"We have a case," Sherlock spoke at six a.m. in the morning as he walked into John's room, seeing the doctor sleeping under his sheets, groaning as he heard Sherlock's voice bring him out of the peaceful world he had been in. Sherlock rubbed the back of his neck which was sore after sleeping on the sofa for another night and allowing Scarlett to use his bed. The secretary had, of course, refused profusely but Sherlock had practically reminded her that refusing what he said was not tolerated.

"What?" John asked sleepily and Sherlock simply rolled his eyes.

"Honestly John," he drawled. "You've had at least six hours sleep...I did believe that you would be able to understand one simple sentence I spoke."

"The average amount of sleep is about eight hours," John informed him and Sherlock placed his hands onto his neck, rolling his head around in a feeble attempt to make it loose.

"You don't need that long. Imagine how much of your life you lose because of sleep?" Sherlock told him.

"I really don't mind," John grumbled, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes again whilst Sherlock huffed loudly, watching as his friend went back to sleep.

"Up now John," Sherlock demanded, walking out his room. "Don't make me play the violin."

"Jesus Christ," John said and pushed his covers back, scrambling out of his bed and managing to fall to a lump on the floor. Sherlock grinned at his effort and then moved through the flat to walk into his room where Scarlett was residing, however, this time he opened the door quietly and strode into the room. The lamp was still on in his room and he saw the blonde lay in his bed. Unlike him, she kept to one side of the double bed and didn't sprawl out; her blonde hair was around her head as she lay on her side, one arm draping out the bed and her other arm holding onto the arm out the bed. She was curled up with her knees moving into her waist. Sherlock wondered what to do about her. He couldn't quite simply leave her in the flat. Moriarty was out for her to spark a reaction from Sherlock and he couldn't let it go that far.

"Scarlett," Sherlock whispered lightly as he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the side which she wasn't laid on. Slowly, he moved his hand and gently touched her shoulder. He felt her stir under his touch but she didn't open her eyes.

"Scarlett," he tried again. "You need to wake up."

"Hmm," she whispered lightly, rolling over onto her other side so she was facing Sherlock. She stuffed one hand under his cushion and slowly prised her eyes open and looked at him, her mouth parting gently.

"Sorry to wake you," he said politely. "But we have a case...and I can't leave you here alone."

"You want me to come?" she whispered and Sherlock nodded at her; running his hands through his black hair.

"Yes," he replied. "I think that would be for the best."

"Okay," she yawned, not putting up a fight like Sherlock had thought she would.

"I'll just get some clothes and let you get up then," Sherlock said, standing up and walking around his room and pulling out clean clothes from his drawers and wardrobe.

"Sherlock?" Scarlett asked and he allowed his eyes to look back at the young woman in his bed;

"Yes?" he asked her.

"Is it alright if we go back to my house? I need more clothes if I'm going to be staying for longer," she pondered, still lay on her side with her eyes shut as Sherlock sighed loudly;

"I don't really want to go back there," he pursed his lips. "If you give me a list of what you need then I'll get someone to fetch them," he promised her and she simply just yawned loudly;

"Okay."

"I'll let you get up," Sherlock said and moved over to the door and then into the bathroom to quickly change. Once he had finished he saw John in the kitchen, switching the toaster on and placing bread into the appliance.

"You want any toast?" he asked Sherlock who shook his head;

"I'm fine," he said.

"What about Scarlett?" John asked and Sherlock shrugged;

"Wouldn't know."

"Well has she calmed down since last night?" John asked, not seeing the two of them since Sherlock had decided to keep her hostage, believing it was okay to just do things like that. But then again, that wasn't saying much, the man kept human heads in his fridge for goodness sakes.

"She was never really that angry," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She was just annoyed she couldn't get her own way."

"Sounds like someone I know," John said and Sherlock sat down on an armchair, allowing his foot to tap against the floor in impatience.

"Are you referring to Sarah? That's not very nice John," Sherlock said, knowing full well that he had been on about him.

"Yes," John said sarcastically. "Of course."

"Morning," Scarlett's voice chirped when she walked into the kitchen and smiled at John who was leant against the worktop, tapping his fingers against it, waiting for his toast to pop.

"Good morning," John said and Sherlock looked at her as she picked up her bag which was beside his sofa. She looked far more relaxed in her skinny jeans, ballet flats and a striped black and white jumper on her body. She searched for her phone, figuring that would be the only thing which she needed when going out with Sherlock. Everything else in her bag would just weigh her down. She slid it into her front pocket in her jeans and looked at Sherlock.

"You know that you can have your bed back," she told him and he simply shrugged;

"Trust me Scarlett," he said. "You're probably in need of it more than me."

"Anyway," Sherlock said, suddenly jumping up from the sofa and handing Scarlett her coat and then placing his own on before he moved his hands into his leather gloves. "Let us go."

"Sherlock!" John complained. "I haven't finished my toast!"

"Eat it on the way," he said and took to the stairs, Scarlett following him but before he opened the door he turned to look at her intently.

"Whilst we're out you need to stick by me and John, okay?" he checked with her. "I don't know if Moriarty will have someone watching or not...my best guess is that he will have..."

"Okay," Scarlett promised and Sherlock held his arm out to her. Slowly and with hesitance, she allowed her hand to rest in the crook of his arm and heard John race down the steps. Sherlock stepped out onto the street, looking around and then sighing as they walked down the street in search of a black cab.

"So did Lestrade say anything about the case?" John asked Sherlock as he caught up with him and stood on his other side.

"He just said I would be interested in it and I'm in need of something to occupy my mind. Heaven knows everything has gone quiet," Sherlock drawled. "And walk beside Scarlett."

"What?" John asked his friend with raised brows.

"Have you not been able to understand any requests of mine this morning?" Sherlock asked, as Scarlett shivered in the cold and continued looking around. John huffed once and then moved to stand beside Scarlett as Sherlock suddenly jumped out and hailed a cab.

He allowed John to enter the black vehicle first and then held onto Scarlett's hand as she moved to sit in the middle before he sat beside her, giving the directions to the home where he needed to be.

As soon as the three of them arrived, Sherlock looked up to the ordinary home and helped Scarlett out before moving over to the tape and holding it up before he saw Donovan stood there, leaning against the railing which was in front of the home.

"Freak," she greeted him. "And the freak's assistant and girlfriend...so what is this then, the Golden Trio?"

"Good morning Donovan," Sherlock greeted the woman. "Lestrade phoned, is he inside?"

"He is," she nodded, seeming tired, but then again, Sherlock deduced she had been there from about five in the morning and so she wasn't her normal witty self.

"Well we shall leave you to it then," Sherlock said and began to walk up the path, John making sure Scarlett followed.

"Whoa," Donovan called out. "Just because you get privileges freak doesn't mean you can start to bring dates to crime scenes in the feeble attempt that they would even understand why you get off on this."

"I'm afraid that Lestrade has already given me permission to bring along Scarlett. So maybe it would be prudent for you to begin to get your facts correct," Sherlock assured her and moved into the house.

"And I told you to take up fishing!" she called out and John rolled his eyes, raised his hand in acknowledgement before he saw Lestrade rushing up some steps to them, coming from the basement.

"Sherlock," he greeted him. "And this must be your girlfriend," he said, looking at Scarlett as Sherlock shook his head and Scarlett agreed;

"She's a..." Sherlock struggled to find the word. What was she?

"I'm a friend..." she said and Lestrade raised his brows. Sherlock didn't have friends, especially not good looking women friends.

"So you never said why she is here," Lestrade replied and Sherlock shrugged;

"It's best if you don't know," he said and moved down the steps and into the cold basement. Scarlett followed him down the concrete steps and saw a man lay flat down on the floor, his arms stretched in front of him as she cringed at the sight, stepping back from the scene and leaning against the cold wall whilst Sherlock and John began an in depth conversation.

"He was stabbed," John stated. "Three times in the neck...with what looks like a small blade, nothing fancy."

"Who reported the death?" Sherlock asked.

"His wife," Lestrade said. "Said she was away on business and came back...found the poor bugger like this."

"Well he was a banker. You can judge by the suit and the hair, also there is the watch and the pen sticking out of his blazer is from the London Stock Exchange, biting of the finger nails indicate that he was under stress, not surprising for a banker, given the economic climate. Clearly he was in a lot of trouble; many members of the public would probably have wanted to finish him off."

"He's been dead around twenty four hours," John informed Sherlock.

"Sherlock," Scarlett suddenly croaked out, her eyes roaming over to the corner of the room where something small sat. She looked at it and Sherlock followed her eyesight. Slowly, he walked over to the gleaming object and with his gloved hands he picked it up and examined it.

"It's mine," Scarlett whispered. "It...it was taken..."

Sherlock held the pendant and looked at it before grabbing bag and bagging it. Scarlett shook as Lestrade simply looked confused.

"So how did it get here?" Lestrade asked.

"Don't," Sherlock demanded and Lestrade raised his brows;

"What?" he asked.

"Think the obvious. She has been with me for the last twenty four hours," Sherlock looked dangerously into Lestrade's eyes. "It's Moriarty"

"Moriarty? That creep who was involved in the bombings?" he checked and Sherlock nodded;

"He's after Scarlett," Sherlock said and Lestrade looked at the girl.

"Why?" he wondered but no one answered him and Sherlock simply just remained silent as did John and Scarlett.

"Is anyone planning on telling me?" Lestrade snapped at the three people in the room.

"Moriarty thinks Sherlock fancies Scarlett...he's trying to kill her to get a reaction from Sherlock and possibly kill him too. We're not sure on that bit."

"What?" Lestrade simply asked and looked at Sherlock and then to Scarlett. "You mean...you two?"

"Nothing is going on," Scarlett said, huffing slightly. Why did Sherlock find it so hard to speak about her to people? Did he not like her? Was he only keeping quiet so that no one thought anything because he didn't want anything? Scarlett couldn't tell. She only wanted to know if he liked her or not. Was that so much to ask?

"I'm going to take this back to the lab," Sherlock said quickly. "Moriarty left it for a reason."

"Fair enough," Lestrade sighed. "Keep me informed," he demanded and Sherlock nodded, rushing for the stairs. John followed and Scarlett followed him quickly. As soon as they entered the outside world they saw Donovan stood speaking with another officer and so they managed to get past her without speaking a word.

"John," Sherlock said. "You go back to Scarlett's house...she needs some things picking up and then I need you to talk to the banker's wife to see what she knows."

"I made a quick list whilst I was getting ready this morning," Scarlett said quietly and handed John a list on paper.

"Keep in touch," Sherlock said, opening the door to a cab and pushing Scarlett gently into it. She sat and stared out the window for a while and Sherlock did the same as her for some amount of time, until he found himself watching her and then he spoke;

"You're quiet," he observed.

"Hm," she agreed. "Just thinking."

"About how your locket ended up at the crime scene and why it did?" Sherlock guessed and she finally looked into his eyes and shook her head.

"No," she said. "I'm wondering about what I mean to you," she was blunt and to the point. Sherlock went quiet and then coughed loudly;

"What do you mean?" he wondered.

"Am I just a friend? Or am I not even that?" she wondered. "Because...if you just want a friend...well...I can't give you that Sherlock."

"You'd find it impossible to be my friend?" he asked her and she sighed loudly;

"I like you Sherlock," she stated.

"Don't friends like each other?" he questioned her.

"I like you more than a friend," she said and he simply went;

"Ah," he whispered. "I see."

"Do you?" she wondered "because I don't think you feel the same."

"And what would give you that impression?"

"You...just the way you act Sherlock."

"Tell me," Sherlock begged her. "If I didn't like you, do you think I would have given you my bed? Do you think I would have held you hostage to try and save you? Or that I would have even offered to take you on a date? Or that I would even let you use my sofa? Becasue I shall have you know that sofa is my most prized possession and normally I dislike anyone who even looks at it never mind sits on it."

Scarlett remained silent.

"As I thought," he drawled. "So yes...I do like you Scarlett...and I have never told anyone that."

...

"How long have we been here?" Sherlock asked as he sat on a stool, his eyes piercing into a microscope as he examined every aspect of the locket.

"Well it's seven p.m." Scarlett drawled. She was sat on the worktop next to the microscope, messing with her phone whilst Sherlock refused to leave until he found something wrong with the locket. Scarlett allowed her feet to dangle off the edge as Sherlock felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"Can you get that for me?" he asked her and slowly she moved her body from the worktop and stood to the side of Sherlock, her hand moving onto his chest as she pulled his Blackberry from his pocket and she read the text;

"John says he has gone out with Sarah for the night," she told him and handed him the phone, placing it into his pocket.

"Oh goodness," a new voice joined the room and Sherlock remained looking into the microscope whilst Scarlett looked at a smallish woman who had just joined them.

"Molly," Sherlock said without looking up.

"I didn't expect to find you here Sherlock," she stated and placed some paperwork into some cabinets "and you've brought a friend."

"Hmm," Sherlock said, still intrigued by the lens. Scarlett took it upon herself to smile at the woman;

"Scarlett Jenson...I'm a...well..." she said.

"She's a woman I took on a date and now is on some form of hit list and we're trying to catch whoever is trying to kill her," Sherlock said, finally looking from his microscope and Molly's eyes went wide and she fiddled with her hair.

"You?" she gasped. "You took someone on a date?" Scarlett frowned. Why did people tend to obsess over that and not the fact she was being killed? Was he really as unsociable as they all had said?

"I am a male Molly," Sherlock said, pursing his lips. "We have been known to be attracted to the opposite sex. It is how evolution continues."

"But this is you," Molly said. "You've never been interested in anyone."

"Things can change," Sherlock informed her and she nodded;

"Evidentially," she said. "I'll leave you two be then," and then she left the room, one final glare at Scarlett who remained straight lipped and then looked at Sherlock;

"Please tell me you weren't completely oblivious to that?" she asked him and he raised a brow, resting his arm across the worktop.

"To what?" he asked her.

"She clearly dislikes me because she fancies you" Scarlett snorted. "I thought you picked up on everything?"

"I do," he said. "Does she?"

"It is so clear," Scarlett shook her head.

"Hmm," Sherlock mused and Scarlett jumped back onto the work surface as Sherlock stood up and moved around the lab before walking back over to her;

"I can't find anything with the locket," he sulked. "Something isn't right" he picked it up and slowly placed it around her neck, clasping the chain.

"Shouldn't it be kept as evidence?" she whispered as she felt him resting against her knees, his hand lingering on her neck, his touch making her shiver involuntarily as she allowed her legs to part and Sherlock automatically stepped closer to her.

"Technically yes," he whispered. "But I don't think it will matter too much" he promised her, his other hand resting onto her waist.

"You sure?" she checked, one of her hands daring to move into his black curly hair, feeling its softness as her other hand held onto his arm which was on her waist.

"I'm always sure," he told her, searching her eyes, his voice low and soft as he moved closer to her, his head slowly descending closer to hers.

"Sherlock-" she began and pulled back slightly but Sherlock placed his finger to her lips and his hand pushed on her back, moving her closer to him;

"For once," he began quietly. "I'm acting on my instinct...being impulsive...which is something I normally do for the thrill when working a case...just...for once...don't defy me."

"I won't" she said and felt his breath on her cheek;

"Good," he said and his mouth moved to an inch within hers, but before he could even make contact, the lights in the lab went out. Sherlock pulled away, his hands still on Scarlett as he simply began to search for his phone, pulling it out and allowing it to illuminate the dark room.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, grabbing both her hands and pulling her down from the worktop, keeping hold of one of her hands as she panted in fear and then heard the banging of a door.

"What's going on?" she asked him and he used the phone to guide them through the lab, the banging of doors becoming louder.

"Sh..sh..." he told her, when he finally found a cold room after rushing down the fire exit steps into the morgue. He shut the door on them and pulled both of them into the corner, settling on the floor and pulling Scarlett down with him, his hand clasping around her mouth to keep her from breathing loudly. She closed her eyes as she felt Sherlock drag her body so she was resting against his stomach, in between his bent knees. Slowly, the sound of footsteps drew closer and Scarlett and Sherlock both turned rigid as the morgue doors opened and Scarlett felt a tear roll down her eye as she heard a man shout loudly, as if speaking on a phone.

"He's not here boss," he said. "Him or the girl...I don't know...the place is clear...on my way," he said and then with that there was more slamming of doors and Scarlett and Sherlock remained still for another few moments before Sherlock stood up, Scarlett doing the same, allowing him to haul her to her feet where she then flung herself into his arms, her head resting on his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Sherlock wondered what to do for a moment, his body stiff, before he allowed his own large hands to softly stroke her hair and he rested his chin on the top of her head, silently comforting her.

...

Please leave me a review and let me know what you think about it, hope I'm managing to keep Sherlock in character when he is with Scarlett, I don't want to change him too much!