayed to greet me when I get back.'

'Sure. That's fine.'

He gave me a half-smile, and then disappeared.

Everything I loved, everyone I loved, either left without an explanation, or if there was an explanation, it would be a rather grim one. So I decided to stop loving.

That explained why Sherlock was so hostile, so heartless. He'd had his heart broken one too many times… and he decided to pay the consequences.

That made him a hero. A tragic hero. And there wasn't anyone who'd fit that role better than Sherlock Holmes himself.

Hi everyone. Yes, I know I last updated in January. I'm sorry. I have two fics to be working on, this one and another one over on FictionPress.

Plus the fact that my exams are creeping closer and closer to me every single second so balancing revision, writing, TV and my social life is getting tougher and tougher.

I have to drop at least one of them each day. Most days it's TV and writing, but I guessed I kept you waiting long enough so today my social life was the one to go.

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and that I haven't lost all my old readers. This is now my most popular story in terms of follows and favourites. I hope to accumulate more as the story goes on.

I don't know when the next chapter will be out, schedules are very random just now. I'll be able to breathe properly once my exams are over in late June, so yeah. Things will get a little clearer then.

Please leave a review, I'd love to know what you think!