"And where are you heading out to?" John Watson asked Sherlock at seven p.m that night. He looked at his friend with raised eyebrows as Sherlock placed on his jacket over his white shirt and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Just out," Sherlock avoided eye contact with John and picked up his wallet and then looked at another wallet on the coffee table "do you think I should use mine or Lestrade's wallet?"

"Sherlock," John scolded his friend half heartedly and Sherlock shook his head;

"You're right," he replied, "wouldn't appear correct."

"That would depend on where you're going," John replied to Sherlock who allowed a twinkle to enter his normally plain eyes as he smirked and stood up from the sofa, clapping once as he did so and then he checked his watch.

"Taking a friend out for dinner," Sherlock replied and John cocked his head to the side, looking at him in utter confusion.

"You don't have friends," he replied and Sherlock placed his hands onto his hips and allowed an exasperated sigh to escape his lips.

"Really John," Sherlock spoke loudly. "I am not a completely unsociable creature as you cruelly tend to believe."

"What?" John asked, his mouth hanging wide. "I...I didn't say anything...I don't think that..."

"It's alright," Sherlock muttered, "many do...I have to go or I will be late."

"Where are you taking her?" John asked, feeling cocky suddenly as his friend walked past him and he caught a whiff of some form of aftershave he had never smelt on Sherlock before. The part time Detective stood still, buttoning one of his buttons on his jacket as he looked at his friend with a raised brow;

"I never said it was a she," Sherlock stated and John folded his arms in complete victory, he could tell Sherlock was meeting a woman and Sherlock's face knew that he knew.

"You didn't need to. New aftershave?" John raised his voice, asking the question and Sherlock simply narrowed his eyes and looked to the floor;

"I knew it was too strong," he commented.

"So who is she?" John continued to push his friend.

"Time shall tell," Sherlock remained mysterious, knowing it would soon drive John mad and he enjoyed seeing that. "Don't wait up!"

"Sherlock!" John called out as the taller man ran down the steps of 221B Baker Street and out onto the cold night air. He quickly rushed along the streets until he came to her door. Taking a small breath, he moved along the paving stones and then up the three large steps to her red door. Knocking softly, he waited for a few seconds and then he saw her appear at the door.

"Good evening," Sherlock said politely. "Is this a bad time?" he wondered, noticing she was simply wearing a fluffy white towel and she had a toothbrush in her mouth, toothpaste was frothing at her mouth before she allowed Sherlock to shimmy into her town house. She held up a finger, indicating for him to wait a moment before she moved further into her home, and then disappearing into a room where she removed her toothbrush and spat out the toothpaste. Sherlock moved deeper into her home, noticing the cleanness of it. She appeared to be more of a traditionalist than he had thought. Mahogany cabinets held certain ornaments in her open spaced living area. The sofas were a light brown material and a large fireplace stood next to the TV. The kitchen was like one which would be found in a country home, large wooden worktops lined the U shaped wall and a small table was already set for any meal of the day.

"I'm sorry," Scarlett called out, walking back down the steps to the living room, "work kept me behind and I tried to get out of it but they needed me to stay behind and help call another firm and one thing led to another and then I rushed home, only to manage to get into a cab which broke down and so I had to run...then I had to shower and change...and I'm stood in a towel," she remembered and Sherlock couldn't help but grin a little at her flustering as he shook his head;

"It's quite alright," he said, wriggling his lips, bringing himself to say her name, "Scarlett."

"Anyway...I'll go and change...I'll be quick...just...well...entertain yourself for a moment I suppose...not wanting to sound rude...but I did, didn't I? Oh God I'm sorry," she garbled, "I have a tendency to talk when I'm nervous and not make any sense whatsoever."

"Really," Sherlock said forcefully. "Its fine. I'll wait here" he said and flopped onto her sofa whilst she rushed back up the steps. Sherlock observed her living area and he had deduced many things about her in the first thirty second. It was clear that her favourite drink was hot chocolate due to the two bottles of the mixture on her worktop. Her favourite film was Harry Potter because the disk was lounging on top of the box and the box looked worn quite a bit. Also she was a neat freak. Sherlock couldn't see any dust anywhere which did shock him due to her personality. He waited for around ten minutes before he saw her coming back down the stairs. She wore a Parisian white lace dress which was sleeveless; a simple brown belt went around her waist, showing off how thin she was. Her blonde hair hung loose and dropped down her back as she hurriedly put on her nude heels and looked at Sherlock.

"I'm ready," she smiled, picking up her clutch bag as Sherlock stood up and nodded at her

"Okay then," he agreed and picked up her coat which was on the back of the sofa and helped her to shrug into it, catching a sniff of what she smelt like before he followed her to the front door where she locked up and rushed down the steps to him. The two of them walked closely together as Scarlett followed him willingly down the street until he finally pushed open the door to an Italian restaurant.

"I gathered you liked Italian," Sherlock said. "I noticed there were jars of pasta on your worktop surface."

"So you only just chose this place?" Scarlett raised a brow and Sherlock simply nodded at her.

"I waited to see what food you liked before making a decision," he informed her as they were shown to a seat near the window. Sherlock held out a chair and Scarlett sat down, allowing him to tuck her back in before he sat down opposite her, observing the way she was looking around the restaurant which was quiet at that moment in time. She turned back around and noted Sherlock staring at her and she immediately went red, placing a hand through her hair;

"What is it?" she asked, wondering if she had something wrong with her.

"It's nothing," Sherlock shrugged off as Scarlett removed her coat and smiled at him.

"So I discovered you're a consulting detective," she began conversation and Sherlock smirked smugly, gazing intently at her;

"So you did research me?" he checked and Scarlett raised her hands;

"Guilty," she said. "You seemed to discover my entire life out and I knew nothing about you. It only felt right to know something in return...but then I researched the job which you have."

"And you found out no one else does it in the world?" Sherlock asked her cockily. "And that would be because it is a one of a kind job."

"Are you serious?" Scarlett asked in slight shock.

"No one in the world," he confirmed for her. "Basically I help the police when they can't solve cases."

"I read about some which you helped on," she informed him. "You're an intriguing person Sherlock."

"You think?"

"Yes...I do," she told him truthfully before they were asked to give their order;

"A lasagne for me and pasta carbonara for her," Sherlock said and Scarlett looked at him and he sighed realising he would have to explain again to her how he knew so much about her. Maybe he would start to creep her out...so maybe he should stop...if he could.

"There were jars of the sauces by the pasta, indicating it is your favourite...I can change it if you want?" he offered her and she shook her head, her mouth straight as she simply looked at him.

"How do you take it all in?" she wondered. "I wouldn't have thought anything about it and yet you can deduce many things about me."

"Like how your favourite film is Harry Potter? And how you love hot chocolate and you also like traditional things but you're not old fashioned?" Sherlock asked her and the look on her face told him that he should probably stop. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'll just ask you things from now on instead of taking them for granted."

"No," she shook her head. "It's fine...well...maybe it would be nice but it's okay," she promised him but before he could even count on answering, his phone began to vibrate in his jacket pocket.

"Sorry," he said and took the call as Scarlett sat there, looking around and allowing him to have his private conversation as he spoke to some man named Lestrade. The one thing which Scarlett did hear was Sherlock saying he would be there in five.

"I am terribly sorry," he said, being genuine to her, "but...it's work."

"No," she said, shaking her head as the food arrived and Sherlock began to go through his wallet. The disappointment in her eyes were clear as day to him and he couldn't help but feel bad which was an odd emotion for him to even consider feeling, "work comes first...and I'll pay."

"I don't think so," he said, dropping a twenty pound note onto the table. "I apologise once again," he said and then turned quickly on his heel and left the restaurant. As he stood, waiting to hail a cab, he looked back into the restaurant where he saw her sat alone. A plate of food opposite her as she swirled her wine in the glass and tossed her hair from her face, attracting looks from people near her, pitying her deeply. Sherlock stood in the cold air and closed his eyes for a moment;

"Damn it...I will probably regret this," he said and turned to walk back into the restaurant, giving up a cab which had seen him. As he manoeuvred his way inside he saw her look back at him and her mouth parted gently as she pointed to the door;

"You had work?" she recalled and he nodded.

"I still do...but...well...I don't want to leave you in another embarrassing situation, attracting pity stares from people around you so come with me," he said.

"But you're off to a crime scene...I thought that was what you did?" she asked and he nodded, offering her his hand;

"I am...but I can say you're my assistant for the evening and no one will question me and then I'll take you for dinner...seeing as how I am bowing out of this I consider it only right to make it up to you," he said and she took his hand as he quickly pulled her from her seat, barely giving her a chance to grab her clutch bag. He rushed outside and hailed a cab, opening the door for her to climb into. As he gave the directions he noted that in the mad rush, she had forgotten her coat.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "I...I didn't think...here...you must be freezing," he said and shrugged out of his own jacket, leaving himself in nothing but his white shirt, his grey coat still at the dry cleaners.

"I'm fine," she assured him but he ignored her protests and draped it over her shoulders.

"I am sorry," Sherlock said once again as the cab drew to a halt outside the crime scene tape and he held the door open for her, his free hand taking hers as he helped her out.

"Don't worry about it," she shrugged. "It's definitely a different type of date."

"Date?" Sherlock raised his brow at her and she turned instantly red, but before she had a chance to blabber on again, a new shrieking voice was heard.

"What are you doing here freak?" she asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes, looking down at the blonde beside him;

"I apologise for her profusely," he said and Scarlett looked confused.

"Lestrade called me," Sherlock said, holding the tape up for Scarlett to walk under.

"Typical," Sally Anderson muttered. "And who's the girl?"

"She's helping me out," Sherlock said and Sally raised a brow in utter confusion;

"Looks a little dressed up to me," she said, taking in her white lace dress and then putting two and two together. "You managed to get a date?" her voice went high pitched and Sherlock rolled his eyes;

"Yes," he said firmly. "But I prefer my date's to be single and not cheating slime balls...ah..." Sherlock raised his voice and a gleam came into his eyes, "speak of the devil."

"Oh Lord," a man complained as he walked down the steps, his voice slightly high as he looked at a smirking Sherlock and a timid Scarlett.

"Lestrade inside, Anderson?" Sherlock asked, moving forward, his hand rest on Scarlett's back, pushing her forward too.

"And you managed to get an invite," he said begrudgingly.

"Wouldn't miss the party for anything," Sherlock replied. "How's the wife?"

"I don't know what you mean," he denied his affair and Sherlock simply nodded;

"You never seem to know what I mean...possibly because of your poor IQ," Sherlock suggested and Scarlett simply remained still, wondering where his immense hatred of the two people had come from.

"Shut up Sherlock," Anderson snapped, "or I will tell your little date of that time there was a drug bust in your home."

"Misunderstanding," Sherlock told Scarlett before he could say anymore. "And how did Sally take the news?" he whispered as Sally's ears picked up.

"What do you mean?" Anderson wondered, sweating a little.

"So she doesn't know your wife is pregnant?" Sherlock's voice boomed.

"Shut up Holmes!" Sally retorted and then glared at Anderson. "And she can't go in with you!"

"I'd prefer for Lestrade to tell me that," Sherlock said but Scarlett shook her head;

"It's fine...I'll wait here..."

"You don't have to," he said but her eyes told him it wasn't up for discussion

"I'll wait Sherlock," she assured him and with one simple nod, he moved into the house.

She watched Sherlock move into the home and then she moved backwards, keeping her distance, that was until Sally walked over to her.

"So," she began, "you and him?"

"What about us?" Scarlett asked her and she chuckled

"He's trouble," she warned the girl and Scarlett simply looked at Donovan with a raised brow.

"He seems nice," Scarlett replied and Donovan snorted;

"He enjoys this...the murder...the thrill...you stay with him and he'll ruin you."

"Whoa," Scarlett said. "We've only just met...I know about his job anyway," she shrugged and Donovan shook her head;

"Just remember," she said warning, "he'll hurt you."

A few moments later, Sherlock chose his time to appear, stepping in between the two women and looking down at Scarlett;

"Everything okay?" he checked and the blonde nodded.

"Fine," she smiled but Sherlock didn't look convinced. He checked his watch and offered her his arm which she took, her shoulders still covered with his jacket.

"What did Donovan want?" he asked her as they walked down the pavement, looking for a place to eat.

"She told me to stay away from you," Scarlett replied and Sherlock chuckled;

"Of course she did."

...

"I don't see why you're grinning so much," Sherlock commented as he brought over a tray to the booth where Scarlett was sat in;

"We've had to downgrade terribly," he said, looking around the fast food parlour. The two of them overdressed as everyone else simply wore jeans and tops. Scarlett couldn't help but smile as she unwrapped her burger and Sherlock noticed her;

"Clearly you don't mind ending the evening in a fast food place?" he checked and she chuckled;

"I don't mind," she said. "I can honestly say this is the most unusual date I have been on."

"Well...some would say I'm not a typical and usual person," Sherlock rested his elbows on the table, eating a chip quickly.

"No," she agreed. "You're certainly not."

...

Thank you to anyone who is reading this fanfic! I'm enjoying writing it at the moment in time! Thank you to freezingsummerbreeze, your review was lovely! Glad you're enjoying it so far!