Previously: Audrey is ambushed by the American assassins who want Irene's phone. All seems lost when, suddenly, macho Sherlock appears to save the day.

Aww.

Enjoy the new chapter!

Hannibal Lecter is many things – an esteemed psychotherapist, a remarkable chef, a connoisseur of all things tastefully stylish and stylishly tasteful.

A follower, however, he is not.

It is this detail which leads him to the door of 221b at a quarter past 5 on a chilly Thursday evening, seeking the company of one Miss Audrey Dubois, who happens to be alone at this point in time. (John starts his shift at 4 pm on Thursdays, giving Sherlock the excuse to tag along and coax the all too trusting Molly Hooper into doing his bidding.)

Yes, Dr Lecter has done his research. He's not an amateur.

*Cue Parks and Rec-esque smirk into camera*

He has had quite enough of Moriarty's tiresome scheming and the Baker Street boys' antics, thank you very much. The only person worth his time is in this godforsaken world is the little sorceress (?)(Further research is possibly required) who summoned him here.

The dapper Dr Lecter reaches out and grabs the circular brass knocker, tapping it firmly against the door three times. There is an almost instantaneous response to his knocking, he notices, as he hears the unmistakable tread of a young rhinoceros lumbering down the stairs.

"Sherlock, if you haven't come back with my double cheeseburger, medium fries and diet coke, then don't bother coming back at a –' The door is flung open by a small framed girl with bandages wrapped tightly around each of her ten fingers.

'Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Dubois.' Hannibal Lecter greets her politely.

The now white-faced girl utters an almost inaudible 'Shit', before turning on her heels and racing back up the stairs. Hannibal sighs, straightens his suit jacket and steps over the threshold.

We've been sitting in silence for nearly 15 minutes now.

That is, Hannibal Lecter has literally been sitting and staring at me for nearly 15 minutes.

I feel like that goat in Jurassic Park, moments before he's lowered into the Tyrannosaurus' cage and violently gobbled up.

Is this really how I am to go? Chopped up, sautéed and accompanied by dauphinoise potatoes and a red wine jus? I clear my throat, and ready myself to say something. 'Look, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and…' I falter and internally bang my head against the coffee table, cursing myself for such poor choice of words.

Limb? Really? A limb?

'Audrey -' Hannibal finally speaks up. 'May I call you Audrey?' I nod in response. 'I am not here to hurt you.' I slump back against the chair, slowly letting out the breath I'd been holding in. 'Oh thank God, I was just about to tell you about this one time where I ate an actual entire Macaroni and cheese pizza and how unhealthy my bo -' He raises his hand to silence me, and I shrink back further into the armchair.

Hannibal pauses for a moment before he continues explaining himself. 'I am here to ask for your help.' I straighten up and frown, taken aback by his request. 'Help you?' I echo him. 'How and why?' Hannibal rises from the armchair opposite mine and walks to the window. Clasping his hands behind his back he turns to face me. 'I'll admit, I was curious at first - What is this world and how did I come to be in it? I have always been a great believer in finding the possible in the impossible; No task is too small once you set your mind to it etcetera, etcetera.' He waves his hand nonchalantly as he says these words. 'I don't know what Mister Moriarty thought he would gain in my summoning – An ally, perhaps?' Lines begin mar his smooth forehead, and he sinks back down into the armchair. 'We couldn't be more different, we –'

'Both take innocent people's lives.' I cut across him sharply. His eyes widen at my harsh tone, but he remains silent. 'Look, Dr Lecter,' I continue tiredly. 'I've had it up to here with surprise visits from potential psychopaths – I mean, just last week I was almost beaten to a pulp by CIA assassins with questionably dishonourable intentions.' I wave my gauze-wrapped hands in front of my face. 'I'm living in constant fear of Moriarty casually popping round for a cup of tea to causally pop my head off with an L96a1, all the while desperately trying to find my way back home to reassure my poor Father that I have not in fact been kidnapped and brutally murdered!' Realising that my voice has risen quite a few octaves, I pause to collect myself and resume breathing at a more sane level.

Hannibal remains quite, studying my face with a look close to…Sympathy? Or perhaps understanding?

'It appears we are both lost.' He says quietly.

I glance up at him, and feel regret slowly creeping its way into my heart.

Don't say it.

'Hannibal I -' Closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, I swiftly make my mind up.

Don't you dare.

'I can help you. Or at least, I'll try my best.' Hannibal stares at me with a look I can only guess as his version of gratitude. 'Thank you, Audrey.'

Great. Just, spiffing. And how exactly are we going to steal the book from Moriarty Mansion, hmm? Do a Matilda on it?

As if reading my thoughts, Hannibal stands up and heads for the doorway. 'Leave the book to me. I just need you to be at Victoria Park at 8 pm tonight, sharp. I'll meet you by the pavilion.'

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. 'Why the park?'

'Because it will quite at that time and we won't run the risk of being seen.' He nods briskly, 'Until then', and steps quietly from the room.

I sit in contemplation for a minute or two. Strangely, the urge to giggle suddenly washes over me and before I know it I'm doubling over with tears streaming down my face.

'Oh Catsby,' I gaze at the cat, whose ears are now flattened against his head in alarm as a result of my guffawing, and scoop him up into my arms. 'I am so screwed.'

'Audrey!' John hollers up the stairs, kicking the door shut behind him, and laden with shopping bags. 'I've got that tea you were looking for…eh Jerry's?' He digs around in one of the bags and pulls out a red box. '...Oh no, sorry, I mean Barry's.' Preoccupied with returning the box of tea to its temporary home in the plastic bag, he walks straight into the wall of lean muscle that is Sherlock's back.

'Shut up, John.'

'Bloody oww!' John angrily glares at Sherlock's curly mop of hair while rubbing his nose. 'What is wrong with yo – Sherlock?' He pauses abruptly, staring at his companion, who has his head lowered to the wooden bannister. 'Sherlock… Are you sniffing the bannister?'

Ignoring his short and fuming friend, Sherlock hurriedly climbs the stairs two steps at a time. 'We have a client.' He calls back as reaches the top of the stairs, taking another deep sniff. He turns and looks into the kitchen, striding across to the window and checks it, realising that it is open. Turning and sniffing again, he starts to walk slowly towards his bedroom just as the sound of feet begin trotting up the stairs. Reaching his room, he cautiously pushes the door open and takes a step inside. Seconds later, John pokes his head around the corner, jaw dropping at what he sees.

'What the F?'

Teeth chattering, I check my watch. The clock face reads 7.56pm. I took the precaution of arriving 10 minutes earlier, guessing that Hannibal Lecter is not a man you'd want to keep waiting. I nervously glance around the dimly lit park, silently cursing Hannibal for his creepy choice in rendezvous. Hopefully, John or Sherlock (most likely John) will have read the note I had left on the fridge explaining my whereabouts. In fact, they're probably on their way over here right no -

'Evening, Audrey.'

'Holy Lord!' I exclaim loudly and jump around, finding myself face to face with Hannibal Lecter, a small smile playing on his lips. 'Okay, you have like, the lightest tread I have ever heard in my life.'

He smirks at me. 'Yes, I find it comes in handy.' The street lamp nearby is reflected in his eyes, giving them a twinkly, bordering-on-psychotic appearance. 'Especially in my area of expertise.'

'I'll say.' I whisper under my breath. Clearing my head, I extend my hand towards him. 'You got the book?'

He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out the small, black object. Raising his eyebrows at my unintentionally loud gasp, he questions, 'Did you doubt me?'

Grabbing the book and flipping to the marked page, I shake my head absentmindedly. 'Not even for a second.' Locating the paragraph, I take a deep breath and look into Hannibal's eyes. 'You ready?'

He nods once. 'I am.' As I open my mouth to begin reciting, he gently places his hand on mine. I look up, startled by the intensity of his gaze. 'I hope you find your way back Audrey. Truly.' Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I just smile and shrug my shoulder. He looks like he wants to say something else, but decides otherwise. Releasing my hand, he takes a step back and breathes deeply. 'Alright. You can begin now.'

"He's a monster. I think of him as one of those pitiful things that are born in hospitals from time to time." I glance up, silently apologising for the harsh choice of words. He shakes his head slightly, motioning for me to carry on.

"They feed it, and keep it warm, but they don't put it on the machines and it dies."

I glance up at him once more, noticing that his appearance is beginning to distort and fade, like smoke.

"Lecter is the same way in his head, but he looks normal and nobody could tell."

Sighing quietly, I close the book and watch Hannibal Lecter become more and more transparent. 'For the record…'I begin softly. 'I've always thought you were an okay guy.' The nearly invisible face of Dr Lecter smiles one last time, before it is swallowed up by the darkness.

'So who's after you?' Sherlock questions the now showered Irene Adler.

'People who want to kill me.'

Sherlock rolls his eyes. 'And who's that?'

'Killers.' Irene replies stubbornly.

'It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific.' John intones, earning an annoyed glare from Sherlock. 'So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them.' He concludes.

Irene smirks. 'I knew you'd keep my secret.' Her expression turning serious, she looks at both men. 'So where's my phone?'

'Well it's not here.' John scoffs. 'We're not stupid.'

'Then what have you done with it?' Anger flashes across her blue eyes. 'If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you.'

'And if they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago.' Sherlock smirks at Irene's crestfallen appearance.

'I need it.' She narrows her eyes before rising from the armchair and walks towards the windows, staring out. 'There was a man – an MOD official. I knew what he liked.' She takes a different phone out from her dressing gown pocket. Sherlock looks taken aback, but remains quiet. Irene types in the passcode and calls up a photo. 'One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it.' She hands the phone to Sherlock. 'He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you understand it?'

Sherlock sits down on the other side of the table to join John and narrows his eyes at the photograph.

'Yes.' He replies simply.

'A code, obviously.' Irene places her hands on the table opposite the men, drumming her fingernails on the mahogany. 'I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out.'

Sherlock leans forward, concentrating on the screen.

'What can you do, Mr Holmes?' Irene circles the table until she is standing behind him. Leaning over his shoulder, she purrs into his ear. 'Go on. Impress a girl.'

It takes a sum total of 8 seconds for Sherlock to deduce the code. 'There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world.' He looks at John's blank face in front of him, then glances round at Irene who hasn't even fully straightened up yet.

'In true Audrey Dubois fashion; dayum son.' John remarks in astonishment.

Sitting on the edge of the pavilion, I had decided to mull a few things over before returning to Baker Street. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I actually felt hopeful.

It's possible, Aud. You know it's possible to be read back into your own world now.

Taking a deep breath I stare up into the sparkling night sky. 'You can do this, Audrey. You can go home.' I say aloud determinedly. My cheerful mood is interrupted, however, by the unmistakable sound of slow clapping, echoing from tree to tree. I whirl around, startled by the sudden materialization of a familiar, tall, blonde-haired man.

Sebastian Moran.

'And so the little bird opens her wings, and flies away.' He whispers sarcastically and flutters his fingertips, leaning against a nearby tree.

I feel the colour drain from my face, and my jaw drop open. Realising I resemble a dead codfish, I snap it shut. 'How – How long have you been standing there for?' I whisper, my voice barely audible.

'Long enough.' He replies smugly.

I frown at this, and roll my eyes. 'Okay, can I just let you in on a little secret? When somebody asks you "How long have you been standing there for", contrary to popular belief you are not obliged to reply with "Long enough". It is the most clichéd, over-done response in literary history and you know, I'm just so sick of it. Be original for crying out loud!'

It's Moran's turn to gape at me like a codfish, and in those few seconds of confusion, I see and opportunity and I take it.

i.e. I grab my bag and bolt from the pavilion as fast as my athletically-challenged legs can carry me.

'Fuck.' I hear Moran shout before he takes off after me. Skinny, sharp branches scratch against my face, no doubt drawing blood. 'Don't trip. Please don't trip.' I chant to myself. Zig-zagging in between trees, I race for the entrance gate.

Or should I say clump of trees because that is exactly where I'm headed. Urging myself to remain calm, I duck behind a bush and gather my thoughts.

Just retrace your steps, Aud. Does anything look familiar?

Peeping my head over a fraction of the hedge, I desperately search the area for a way out, praying for divine inspiration, and all the while listening for Moran's footsteps.

Or absence thereof.

Rising slightly further, I twist my head around to check from the side I just came from.

Huh.

'Sherlock!' John rouses the detective from his reverie. 'Did you hear me?'

'Hmm?' Sherlock mumbles.

John frowns at him. 'I said I'm worried about Audrey.' Sherlock sits up straighter. 'What do you mean worried? Where is she?' John shows him a scrap of paper with Audrey's neat handwriting printed on it. 'She said she'd be back by half eight, it's almost half nine now.'

'Well did you ring her phone?' Sherlock asks, rising from the armchair. 'She left it here.' John sighs, holding out his other hand to reveal Audrey's mobile. Sherlock stares at the phone for a second before rushing from the room to grab his coat and scarf. 'I'm going to go look for her. Stay here and keep an eye on Ms Adler.' He gestures to Irene, who had been watching the two with mild interest throughout their conversation.

'No, no I'll go.' John grabs his parka. 'I don't want to be responsible if this one gets away.' He tilts his head in Irene's direction. Sherlock eyes John dubiously. 'Seriously, I've got this.' John insists, wrapping a scarf around his neck. Sherlock reluctantly shrugs his coat off and takes his place back in the sitting room. 'You're to call me at once when you find her.' He instructs John, who nods before shutting the door behind him.

'Ah, Audrey. I had almost forgotten about her.' Irene speaks up. 'How is your little…?' She trails off waiting for Sherlock to finish the sentence. 'Ahh.' She nods her head when he doesn't answer. 'So we're not at that stage yet.'

'I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.' Sherlock mumbles, resting his head against the back of the armchair. Irene laughs softly. 'Oh come now, Sherlock. I'm not blind. I could practically taste the sexual tension that day you all came to visit me in Belgravia.' Sherlock continues to ignore her, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. 'Such a sweet little thing, isn't she?' Irene continues to taunt him. 'Such young, soft skin.' She rises from her own chair and makes her way towards him. 'So smooth and unblemished, like a ripe peach.' Kneeling down in front of Sherlock, she leans in close. 'Better pluck her before someone else gets to her first.'

'Enough.' Sherlock spits. Irene smiles, seemingly satisfied with his reaction.

The front door bangs open, causing both heads to turn sharply.

'Mr Holmes?' A male voice calls from the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock rolls his eyes. 'I recognise that voice.' Standing up to straighten his suit jacket, Sherlock steps over Irene's folded legs and makes his way towards the door. He sighs as one of Mycroft's men meets him at the doorway.

'Have you come to take me away again?'

'Yes, Mr Holmes.' The man replies, handing him his coat and scarf.

Tentatively, I tiptoe out from my hiding place. Finding myself smack-bang in the middle of a clearing with various paths leading off of it, I make a very wise and astute decision on which route to take:

'Eenie, meenie, minie, mo, catch a –Waahh!'

I shriek as I feel a pair of strong hands clamp down on my shoulders. 'Catch a birdy by the toe.' Moran hisses into my ear and wraps one of his hands around my mouth, muffling my scream. With the other hand, he grabs my flailing arms and pins them roughly against my back. I wince as a sharp jolt of pain courses through my left shoulder - a not-so-nice souvenir the Golem left to me after he broke it. 'You're only going to make it harder on yourself if you continue to struggle.' Moran advises me through gritted teeth, letting out a loud grunt of pain as my foot connects with his kneecap. 'Stop wriggling you stupid little worm! Oh for the love of -' He cuts himself off and I feel his hold loosen. Readying myself to scarper, I wrench one arm from his. Triumphantly waving my free limb, I make to detach the other but Moran spins me around to face him. Smirking in satisfaction at the look of confusion that crosses my face, he bends down and wraps his arms securely underneath my bottom, throwing me over his shoulder.

'PUT ME DOWN!' I holler, thumping his back with my fists. 'PUT ME DOWN YOU BIG…YOU BIG…SHREK!'

'Shut up.' He spits, attempting to keep his own voice down. 'Or someone'll hear you.'

'That's the general idea.' I hiss back at him. Breathing deeply through my nose I try to recollect my thoughts. He's not as bad as Moriarty, maybe I can convince him to let me go? It's worth a shot.

'Please, Sebastian.' I whisper, and I feel the man stiffen slightly when I say his name. 'Please. I just want to go home, to my real home.' I add a few sniffs for good measure. 'Can't you just tell Moriarty that Hannibal ran away? Seems pretty plausible, if you ask me.' Sebastian sighs, and shakes his head. 'Then I'm putting my neck on the line. And for what?'

'Because it's the right thing to do.' I say softly. 'Because, deep down, I know you're a good man.' He remains silent for a moment.

'I'm sorry little bird, but I've got to look out for myself.' His hold tightens around my legs, and my head slumps forward in defeat. Seconds later, his phone starts to ring.

'Shit.' He curses under his breath, and attempts to hold me with one arm while the other digs around in his pocket. I push myself upwards, resting both hands on his shoulder, and wrap my legs around his waist. Shimmying a bit to the left to face him, I smile apologetically.

'What are you doing?' He asks, eyes widening in disbelief.

'Look, this is gonna hurt me as much as it hurts you.' I reply and suddenly wack my forehead down onto the bridge of his nose. Howling in pain, his hands fall from my back and I topple to the ground, landing on my bottom in a most unladylike fashion. Without hesitating, I scramble to my feet and sprint off towards the sound of moving cars. 'Help me!' I shout at the top of my lungs. 'Somebody, please!' I run until my lungs burn for oxygen. 'There's a crazy Swedish man with criminal intent on the loose!' I continue to shout for help but to no avail. Why is it that this night, of all nights, there isn't a soul to be seen in the park. Usually, there would be at least two or three joggers, but tonight? Nada.

'Oh come on!' I shout hopelessly, bending down to catch my breath. 'GONDOR IS CALLING FOR FECKIN' AID– ' I cut my last screech short, as a particularly well-lit clump of hedges catches my eye. Stumbling forwards, I almost sob in relief when I see the wrought-iron entrance gate. Slamming the bars shut behind me, I turn around to inspect my surroundings.

'Where in the name of all that is Holy am I?' Defeated, I look from left to right, and decide that my best bet is to cross the road.

Just get as far away from that damned park as you can, I say to myself, as I calmly peg it down the street.

…Hold on a sec, I remember this building. Coming to a halt in front of a white Georgian house, I gasp in recognition.

'The Diogenes Club! Mycroft might be here!' Taking the steps two at a time, I shamelessly thump my fists the wooden door. My hand is still raised in a knocking motion when Bates, the stuffy butler, opens the door.

'I beg your pardon, Madam, but I do believe you are lost.' He reprimands me in a scandalised voice. 'Bates, please, is Mycroft there?' I ask breathlessly. He nods once, scrunching his nose up. 'Why do you ask?' I push past him and run down the hallway. 'It's a matter of national importance!'

Bursting in through the door of Mycroft's office, I don't even pause to notice he has company. 'Mycroft, please, you've got to help –'

'Audrey?' Sherlock asks disbelievingly, cutting me off.

I stare at him, finally managing a soft, 'Oh.' He rushes towards me and grabs both of my hands, squeezing them tightly. 'You're shaking, Audrey.' He stares into my eyes. 'What's happened, what's wrong?' I continue to blink at him like a retarded owl. I glance around the room, eyes widening when my gaze falls on a teary-eyed Irene Adler. 'Why…why is she crying?' I ask weakly. 'Never mind about her, it's you I'm worried about.' Sherlock frowns when I don't answer. 'Audrey? Are you listening to me?' I turn back to face him bewilderedly. 'Why are you breathing so loud?' I whisper. Sherlock's frown deepens. 'Audrey, that's your own breathing you're hearing, not mine.' He glances at Mycroft. 'I think she's going into shock – Audrey, I need you to sit down for me.' Shaking my head to clear the shrill ringing in my ears, my eyelids become heavy, and my head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton wool. 'Sherlock, Sherlock she's going to go any sec-'

Evidently, I never get to hear the rest of Mycroft's sentence.

'Audrey? Sherlock is that – Oh Jesus what's happened to her?' John rushes down to meet Sherlock at the stairs. 'She's just passed out, but from what I'm not sure.' He glances down at the unconscious girl in his arms. Striding past the living room and into his bedroom, he gently places Audrey on top of the duvet. John hurries towards her, bending down to feel her temperature and monitor her heart rate.

'If Moriarty's done something to her I'll…' He trails off as Sherlock presses his finger to his lips, pointing to Audrey. 'Sush, she's coming around.'

John and Sherlock had sat silently, listening to my story. And when I had finished telling it, they didn't shout or become angry like I was expecting. In fact, they were the complete opposite. John took my hand in his and told me that my heart was in the right place, but sometimes my head wasn't. He then chuckled and left the room to go make me a cup of tea, leaving Sherlock and I on our own.

'Say something Sherlock, please.' I implored him, and rested my hand on top of his. 'Don't be angry.' I whispered.

He softly brushed his thumb along the edge of my palm. 'I'm not angry with you.' He caught my gaze and held it. 'I wish you would have told me, though.'

I began to smirk. 'Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.' His eyes softened at this, and a smile had played on his lips.

I hear the door crack open, throwing a sliver of light across the floorboards. Just as the footsteps turn to walk away, I sit up, blinking my eyes open. 'No, it's okay, Sherlock. You can come in.' I watch the silent figure cross to the other side of the room, and feel the bed sink as he sits down on the edge.

'What time is it?' I ask sleepily.

'Almost 4 am.' Sherlock replies quietly, stifling a yawn. I grab the pillow behind me and shuffle to the side of the bed, swinging my legs over the edge. 'You get some sleep, I'll go to the living room.'

'What? No, no.' He pats my side of the mattress. 'Stay here, I only need a quick power nap.' Eyeing him suspiciously, I climb back under the covers. 'Power nap my ass.' I mumble. 'You need a solid week worth of sleep.'

He chuckles softly and rests his head down on his pillow. I stare at him for a few moments.

'So, are you gonna change into your pyjamas or…?'

Keeping his eyes shut, he kicks both of his shoes off and declares nonchalantly: 'I usually sleep naked.'

Feeling my face heat up, I slowly lie back down. 'Ahh. That's…very good.' I cringe at my shocking awkwardness. 'You can get under the covers, I don't mind.' I turn to face him, noticing how thin the material of his shirt is. 'It is your bed, after all.' He seems to deliberate this for a second, before throwing the duvet cover up and sliding in underneath it.

'Don't do that! It's freezing!' I gasp as the icy air stings my bare legs.

'Apologies.' Sherlock mumbles. We lay in silence for another 5 minutes before Sherlock speaks up. 'Audrey, if I wanted a vibrating bed I would have bought one. Can you please stop shivering?'

'I'm not doing it on purpose!' I whisper, turning around so my back is facing him. I hear Sherlock sigh, and feel him scoot over towards me. 'What are you doing?' I squeak, as Sherlock wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in close to him.

'Keeping you warm.' He murmurs, resting his chin on my shoulder.

Silence.

'Sherlock Holmes…are you spooning me?'

'In the nicest possible way, please shut up Audrey.'

'Okay, I'm sorry.' I mumble.

'Thank you.'

'Goodnight Sherlock.'

Goodnight Audrey.'

…..

'Although technically it's morni - '

'Audrey.'

'Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Nighty night.'

Hi guys, sorry for the late update! As you know, I don't have as much time as I used to so the updates are becoming pretty sluggish.

But PLEASE, bear with me! I have said it before and I will say it again: I'm gonna see this story through to the end.

As always, please comment what you thought about the chapter!

P.s Hope you like the lil snuggles at the end ;)

I'll update when I can!