N.B I've had quite a few people commenting on Sherlock's OOC-ness, especially when it comes to the more personal scenes with Audrey, so I'd just like to write this little reminder - Like I've said in previous chapters, there is a romantic element to the story so naturally, he'll differ from Mark Gatiss' and Steven Moffat's interpretation of him. I did not intend him to be as socially-awkward as he is sometimes portrayed in the television series, so please allow for some changes in character over the next few chapters. I don't want to sound like I'm nagging, but maybe don't compare him to series Sherlock as his and Audrey's relationship... blooms. (Sorry, couldn't think of a less cringey word haha)

Apart from that, thanks so much for all the support! Audrey's really feeling the love you guys, and she's very grateful. 3

"BRING BRIIIING! BRING BRIIIING!"

"Jesus Christ!" I bolt up into a sitting position, frightened half-to-death by the shrill ringing of the telephone sitting on one of the bedside tables. Stretching over a still-sleeping Sherlock, I hastily snatch the receiver and pull the cable as far as it will go.

"Hello?" I whisper, glancing at the time - 10:00 am.

"A-Audrey?" I hear a small, trembling voice. "Is that you?"

"Henry?" I recognise him instantly. "What's the matter? Has something happened?" He doesn't reply straight away, I hear him sniffing and trying to steady his breathing.

"It was there last night, Audrey. In my backyard." His voice breaks on the last syllable.

"What was there, Henry?"

"….the hound." His whisper is almost unintelligible, and he starts to sob quietly.

"Oh Henry. Oh no don't cry, shh shh." I hear him gulp and inhale loudly. "Listen, I'm coming over right away, okay? Just stay put, don't leave your house."

"Okay, thank you." He mumbles.

"Give me twenty minutes, Henry. I'll be with you soon."

I sigh and drop the receiver back into its holding place. Turning to face Sherlock (who is still embodying a comatose log), I gently brush a curl back from his forehead to wake him up.

"Mmph." He grumbles, and blinks one eye open. "What did Henry want?"

I frown slightly, and shake my head. "Gosh I could have sworn you were asleep just there."

"I was." Sherlock replies, both eyes closed again.

I stare at him blankly.

"I've trained myself to register and process all surrounding noises and conversations perfectly, even in my sleep." He explains simply.

I'm still gawking at him.

"But Sherlock that's …like, that's impossible…?"

"Mmm… no." He scratches his nose absentmindedly. I don't even attempt to try and argue with him, struggling to make sense of the theory. "Did you have any nice dreams?" I ask instead, sliding off the bed and making my way over to the wardrobe. "That was the longest I've seen you sleep for in weeks."

He props himself up in front of his pillow and stretches, bones popping as he does so. "Yes, come to think of it, I did have a dream... I dreamt I kissed you."

I freeze, one arm held in mid-air, holding a cardigan.

Oh my God. He thought it was a dream. He doesn't remember the kiss.

I shut my eyes and turn around slowly to see him… smirking?

"Or, on second thought…" He places a finger to his chin in mock concentration. "…was it a dream?"

"Oh shut up!" I throw the cardigan at him, laughing. He catches it and rises from his side of the bed. Chuckling, he walks towards me with the item of clothing in his outstretched arm. He stops a few centimetres away from me, our toes nearly touching.

"I apologise, I should know better than to joke about these kind of matters with young ladies." He quirks an eyebrow.

I suddenly become very aware of his close proximity and my considerably short nightdress. Casually folding my arms across my chest, (for no apparent reason – John has a bigger cleavage than me) I clear my throat and glance up at him.

"…H-i..."

Wow. Smooth.

He opens the cardigan out in both hands and drapes it around my shoulders, pulling the front together at my chest. He gently captures my chin with his thumb and index finger, caressing it before giving it a playful squeeze. Smiling, he strides past me and towards the bathroom.

"Fifteen minutes." He calls back before shutting the door.

I stare after the newly-affectionate man, wondering if the hallucinogens really had got to him. Shaking the fairies from my head, I hastily pull on jeans and a camisole, all the while trying to decide how I'm going to deal with the change in our relationship.

I mean… Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?

Ick. I shudder the minute the thought enters my mind. Oh no, no no. Sherlock Holmes does not have girlfriends.

Maybe we don't have to label it. Or… tell anyone about it. I honestly don't think Sherlock or I could bear the almighty slating we'd get from John if we were to announce such a thing. Plus, I'm almost certain John would do everything in his power to stop such a relationship from ever forming. He's been acting very… fatherly these past few weeks. I could have sworn I heard him sniffling during the father-daughter dance scene in What A Girl Wants*.

"How are we for time?" Sherlock shouts from the bathroom.

"Ugh –" I check my watch while hopping on one foot, pulling my boot on. "Five minutes. You ready to roll?"

The handle twists open and Sherlock emerges from the bathroom (sans shirt) looking nothing short of godlike, with his lean, toned torso and dark, slicked back hair. He darts past me and I catch a whiff of lemon.

"Ooh yum is that the inn's shower gel or Johns?" I amble towards the steaming bathroom with criminal intent.

"The inn's – John has hidden all of his beauty products from me." Sherlock replies rather grumpily, buttoning his shirt at lightning speed. I sneak one last look at the chiselled chest before it is unlawfully covered by a deep purple shirt.

Snatching the bottle of shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, I quickly stash them amongst my underwear and socks.

Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

"You know," Sherlock begins, running his fingers through his hair in a most becoming manner, "Guests are perfectly welcome to take consumable items with them when they leave."

"Oh.." I reply, rather disheartened. "So… it's not illegal, then?"

Sherlock snorts. "Why do you sound so disappointed?"

"Well I've always felt very daring, knowing I've taken something and have gotten away with it. It's actually quite thrilling, you kn – stop laughing at me."

Sherlock masks his sniggers with a cough, which suspiciously sounds very like the word kleptomaniac.

"Okay Henry, just one more time from the beginning."

Henry looks at me with his sad, puppy – brown eyes and nods. "I was in the sitting room – the television was on but I wasn't really paying any attention to it. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was…something outside, something watching me. Then boom, the garden lights turned on so brightly and suddenly… But they would dim down again in a matter of seconds. This happened three more times, and on the third time, I saw it." He gulps loudly. "I saw the hound."

Sherlock, who had been dumping spoonfuls of coffee into the mugs without even looking, his eyes locked on Henry's, takes a step closer to him.

"Hound."

"What?" Henry struggles to look around at Sherlock, trapped by the duvet I had wrapped tightly around his torso.

"Why do you call it a hound? Why a hound?"

"Why – what do you mean?"

"It's odd, isn't it? Strange choice of words – archaic. It's why I took the case. 'Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.' Why say hound?"

"I don't know! I ..." Henry trails off, his brows furrowing as he tries to think.

Suspecting that Henry may cause himself an aneurysm if he frowns any deeper, I move beside Sherlock and rest a hand on his arm, warning him not to push the distraught young man any further. He, somewhat sulkily, reaches towards the counter and grabs one of the coffee mugs, thrusting it under Henry's nose in hopes that the aroma will lift his gloomy mood.

"I've called Louise Mortimer, she's going come around later on to check on you and have a chat." Henry nods once, staring into the creamy-brown liquid and probably drafting his eulogy. Sherlock drains his cup of coffee and starts for the door.

"Well it's been an interesting, if not slow, conversation, Henry." He declares in bubbly voice. My left eye twitches. "Can't stay to chit-chat, though. I've got a man-eating hound to catch." And with that he flounces from the room.

Henry wearily raises his pale face and sighs. "Does he care about anyone in this world apart from himself?"

Leaning against the arm of his couch, I gently rub Henry's shoulder. "I know it may not seem it, but he does, Henry." I glance at the slightly-swinging door through which the excitable detective left. "He just has a funny way of showing it."

"Listen, what I said before John, I meant it." Sherlock's surprisingly sincere voice rings out as I'm rounding the corner of the graveyard. "I don't have friends… I've just got one."

Bro.

Half-expecting John and Sherlock to be locked in a passionate embrace, I sigh rather disappointedly when I see both men standing quiet a distance away from one another. "Audrey!" John's expression brightens, and he walks towards Sherlock and I. "I haven't seen you since yesterday evening, thought you'd left us!"

I grin widely at him, and then place my hand against my heart, feigning a hurt expression. "Me, the noble and worthy leader of this quest, leave you? Why how dare you sir –"

"JAHN!" Sherlock abruptly and excitedly hollers into my eardrum. "You are amazing! You are fantastic!"

John, who thinks Sherlock is mocking him, turns away with a sour expression. "Yes, all right! You don't have to overdo it."

"No, you don't understand!" Sherlock hastily pulls a notepad from his pocket.

"Clearly..." John's expression lightens with curiosity, and he peers over my shoulder to get a look at whatever the detective is scribbling. Sherlock holds the piece of paper up in front of his face, the word "HOUND" written in the centre.

John and I both stare at him with our best "U wot m8?" expressions. "Yeah, I think we've established that's the problem…."

Sherlock sighs at our apparent ineptness and pulls the notebook back, writing on it once more. He then flourishes the corrected page in our faces. This time it reads like an acronym; H.O.U.N.D.

"Ahh." Recognition crosses John's face. "So you think it's an acronym?"

Sherlock doesn't reply straight away. Stuffing the notebook back into his pocket, he heads back towards the inn. "Absolutely no idea, but I th – " He trails off when he sees a familiar figure standing just in front of the entrance to the pub. The stranger, decked out in Ray ban sunglasses and sporting an impressive suntan, is none other than Greg Lestrade.

Or, as I like to call him, the friendly neighbourhood DILF.

Or Daddy.

Either one suits.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock storms towards Lestrade.

"Nice to see you too." He smirks while running his fingers through his silver hair. "And I'm on holiday." His gaze drops to mine, and he gives me a warm smile. "Hullo Audrey, how're you?" I don't reply, too enrapt in my own thoughts on how damn well his white shirt compliments his exotic complexion. John nudges me with his elbow, and I return to reality.

"Uh… I'm very well, Greg!" I answer cheerfully. "How are you?"

"No too bad, not too bad." He casually places one hand on John's shoulder. "I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell I've been hearing 'bout on the telly?"

Sherlock doesn't buy it for a second. "I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?"

"I've told you…I'm on holiday." Lestrade walks through the entrance of the pub to order himself a drink. Sherlock, still unconvinced, follows him.

"You're brown as a nut! Clearly you're just back from your holidays."

"Yeah well," Lestrade tries to appear nonchalant, "I fancied another one."

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?"

"No, look..."

"Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to ... to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

*Cue the collected face-palms of Audrey, John and Lestrade*

"Yeah, that's his name, Sherlock." John intones wearily.

"It is?"

"Yes – if you'd ever bothered to find out. Look, I'm not your handler." He turns away to pick up his pint from the bar. "I don't just do what your brother tells me."

"Actually," John begins with a thoughtful expression, "You could be just the man we want."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "And why's that?"

"Well, I've not been idle, Sherlock." John rummages in his trouser pocket. "I think I might have found something." He shows Sherlock the sales invoice from Undershaw Meat Supplies. "I nicked it from the bar when I was checking in. Didn't know if it was relevant… starting to look like it might be though." He glances back at the kitchens pointedly. "That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

Sherlock stares at John, unblinking, as though he can't quite process what he has just heard. "That's brilliant, John."

"Always the tone of surprise." John grumbles beneath his breath, although he looks rather pleased. Turning to Lestrade, the smile widens on his face. "Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy."

Lestrade grins back at him, clearly impressed with his initiative. "And what about you, Audrey?" He turns towards me. "I doubt you've been very idle during this investigation."

"Oh you know, I've been helping here and there. And it's so nice to get out of London for a while; leave everything behind for a bit…" I trail off, my mood suddenly taking a turn for the worst.

Leave him behind for a bit.

All three men notice my shift in mood, but choose not to comment. Besides, Sherlock will undoubtedly interrogate me about it tonight.

Lestrade clears his throat. "Right, let's get cracking with these mysterious meat invoices."

"So you mean to tell me that was their dog that people saw out on the moor" John glances disbelievingly at the rather embarrassed looking bar owners.

"Looks like it." Sherlock sighs.

"But that wasn't what you saw. That wasn't just an ordinary dog."

"No." Sherlock's gaze becomes distant. "It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing." He shudders, shaking off the memory. I watch him carefully; his acting ability never fails to impress. He turns and walks towards the car park, tugging at the hem of my jacket lightly. I have to speed up a bit to keep pace with him.

"RADA must have been heartbroken when you turned down the scholarship." I tease quietly. He glances down at me and smirks. "No, but Julliard was."

My smile falters. "Wait, what?"

Sherlock, apparently finished with the topic, leans in closer. "Best not to discuss our conversation last night around John. He's agreed to help me with something at the lab."

I snort at this. "Define 'agreed'?"

Sherlock winks at me before lifting his phone to his ear. "Hello, brother dear. How are you?"

As we approach the gates of Baskerville once again, I notice an armed guard and sniffer dog awaiting our arrival. Hopping out of the driver's seat, Sherlock presents his I.D to the young man, who walks over to the gate room to swipe the card. As other soldiers check the jeep from the outside, Sherlock discloses our top-secret mission.

"I'll need to see Major Barrymore as soon as we get inside."

"Right." John nods briskly.

"Which means you'll have to start the search for the hound."

"Okay."

"In the labs; Stapleton's first." The guard brings back the ID card and hands it over. Sherlock lowers his voice even further. "Could be dangerous."

John smiles momentarily. The guard motions to the main entrance. "This way, please."

Once we walk through the doors, John turns left towards the labs. I make to follow him but a strong grasp on my shoulder pulls me backwards.

"Nononono, Audrey. You are coming with me."

"What? Why?"

"Did you not just here me say it could be dangerous?"

I had been ready to retort with a bitchy comment, but Sherlock's words stop me short.

He's concerned for me.

I gently place my hand over his, still resting on my shoulder. "But don't you think John will be in more need of company?"

Sherlock pauses for a second, but I can see that his mind is made up.

"It's fine, Aud." John interrupts, glancing at Sherlock's hand with a funny expression. "It takes more than a radioactive dog to frighten me." With a half-smile, he turns and hurries down the corridor.

"Actually, maybe it's better that I stay with you. At least I will have some control over your 'experiment'." I frown at Sherlock disapprovingly. He tsks and spins around, pulling me with him.

"John's a big boy, he can take care of himself. Besides," He looks down at me with a troubled expression. "There's something we need to talk about."

I feel my stomach do a mini somersault.

Merde.

"Oh, you know I'd love to. I'd love to give you unlimited access to this place. Why not?" Major Barrymore's sass is beginning to get on Sherlock's nerves. He clenches his jaw before replying to the man.

"It's a simple enough request, Major."

"I've never heard of anything more bizarre!"

"You're to give me twenty-four hours. It's what I've… negotiated."

The major taps his foot irritably. "Not a second more. I may have to comply with this order but I don't have to like it." He throws himself back into the armchair in front of his computer. "And why, may I ask, is your fiancé accompanying you again? Hardly the most romantic of rendezvous'."

Sherlock and both look incredulously at each other, before memories of our previous visit to the lab come flooding back.

"Oh. Well that's because…" Sherlock struggles to find an excuse.

"Because I take a great interest in my fiancé's work." I place my hand on Sherlock's forearm. "I like to see him in action." I smile cheerfully at Major Barrymore, who deepens his frown. Swivelling around to face his computer, he calls back as we turn to leave his office.

"I don't know what you expect to find here."

Sherlock pauses at the doorway. "Perhaps the truth."

Several screens line the back wall of the room, the third of which is showing a mystified John tapping against a glass door. The office is quiet large, with control panels covering the entire right side. Sherlock and I sit in front of the panel, monitoring John's every move.

"Audrey," Sherlock begins seriously. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer truthfully, please."

I fiddle with one of the handles on the control desk, and shrug my shoulders in a hopefully blasé fashion. "Sure. Fire away."

"Why are you in contact with James Moriarty?"

My hand slips from the desk, and I whip my head around to face him.

"How did you know?" My voice barely rises above a whisper.

He looks at me with sad eyes. "I've known ever since you first lied to me about it. After our meeting at the pool, I knew he wasn't finished with you yet. He'd find a way to get to you."

"But why didn't you say anything before? Why wait this long?"

"Because…" He pauses and lowers his gaze. "I was hoping that you would come to me first."

I breathe out heavily. "Oh Sherlock… I don't – I don't know what to say." I feel a lump begin to form in my throat, but I carry on regardless. "Well actually, I do know what to say. I'm stupid. I was afraid and stupid and stubborn and I have brought this entire mess on myself, by myself."

Sherlock, noticing the wobbling in my voice, places his hand on my knee. "You're not stupid, Audrey. Those who do not fear Moriarty are only worthy of that title." He takes my chin in his other hand and gently pushes my face up to meet his gaze. "But yes, you are stubborn." He smiles softly, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "That I can wholeheartedly agree with you on." I sniff loudly and chuckle.

He allows me a few minutes to compose myself before continuing. "Now that the elephant in the room has been released back into the Indian wild… Is there anything you need to tell me?"

"Well, yes." I begin slowly, unsure of how to phrase my next sentence. "After the incident at the pool... Moriarty would keep on kidnapping me at the most inconvenient times –"

"He did what?" Sherlock's voice rises dangerously.

"Oh no, no he never did anything bad to me." I quickly reassure him. "One time he and Doctor Lecter had held a sort of… dinner thing for me, which was quite nice…"

Sherlock seethes beside me. "Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

I hastily move on with the topic. "The point is, they didn't want to hurt me. Well, maybe not yet. No, they wanted to join forces with me. Though I suspect that was Moriarty's way of making human weapon sound more appealing."

Sherlock laughs humourlessly. "Human weapon. Oh yes that's right up his street. God knows what he'd have you read into existence."

"And," I continue quietly. "There's something else." Sherlock raises an eyebrow, as if to say 'go on'. "He sent me a package on Christmas day. Inside it was a pocket watch – the sort that tells the time and the date. Funny thing is though, it was broken. It wouldn't move past a certain time and date."

Sherlock sits up straighter, his interest piquing.

"The date was the seventh of March, and the time was 5 pm."

Sherlock counts the weeks on his fingers. "That's little under a month from now."

I nod, having kept my own personal countdown on my phone. "What do you think it means?"

Sherlock sighs tiredly before answering. "It means we'll have to be extra cautious these next few weeks." I nod worriedly, but say no more. We both fall into silence, and I can't help but feel he is disappointed with me.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." I finally quietly say. "At this stage, those words probably mean nothing to you. But really, I am so sorry for getting us into this mess… Please don't be angry with me."

Sherlock's expression softens, and he shakes his head. "This isn't your fault, Audrey. Moriarty would have come after us either way. Your arrival just made things more… interesting." His eyes turn dark for a fraction of a second, before they meet mine. "And I'm not angry with you." He sits forward and cups my cheek, brushing his thumb against my skin. Leaning in, he places a kiss on my left cheek, then my right, and moves downwards to my mouth. He captures my lips with his, kissing me gently and tenderly. He pulls back slightly, smiles, and then presses another soft kiss against my lips.

"There." He whispers and his breath, smelling faintly like tobacco, tickles my skin. "Does that convince you?"

I'm about to tell him it will take a whole lot more of convincing, but something catches my eye on one of the screens.

"Oh crap! We forgot about John!"

Sherlock spins around in his chair, watching as a panic-stricken John ducks and rolls army-style towards large steel cages at the side of the lab.

"Did he actually just do that?" I ask, impressed with his agility.

"Audrey, can you stay here, please." Sherlock jumps up from his chair and bolts for the door. "He's going to need some calming down before we move out." He wrenches the door open and sprints down the hallway, his phone already pressed against his ear.

I breathe deeply in and out, and begin to smile. Having shared my secret with Sherlock, I can allow myself to feel a teensy bit more relaxed about the oncoming events.

We will beat Moriarty. We will.

And if that is how I'm to be rewarded every time I have a secret to tell, I might as well call Moriarty and arrange the next meeting myself.

*For those who don't know, What A Girl Wants is an American coming-of-age film about a teenage girl (played by Amanda Bynes) who goes to England in search of the father she never met – Lord Henry Dashwood. If you have not seen this film, please open a new tab on your laptop/computer and search for it online. I promise you, you won't be disappointed. *Bonus* Colin Firth wears skin-tight leather motorbike leggings in one scene.

A/N Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking: "Here she goes again with the apologies and excuses!"

But for reals tho, I am really sorry about the lateness. I know it's difficult to stay intertested in a story when the updates are so gosh darn sporadic, so THANK YOU to each and every one of my followers for staying with me.

These past few months have been pretty hectic for me, what with study and exams - not to mention I'm moving to Italy in September so that sure took a hella lotta my time.

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy the chapter and please, let me know what you think! As any writer will know, reviews and comments are the best type of motivation there is.

:D

P.S I've created a Tumblr called "cotille-s" for my writing, so please feel free to ask me anything! Let me start off with asking you guys a question:

Just out of curiosity, what do you guys imagine Audrey to look like?

Thanks so much again!