Jen pushed the door open just a crack to peek inside the room she was slowly becoming more familiar with. Sherlock was sound asleep in his bed and part of her wanted to leave him as is as it was such a rare thing to see the man not wound up like a rabbit, but she had other plans for him that required him to be awake. For now, she decided she wanted her cake and eat it, too, so she would not push Sherlock away nor would she push her brother away. She wanted both, so for now, she would have both, which is what led today. It was her sign of temporary surrender. So, not so silently, Jen slammed the door open; he didn't even twitch forcing her to her next action.

"Wake up!" Jen shouted jumping on Sherlock. He awoke with a start likely preparing for a fight if need be before he blinked several times and looked at Jen processing the woman's face and the smile on her face. He pushed her with ease causing her to fall on the floor with an oomph.

"Go away, Ginny," he muttered turning over and covering his head with the blanket not quite willing to enter back in the waking world if there was nothing for it to offer him.

"Nope," she replied jumping on him again forcing him to be the one to let out a oomph this time. "Know why?" He sighed and threw the blankets off his head to look at her knowing it would now be impossible to fall back asleep.

"Why?" he asked, but it sounded like he was mocking her as he was just humoring her.

"Because it's the 6th," she told him with a grin as if that was all he needed to know, and as much as he tried to erase the useless fact from his brain, the sixth was a day he wouldn't likely forget. "Which means-"

"I've managed to survive another full rotation around the sun," he replied bored before he pulled the blanket back over his head. She quickly pulled it off him in mock surprise; he stared up at her teasing look with bored eyes though secretly, he was a bit pleased at how happy she seemed.

"Sherlock! When did you learn that we rotate around the sun!?" she asked causing him to scoff and turn pushing her onto the floor again; she fell rather clumsily with a thunk making him smile in satisfaction. "But I made breakfast," she said quite pitifully as she put her chin on the bed and begged like a dog, so that they were face to face as she tried to impose guilt on him. It wasn't working.

"So you're trying to poison me on my birthday?" he asked making her scowl at him. Though to be fair, poison was quite the accurate description of her cooking.

"I'll have you know it's delicious!" she defended, and it was.

"Which tells me you didn't cook it," he replied. She huffed irritated he had seen through her, and of course, he did. He was Sherlock Holmes for God's sake.

"Fine, Mary and John are out in the kitchen, and they… assisted me," she answered. Sherlock paused for a minute before he sat up and looked around his room realizing the sun was actually quite bright. There were times when he had less to do that he may allow himself to sleep late, but with they way things were stacking up, he had been sleeping less. So seeing the sun actually up before him was a bit alarming.

"Why did I sleep so long, Ginny?" he asked her making her grin sheepishly.

"I drugged your tea last night," she mumbled before she quickly went to defend herself. "It was the only way I could keep you from getting up too early…. Happy birthday." She hid half behind his mattress, but it was clear she was trying to hide her grin.

"You drugged my tea? How did you drug my tea? I would have noticed," he argued now sitting on the edge of the bed with the sheet wrapped around him. Jen slowly stood straightening her purple jumper. Sherlock noticed the green one had been missing from her wardrobe for a few months now. The last time he had seen her wear it was when Peter was arrested, and that didn't escape his notice. It wasn't a coincidence; the universe was rarely so lazy.

"Well, last night, you asked me why the tea tasted funny," she told him quickly trying to avoid looking at him feeling just a bit guilty, "and I said, oh, it's a home brew. Well, it is a home brew; I use it when I don't want to take pills to fall asleep. It usually knocks me right out; you were surprisingly resistant. Rather annoying actually; I ended up giving you two cups. I do not recommend it; I could have killed you."

"I would have died on my birthday," he informed her.

"Like Shakespeare," she offered with a sloppy grin. "He is a genius of the written word; he are genius of your science."

"How kind of you, Ginny," he said only partially sarcastic as he stoog letting the blanket fall to the floor causing her to quickly clap her hands to her eyes like a child would when seeing something they know they shouldn't be.

"Sherlock, you are… naked," she said peeking through her hands to confirm this fact. She let out a giggle like a school girl. "Yes, yes, you're naked."

"Very observant; it seems you enjoy pointing out the obvious," he told her going to his closet to find today's clothing.

"Yes, well, you could have at least warned me," she remarked as she turned around to face the door away from him. She allowed her hand to slip back to her side as she focused on the door.

"Why? You've seen plenty of naked men in your life," he replied as he began to dress curious at her behavior. "It's nothing new."

"Nudity," Jen began considering the reason and how awkward it would be to explain. " Nudity is a concept created by man in an attempt to segregate us from animals, and yet, we still regularly participate in animal like rituals. Nudity doesn't bother me, however, that being said it also depends on the person. If say it was someone like Damon or John, who were standing in front of me without their clothes, it wouldn't phase me. However, those we find... aesthetically pleasing can make one uncomfortable as the concept of beauty is typically based on the question of how willing we are to breed with a person actually causing involuntary sexual arousal, which can make a situation awkward."

"So based on your assessment of what makes a person uncomfortable with nudity, you turned away due to potential arousal?" he asked her making her turn a slight shade of pink but shifted slightly before answering him honestly.

"Yes," she said obviously before she scoffed letting herself have a minor flashback to one of her more recent dreams causing her to feel her face heat up even more. "I don't need any more detailed dreams involving you and I going at it. Believe me." He paused as he began to pull on his shirt. Any more detailed dreams of them going at it... interesting. He shelved that small piece of information for further analyzing later.

"At least your assessment is sound," he replied, "even if your lack of control over your hormones is mildly disappointing."

"Mildly disappointing, or increasingly intriguing?" she teased him before continuing the topic at hand. "I heavily studied human sexuality in university."

"And I'm sure I'm just a thrilling case to you," he replied, and although he was sure he was, he was slightly irked if she had been focusing more on his sexuality than any other part of his mind. There were some many better things to study.

"No, not really," she told him with a shrug hadn't need much time to analyze it. "You're easy. It's not that you're straight or gay. You just simply don't have time for any of that; your mind is so filled with thoughts and ideas that you don't have time to think about sex or even what you're interested in. With a few select questions involving your adolescence when your hormones fog your mind beyond your control, I could tell you your sexuality better than you could. That being said if I had to guess… I would say male and female would matter little, and it really depends on them as people."

"Since those days, I have pitied doctors from my heart," she quoted. "What does the lovely flush in a beauty's cheek mean to a doctor but a "break" that ripples above some deadly disease? Are not all her visible charms sown thick with what are to him the signs and symbols of hidden decay? Does he ever see her beauty at all, or doesn't he simply view her professionally, and comment upon her unwholesome condition all to himself? And doesn't he sometimes wonder whether he has gained most or lost most by learning his trade?" She paused.

"Mark Twain," he mused. She nodded.

"Most people base their want for sex on superficial traits, but I imagine a body is just a body to you," she told him. "You've lost the romance and beauty. In this case, it was a worthy trade."

"You think so?" he asked her curiously.

"Sex is... common. If it wasn't, humanity would not have problems with overpopulation," she answered. "What you have is a gift. It's rare, and the world would be a dimmer place without it."

"I would say you've thought about this a lot," Sherlock told her entertained with her. He was tucking his shirt in. She let out a half chuckle.

"I've had a lot of spare time staring at walls the last two years," she answered with a lopsided smile. "You think about random things like what was Sherlock Holmes's sexuality, you know?"

"Pansexual," he told her surprising her.

"Hm?" she mused.

"Your sexuality," he replied having given it perhaps a small bit of time.

"Oh?" she questioned.

"I've had a lot of spare time staring at walls the last two years," he repeated her answer as he pulled on his jacket. She grinned before he made to the door and opened it for her. She stepped out into the hall. "So what do I have to suffer through today then?"

"I don't know. I haven't gone farther than breakfast to be honest with you," she replied as she opened the kitchen door for him. John and Mary let out a happy birthday making him scoff before falling into the chair next to Peter, who was staring at Jen as if expecting something.

"What?" she asked him with a frown. He was bitter at the renewed kindness toward Sherlock; she had started the separation process, and Sherlock had ruined it with a bloody doll's house. He didn't understand.

"Nothing," he replied simply before looking back down at his plate as she collapsed in the other empty chair next to him. She picked up a fork and began shuffling around her own breakfast.

"Elea!" she shouted suddenly half way through breakfast making John jump slightly, and Mary laugh at his reaction. Sherlock looked up at her curiously wondering what brought the subject of the woman up.

"What?" John asked wanting to know what gave him a heart attack.

"Elea's in town," Jen answered as if that explained everything, but it just left him more confused. "She makes the best chocolate cake. That's what we'll do; plus, she's interesting. Bound to have something to entertain you, Sherlock."

"Who's Elea?" John asked her making her scrunch her face up as she thought on the best way to answer that question. There really was no simple answer the ever complex woman.

"Mycroft's lover… sort of," Jen answered tentatively. "A friend of mine… though that's a coincidence that she's a friend of mine and Mycroft's lover… sort of."

"Mycroft's- Mycroft's with someone?" John asked cringing imagining the British government with someone. It couldn't have been pleasant, and in all honesty, he really had no idea.

"No... yes... sort of… I've been told it's complicated," she replied stabbing her last sausage with her fork. "But Damon was telling me she was coming in and doing a project with him. Can't be a coincidence it falls on your birthday, Sherlock."

"Of course it's not," a woman replied causing them all to spin and stare at the redhead leaning again the door frame to the kitchen. "The universe is rarely so lazy… or so Mycroft tells me. You know I really don't listen to him most of the time."

"Eleanora," Sherlock greeted.

"Excuse me," she snapped in a voice that would have made mummy Holmes proud. "You will not greet me as such Sherlock Holmes." They all looked to him, and he was trying to remain dignified and do as he pleased, but he had known Elea for many years and knew she enjoyed being insufferable... not unlike his brother. "Sherlock," she snapped. He stood from his seat grimacing.

"It's good to see you, Elea," he remarked kissing her cheek.

"Better," she smiled before she turned to get a cup of coffee. "It's good to see you, Jen."

"And you," Jen replied before she pulled up a chair and collapsed in it before crossing her legs and looking around the table.

"Interesting group," she remarked looking at each them. John had his eyes plastered on her in both confusion and attraction. The woman was... well, the word voluptuous came to mind; she was the sort of woman you saw on old pinup posters before stick thin was in. John was confused on how a woman like her ended up with Mycroft of all people.

"Oh, sorry, John Watson," John held his hand out as he shook himself out of any inappropriate thoughts that came to mind, and she shook it. "This is my fiancé, Mary."

"Hello," Mary said brightly ignoring John's obvious staring- she couldn't blame him- and shaking her hand.

"This is my brother, Peter," Jen said waving a hand at Peter, who seemed disinterested in her. He had other things and plans on his mind. "He's a serial killer."

"Oh, well, that's just so you, Jen," she remarked with a charming laugh before she sipped her coffee. She paused and stared at John, who was still staring trying to understand her and Mycroft. It wasn't quite wrapping around his head. "You're staring."

"Are you really Mycroft's girlfriend?" John asked her. She smiled before she tried to think of the best way to answer.

"Not really," she replied considering the question. "I'm more of… a… well, I have no idea what you would call us. We're sort of enemies, sort of friends, sort of lovers, sort of strangers at times. Our relationship is complicated. Today, we're rather good, so I think friends will do, but last week, we were enemies when I stole a rather important document from the French President. He was very angry with me. Why?"

"It's just you're rather lovely," Mary explained understanding where he was coming from. She had heard enough stories about Mycroft to understand why he was confused.

"Oh, yes, the whole I'm sort of gorgeous and friendly, and Mycroft is an arrogant prick… wait no, is hubris considered an emotion?" she asked as an afterthought.

"Depends on the state," Jen answered causing Elea to 'ah,' and Jen to laugh at the response.

"Well, once you meet a Holmes everyone is just so dull and stupid," she explained simply before nudging Jen making her roll her eyes. "I've tried having normal relationships. Impossibly boring, well, that and they would always end up incarcerated or missing… I'm not accusing Umbrella Man of anything, but well… mm… anyway, so I was thinking we could go to the theater."

"Boring," Sherlock answered, but the reply simply made Elea smile as she knew Sherlock and Mycroft better than anyone.

"Here's why it's not," she replied with a grin, "I'll drag Umbrella Man out of his home, and he's bound to suffer more than you especially with some sort of election coming up," Elea twirled her fork. "He is bound to find any distraction, especially me, agonizing."

"And then halfway through, you and I will pop out of there," Jen told Sherlock with a laugh.

"See, she knows how this works," Elea laughed gesturing at Jen making said women grin. "My birthday present to you is torturing Mycroft, and I must say I have never been more delighted to give a gift." Jen and Elea laughed together as Sherlock sighed knowing even if he just wanted to sit at home, that would not be the case.

"Mycroft," Sherlock sneered standing in the theater with Jen at his side as she seemed to be admiring the elegant architecture.

"Sherlock," he replied giving him a look of distaste knowing this was his fault.

"Be nice to your brother," Elea demanded looking up at him with pursed lips. They were arm in arm making quite an odd couple. Mycroft sighed and shook his head not happy with demand but complying anyway. It was a wonder he ever listened to her. "Ginevra," Elea said changing the subject, "I could just rip that dress right off you." Elea glanced at the little black dress she had ripped unceremoniously out of her closet for the occasion. It old and rather dull, but it would do.

"Oh, dear, you took the words right out of my mouth," she teased eyeing the red number that Jen would never have guts to attempt to pull off with how much skin was showing. It was still surprising to her that Mycroft had chosen a companion in such a femme fatale as Elea, and yet, maybe he didn't choose her, and rather, she sort of just ended up in your life. Elea was the sort that just seemed to be able to enter people's lives without them putting up even a small struggle.

"Well, shall we then?" she nodded to the doors pushing Mycroft forward to walk alongside his younger brother. She was always one to encourage their relationship; they were still children with childish grudges, and it was a shame when it was so obvious how much they cared for each other.

"How did you even get him to agree to this?" Jen whispered to her making Elea grin.

"Oh, he owed me a favor," she told her with a mischievous smirk. "Last week, while we were in bed-"

"I really don't want to know," Jen told her ready to clasp her hand over her ears. She didn't not need any disturbing images of Mycroft floating around in her imagination.

"Not like that," Elea scoffed. "We were both in bed on different sides of the country talking on the phone. He was being a baby about a new security system, so I hacked it before I increased it's security. The firewall was the most pathetic excuse of cyber security I've ever seen. Anyway, so after Mycroft arrested me and I handed over the French Presidents papers, he ended up owing me a favor. Honestly, I think he just likes seeing me in handcuffs."

"More things I would like to get through my life without knowing," Jen informed her making the woman grin before they took their seats between the Holmes brothers, who remained as far away as they could. That didn't stop Mycroft from being a prat.

"You can't possibly enjoy this," Mycroft sneered at his brother knowing that this was nothing more than a device to torture him.

"Seeing you in agonizing pain is what I live for Mycroft," Sherlock replied seeming amused by the situation.

"You expect me to put up with this," Mycroft grounded out at Elea.

"You expect me to put up with this," she mocked right back making Jen snicker. "You are such a child."

"I'm a child? You're the one who-"

"Behave," Elea ordered in a very domineering voice making him fall silent after she gave him a life threatening look. He had learned years ago not to underestimate her ability to punish him. If he continue acting like what she deemed a prat, she would send the entire European Union in a frenzy that would take weeks to recover and that was only if she was gracious. She once caused a panic in England; the chaos could not be matched. Of course, she would claim that was Mycroft's fault. That was years ago when they were both still young and confused. Elea had been playing a game; Mycroft naively fell for; in turn, he left in her in tears with her heart broken, and she took her revenge in the form of rolling blackouts that wiped large computer databases. They were still recovering from it; some data would never be recovered. He had learned his lesson as she had learned her stricking an odd deal with her. Enemies when they had to be; friends when nothing else fit; lovers when it became too much to hold alone.

"You have to show me how to do that," Jen whispered to Elea, who was in complete awe of her masterful skills. The woman smiled at Jen.

"Years of practice," she assured the other woman making her laugh. The crowd fell silent and the theater grew dark. If she was honest, Jen didn't even know what they were supposed to be seeing, and it matter little because before the first Act was over Sherlock and her were tripping out of the theater with Elea locking Mycroft in his place with something of a sadistic smile. She swore she heard Elea laugh as Mycroft insulted her rather harshly.

"The pain on his face," Sherlock smiled amused with Elea's birthday gift. Jen laughed as they made their way down the street.

"You enjoy his suffering far too much," she tisked, but she was just as entertained as him. Mycroft was a pain in the ass, and well, he likely wouldn't suffer too much with Elea there."So… how about a go in the fight ring?" she grinned. They had yet to take a shot at each other since Sherlock's returning, and she was just itching to as much as he was.

"Oh, I don't know if you could manage anymore," he teased her.

"Them are fighting words," she told him hailing a cab. "You're going to regret that," she sang slipping inside the car.

"Of that I doubt," he quipped back following her lead.

The roars of the crowd were just increased as she pulled Sherlock into a rather vicious headlock. She was riling them all up as, well, she couldn't fight in the black dress, so she was in nothing but her knickers just fueling the testosterone in the room.

"Admit defeat, newbie," she breathed out. He let out a strangled laugh before he manage to slip his foot behind her knee causing her to lose her balance, but she hung on pulling him down with her. "I will kill you," she told him keeping her grip tight on him as her legs wrapped around his waist from behind keeping him down. He was down to his last resort of attempting to loosen her grip with his hands, but realized the uselessness of the action before he held up a hand in surrender. She let go, and he gasped out drinking in the air. Jen rolled away from him and stood before offering a hand he gladly took. The crowd cheered as they both jumped over the barrier. Sherlock offered her his jacket, so she wouldn't have to wear the tight-fitting dress. It really wasn't the wisest choice of clothing. She accepted the jacket as they headed out back out to the streets. "Well, that was fun," she said flushed from the fight.

"You nearly killed me," he reminded her making her grin before he broke his frown and gave her an amused smile. "Not a bad birthday," he admitted.

"I'm glad," she smiled looking at the ground trying to find something else to do. The day was still young, and there was still things that should be done. "Still haven't broken in anywhere," she decided, but before Sherlock could reply back his phone went off making them both pause in the middle of the sidewalk. "Oh, a shiny new murder for you?" He let out a slight chuckle as he checked his phone.

"New Carver murder," he told her seeing the text from Lestrade that gave him the newest location.

"It's not my brother," she groaned not wanting to get into this with him, not today. He was right, of course, but still, she didn't want the day to be spoiled by arguments when she was so sure she could keep both her brother and Sherlock, at least for the time.

"Well, come with me then. I'll show it is," he offered his arm, but she shook her head and took a step away.

"I don't think so," she grimaced not wishing to see what she knew was her brother's work. It brought back too many memories she did her best to bury deep. Sherlock's phone went off again. He frowned looking at the text.

Come at once. You're going to want to see this. –Lestrade

"Well, you're going to have to come anyways," he told her. He wanted her to see it with her own eyes; she had to see his destruction and madness. Peter needed to go at once, and he was adamant on showing her what she couldn't deny. He would show her a body, and he hoped he could. in turn, show her reason. "Apparently, no time to drop you off. Come on," he offered his arm.

"You know I can get home by myself," she told him hesitate to go with him no matter what he said. She didn't need more guilt on her conscious, but he was pressing her to come. The bodies were piling up, and Jen was the only one who could end it. Sherlock was certain of that as Peter would never stop on his own freewill.

"Come on, Ginny," he smiled offering his arm trying to seem polite, friendly as if he didn't have ulterior motives. He knew the murders were tearing her apart, but Peter was playing her well. She needed a push to see what was obvious; he needed to be locked away. Jen hesitated to take his arm but caved into him. They went running off to the street the body had been setup at. The police had the whole street cut off from the public, but people edged at the tape seeking to see the tragedy.

"Like roaches," Sherlock whispered to her. Despising those that gathered around a crime scene making things difficult. Her eyes scanned them; they really felt no sympathy. They felt curiosity and even excitement, but they cared little for the victim.

"Do you think if we bomb them they'll survive?" she asked him feeling rather bitter toward the crowd when she had no right.

"Only one way to find out," he quipped making her laugh as they started to get closer to the body. It was a small figure in what looked to be white. They moved closer to see it was a girl wearing white, but before they could see anything else, Lestrade stepped in front of her blocking her view and path toward the body.

"Oh," she said surprised taking a step back, so that she wasn't pressed against the detective by his sudden movement.

"She shouldn't be here, Sherlock," Lestrade whispered gravely causing Jen to try and peek around him at the body mostly out of curiosity more than anything. She could see the most beautiful blonde hair fanned out around the little girl. It was a golden halo around her.

"Just because she's The Carver's sister doesn't mean-" Jen's eyes had to be deceiving her as she could just make out the gentle face with a perfect button nose. It couldn't be; this couldn't be happening. She felt her heart start to hammer as her body temperature increased; everything around her seemed to fall silent.

"Lucy," she whispered causing Sherlock to stare at her in surprise before looking to Lestrade in alarm. "Lucy," she called out slowly walking toward the body. Lestrade grabbed her to stop her as she got closer and could see that she was right when she had never wanted to be more wrong. "Lucy!" she screamed pulling out of Lestrade's grip and running toward the torn up body. It was just like the others: cut up and carved, made to look like art. The girls face was frozen in horror; her crystal eyes were still open. Once full of life, they were glazed over, still. "Oh God," she cried out covering her mouth collapsing on her knees as her legs became unable to support her weight. "Oh God." She reached out a hand, but she didn't want to touch the mangled body. "No, no, no," she sobbed gripping her head between her hands. The world began to whirl and churn under her, and her head hit the pavement unable to stop herself from going into shock. Lucy's blue eyes, once bright with optimism, stared at her blankly accusing her. She could hear her speaking.

'You could have saved me. You could have saved me.'

"I'm… sorry," she whispered letting her tears fall to the pavement. "I'm so sorry." Darkness took her under leaving her feeling empty and sick with pain, exhaustion, guilt, and a hundred things swirling around.

A/N: I'm sorry I'm not sorry. It was always Lucy's purpose. Though when I saw that this chapter fell on Valentine's Day, I laughed, because I'm a terrible human being.

Thanks to reviewers: TinkerbellxO, k, Cereza101, zare . downey . okumura, Akira Darkness, hannahhobnob, scarlet tribe, and TragicBlossoms. I'll see you all next Saturday! Review please!