John gave me a quick call the next day to tell me that he liked my blog posting, and then there were four days of silence. I was disappointed to have to go back to my regular life. I'd enjoyed the excitement, the distraction... and being with John. So it's good that I'm not hearing from him, I thought. I don't need another thing to make my marriage more difficult. But I wanted it. Oh, how I wanted it. Especially since, while I had my husband back, it felt like he was as far from me as he had been after he moved out.

So I was happy to get a phone call from John one morning, promising me a new and interesting case. I practically flew to 221B Baker Street, and I was smiling when John opened the door to the flat.

"You look well!" he exclaimed. "How are you sleeping? How are you eating? How are you tolerating the antidepressant?"

"Fine, fine, and fine," I said with a smile.

Sherlock looked at me, and I felt myself blush. He knows, I thought. He knows everything. John, thankfully, didn't notice but went on questioning me, this time lowering his voice, though I knew Sherlock was privy to this information. "How is it going with your husband? Any improvement with your relationship since he moved back in?"

"No," I said, hanging my head a bit, both because I felt deflated by the question and to hide the remains of my blush from John.

"Well, perhaps in time," he responded, and began to fill me in on the case.

###

It wasn't too long before I was confirmed right. John only had to leave the room for a minute, and Sherlock was on me.

"You're falling in love," he accused me. "You know he's not in love with you. You know this isn't good for your marriage. Why don't you do the right thing and quit your job with us?"

I glared at him, but I didn't answer, and John came back before Sherlock could bother me some more. I knew he was right; I shouldn't keep this up, but I had to. I just didn't think I could survive going back home to my old, dull existence.

###

The case was solved in no time, and I was free to return home before six o'clock. As I drove home, I decided I had to do something, something that would allow me to keep going on with this work but would free my heart from John. I reflected on the possibilities. What I really needed was to recapture the romance in my marriage. I was a little disgusted by the idea of making love to Jake after he'd recently been living with another woman, but he'd come back to me after all, and if I wanted to improve our marriage, I'd have to be willing to put that behind me. Right now we were just two people living inside the same house, sharing the same bed, but barely interacting with each other. I stopped at a shop and purchased a lacy bra and matching panties, a low-cut blouse and a bottle of perfume. I was pleased, for a change, but not surprised to find that my husband wasn't home when I arrived. No doubt he was at the pub. I showered, changed, brushed my teeth, and freshened up my makeup. I was happy to find that I was overcoming my disgust and beginning to think of my husband with the anticipation of pleasure. Yes, this was definitely what I needed. I was only attracted to John because I was so starved for affection. I'd turn to my husband for that, find ways to gently return our marriage to its former passion, and my feelings for John would fade. We could be simply coworkers, like I was with Sherlock. Well, not like I was with Sherlock. Sherlock made me bristle, and even if I weren't falling for John, he'd never annoy me the way Sherlock did.

Once I was ready, I called my husband. When he answered, I could hear the familiar sounds of people enjoying themselves over a pint (or two, or more) in the background.

"What do you want, Trina?"

Not a promising beginning. I screwed up my nerve anyway. "Jake, I've been thinking of you and feeling… so... hot. Come and get me," I said, my heart beating wildly. What was I doing? I'd never spoken to him like this even when we were happy in our marriage!

"Trina, you shouldn't just surprise me like this. You should have given me some warning. I can't get away just now," he said and hung up. I went into the bathroom, sure I was going to vomit, but nothing happened. Trembling, I got ready for bed and lay down, even though it was quite early and I hadn't had dinner. He'd rejected me! I'd tried so hard, and he'd rejected me with a lame excuse.

###

He didn't come home that night. I shouldn't have been surprised; he was probably punishing me in his passive-aggressive way for my bold behavior. I lay in bed, sleepless, waiting to hear his footsteps. At some point after midnight, I got up and worked for a while. Then I lay down on the sofa, still hoping that Jake would stumble in, and finally fell asleep. I woke at dawn with a crick in my neck. At 7:30, John called. 7:30 seemed to be his polite "she must be up by now" time.

"Trina," he said. "You posted your blog entry at 1:30 a.m. Why weren't you sleeping?"

Though I'd been crying my eyes out, I found myself smiling at his gentle scolding. "Sorry, John. I couldn't sleep. It seemed like a good use of my time."

"Are you all right, Trina? Your voice sounds funny."

"I'm fine," I said. Why did I find myself lying to John so frequently? I hurried on. "Did you just call me about the timing of the blog, or was there another reason?" I wanted to get him off the phone quickly now.

"Actually, we've got another case already. Are you up for one so soon? Especially after a bad night?"

"Absolutely," I said. "Just let me pull myself together." When we had hung up, I washed my face, straightened my hair, and tried to hide the damage of a night spent mostly in weeping wakefulness. I doubted I could hide anything from Sherlock, but if he would just keep his mouth shut, I thought I could fool John.

###

No such luck. I had no sooner entered the flat when Sherlock looked up from his desk and said, "So, your husband rejected you." I was stunned – for just a second – that even he would say something so audacious, and then I turned on my heel and headed back out the door. "Ask me how I know," he demanded. "ASK ME HOW I KNOW!" But I just closed the door behind me, and then burst into tears. I could hear John yelling at Sherlock, though I couldn't make out what he was saying. I needed to get out of there, but I wasn't in any shape to drive. I had to pull myself together. Before I could do that, John was out in the hall with me.

"Trina, what is going on?"

I had to tell him the truth. I couldn't very well lie after what Sherlock had said; I couldn't even think of a lie that could cover it. "I tried to seduce my husband last night," I said. "Sherlock's right. He rejected me."

John tried to hide a smile, unsuccessfully. "You tried to seduce your own husband?"

"It's been a long time, John. Months actually."

"Really? And he rejected you?"

He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it. I started crying again.

"Trina, I'm so sorry. I'm as bad as Sherlock. I didn't mean to be cruel, though. I just don't see how... Well, alcohol does depress the libido. I was just a little taken aback, that's all."

"Really?" I sniffed. "It isn't me? After I knew there was another woman…"

"What?"

"I suspected there might be someone else when he left me, but when he came back, he mentioned that she didn't work out, so then I knew."

"You mean he just casually came back because the other woman didn't work out? Did he apologize to you? You didn't just take him back without an apology on his part, did you?"

I was silent. What could I say? In John's eyes I was a pushover. I supposed I really was a pushover. But I wanted to fix my marriage, so of course I took Jake back.

"Oh, Trina," John sighed, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say more, seemed to second-guess himself, and then asked. "Are you really up for a case right now?"

"Yes," I sniffed. "I need this."

"Okay, I believe you. Let's go back in the flat, and I'll fill you in on the details so far. Sherlock won't bother you anymore. I promise."