"Hey," Scarlett said when she walked back into 221B Baker Street and saw John sat on an armchair and watching the TV, a cup of tea in his hand as he turned his head one ninety degrees to look at the blonde who had just walked in and was depositing her bag and keys onto the coffee table as she ran her hand through her blonde hair and pushed it from her face.

"Oh hey," John said. "Good night out?"

"It wasn't bad," Scarlett smiled at him. "Completely stuffed mind you...I like trying to look good but I am afraid I love dessert more, it has to be said."

"Agreed." John chuckled. "Can't say no to a good bit of dessert."

"So," Scarlett said, sitting on the armchair opposite John's and looking at the man. "Where's Sherlock?"

"Sherlock is in bed," John said, looking at his watch. "He went about an hour ago."

"Oh." Scarlett said. "Well...I'm going to turn in for the night anyway," and she stood back up quickly and began to walk off, but before she could move down the corridor John called out to her as she stepped into the kitchen;

"He was jealous," John said and Scarlett turned around and looked at John, her mouth parted slightly, wondering what to say in response to that;

"What?" she managed to muster together one coherent word.

"He was jealous that you were going out with someone else...he's been in a foul mood all night even though we solved the case," John informed her.

"That could just be because he didn't find the case challenging enough," Scarlett shrugged it off but John simply shook his head;

"I've never seen him like that before Scarlett," he assured her. "He was definitely jealous...just...be careful with him, okay?"

"Okay," Scarlett whispered, not knowing what else to say and so she took off for the bedroom after a simple nod from John. Slowly, she creaked the door open and saw the room was bathed in darkness, only managing to make out the sign of a lump under the bed. Silently, she tip toed into the dark room and sat on her edge of the bed, removing her heels and simply ditching them on the floor before stretching for her pyjamas at the end of the bed and looking at Sherlock who was breathing lightly, facing away from her and curled into a ball. Deciding she couldn't be bothered to move into the bathroom to change, she began to remove her dress, hastily placing her pyjamas on as she did so and allowing the long material to fall to the floor before climbing into bed, looking at Sherlock before closing her eyes.

"I take it you had a good night?" his deep voice suddenly spoke out into the dark room and Scarlett jumped slightly at his sudden movement, turning his bedside light on and sitting up, his brow raised in expectation.

"I didn't know you were awake," Scarlett murmured, still resting on her side, not looking at him.

"I was just awaiting the call that I had to come and drag you off the floor of some nightclub," Sherlock drawled, his voice laid with bitterness in it. "But it seems that for once you have managed to exceed my expectations."

"What is your bloody problem?" Scarlett snapped, suddenly sitting up, looking over to him and raising her brow. Her face looked like thunder and her eyes were narrowed at Sherlock.

"I have no problem," Sherlock shrugged. "I just wondered what may happen to you."

"Well why did you have to go and assume I would be out getting drunk? I did it one time Sherlock! Just drop it," she snapped at him and he rolled his eyes;

"Fine," he grumbled. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

"Yes," she said curtly. "I had a good night."

"Was it the food or the company which made it enjoyable?" he wondered.

"Both," she admitted and Sherlock huffed;

"Hmm," he managed to say. "That's good then."

"Yes," Scarlett said. "It is...we're going out again next week too."

"Oh really?" Sherlock wondered. "Well I'm glad you've found a friend."

"He's nice," Scarlett shrugged. "Is that a crime?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I never said it was, did I?"

"Okay," Scarlett sighed "what is it?"

"What's what?" he wondered, feigning innocence, his eyes wide as he watched her bite her lip.

"Got you into this type of mood?" she quizzed. Was John right? Was Sherlock really that jealous?

"Nothing," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock," Scarlett whispered, looking down from his eye contact. "Were you...well...you know..."

"What?" he asked her. "Because your garbling doesn't help me to understand what you're on about."

"John said you were jealous," she blurted out and then the two of them went quiet for a few moments before Sherlock simply rolled his eyes;

"Why would I be jealous?" he asked her.

"Well...I don't know...John said..." Scarlett mumbled and Sherlock simply just snorted;

"Well if John said it then it has to be right, doesn't it?" Sherlock said ironically.

"No need to be sarcastic," Scarlett replied to him. "He just thought wrong, obviously."

"Obviously," Sherlock replied quickly. "Because I was not jealous of the fact that someone else was inflicted with your company for the evening. And I wouldn't be jealous of him for the obvious reason that I am probably far more superior."

"Inflicting my company?" Scarlett snapped at him. "What is that supposed to mean? People don't like my company?"

"Well..." Sherlock began to mutter, wondering how he was supposed to get himself out of the hole which he had just dug himself into.

"Goodnight Sherlock" Scarlett huffed and lay on her side, facing away from him. Sherlock looked down at her and then did the same. He could hear the gritting of teeth coming from her and he simply just looked at his wall, which was until he felt the covers from him slowly move off his body. Turning his head, he saw that Scarlett had dragged the thick duvet onto her side of the bed, leaving Sherlock with nothing but the thin sheets. Scarlett knew she had taken the covers from him and she hoped that would show she was mad at him. She knew it probably looked completely childish but she was in a mood with Sherlock. Slowly, Sherlock turned his head and looked at her, then he outstretched his hands and in one swift movement he yanked the covers from her so that he now had more.

"Do you mind?" she snapped at him.

"Do you?" he replied to her.

"Yes," she said and he turned to look at her, a sarcastic smile on his face as he whispered;

"Shame," like she had done to him a few days ago.

"Uh...you're such...a pompous arse," she snapped and stood up from the bed, picking up her cushions and stuffing them under her arms as she stood and looked at Sherlock who was laid on his back and smiling lightly at her;

"I take that as a compliment," he replied, unable to hold his tongue.

"It's not," Scarlett informed him and reached down onto the bed and pulled the duvet from him, throwing it into her arms where she then began to walk out the bedroom, Sherlock sitting up and watching her;

"Where are you going?"

"I can't sleep in the same bed with you when you're being childish," she replied

"You started it!" he pointed out as she slammed the bedroom door shut and moved into the living room. What did she want him to say? That he was jealous of her going for a meal with this James chap? Well she would have a long wait for him to admit it.

...

"So," John began as he sat with Sherlock in a cafe. "Scarlett went out early this morning."

"Did she?" Sherlock drawled. "I didn't hear her go."

"Yes," John nodded. "To do the food shopping...but I saw her sleeping on the sofa."

"She slept on my sofa after taking my duvet?" Sherlock spat. "Why did I invite her to live with us again?"

"Because you fancy her?" John asked and Sherlock snorted.

"Anyway," John continued. "Why was she on the sofa? Did you have an argument?"

"Not so much," Sherlock lied. "She just didn't like the fact I wasn't jealous she was out with someone else."

"But you were jealous," John stated. "I was there...I saw..."

"I was not jealous!" Sherlock snapped loudly, slamming his fist onto the table and John sat back;

"Okay," he surrendered. "So what exactly happened?"

"I told her I didn't care if she was inflicting her company onto someone who was probably not as intelligent as me so I should not be jealous of anything," Sherlock shrugged and John simply rested his forehead into his hand and shook his head;

"You said inflicted her company? And you insulted a friend?" John checked. "I can see why she may have been slightly mad with you."

"I don't know why," Sherlock replied. "It's almost like she wants me to be jealous."

"Maybe she does," John shrugged. "Maybe she wants to know that she means something to you? Maybe she wants to hear you ask if James means anything to her to know you care?"

"Why can't she just get that from me saying that I wasn't jealous? And she should know she means something to me John," Sherlock frowned. "I let her come to live with us for goodness sakes!"

"It doesn't hurt to say it to her Sherlock," John replied. "Just tell her that you care about her and don't want to fight."

"I'm not going to be the one who makes the first move," Sherlock sulked.

"What is she to you Sherlock?" John asked him and Sherlock raised an eyebrow;

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"I mean," John stated. "That if you keep on bottling up how you feel then you may lose her...she may find someone who treats her better...and then you may not get her back."

"You've been watching far too many episodes of Pride and Prejudice or whatever those shows are John," Sherlock said. "She can see I treat her well...I managed to give her that boring job back...take her for meals."

"Not just monetary issues Sherlock," John said and Sherlock rolled his eyes;

"If she's after someone who will declare their adoration for her every day then she is barking up the wrong tree", Sherlock informed John.

"Not every day Sherlock," John retorted. "God knows that would kill you."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you John," Sherlock replied.

"Just," John raised his hands, "tell her you're sorry"

...

Sherlock moved back up the steps of the flat to loud music which was blatantly coming from his living room. He slowly moved up the steps and then stood in the doorway, trying to refrain himself from breaking out into full blown laughter as he looked at her. His flatmate was in the living room, a bottle of polish in one hand and a duster in another as she danced along to some music which was coming from her IPod docking station. Suddenly, she placed the polish closer to her mouth, like a microphone and began to sing about wanting a White TT and someone have a Black BM. Sherlock couldn't hold his laughter any longer and he simply coughed, folding one arm over his midriff and the other covered his mouth slightly as he saw her turn around, going bright red as she looked at him.

"I never knew cleaning could be so entertaining," he informed her and she rolled her eyes, turning her music down and then setting herself onto her knees and dusting the coffee table as Sherlock removed his coat and scarf.

"Really?" she asked him.

"Hm." He agreed. "On the other hand," he mused, sitting on the sofa and unbuttoning one of his purple shirts top buttons, "you do have some excellent rhythm."

"Are you trying to insult me?" Scarlett snapped, tying her hair into a bobble and looking at him as he shook his head;

"No." Sherlock replied. "And I am being honest for once."

"Humph," she grunted. "Where have you been this morning?"

"Ah," Sherlock said, ignoring her question. "You're still in a mood with me."

"Did my curt tone and glaring stares tell you that, oh wise one?" she asked.

"Now you're just being rude."

"Are you serious?" she snapped, slamming her duster onto the coffee table and standing up to look at him. "Rude? Like you last night?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Sherlock simply shrugged. "I was being honest that he probably wasn't that amazing."

"You were being rude Sherlock," she counteracted. "I don't care if you weren't jealous...I don't care if you don't care that I'm sleeping with him...I just don't want you to talk about me like no one likes to spend time with me and that I am irresponsible and only go and get drunk!"

"So are you sleeping with him?" Sherlock wondered.

"No!" she snapped "I'm not and I won't."

"Why not?" Sherlock wondered and Scarlett shook her head;

"Because I don't feel like that for him Sherlock...he's just a friend...I thought..."

"What?" Sherlock wondered. "What did you think?"

"I thought that maybe we were some form of dysfunctional item Sherlock...and that's why I wouldn't even think about touching James," Scarlett said. "Because he's not you Sherlock."

"Many would think that to be a good thing," Sherlock said, leaning back and folding his legs.

"Sherlock," she sighed. "Are we going anywhere? I mean really?"

But Sherlock remained silent, unable to say anything to her. He saw her shake her head once, a small tear falling from her eyes and the next thing he heard was the door to 221 B Baker Street slam shut. Was they going anywhere? Did he want them to go anywhere? Maybe. It just scared him.

...

I cannot begin to say thank you to all the people who added my story to their favourite list and suscibed to it! The reveiws which I have recieved for the story yesterday were so nice and I thank all of you that reviewed and I am so glad that you're enjoying the story. There is of course more to come, for example, Sherlock finally meets James, so that should be an interesting reaction! ha! And then there is Moriarty who is still on the lose! So please do review!