Chapter 5

"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."

-Ernest Hemingway

He was so close; there was just one missing piece. Damn it Sherlock, think. Dead woman, hotel, dead man, hotel, dead man, alleyway, gunfire sprayed into a surrounding crowd, flee, dead woman, park and then, nothing. It had been two weeks since the last murder and then silence. This was agonizing. He was better than this. The facts were all aligned neatly into a row, so why couldn't he figure this out. He needed a cigarette, now. Damn John and Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, hiding the one thing he needed, taking away the one thing he had left to help him focus. 'I need a damn cigarette!' With a hard swing of his arm he flung the books and unopened letters scattered on the desk before him onto the hard wooden floor of his flat. He whipped his head back and forth as he searched for a hiding place not discovered by his unrelenting housemates. There was always some tucked away somewhere: Billy. With a relit vigor he leapt around the armchair blocking his way and grabbed the skull always kept safely atop his mantle and flipped it upside down. No! He peered down the foramen magnum and into the hollow cranium searchingly, they were gone; someone had taken them. Again! His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he gently placed his most loyal friend back down onto the mantle. This was absurd, what was he supposed to do? He needed to think: patches. Running to the bathroom he dug through the drawers, threw everything out of the cabinets only to find an empty box, which he proceeded to crumple into a wad and throw across the small dimly lit confinement trapping him like a caged animal.

He found himself faced with two options as he stared at his smoldering reflection in the dingy mirror; one, go to the drug store and get more patches, not the favorite option, but the one he wouldn't have to make excuses for, or two, go to the corner market and get a carton of cigarettes, the cons of that being John finding them, taking them, and throwing them away. Again. He looked down at the three residual black rings on his forearm from the adhesive of the patches and scoffed. No, patches won't be enough, not three, not ten, not a whole box. He needed nicotine and he needed it quickly, and in the form of a small white stick and smoke flowing down into his lungs. Yes, decision was made, cigarettes it was.

He made his way quickly to the front door and pulled the familiar black wool of his long overcoat from the hook and set in into place on his shoulders before grabbing the dark blue scarf and tucking the ends neatly through the folded loop on the opposite side. He could hear Mrs. Hudson merrily flitting around her flat below, he would need an excuse, and one she would tell John so his suspicions wouldn't be raised. He jumped down the stairs two at a time, hoping he would be quick enough to avoid her altogether.

"Oh Sherlock!" he heard his landlady call as soon as he'd turned the front door's knob.

"Yes Mrs. Hudson?" he answered a little too rudely.

"Are you on your way out?"

"Yes."

"Could you grab me some sugar on the way home? Be a dear, my hip's been aching all day-"

"Yes."

He'd cut her off, it was rude, but he needed to leave before John got back. His time was running out and if he got caught, he'd be stuck wallowing in this misery for eternity. He quickly slid through the open and doorway and latched the heavy wooden door behind him before smiling to himself. Free at last. The corner market was a short enough walk, the perfect amount of time to chain-smoke three or four of his precious treasures on the way back.

"Hello, where are you off to?" John asked from the curb as he stepped out of a cab.

No no no no NO! This is not what was supposed to happen! Sherlock's teeth clamped together painfully as he tried to keep his face unperturbed, the tension causing his jaw to tremble slightly. His mind was far the past the point of return, if he didn't get what he so desired, he would go mad, nothing was going to deter him from this mission. Damn it John! Wait, yes, the perfect solution. His mind jumped for joy as it basked in its newest revelation. He'd gotten his last cigarette from her, surely he could get another, and it would be the perfect alibi, as long as she didn't go blabbing to John. He'd deal with that later. Once the deed was done, it was done and he could get back to thinking, deducing and finally solving this blasted case. The hospital, where Ellie, Everleigh, whatever, worked, she would have one and she would give him one. Yes, finally, something working out perfectly.

"The hospital," Sherlock answered, trying not to sound too excited while he waved to John's cabbie to wait for him.

"Oh? For what?" John inquired, sticking his hands in his coat pockets.

"I need to talk to Ellie. About the case, see if any of her patients told her information I could use."

"Oh, well I'll go with you."
"No!"

"Why not? I didn't even think you liked her."

"I don't. I just need information. You'll just waste time trying to charm her. I'll go alone. Mrs. Hudson needs sugar, she asked me to tell you to get her some."

"No, she asked you to get her some."

"And I'm asking you."

"For God's sake Sherlock."

Enough was enough; Sherlock brushed past John and got into the cab, ignoring the look of complete frustration on his friend's face. Other people's feelings were so tedious sometimes, always changing, yet so predictable. He needed something new, someone refreshing, who would always keep him guessing and who would never settle into monotony. There was no one like that people were all the same, boring and predictable.

"St Bart's," Sherlock instructed the cabbie as he settled in to the back seat.

Everleigh sat behind the desk in the Emergency Department with Sam and Lisa, running lines with Sam for the part in War Horse he'd just been awarded. Rehearsals were set to begin in a few weeks time and Sam wanted a head start on the production. Everleigh enjoyed the downtime with her two closest companions. She hadn't felt this at ease in a very long time. For once everything seemed to be going in an upward direction. She had a very solid group forming, Sam, Lisa, John, Nora. The sensation of constantly treading water, never moving forward, always stuck fighting against the current just to stay afloat, was finally fading away.

"Dr. Braxton, there's someone up at the front desk to see you," the medical admin tech informed her as he hung up the telephone.

"Oh? Did they say who it was?" Ev questioned, unsure of who would be coming here to see her at noon on a Monday.

"No. Sorry."

As she stood up to greet her mystery visitor she ran through everyone that could possibly be on the other side of those heavy double doors. She had plans with John tomorrow evening, surely it couldn't be him, he would just call if he had to cancel, and that hardly deserved a face-to-face visit anyway. Her cousin, almost impossible, she'd never dare come see her, not after what she did. The trip was far too long for her grandparents to suffer through, no they were home, bundled up with tea and books as they always were on rainy afternoons. As she pushed her way through the swinging door, the person who awaited her was the last person she would have expected. Sherlock Holmes sat in a chair in the waiting room, mindlessly watching the woman on the TV drone on and on about the importance of regular colonoscopies after the age of 40. His dark curly hair lay slightly matted against his head, small droplets of rain still clinging to the strands like dewdrops on a spider's web. He looked so innocent sitting there, his face relaxed as he enjoyed these rare moments of peace. He took on an almost boyish appearance and Everleigh couldn't help but smile slightly to herself, the man behind the mask, a small glimpse at the vulnerability that lied under the surly comments and sarcastic tone.

"Hello Sherlock," she finally chimed, causing his face to snap back to its cold indifference.

"Hello. I was wondering if I could have a word," he stated coolly, his grey eyes locked onto hers.

"Sure. What about?"

"My case."

"All right. But I'm afraid I've told you everything, I won't be of much help."

"You'd be surprised."

She smiled a little at him as he raised his eyebrows, his own lips curling into a slight one-sided smirk. She liked the way his eyes crinkled as the corners of his mouth stretched to meet them, the slight sparkle in the icy grey.

"Shall we go outside?" he asked, gesturing to the sliding glass doors.

"Uh, sure, let me go get my coat," she answered, looking skeptically to the dreary conditions on the other side of the doors.

He watched as she walked away, letting the fake sincerity fall from his face with a groan. Conversing was tiring. He just wanted a cigarette. The rain fell outside the glass sliding doors, hitting the pavement in minute splashes one after another, mesmerizing him. Four people murdered, four locations, no apparent link between any of them. Two men, two women and only one error that has led to no new evidence, no assistance and an unsolved case, there was something else he was missing, but what was it? He'd gotten into an argument with a man in an alley and killed him, that wasn't planned. What had began as an amicable meeting ended with one of them being killed, but why? And why was he murdering all these people? What did they have, what did they know? This wasn't random, no he'd ruled that out already, this was premeditated, carefully planned and executed. Suddenly, a small hand on his forearm jolted him from deep within his mind palace, silencing the repetitive voices berating his inabilities to solve this seemingly simple case. Her brown doe eyes peered up at him, so delicate, so fragile, and entirely vulnerable. He had to admit, she did have a pretty face. Her features were soft and feminine. Her pink lips dipped slightly in the middle, contrasting well with her alabaster skin, her nose sloped slightly to a round tip, and blonde hair fell down to her jaw line, framing her face in messy disarray. She wasn't awful to look at.

"Ready?" she asked, removing her hand from his arm.

"Yes," he answered as he took his first steps towards the doors, leaving her to trail behind him.

She followed him out the doors into the cold autumn rain, the drops stinging her cheeks as they pelted against her reddening skin. She envied the man pulling farther and farther away from her with his long strides, she'd forgotten her scarf inside leaving her neck and chest open to the winds and rain, chilling her to the very core. She felt her bones shivering as she finally joined Sherlock underneath the covered sanctuary of a bus stop, thankful it's thin plastic walls blocked most of the blustering cold.

"Do you have a cigarette?" he asked her as she dug her numb hands into the warm refuge of her pockets.

"Yes,' she replied, feeling the familiar thin cardboard with what little feeling had returned in her right hand.

"May I have one?"

"Don't you ever have your own?"

"No."

"Is that why you came all this way? To get a cigarette from me?"

"Yes."

Everleigh let out a small chuckle and watched as his face grew agitated, brow furrowing before rolling his eyes in annoyance and impatience. She pulled the carton from her pocket and held it out to him, there were only a few left and he was obviously in far more need than she was. He took the box from her, his hands clad in black leather gloves and gave another crooked, eye crinkling smirk, only this time it was genuine, although to her eyes it looked exactly the same.

"You can have the rest, just save one for me," she requested as she handed him her lighter.

"Do you want it now?" he asked as his lips held tightly to the cigarette in between them, his thumb flicking the small silver wheel of the lighter.

"No, I try not to when I'm working. Patients tend to dislike the smell."

Finally, a small flame blazed from the top of the cheap blue lighter and Sherlock brought the dancing orange flare to the end of the cigarette between his lips. He felt the heat filter slowly into his mouth before inhaling deeply, embers falling like snowflakes as the paper and tobacco burned. The relief was instantaneous, he felt his nerves calm and his mind open. Thoughts flowed in from the newly opened doors, flooding the hallways and cluttered foyers. The possibilities were endless now; he'd have this case solved within an hour.

Everleigh watched him, entranced by his silent relief. His shoulders relaxed and the tension was erased from his face, giving him a more youthful appearance, similar to the one she'd seen earlier in the hospital. She saw his eyes moving rapidly back and forth beneath his closed lids, as if he were watching things fly quickly past him, his left hand and fingers moved ever so slightly at his sides, the right mimicking the movements when it wasn't holding his cigarette. She'd remembered John talk about Sherlock. How he'd sit in silence for hours, sorting through facts in his mind. She felt a certain sense of embarrassment as she watched him, feeling as if she were intruding on a very private moment. He didn't seem like a man who took comfort in showing any moment of slight vulnerability, and it peaked her curiosity as to why he was opening it up to her, if he even still remembered she was standing there.

"Thank you Dr. Braxton. You've been most helpful," Sherlock finally spoke aloud, eyes shooting open, his foot stomping the remnants of his cherished prize on the sidewalk, leaving behind an ashy black smudge.

"You're welcome and uh, you don't have to call me that," she ensured him with a playful tone.

"Goodbye Ellie."

"Bye."

Sherlock took off towards the curb, immediately pulling another cigarette from the carton. Everleigh turned back towards the hospital, a small smile growing larger on her lips. She liked that Sherlock Holmes in a strange, alluring kind of way. She'd even grown sort of fond of the surliness and arrogance that had first put her off. He had so much to offer and she hoped, deep down, that one day he may be willing to share some of it with her, no matter how many cigarettes it cost.

A/N: Little late but it's here! The other will be out this week, got the week off of work!

Thank you Fat Old Sun for the review! It means a lot! They make me so happy!

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