Dylan Eiler

A/N: I am so sorry it has been almost two months since I have posted! A little thing called 'life' got in the way and registering for college got in the way. Not to mention I am a fandom girl and started watching new shows and movies, and I have not had internet pretty much the entirety of these two months. Without further wait, chapter 33.

Chapter 33: The Beginning of the End

Emma stood in the kitchen, being as quiet as possible, while trying to make lunch. Sherlock was meeting with one of his brother's associates in the living room and she did not want to disturb them. Emma opened the oven quietly and slipped the pan of macaroni in, trying not to slam the oven door shut. It closed with a quiet creak, which made Emma wince. She knew the importance of keeping their relationship a secret from Mycroft. A man who was practically the British government could do all kinds of things, least of all force her to move away.

Not that Emmaline thought Mycroft would do this; from what she had seen of him, he appeared to genuinely care about Sherlock and his well-being. However, Sherlock was sure this would be the case, so quiet she kept. Emma hopped up on the counter, waiting for Mycroft's colleague to leave.

ᶓ

Sherlock kept sneaking glances at the kitchen when Mr. Green was not looking. Mycroft had sent Mr. Green over to him because the man was having trouble in a domestic matter, and Mycroft knew Sherlock would able to figure it out discreetly and quickly. He paid attention to everything the man said, noticing his furtive glances. It seemed that Mr. Green was also there to spy on Sherlock, for Mycroft.

After Emmaline had moved in, Sherlock had removed all the cameras so that his elder brother could not intrude upon the privacy the poor girl had needed. After that, he would perform regular checks to see if any new cameras had been installed. He did not want Mycroft knowing the turn his and Emmaline's relationship had taken, though shortly after her eighteenth birthday he had received a note from his brother.

'Have made sure that you are no longer listed as Ms. Johnson's only living relative as the lady is now eighteen. I have also taken the liberty of speaking to Lestrade about the document 'mix-up' so that you will be in no trouble. MH.'

Sherlock had appreciated that his brother had done this, though as to why he could not say. One thing was for certain, he wanted this Mr. Green out of his flat. He had already given him all the vital information and it was clear to Sherlock that the cause of the disturbance was an affair between his wife and the gardener. Nevertheless, a good detective always checked the facts.

"Thank you, Mr. Green. I will take the train out tomorrow to come and see you about your problem. I think that I will have it cleared up in no time." Sherlock promised, ushering the man out.

Mr. Greene tried to protest, but Sherlock was insistent and pushed him out the door before bolting it shut.

"Is he gone?" Emma called from the kitchen.

"Yes." Sherlock answered after looking through the peephole. He was sure that Mycroft knew something, but he was not exactly sure what. His brother had tentacles in everyone's business, and most of all Sherlock's.

"Oh thank god! I was getting so tired of trying to be quiet in my own kitchen." Emmaline said with a huff, appearing around the doorway.

"Oh it's your kitchen now is it?" Sherlock asked, winding his arms around her waist teasingly.

"Since I'm the only one who ever cooks, yes, it is my kitchen." Emma answered, crossing her arms.

"What's for lunch?" Sherlock asked as he walked through the living room, sweeping for cameras. With Mr. Greene going through their house, he would not have been surprised if the man had laid some new ones in.

He brushed his hand across the chair the man had been sitting in and found one secured to the underside. Sherlock scoffed. Obvious, he thought before crushing it in his hand and throwing away the remnants. He found two more cameras the man had been able to hide in the flat before finally returning to Emmaline in the kitchen.

"Macaroni and cheese, homemade obviously." Emma said proudly as she flipped through a psychology textbook that she had lying open on the counter.

Emma was trying to get a jumpstart on her education so that she could finish school as quickly as possible and move back down to Westminster when it was done; after her bachelor degree however, she still wanted to work towards a Doctorate.

"I thought about making banana bread too." She said absentmindedly, re-reading a paragraph about longitudinal studies.

"Sounds delicious." He said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Oh," she said cocking a brow, "you're eating are you?"

Sherlock smiled and nuzzled her ear. "Not on a case right now." He reminded her.

"Oh, that's right."

Sherlock felt her tense as she remembered; he had been working on catching her grandparent's murderer. He had done so successfully and the court case had ended quite recently since the man had entered a guilty verdict. He was going to jail for a number of years, as was his accomplice, who had also admitted to murder and the robberies.

"The gang they belonged to won't do very well now that their leader is in jail." Sherlock offered.

Emma smiled sadly. "Probably not." She agreed. She had spent time trying to get over her grandparent's murder and bringing it up was not helping her.

"Why didn't you go to the trial?" Sherlock asked seriously, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Because I can't see the men that killed the only family I had left. It would have hurt too much." She said shortly, working her way out of Sherlock's embrace.

"I didn't – I didn't mean to hurt you." Sherlock fumbled, standing awkwardly, digging his hands into his pockets.

Emma smiled sadly, as she ground the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the tears from coming. "I know you didn't Sherlock I just – I don't want to talk about them." It had been only four months since their death and though she had Sherlock, it was still too soon to think about them too much.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said again quietly, not sure what to do. He and Mycroft both buried their grief, especially after the death of their father; neither of them had known how to comfort their mother. Crying people made Sherlock nervous. Think I would be used to it by now, seeing Emmaline cry so much, he thought sadly.

Emma wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape and turned to face her boyfriend, smiling more brightly. "I know; after lunch I'll teach you to bake banana bread, OK? To say I'm sorry." She promised.

"OK." Sherlock agreed. Anything not to see Emmaline so sad. Though she smiled, he could see it in her eyes that talking about her grandparents had upset her.

ᶓ

"Sherlock, this is really good." Emmaline exclaimed, trying the cooled banana bread he had made.

"It's OK." He said with a frown. The bread Emmaline made never turned out dark brown and crusty.

"It's great for a first try." She conceded, seeing Sherlock's disappointed face. "Hey," she took his face gently in his hands. "I like it." She told him, sealing her words with a kiss. "I can't believe we were ever just friends." She told him with a small smile. I cannot believe I once thought you were strange looking, she thought to herself.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"Because we couldn't do this." She answered, tracing his mouth with her tongue.

Sherlock shivered in response, his fingers trailing down her bare arms. "I agree – this is much better."

She took his warm hand in hers and guided him into his room – the bedroom that the two now shared.

"So this is what you had in mind?" Sherlock asked playfully as Emmaline pushed him onto the bed.

"This is what I always have in mind these days." She answered, pressing herself against him.

"I can help with that." He replied, flipping her over so she rested against the tan downy comforter.

"I was hoping so." Emma said with a smile, running her hands up his still clothed back.

With a predatory grin, Sherlock leaned down to cover her mouth with his.

A/N: I hope to begin updating again, but I have to go to my friend's house to use internet to post so we shall see how that goes. I know this fic will only be 45 chapters long, and then an epilogue. After that I will go back and edit and fix the first two books in the Sherlock series, then begin writing 'The Final Game'.