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Enjoy the chapter, I hope you guys have fabulous weeks.

After lunch, we four decided to walk back over to our flat. The melting snow had made the sidewalk slightly slushier since that morning, but nothing too terrible. When we started we were all walking together, but eventually you and Greg ended up deep in conversation several meters ahead, leaving Anne (wearing heels) and I (barely keeping the pace with my crutch) behind. More than once I had to hold Anne to keep her from slipping, and she had slowed to make the walk easier on my leg.

"Today was a bad day to wear these shoes, I guess." She smiled sheepishly, righting herself for what seemed like the hundreth time.

"You're fine. We weren't planning on walking, anyway." I held my arm out for her. "Hold on to me, we'll walk together."

"Are you sure?" She asked, gripping onto my elbow. "Wouldn't want to stir up anything with Sherlock."

I laughed. "Don't worry about him. It's his fault for leaving us back here to fend for ourselves." I motioned to where you and Lestrade were still talking, ignorant of anything nd everything else around you. Anne looped her arm in mine, and we continued on connected.

"Well, thank you, sir. You're awfully sweet." Anne chuckled a little.

"Anytime."

She let out a happy little sigh, then struck up conversation. "So, John, are you and Sherlock going anywhere for Christmas?"

"No, not this year. We're actually going to our friend Anderson's house. Well, when I say friend, I mean... not quite friend. But Sherlock wanted to go. Don't ask me why."

"Oh, Philip Anderson?"

"That's him."

"That's where Greg wanted to go, too. Maybe I'll see you there, then."

"I'd be glad. I don't know many of Sherlock's Scotland Yard friends, besides Greg."

"We're in the same boat then."

"I guess so." I chuckled. "Do you have family in the area?"

"Not really."

"Where's your family, then?"

"Well, ah. My mom's in upper Scotland, and my dad moved to Italy back in '03. They had a nasty divorce, and holidays haven't really been the same since then. I don't see them much."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem. Just a common evil, y'know. What about you? Where's your family?"

"Wales. Just a few minutes outside Cardiff. My older sister lives in Yorkshire, but she's in Germany for the holidays.

"You have an older sister?"

"Yes, I do. Harry. Well, Harriet. She goes by Harry."

"Harry? Not quite a very feminine name, Harry."

"She's not a very feminine person, Harry. Kind of a prat."

"Most sisters are. I have one younger, also a prat."

I laughed. "Let's just be sure they never meet."

Anne nodded, adjusting her arm in mine. "Do you have any other siblings?"

"No, just one. Do you?"

"Yeah, had. My older brother died in a crash in 2001."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's all fine." She smiled, then glanced up to you and Greg, still chatting obliviously. "What about Sherlock? I mean, I know he has a brother, obviously, but what about his family?"

"Oh, they're angels."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, they're wonderful. His mother was a mathematician before having children, and his father is a postman. They live a few hours north, in the country. I only met them once, when they came on holiday. But according to Mrs. Holmes, we're supposed to visit as soon as possible."

"Aw, that's sweet. Though imagine the chaos they had to endure, raising Mycroft and Sherlock in the same home."

"I have no idea how they did it. I can hardly stand ten minutes with the both of them without tearing myself to pieces."

We both chuckled, wavering a little, but looking up and coming closer to the front steps of our flat. You had noticed us and now stood facing our direction, your hands folded behind your back and your brow curved suspiciously. Greg waited in the doorway, a mischievous grin on his face, as if he was anticipating your reaction.

"Thanks for the walk, John." Anne patted my arm and pulled away, stepping quickly onto the doorstep and following her boyfriend into the house.

You stood very still, and I straightened my back a little to face you. "Did you have a good talk," You asked.

"Yes, I did. It was very pleasant." I nodded to him and started up the stairs.

Greg made himself at home immediately, flopping down in your armchair with a nonchalant bounce. "Well, it definitely hasn't gotten any cleaner in here. Just as heartwarming as ever."

"It has charm, though." Anne let her eyes roam around the place, falling on the far wall with a flash of surprise. She reached out to touch the bullet-holes in the wallpaper and glanced questioningly at Greg, who just shrugged. "What is this...?"

"Target practice," You said flatly, shedding your coat and hanging it on the back of your desk chair.

"In the house?" She wrinkled her nose. "On the wall?"

"I'm quite a fine marksman if I do say so myself."

"Oh, yeah, congratulations, you can hit a wall."

You narrowed your eyes, stalking into the kitchen.

I leaned onto my crutch, a little dry for conversation. "...er, do you two want some tea, or coffee, maybe?"

"Coffee sounds good," Anne said, moving to look over the scattered contents of your desk. But just as she bent her head, something glinted past her ear and made her jump back with a yelp, stumbing into your whiteboard. All heads turned to the kitchen, where you stood with your arm frozen post-throw. A moment of silence passed.

"Please take a seat, Ms. Whitefield," You said calmly, "and don't touch any of my belongings."

"Sorry." She sat down across from Greg, wide-eyed.

"Damn, Sherlock, calm down." I glared at you and patted Anne on the shoulder. "Are you alright? He didn't clip you, did he?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Such hospitality, huh, Sherlock?" Lestrade said, shifting.

"Not for questionable people," You retorted.

Anne looked a little miffed.

"Sherlock Holmes." I folded my arms. "Apologize, right now."

"What?"

"Apologize. Now. Our guest in no way deserves your rude remarks or... flying utensils."

"That could be debated," You snarked, pulling the fork out of the wall.

"Sherlock!" I growled. The heat of the moment was making me a little dizzy, so I put a hand on the end-table.

"My apologies, Anne - if that even is your name - I seem to have some difficulty controlling my actions around individuals I find particularly suspicious."

Lestrade growled. "Sherlock, stop. You're just stirring up-."

"Trouble, yes, just as Ms. Anne has been doing, ever since she introduced herself to John and I. Don't you see it in her eyes? For the love of God, your little minds-"

"John, Sherlock, you'e stirring up John." Greg shouted, moving toward me just a few seconds too late.

I lost my balance, falling into the end-table and knocking over the lamp, broken pieces scattering along the floor. The room swam as I desperately tried to control my breathing, squeezing my eyes closed and shutting you and your stupid arguments out. I felt your hand on my head and faintly recalled hearing your voice, but it might have been Lestrade's. When I opened my eyes again, yours were close to mine, and you were speaking to me, quite loudly it seemed.

"M'fine, m'fine," I breathed, putting a hand on my chest. "Oh, God, the lamp."

"Never-mind the lamp, are you alright?" You scanned across my face, across my chest. Looking for a problem.

"Yes, Sherlock." My lungs still felt tight, so I closed my eyes again and kept pacing my breaths until they loosened.

Greg's voice. "Jesus Christ, John. You're not getting better, are you?"

Your hands disappeared. My eyes focused just as you approached him.

"This is not something that the hospital or Mycroft needs to hear about," You hissed. "Am I understood?"

"If John isn't healthy, he needs treatment, Sherlock." Greg's hands tightened into fists. "He needs help."

"Maybe you need to leave."

"I'm not going to let you keep him here if you're not being-"

"Stop it, both of you," I half-shouted, as soon as I could catch my breath. "Just, please, stop."

Greg met my eyes, his flash of anger melting into soft pity. His tight jaw unhinged and his fingers relaxed, cupping delicately around Anne's shoulder.

"Maybe Sherlock is right. We should leave. John needs his rest." He stepped forward to help me up, rubbing my back reassuredly before looking back at you. "Get him some water. And get him biscuits or something to eat, too."

"Don't-"

"Now, Sherlock."

You shot him a glare, then disappeared into the kitchen as I sank down in my chair.

Greg set his hands firmly on my shoulders. "John, look. If you need anything - anything at all - just give me a ring. Alright? I'll be over in five minutes flat. Anything. Hear me?"

"Thank you, Greg." I smiled at him, and he gave me a quick hug. Anne followed quickly behind to embrace me and graze her lips against my ear, running her hand along my arm.

"I'll see you on Christmas, alright?" She smiled. "It was nice talking to you."

Lestrade guided her to the hall, casting one last glance in my direction with an affirmative nod before closing the door behind himself.

As soon as it closed, you rushed to my attention, rolling up my sleeves to check for any cuts. "Are you alright? No wounds? How are you feeling? Lightheaded? Nauseous? Is there pain in your chest or abdomen? Tell me, John, quickly."

"I'm fine, Sherlock. My lungs are just tight." I took a deep breath.

"Good." You knelt and rolled up the cuffs of my trousers. "No wounds here either?"

"No, Sherlock, I'm fine."

"You're ingenious, John. Simply ingenious." You made a short kind of giggling sound.

"Ingenious? What do you mean, ingenious?"

"My theory was correct, after all. Anne is our culprit, I'm telling you. She's up to no good."

"Sherlock..." I rubbed my forehead, feeling woozy again. "She's already told you point-blank that she hasn't done anything to me. She's completely trustworthy, both me and Lestrade think so, and I'm sure if you ask Sally or Anderson they'd say the s-"

"But they're all so easily deceived, John, don't you see it now? Ah, but I knew it, I knew I couldn't be fooled. She almost had me, but not quite. Not quite. I'm having much more fun with her than I have in quite a while, it's spectacular."

"What are you going on about now, Sherlock."

"I have evidence, John!"

"What evidence!"

You grabbed the sides of my head and held it towards yours, your expression close to ecstatic. "Spontaneous reaction," You exclaimed.

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Next update Thursday.