"Jesus Christ!" Scarlett shouted as soon as she woke up the next morning to the sound of a gunshot. Jumping out of Sherlock's bed, she pulled down her vest top and peeked her head out of Sherlock's room, looking down the corridor, but everything was silent. There was no one screaming for their life or begging for forgiveness. Scarlett moved down the hallway and finally saw Sherlock, lounged out in his chair, a gun held in his hand as he draped it by his side.

"Ah," he said. "Good morning."

"What the hell?" Scarlett shrieked. "That was you?"

"You didn't think we were being shot at again did you? Moriarty has gone for a while I do believe. You can calm down," he promised her and she rolled her eyes, her hands moving onto her head as she turned away from him and took a deep breath.

"Normal people, Sherlock," she began, turning around quickly and looking at him with narrowed eyes as he arrogantly smirked at her. "Don't shoot walls! Especially when they know they have someone in their home who has almost been killed."

"Almost being the key word," he pointed out. "You weren't so it shouldn't bother you," he said, waving the gun around in his hand as he pointed it at Scarlett and she jumped to the side in absolute horror, raising her hands, her palms held upright and flat;

"Stop waving that thing around!" she demanded him.

"Oh don't panic, I put it onto safety mode," he assured her and she wandered off back down the hallway and Sherlock watched her intently;

"You don't normally sway your hips that much," he commented and smirked when she didn't say anything cocky in return to him and instead he could simply just tell she had gone red. Sherlock flipped the gun in his hand and sighed loudly, wondering what to do. And more importantly, wondering when Moriarty would return, because he knew that when he did, he would be ready. He would manage to be one step in front. Sherlock tossed the gun to the side and leapt out of the chair, his dressing gown spinning around him, finally noticing the note on the coffee table which John had left him, informing him that he had gone out early. Walking down the corridor, he moved down and to his room, knocking on the door.

"Yeah?" Scarlett asked and he moved into it, seeing that the girl still wasn't changed but she was packing away things and making Sherlock's bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Packing," she stated. "There's no point me staying here if you say Moriarty has gone."

"He'll return one day," Sherlock warned her.

"But I can't keep living here Sherlock," she said. "It's not right I keep making you sleep on the couch and we don't even know each other that well."

"I believe we do," Sherlock replied. "I think we've spent enough time with each other to realise we do know a lot."

"No," Scarlett said. "You know me because you can do that thingy that you do," she waved a hand, not sure how to explain Sherlock's talent.

"So..." Sherlock said, sitting down on his bed which Scarlett had just made, creasing it again which earned a sigh from her.

"So what?" Scarlett wondered, flopping down onto the bed, her top half laying flat on the bed as her waist bent down and her feet remained on the floor, her eyes looking up at Sherlock as his shifted around uncomfortably.

"Us?" he asked her. "Because the way I look at it Moriarty is going to attempt to kill you regardless of if we stay in touch or not."

"Wonderful," Scarlett complained. "Do you think I will know when he plans to kill me? Will there be a warning?"

"Oh knowing Moriarty there will be a warning," he promised her. "But...when that time comes I'll keep him away from you...and you seem a lot calmer about knowing someone is trying to kill you," Sherlock said, finally looking into her eyes as she shrugged, her chest heaving slightly.

"I...I have to be, don't I? I can't keep hiding...not knowing..." Scarlett said, holding back a silent tear which Sherlock still managed to see as he looked down onto her.

"I can promise you Scarlett," he said. "That I will solve this."

"And somehow Sherlock," Scarlett replied in a small voice. "I...I believe you...you're a truly...amazing...and crazy person."

"I shall take that as a compliment," he assured her. "And are you sure about leaving?"

"I have a home Sherlock. There isn't enough room for three of us here," she said.

"You know," Sherlock said, clasping his hands together and looking at the ceiling opposite his bed. "I didn't know John before he moved in as a flat mate? I had only just met him once."

"Really?" Scarlett asked in shock, looking to the ceiling.

"Hm," Sherlock said, confirming her beliefs. "So it isn't imperative that you leave."

"I don't know Sherlock," Scarlett sighed. "It all seems so hasty...relationships aren't normally this rushed."

"Relationships?" Sherlock asked her and saw her turn red through the corner of his eye, his lips turning upwards at the side as Scarlett shrugged;

"What are we Sherlock?" she asked him.

"Do we have to be something?" he asked her. "I mean do we really need to classify us into something?"

"No," Scarlett said. "I...I mean..if you don't want to be anything then I get it."

"I don't know what I want," Sherlock suddenly huffed, folding his arms and thinking about what he wanted. "What we feel is all down to chemical reactions in our body at the end of the day."

"Peas help people to fall in love," Scarlett suddenly said and Sherlock managed to look at her with a raised brow and she shrugged at him;

"What?" She wondered. "It was off a programme I watched once"

"And you remembered that piece of trivial knowledge?" he quizzed her and she simply nodded;

"Yes," she replied.

"Strange thing to remember," he murmured.

"Strange thing to not remember is that the Earth orbits the sun," she said with a sly smile and Sherlock laid on his side, facing away from her as she sat up, laughing to herself as she looked at Sherlock's back.

"So have you and John been gossiping?" he asked her and she jumped up from the bed and began to zip up her bag;

"I read his blog," she said. "When I was finding out about you."

"Humph," Sherlock grunted. "It's not important."

"No," Scarlett played along with him, not wanting to make him go off in a sulk with her. "Of course not."

Sherlock quickly sat up again and looked at her;

"Don't humour me," he demanded from her and she rolled her eyes;

"If it saves me from having to argue with you then I am more than happy to humour you," Scarlett promised him. "Anyway," she changed the subject, "I'm off to get my stuff from the bathroom and change...then I'll go."

"Look," Sherlock said, standing up and blocking her from leaving through the door. "I...there is room for you here...we can make room."

"No you can't," Scarlett said and Sherlock shook his head;

"We can," he retorted. "And it would make me feel better...knowing you are here...for when Moriarty returns...and besides, it may help save on the rent slightly."

"Sherlock," Scarlett complained. "I have a perfectly good house."

"Where you're all alone," Sherlock commented. "I'll make you a deal. A two week trial? And you can be mine and John's new flatmate if we manage to not get on top of each other."

"Is there any point with me arguing?" she asked and Sherlock grinned cockily and stood tall;

"Not much point," he replied. "Your company has been most enjoyable over the time I have been with you. It would be a shame for it to stop."

"You've enjoyed being with me?" Scarlett scoffed and Sherlock shrugged;

"Most of the time when you haven't been in a mood with me, yes," he admitted. "I have been told that I am more of a pain to live with than most."

"You are," Scarlett chuckled. "You keep a head in your fridge Sherlock and human eyeballs in your shampoo."

"Experiments," he defended his actions. "When I have no case."

"Well I hope I have a job to go back to," Scarlett said and Sherlock looked up to the ceiling, making an 'ah' noise.

"What?" Scarlett asked, looking at him;

"Well your firm phoned last night whilst you were busy...and well...they fired you," he said.

"They fired me?" she snapped

"I'm going to have to get used to you shrieking like a banshee," Sherlock said and she set herself down onto the bed, gripping onto her hair, feeling like pulling it out.

"Well I'll have to find another job...the money was good..."

"The job was boring," Sherlock said.

"It was a job," she retorted. "I earned good money. And why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"There never seemed to be a right moment," Sherlock shrugged. "And you know now so I don't know why you're complaining. If anything it gives you more freedom."

"You do know that I will now have to move in?" She told him "because my mortgage is ridiculous and I can't afford it without being paid...then there are bills..."

"So all in all," Sherlock said. "It worked out for the best"

"No," Scarlett replied. "It didn't"

...

By one o'clock in the afternoon, Sherlock and Scarlett had managed to pack things for her to move into Sherlock and John's flat and she had also been searching for another job. But it seemed nowhere wanted a secretary at that moment in time. By three o'clock Scarlett had managed to clog up Sherlock's bathroom with all her jars, pots and bottles of creams and liquids. When Sherlock walked in, he wondered if he had done the right thing, inviting her to live with him.

"Scarlett!" he summoned her and she moved down the hall and to the bathroom, leaning against the doorway and looking at Sherlock;

"Yeah?" she asked, her blonde hair bouncing by her side as Sherlock raised his hands and spun around the bathroom;

"What has happened?" he asked her "all of this? What is it?"

"Just stuff?" she shrugged "shower gel, face wash, face wipes, make up bag...you said that I could move in!" she pointed out and Sherlock scoffed;

"I didn't think you'd be bringing the whole of Boots with you!" he retorted and she rolled her eyes, moving out the bathroom;

"You're exaggerating," she informed him as she walked away and he closed the door on the bathroom and followed her into the kitchen where she was stocking the fridge with food and not human body parts. John walked into the flat, Sherlock had text him of Scarlett's moving in with them because he could still keep an eye on her and it would make rent easier for all of them.

"John!" Sherlock pointed at his friend and then down the hallway "go and see what Scarlett did to the bathroom!"

"What?" John asked, taking his coat off. "Don't tell me you've gotten her into filling up toilet rolls with different human hairs?"

"What?" Scarlett asked, looking at Sherlock.

"I did it once," he rolled his eyes. " As an experiment"

"These experiments are beginning to worry me," she informed Sherlock who looked back to John;

"She's filled the bathroom with pots of potions-"

"Potions? I'm not a witch Sherlock," Scarlett interrupted him and then he looked at the fridge;

"And she has filled the fridge," he said and John gasped in mock horror;

"How could she?" he asked sarcastically and Scarlett chuckled whilst Sherlock huffed slightly.

"So." John said. "The main question is...where are you going to sleep?"

...

"I swear you had best not kick in your sleep," Scarlett said as she lay on the other end of Sherlock's bed, facing away from him as he lay on his side, facing away from her as they stared into the darkness.

"Well if I do," Sherlock drawled. "You'll be the first to know."

"I'll kick you back," she warned him.

"And then I'll kick you off," he said, looking forward to a good night sleep in his own bed but not wanting to inflict a bad one onto Scarlett.

"Charming, aren't you?" she whispered.

"Not one of my known traits," he said. "And I have a question for you."

"What?" she wondered what it could be.

"You've never mentioned anything...about last night..."

"Oh," Scarlett said, blushing in the dark. "That."

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "That."

"What do you want me to say?" She wondered. "If you want me to boast about how sweet you was to boost your ego then I doubt you're in need of that."

"It never hurts to boost my ego further," he assured her, grinning. "But you don't regret it?"

"No," she said. "Do you?"

"Goodnight Scarlett," he tormented her, refusing to answer the question. But Scarlett wasn't taking that as an answer. She leaned to the beside table at the edge of his double bed and flicked on the light, rolling over and looking at him as he felt her gaze on his back;

"I am not taking that for an answer Sherlock," she told him.

"So you do care about if I liked it?" he checked, still not looking at her.

"Well...yeah," Scarlett replied. "I'd kind of like to know."

Sherlock heaved himself over and sat up, facing her as his hands went behind his head and he looked to the ceiling.

"Sherlock," she growled. "I want an answer," she demanded and he just smirked at her;

"God damn it Sherlock!" she snapped "I don't know why you infuriate me so much...and why can't you just answer a question because now I am going to be feeling all insecure and wondering if it was alright and if it meant anything to you!"

"Well," Sherlock said, shrugging his shoulders. "We can always give it another go."

"Not in the mood," Scarlett huffed, rolling onto her side and turning her light off as Sherlock's grin feel from his face;

"Sulking does not become you," he informed her.

"It doesn't become you either," she said and once again rolled over to see him again in the darkness, making out his pale face as he lay on his side, facing her but keeping a distance.

"Goodnight Sherlock," she said.

"So you don't want to try it?" he checked.

"The ship has sailed," she said and she felt the mattress go down as he moved closer to her, his hand suddenly on her arm;

"I think I remember saying I don't like being defied," he told her.

"I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it as long as I am here," she replied and her breathing picked up as she felt his breath come closer to her and Sherlock managed to find her hand, holding it lightly before kissing her quickly and sweetly again.

"There are some things Scarlett," he whispered as she spun onto her side, but he kept hold of her hand, "that you shall never be able to defy me...and we both know that is one of them."

"Goodnight Sherlock," she whispered lowly, ignoring his previous statement.

"Goodnight Scarlett."

...

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