"I don't think so," Sherlock said, his eyes still shut as he heard Scarlett move through the flat quietly at twenty minutes to eight the next morning after she had been shot at along with Sherlock. Scarlett looked over to the sofa where Sherlock was laid; his hair messed around his face and his face pale white.
"I have to go Sherlock...the firm has a large meeting today," Scarlett told him and he opened his eyes, quickly sitting up and looking over at her as he shook his head firmly.
"You can't go today," he told her. "Someone is out there, possibly after your life and my own by the looks of it."
"So when am I supposed to be able to go out?" Scarlett placed her hand onto her hip, looking over at him and he shrugged;
"When I catch whoever is trying to kill you," he said and noted how Scarlett shut her eyes tightly for a moment and then opened them wide.
"Sherlock," she complained, "can you just not say that someone is trying to kill me, okay? Because I am so scared right now."
"Even though it is true?" Sherlock raised his brow in confusion and Scarlett simply just nodded her head.
"Yes," she snapped. "Even though it is true...because you saying it just makes me more worried."
"And you should be," Sherlock snorted, running his hands through his hair before snapping off his nicotine patch and standing up, pacing up and down the side of the coffee table.
"Sherlock," Scarlett said through gritted teeth. "I don't need reminding...but I can't keep hiding...I'll just get a cab to work and back, nothing will happen."
"I had a case about a cab killer once," Sherlock informed her and noticed how she gulped once and contemplated staying before simply shaking her head;
"No," she said. "I can't..."
"If you go down those steps then I will drag you back Scarlett," Sherlock warned her and she simply chuckled lightly;
"I disagree," she said and Sherlock simply raised his brow, silently telling her that he would and she shouldn't test him. "Look...he has to back off for a while...he won't come back as soon as possible..."
"Clearly you don't know these type of people," Sherlock said. "Until we find out who is after you, then you're staying with me."
"And how am I supposed to earn a living? I have a mortgage...and bills...what do I tell them, some crazy man tried to assassinate me after burgling my home and now this man who has a job which he invented is keeping me hostage to save my life?" she asked sarcastically and Sherlock simply placed his bottom lip over his top and nodded thoughtfully;
"You could tell them that and risk sounding like a complete psychopath...or you could just phone in sick?" he suggested.
"I promise I will be back quickly," she said. "Just let me deliver the paperwork at least...and then I will leave...I promise," she clasped both her hands together and begged him.
"No Scarlett," he said and she rolled her eyes, settling down on the sofa as Sherlock walked into the kitchen.
"Tea?" he questioned her, preparing a pot, but he received no reply. Quickly, he turned around and saw her removing her coat, juggling her phone to her ear;
"I'll be in later...it's just confusing..." she said into the phone and Sherlock watched her, quickly, he shook his head and then moved over to her, taking the phone from her ear and placing it against his own, hearing a old woman shrieking down the phone;
"Good morning, Miss Jenson is unable to come into work today...and probably tomorrow...just put her on holiday leave if you will, maybe for a couple of weeks," Sherlock said into the phone, "and it was very nice speaking to you and judging by your nagging I imagine it is your time in life and so I wish you look through your menopause" Sherlock said and he hung up, placing the phone back into Scarlett's waiting hand.
"You...please...oh God...tell me that didn't happen" Scarlett begged "please tell me you didn't just say that to her..."
"I'm afraid I did," Sherlock said. "Actually, I'm not particularly afraid I did it...I don't really care."
"Are you crazy?" Scarlett spat out.
"No," he said. "Just a highly functioning sociopath...tea?"
"We went on one date. One date...and now you've got me into trouble with work...nearly had me killed...oh my god...oh my god," the realisation suddenly came to Scarlett and she settled down onto the sofa, burying her head into her hands.
"And yet you fail to answer my question" Sherlock replied "I'll make you a hot chocolate then."
"Sherlock!" she suddenly snapped at him. "Just...please tell me this isn't real...oh God...I don't feel well."
"That will be the shock," he assured her, "it will pass soon and then we can speak. Drink up."
He placed a hot chocolate onto the table in front of her as he saw her pale even further and then gulp before standing up and running to the bathroom. Sherlock rolled his eyes before setting his tea down and following her, noticing her head was hanging over the toilet and she was making gurgling sounds. Sherlock bent over her and pulled her hair from her face as she continued to throw up, patting her back as she went.
"Are you okay?" he asked when she moved her head from the seat and flushed the toilet, she nodded and Sherlock helped her to her feet, his hand resting onto her waist as he steadied her.
"I'm sorry..." she said. "I...it all just came back to me...everything that has happened..."
"It's fine," he said deeply to her. "I'll let you clean up in here."
He left her in the bathroom and moved into his own room, quickly changing from his pyjamas and into his purple shirt, leaving the top few buttons open and then palcing his trousers on before placing his socks and shoes on and placing his pyjamas away into a drawer. Sherlock then took it upon himself to go back into the living room where John was sat, drinking Scarlett's hot chocolate.
"I made that for Scarlett," he pointed out and John looked into the liquid before setting it down;
"I'll make her a new one," he said and Sherlock shook his head;
"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said. "She's just thrown up...I doubt she would want anything like that to drink now. I'll get her some water."
"You're being very accommodating," John replied.
"The girl has been burgled, shot at and I have told her she is staying with me until this over. I think accommodating is the least I can be," Sherlock informed his friend. "I've also removed the eyeballs from the bathroom."
"There were eyeballs in the bathroom?" John rolled his eyes. Sherlock did used to worry him with his experiments but he had become accustomed to it.
"Yes," Sherlock said. "They were in the shampoo bottle."
"What?" John gasped in horror. "I used that shampoo..."
"Then your hair has remains of human eyes in it," Sherlock responded.
"Sherlock," Mrs Hudson's voice came from the door and she handed him a letter when he walked over to her.
"Mrs Hudson," he greeted her, taking the letter.
"This came in the post for you just now...thought I would deliver it up...is everything okay?" she noticed only John and Sherlock were stood in the room and she placed a hand onto her hip and raised a brow at him;
"Where's your lady friend? Don't tell me you wasn't a gentleman Sherlock. I expected more from you," she scolded Sherlock and then went silent when she saw Scarlett appear to the side of her, smiling kindly before walking into the living room and standing beside Sherlock;
"You don't need to worry Mrs Hudson," Scarlett said. "He was a gentleman in the end."
"Is this like some dream?" John wondered. "Sherlock...gentleman...same sentence..."
"It has been known to happen John. I thank you for the letter Mrs Hudson," he said and the woman knew she was being dismissed and so she took her leave, allowing Sherlock to open the letter. A simple white piece of paper lay in front of him with one letter on it. John looked at it over his shoulder and he pursed his lips together.
"I didn't think it would...I mean...he's resurfaced...but why?" John garbled and Sherlock simply folded the letter up and placed it on the coffee table whilst Scarlett looked confused.
"What is it?" she asked but Sherlock remained silent as did John.
"Sherlock," John murmured. "Why now?"
"Because he thinks he has found a weakness in me," Sherlock said and they both looked at Scarlett who looked back at each of them, finally resting her eyes on Sherlock.
"What is it?" she asked him. "Sherlock...please tell me."
"You have to believe me Scarlett," Sherlock quickly said and walked over to her, resting both his hands onto her cheeks, making her look at him as she began to worry once again. "I never meant for you to get involved in any of this and I would never mean to put you in danger. Ever."
"I know Sherlock," she said to him. "I know you wouldn't."
Sherlock nodded once, knowing she believed him and he ran his hands through his hair whilst Scarlett continued to watch him.
"Please tell me Sherlock," she pleaded, not able to suffer the silence for much longer;
"Moriarty," he simply spoke.