*Recap of previous chapter* Sherlock, John and Audrey went to meet Irene Adler and to retrieve the photos from her, but to no avail. At the end of the chapter, Audrey is "summoned", if you will, by Moriarty to discuss a business proposition between him and Hannibal Lecter. This chapter starts off with Audrey being dropped back to Baker Street, safe and sound.

...For now.

Mwahahaha.

DON'T TELL SHERLOCK. I REPEAT, DO NOT TELL SHERLOCK. The words flash across my brain every few seconds, bright and insisting. I swiftly cross the road and approach Baker's Street, attempting to get as much distance between myself and Moran in as little space of time. As if to darken my already foul mood, the sky begins to grumble dangerously and in no time I'm drenched to the skin.

'Typical.' I say out loud as I fumble for the keys of the apartment. 'I mean, why would the universe give me powers that would actually come in handy? Like controlling the weather, or telekinesis perhaps? But no, no you had to give me the ability to read PSYCOPATHIC SERIAL KILLERS FROM BLOODY EFFING BOOKS.' As soon as the words leave my lips, the rain drops cease hitting me, as if a shield was put up around my body. Looking around in bewilderment, I whisper softly, '….God?'

'No I'm afraid not. Sorry to disappoint.' A loud voice behind me replies exasperatedly.

'The fuck - ?' I exclaim, twisting around to identify the stranger, only to be met by a vaguely pissed-off looking Mycroft holding an umbrella over both of our heads. My face burning with embarrassment, I stare at him imploringly. 'I swear I'm not crazy.' He rolls his eyes and reaches across me, opening the front door. 'Why do you have a key for –' I begin to ask but am silenced by a Do-you-really-need-to-ask-me-that sort of look.

As we cross the threshold, John and Sherlock both begin simultaneously interrogating.

'Where've you been Audrey!?' – John.

'What's he doing here?' – Sherlock.

Both men are sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Sherlock snaps the newspaper back in front of his face, his eyes peering suspiciously over the top.

'Uh…sorry John, I got lost on my way back.' I improvise. 'Had to ask this elderly couple for directions. Lovely people, very helpful. Eh…Moira and…Pat? Yes, haha, that's it – Moira and Pat!' I nod my head in a very business-like fashion and spin around, busying myself with making a pot of tea.

'Audrey.'

Silence.

'Audrey.' Sherlock warns once again.

I begin humming the Game of Thrones theme song.

'Audrey you, and quite frankly the entire universe, know that you're the worst liar in the history of all prevaricators and deceivers.'

Humming intensifies.

'Audrey, I swear to –'

'Sherlock, shut up and tell me where the photographs are.' Mycroft interrupts his brother sharply. 'They're perfectly safe.' Sherlock replies sourly. Mycroft eyes him scathingly. 'Yes, in the hands of a fugitive sex worker.' Sherlock lays the newspaper on the table, and shakes his head thoughtfully. 'She's not interested in blackmail. She wants...protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?' Mycroft nods. 'How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied.'

Bending down to scoop Catsby up, I absentmindedly scratch behind his ears while internally quarrelling with myself. If I tell Sherlock, he'll surely step in and put an end to Moriarty's meddling.

But that's exactly what Moriarty wants; me to go running back to Sherlock. After all, what is the point in his extravagant spectacle if it is to be without an audience? If no one is there to watch each tortuous piece of the puzzle slide into place, then did it even happen?

No. I immediately resolve the internal issue, and come to a conclusion. I was sucked into this story with one purpose, and one purpose alone – to save Sherlock Holmes.

I will not let him jump.

'Audrey, did you just fist pump the air?' John's questioning tone wakes me from the intense moment I was having inside my head.

'Just uh…just…stretchin'...' I reach up to the ceiling with my other hand and yawn, feigning fatigue to try and hide the almighty embarrassment colouring my face.

Just as John opens his mouth to say something, a very loud, very feminine, and very, ahem R-rated moan fills the room. Every scandalised male head turns in the direction of the nearest female.

Which happens to be me.

I stare wide-eyed at each shocked face, too stunned to even reply. Finally, I point my finger at my accusers.

'First of all how dare you.'

Before I can begin my rant, Sherlock waves a hand in my direction. 'Relax Audrey, we all know you're not capable of making such noises.' He scoffs and smirks to John in a 'Amma right?' sort of way.

I make an odd, strangled – sounding squeak of protest, too mortified to even consider a bitchy retort. It soon transpires though, that I need not worry about such things. Mycroft smiles good – naturedly at his fucktard brother and with the airs and graces of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself, he says: 'That's rich coming from you, brother dearest.'

Ohhhhh.

I prance over to Sherlock and press the back of my hand against his forehead. 'Would you like some ice for that burn?' I turn to Mycroft and place the other hand over my heart. 'Marry me, Mycroft Holmes?'

He smiles briefly before re-addressing the task at hand. 'I heard you got into a spot of bother whilst attempting to retrieve the photos. Americans, was it?'

John looks up from his newspaper to glare at Mycroft. 'Yeah, thanks for the heads up, by the way.' Sherlock is quick to join John in the Mycroft-bashing. 'Yes it would be greatly appreciated if you could warn us next time CIA – trained killers plan on interrupting the case, hmm? Nearly blew John and Audrey's brains – ' He stops short as the room is once again filled with Irene Adler's most intimate noises.

Sherlock speaks up immediately, drawing our attention away from his phone. 'Look, there's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see.'

Mycroft narrows his eyes. 'I can put maximum surveillance on her.' His phone starts buzzing as he says this. Taking the vibrating object from his pocket, he swiftly leaves the room. 'Scuse me.'

Sherlock watches him leave, frowning suspiciously.

'Why does your phone make that noise?' John pipes up after a moment of silence. 'Yes, Sherlock.' I grin wickedly. 'Why does your phone make that noise?'

'It's a text. A text alert. It means I've got a text.' He replies in a clipped tone.

'And does your text alert always make that sound?' John asks dubiously, a hint of a smirk forming around his lips. Sherlock shrugs wordlessly.

Right on cue, the phone orgasms again.

I eye the object, almost impressed by the intensity of the noise. 'I'll have what she's having.'

John chuckles at this, wagging a finger at me. 'Aha! I got that.' He looks smugly at Sherlock. 'I understand that reference.'

'Oh goody.' Sherlock retorts scathingly, engrossed in the article.

'…Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later.' Mycroft re-enters the room, snapping his phone shut.

'What else does she have?' Sherlock asks him without looking up from the paper.

Mycroft looks at him enquiringly.

'Irene Adler.' Sherlock explains. 'The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more.' He stands up and faces his brother, gauging his reaction. 'Much more.'

Mycroft looks at him stony-faced. Sherlock walks closer to him. 'Something big's coming, isn't it?'

'That's what she said.' I whisper as John and I make eye contact.

Cue childish sniggering.

Rolling his eyes at our buffoonery, Mycroft addresses Sherlock seriously. 'Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this.'

'Oh, will I?' Sherlock challenges, the air wrought with tension.

'Yes, Sherlock.' Mycroft lays down the law. 'You will.' He breaks away from Sherlock's gaze to check his watch. 'Now if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend.'

FOUR WEEKS LATER

'Marvellous, Sherlock!' John claps loudly, earning a slightly bashful grin from the violin-playing detective.

'Give us another!' Lestrade calls out, taking a swig from his glass of brandy. Sherlock bows in response, but stows the instrument away. 'Thank you, but I think that last carol has sent Audrey sound asleep.'

I jump to attention at the accusation, sitting up ramrod - straight in the armchair. 'It has not! I was just…resting my eyes…' I cross my legs and delicately sip from my wine glass, in an attempt to conduct myself with a more lady-like decorum. Sherlock is no longer listening though, and is trying in vain to remember John's new girlfriend's name when she offers him a mince pie.

'How've you been, Audrey?' Lestrade appears beside me, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

'Oh, you know, just…spiffing!' I respond cheerfully, taking note that I should probably ease up on the white wine intake. 'How're you, Greg? How's the wife?'

'We're back together!' He replies, grinning widely. 'Me and her are gonna be in Dorset for Christmas Day.' I happily pat him on the knee, nodding for him to continue. 'Yeah, it's all sorted.'

'Mm no, she's sleeping with a P.E teacher.' Sherlock casually intones from behind his computer screen.

Lestrade's smile becomes uncomfortably forced. I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. 'Don't listen to him Greg, he's the last person you'd expect to understand relationships.' He smiles grimly, though his eyes soften at the gesture.

'I know this may seem irrelevant to you, what with Sherlock being your flatmate but, if you ever need any help with anything, never hesitate to ask me Audrey, yeah?' His expression becomes slightly worried, and he lowers his voice. 'Sherlock has a lot of enemies out there; very dangerous people. People that will target those he cares about.' He glances up at Sherlock, frowning. 'I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you.'

Maybe it's the current shitty situation I happen to be in right now, or maybe it's just the effects of the alcohol but, I begin feel myself to tear up. 'Thank you, Greg.' I whisper softly, tightening my grip on his hand before letting go.

Unfortunately, the incredibly sweet and heart-felt moment is ruined by a very audible, 'Oh, dear Lord.' from Sherlock as Molly Hooper walks in the door, arms laden with bags of presents.

'Hello everyone! Having a Christmas drinkies, then?' She blushes shyly as John steps forward to take her coat, and turns an even deeper shade when he gawps in appreciation at her slinky black dress. Lestrade seems particularly taken with Molly's fine ass, and rushes to the kitchen to fetch her a drink.

'Go forth, my son.' I whisper after him. 'Go get tha' booty.'

Sherlock, sensing my growing inebriation, materialises beside me and snatches the wine glass from my hand, replacing it with a bottle of water. 'Please hydrate yourself Audrey, I shudder to think what you're already hyper charisma, heightened with alcohol, could achieve.'

Scowling, I bring the water bottle to my lips and grumble, '...Bet I could hold more drinks than you...'

This Sherlock grins at, quirking an eyebrow. 'Fine, you're on. If I win, you have to help me with the Adler case.' I stare up at him, confused. 'Is that not what I've been doing these past few weeks?' Sherlock shakes his head, laughing to himself. 'Oh no. No, no this is a different kind of help.' I huff loudly, annoyed now. 'Well what's that supposed to mean?' Sherlock looks around, checking for eavesdroppers, and leans in close, uttering one word: 'Lesbians.'

I gawk at his deadly serious face, scrunching my nose in concentration.

'…Nah son. I've literally no idea what you're harping on about.'

Sherlock beckons me to follow him into the kitchen. There, he opens up a folder titled, The Woman, and proceeds to flick through pages upon pages of his own writing. 'I had to write everything down when John hid my laptop after I broke his.' He explains matter-of-factly. 'I've come to the conclusion that she –' He begins but is interrupted by a loud, 'Oh ho ho!' from John. Sherlock whips around to scream something bitchy, but stops dead when he follows John's pointed finger.

'Ah.' He states simply.

I look up above my head to witness the spectacle myself, only to be thoroughly disappointed by the small bunch of green leaves with white berr –

Oh shit.

Mistletoe.

'Well go on then.' John encourages smugly. 'Get to it.' I gulp and glance around the room, each face plastered with a smarmy smile.

Except Molly Hooper, who looks quite pale.

I turn back to face Sherlock, suddenly becoming very conscious of the little space in between us.

'Kiss, kiss, kiss.' The chanting begins quietly at first.

'I don't – I – What - ' I stutter, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

'Kiss, kiss, kiss.' The incessant mob grow louder.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, gesturing with his hands for them to shut up. 'Yes, yes alright. Thank you, we get it.'

'KISS, KISS, KISS.' They're shouting now. Sherlock sighs dramatically and swoops down to place a kiss on my right cheek. 'There.' He addresses the audience while I try to slow my heartbeat. 'Are we happy now?'

Silence.

And then Lestrade: 'Give her a proper snog!'

'SNOG HER! SNOG HER! SNOG HER-'

'Oh alright!' Sherlock shouts back at them. Grabbing my waist he pulls me to closer him and kisses me on the lips this time. His lips soften against mine after a few seconds, and he reaches up to gently cup my face with his free hand.

And then it's over.

He breaks away from me and clears his throat. 'Does that suffice?'

John, Lestrade, Jeannette and Molly gape open-mouthed at us. The uncomfortable silence stretches until Irene Adler gives one of her award-winning porno-sighs.

Then everyone turns to me, a new level of shock registering on each face.

'Well don't look at me!' I snap at them, incredibly flustered. Sherlock reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone in record time. 'No, don't worry it was me.' He explains nonchalantly, eyes fixed to the screen.

'My God, really!?' Lestrade asks, flabbergasted.

'My phone.' Sherlock clarifies sourly. He strides to the mantelpiece and picks up a small red box. Pocketing it, he makes his way towards the bedroom, smiling lightly at me when our eyes meet.

John sidles up to me once he hears the door shut. 'Well that was –' I hold up one finger, silencing him.

Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I whisper to him, 'Never let me forget this moment, John.'

So...I'm sure you're all wondering where in the Sam-heck I've been these past three months.

1. I got a summer job and was working 5 days a week. (Sick, I know, but I needed cash monies.)

2. My laptop broke, so I had to save up said cash monies to buy a new one.

I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who didn't give up on me or my story. It was never my intention to leave y'all hanging, I just had a SUPER busy summer! I hope you guys can all understand.

I'm not going to be able to update as frequently as I did when I first started this story. My college course is vey demanding, and I really only have the weekends to myself. But PLEASE don't think I'm abandoning ship! I can promise you that I intend to see this baby through to the bitter end!

I hope you guys can forgive me for such a long wait! As always pleeease review, review, review! They are the reason I motivate myself to write every new chapter.

Hugs and kisses to all. xoxo

P.S LEMME KNOW WHAT U GUYZ THOUGHT OF THE SMOOCHY-SMOOCHY!