The sound of a flute drifted through the flat. Sherlock stood in the doorway of the parlor, watching Susan silently. She was perched on her normal spot on the couch, completely enveloped in her music. Her eyes were shut and her fingers seem to dance on the keys. She landed gracefully on the last note and slowly lowered her flute, taking a deep breath. Sherlock took a step into the room and Susan spun around. Sherlock walked calmly to one of the chairs. He took a sip of tea from the mug he was holding as Susan stared at him. The room was completely silent. Sherlock set the mug down and turned to face Susan. "Partita for solo flute in A minor," He said, identifying the piece she had been playing. Susan nodded, smiling slightly. "I've played it so often I have it memorized," She said quietly. Sherlock nodded slightly and then pointed at her flute case. "What piece is that?" He asked. Susan looked down and blushed slightly, "Oh that's a piece for violin and flute by CPE Bach." "Your reaction to my question implies that you have a strong emotional connection to that work," Sherlock stated blankly. Susan nodded, sighing slightly. "It was the first piece I ever learned, my father used to play violin. We used to play it together." Sherlock turned and leaned back in the chair. Susan began to take her flute apart, cleaning each section carefully. "Thank you," Sherlock said in the silence. Susan stopped and turned again to Sherlock. "What?" She asked surprised, unsure if she had actually heard what she thought she had. Sherlock turned and repeated, "I said thank you." "Y-You're welcome," Susan stammered, thrown completely off guard. "Your assistance in the case was critical and appreciated," Sherlock added. Susan blinked a few times and then a realization hit her. "John told you to say that to me didn't he?" Sherlock shrugged and said simply, "Perhaps." Susan laughed, and finished putting away her flute. There was another extended silence. "How did you know to go to Lestrade?" Sherlock asked. Susan started pulling a toothbrush and other toiletries out of her bag. "Well you mentioned him when you told John about the case, you said he was the one that brought it to you. I asked for him at the front desk and mentioned your name, it worked better than I had hoped," she said, chuckling slightly. Sherlock smirked slightly as well, "It's refreshing to know someone around here listens to me." He stood up and said, "From your behavior I take it you'd like to prepare for bed now but don't want to say anything." Susan blushed but nodded. Sherlock began walking out of the room, he stopped at doorway and turned around, "You did make on critical mistake though…" Susan looked confused. Sherlock's smirk grew even wider, "you told Lestrade your real name." Susan fell back onto the couch, gasping. "Oh god," she muttered, covering her face with her hands. "Don't worry," Sherlock said, taking a step towards her. "Lestrade didn't seem to notice, besides he seems to trust me to some degree… Or perhaps it's more that he fears me…" Sherlock pondered it for a second. Susan took a deep shaky breath, and mumbled, "I pray you are right." Sherlock turned back towards the door and said, "Don't pray, it won't do you any good." Susan stood up again and said, "Wait." Sherlock turned around and raised an eyebrow. "May I have one of your cigarettes?" She asked quietly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "How did you know I used to smoke?" Susan looked Sherlock in the eyes and said, "It's the way you speak and express what you're thinking." Sherlock took a deep breath and said, "Well I don't have any, but you know that is nasty habit to pick up." Susan shrugged and said, "They help me sort through things." Sherlock nodded slowly, looking away. He glanced back and said, "Good night Susan, sleep well." "Good night Sherlock, I'll see you in the morning."