Sherlock awoke late on the Sunday morning which was approaching afternoon, looking around his room which was covered in light streaming in through the thin material of the curtains as he slowly allowed his eyes to peer down to see the girl who was still sleeping on his chest, her breathing light as her hand rested next to her cheek on Sherlock's chest. Slowly, he once again began to stroke her long blonde hair which ran down her back and his other hand rested on top of hers which was on his chest. He couldn't help but think how...well...nice it was. How he didn't mind having her sleeping on him and how he didn't even care that she was filthy from the kidnapping she had endured. He continued laying there with her and wondered what would happen now. He failed to believe that Moriarty had managed to escape from his clutches once again, if he was to be honest, he felt sick at the thought of him still being out there and what he had done to Scarlett. He couldn't believe he had to wait until he almost lost her to realise how much he had grown fond of her.

"Sherlock," her sudden voice dragged him from his sleep as she sat up idly, removing her head from his chest and bending her arm, resting on her elbow whilst Sherlock sat up completely, resting against the heard board as she ran a hand through her hair and groaned;

"Ugh...that is in need of a serious wash."

"You look fine," he promised her. "Of course you could do with a bath to clean up."

"Hmm," she agreed, looking at the bandages on her arms which had turned grubby due to her being covered in muck. "He...he got away, didn't he?"

"I believe so," Sherlock replied his voice a slight whisper. "But I'll find him again..."

"I want to help," Scarlett whispered and Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, looking into her eyes and searching for an explanation which he managed to find but Scarlett still explained;

"He hurt me Sherlock," she whispered. "I...I don't know...I just...I don't know what I want. A piece of me would be extremely happy if he just bogged off and left us be but another part of me wants to take that gun of his and just shoot him straight through the head."

"Personally," Sherlock said, "I'd go for the legs and then slowly shoot him elsewhere before delivering the final blow."

"Regardless," she murmured, "I just want him gone."

"And that won't happen until he is dead I am afraid Scarlett," Sherlock told her honestly. "But...when that day comes...I'll be prepared...and we'll get through this."

"I hope so," Scarlett said, sitting up straight and stretching her limbs and then standing slowly, taking in her appearance as she stood in front of the floor length mirror she had provided to Sherlock's room and she looked herself up and down. Her vest top was ripped in some places and her jeans were filthy. Her bare skin was covered in brown dust and dirt. Her hair was greasy and all tangled up and she had a bruise coming onto her cheek.

"You shouldn't dwell on how you look now," Sherlock told her, standing up and walking over to her, standing behind her and looking at her reflection as her hand rested on the bruise.

"Sorry," she replied. "I know I'm vain."

"No need to apologise for one of your traits," Sherlock assured her. "I actually have grown used to you standing in front of the mirror and perfecting every ounce of your body, although, if we're being honest, it doesn't need perfecting."

"Ha!" Scarlett allowed a dry and sarcastic laugh to escape her raspy throat as she looked at her hair and puffed it up with her hand;

"You can't tell me that this is attractive," she murmured and Sherlock placed his bottom lip over his top lip as he closed his eyes for a moment and titled his head to the side;

"Actually," he drawled softly. "I can't say that I mind it...you seem to manage to look stunning in anything which is popular opinion."

Scarlett remained silent as she turned around and looked at the detective whose eyes were looking into hers.

"Is that your way of complimenting me, Mr Holmes?" Scarlett managed to smile slightly and Sherlock placed his thinking face onto his features as he allowed his hands to hold onto her waist gently, not wanting to be too rough with her.

"Did it sound like a compliment?" he wondered and Scarlett nodded, her hands managing to hold onto his upper arms.

"Yes," she said, "it certainly did."

"Well in that case," he mused, "I should suppose it was...and I also have something else I need to tell you."

"Oh no," Scarlett began to panic after a moment and Sherlock simply looked at her. "You can't be breaking up with me surely...actually no...never mind that considering we were never even going out...well I thought we were dating but I didn't think you'd want to stop that...unless you don't want me."

"Scarlett," Sherlock drawled, "your babbling can sometimes be quite off putting, especially when I am trying to tell you the opposite of what you're thinking."

"What was I thinking?" She asked. "I really can't think about what I was thinking about...was I thinking anything...God damn it Sherlock when you're this close I can't even manage to be coher...what's it called?"

"Coherent?" Sherlock asked slowly, his mouth slowly descending onto hers as she shrugged lightly;

"That'll do," and then he kissed her again. If he had to be honest he had to refrain himself from chuckling when he pulled away from her as she pouted but he didn't want to go too far because she was still too weak.

"So were you about to ask me a question?" Scarlett wondered after a moment of just simply looking at the detective.

"I was," he confirmed. "And I've been thinking...that...well...nearly losing you made me understand that I never really had you, I should suppose" he pondered for a moment "and so what I'm trying to say is that...well...I'd like to try...and be normal for once when it comes to something like this...so would you consider...being an item..."

"With you?" Scarlett confirmed.

"Well I didn't think we were playing blind date," Sherlock chuckled and Scarlett nodded at him;

"I'd like that," she agreed. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Because you could have almost died and I thought it was something you wanted?" he checked and she pursed her lips;

"You have to want it too," she told Sherlock. "You don't only have to ask me because you think I want it."

"I do want it," he promised her. "I'm just apprehensive about this."

"It doesn't mean anything Sherlock," Scarlett said. "It doesn't change how we are now...it just means we...well...don't date anyone else..."

"You didn't really have to worry about that before," Sherlock said and Scarlett smirked a little;

"Only because you were oblivious to women staring at you," she pointed out. "Anyway, I'm off for a bath."

...

"Are you actually looking up what I think you're looking up?" John couldn't help but grin as he saw Sherlock sat in an armchair, a coat wrapped around him as the windows had yet to be fixed and he arranged for them to be mended that evening.

"Shut up," Sherlock snapped and he closed the laptop he had been using and John took the other armchair and grinned widely. "And you can wipe that smug look off your face."

"No," John shook his head, "I want to treasure this moment for life."

"Well I don't know what happens in these types of things," Sherlock replied. "I don't know what to expect do I?"

"So you had to Google 'role of a boyfriend'?" John asked

"The internet is a wondrous thing John," Sherlock said. "It has the answer to many things."

"So you actually asked her if she wanted to go steady with you?" John checked.

"Well things haven't exactly been going steady for us so I thought now may be the right time to ask her," Sherlock said. "Do things backwards, if you like."

"And she said yes?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said.

"Whoa," John said. "But the thing with relationships is...they come naturally...you can't programme them and Google the answer."

"And because you've been so successful in the relationship process you think I should take advice from you?" Sherlock checked and John sighed loudly;

"Sarah and I are doing fine," he informed Sherlock;

"Hm," he mused, "you're doing so well that she has left you about thirty odd voicemails since last night."

"How did you even know that?" John asked and Sherlock shrugged as he heard the kettle boil;

"Obvious," he said.

"Anyway," John shook off, "my advice is better than any a search engine can offer."

"Well that's a matter of opinion I should imagine," Sherlock said, "I'll be back in a moment" and he took his cup of tea and Scarlett's hot chocolate into the bedroom where she was sat in her cotton pyjamas and using a towel to dry her hair.

"Thanks," she said to Sherlock as he handed her the cup and she smiled at him "I've been thinking...all this happened over the weekend...and it is only Sunday afternoon...you think I can manage to get a day off work?"

"I think that should suffice," Sherlock said. "I don't think I'd let you leave anyway."

"And I know better than to defy you," Scarlett smirked and Sherlock chuckled lightly;

"You're learning fast," he informed her and took the bandage which was on the end of the bed and began to wrap it around Scarlett's wound on her arm as she placed her drink down.

"Thanks," Scarlett said as he tied it up, his hands trying to be gentle with her.

"No problem," he said, reaching for her other arm gently. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she replied. "It was just the shock of it."

"I thought so when I heard you on the phone yelling...and when you called my name...I truly felt odd when I heard that," he shuddered a little as Scarlett lifted her free hand up to touch his cheek softly and he looked into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have been stronger...not have worried you..."

"You were strong Scarlett," he assured her. "And it's over now."

"I know," she said. "So...if we're going to try and be a normal couple..." she bit her lip and Sherlock raised a brow at her;

"Yes?"

"Then normal couples go the cinema," she said and he groaned, tying up her bandage onto her other arm and then laying on the bed, closing his eyes quickly as Scarlett simply just sat beside him and ran her hand through his hair.

"I take the couple thing back," he joked with her and she shook her head;

"Too late," she said. "You made your bed now lie in it."

"Technically you make the bed," he pointed out.

"And do the washing and cleaning and shopping," she informed him.

"I was busy," he defended himself and Scarlett smiled to herself;

"You're going to love this couple business," she assured him.

"Well," he huffed, "as long as I have you it may be bearable."