"Morning Emily." A voice greeted her as she entered the staff cafeteria.

She glanced up from her phone to see Matthew seated at the table closest to the doors she had just walked through. "Morning." She forced a smile and wondered how believable it actually looked. She hoped he wasn't about to try and start a conversation with her.

She inwardly groaned when she noticed him stand from his seat and follow her to the vending machine. "How are you?"

She wanted to tell him that she had been alright until he had started talking to her and that she wanted nothing more than to be left alone but instead went with "I'm alright thank you. How about you?" Though she was discouraged to find her bored tone went unheard. Or more likely, ignored.

"I'm great, thanks for asking." Emily rooted around in the pocket of her coat for some change hoping she would have enough for the Tango that was sitting on the top shelf. "Did you like the flowers?"

Emily froze in her movements. She was fairly certain she had just discovered a fifty pence buried in the bottom of her pocket. "Flowers?" She was beginning to panic; Had they not been from Roid? "What flowers?"

"I got a bunch for you on Valentine's day. I left them in your office?"

"Oh, I….I didn't get them -"

"How could you not have got them?

Emily's panic turned to guilt. She truly had thought they'd been from her boss. "You have to be careful what you leave in that office. It usually gets stolen." As lies went, she didn't think this one was too bad since it was technically the truth.

"Wait, really?"

"Oh yeah, I've had loads of stuff go missing in my time here. Radio, fans. Now some flowers apparently." She shrugged in a way she hoped looked casual. As if to say, what can you do about it?

"So, you never saw my note?"

Obviously not. "Umm, no, sorry."

"I did wonder why you never got back to me on that."

Emily resumed her excavation of her pocket. "On what?"

"Well I had hoped that I could take you out on a date?" He leant against the vending machine, effectively blocking her from her drink, and looked at her with a hopeful gaze.

"Umm, well -"

"It wouldn't be anything fancy, just some dinner so we can get to know each other a bit better."

Meaning he would talk and she would be expected to listen probably.

"Umm - "

"Does next week sound good?" She didn't get the chance to breathe as he just continued. "I can meet you at this nice restaurant I've been to before." Good grief, she only wanted a Tango. "How does eight sound?" She'd be starving by then.

He finally stopped talking, looking at her even more keenly as he waited for her answer.

What would Sherlock think about her going on a date? Why was this her main thought and how did she stop herself from thinking about it? Instead of letting herself go down that particular rabbit hole and end up over thinking, she thought about the man in front of her instead. She would feel guilty if she said no, but with the cafeteria basically empty there would be no one to see the rejection.

"Emily?" He prodded.

She sighed, though he took no notice. "Yeah, ok fine. What's the address?"

As Matthew took out a post it note - already written on with a day and address - from his lab coat pocket, Emily's mind drifted back to Sherlock. He hadn't been too impressed with her after she had returned to Baker Street after her dinner with Irene and had taken to not speaking to her for the rest of the week. Though she didn't understand why, she had taken the petty route and instead of doing her best to get him talking to her again, had ignored his existence as best as she could until one morning he had burst into her bedroom claiming the three of them were going shopping for food and she needed to get up and dressed. John, having got fed up with the pair of them and trying to break the silence between them, had wandered off with half the shopping list and left them the other half. Sherlock had finally been the one to start talking and despite a hint of frostiness to his tone, Emily felt as if things had gone back to normal. For the time being anyway.

The rest of whatever he was saying to her as she tucked the note away in her pocket, (hopefully to be lost for a while) faded into the background as she zoned out. Only sending him a brief nod as he wished her a good day, she turned back round to the vending machine to get her Tango. Though she no longer really wanted it, she would just purchase it for another day.

Making her way back to her office, too busy stressing about what had just happened, she didn't notice Molly walking her way until it was too late. Apparently Molly hadn't noticed her either and the two women froze upon catching sight of each other. Molly unsure what to do and Emily to stop herself from shaking the woman and asking if she was really going to let a man get between their friendship.

"Matthew just asked me on a date." Emily felt the words slip from her mouth without permission. "And, I said yes."

"Oh." Molly frowned, studying Emily's face carefully. "You don't seem very happy about it."

"Not particularly." Emily stepped to the side to continue her journey back to her office. "Sorry for almost bumping into you."

She didn't notice Molly hovering in the corridor, unsure whether to follow the blonde and ask her if she was alright.

Going home had been a blur that Emily did not remember; her mind too busy stressing about her outing with Matthew and berating herself for saying yes.

Why had she said yes? She could have come up with any number of excuses.

She was washing her hair. She was spending time with Mrs Hudson.

Literally anything so she would not have to go out with a man who couldn't stop talking about himself.

Perhaps she could set up some sort of code with John and she would only have to be out with him for twenty minutes. Half an hour tops. An excellent idea.

Now as Emily blinked up at the building she called home, she wondered if her day could get any worse.

But she didn't have to wonder for long. As she clomped up the stairs, voices sounded from the living room.

A potential client perhaps? She caught a glimpse of someone seated in the chair in the middle of the room and decided to slip her shoes from her feet so she could give them a little more peace.

One of her mugs was already situated by the kettle, probably courtesy of John and she chanced a glance up into the next room. The doors had been left open and she met the gaze of Sherlock, seated in his chair. He sent her a wink and turned back to face the client - a woman by the sounds of it - leaving Emily flushed in the face.

She flicked the switch on the kettle and slipped her coat from her shoulders, draping it over the chair, freezing in place when she heard the woman talking louder.

"I just don't understand where he could have gone. He would never have left me."

It was a voice Emily unfortunately recognised despite the years that had passed. She wouldn't need to look into the room to know that Timothy Pecker's mother was seated between her flatmates, telling them the story of her missing son.

Without realising, Emily had padded closer to the door, resting her temple against the cool glass hoping their visitor couldn't see her.

"Tell us about your son, Mrs Pecker." John encouraged when Sherlock said nothing. Evidently, she had not been there long.

"He was - is - bright. Everyone at school was friends with him." Lie, Emily thought to herself. Everyone sucked up to him so he wouldn't pick on them. "I just know he would have gone on to do great things."

"Any chance he could have just run away? You said his father wasn't in the picture? Could he have gone to find him?"

Emily risked another glance out of the kitchen, once again to be met with the stare of Sherlock. His head tilted as if in thought, though Emily assumed it wasn't about the woman speaking or her missing child.

"Oh absolutely not. No. Not a chance. His father was an alcoholic and Timothy wanted no part in his life."

Emily couldn't recall Mr Pecker. As far as she had been aware it had always just been Timothy and his Mother. She wondered if the words the woman had just spoken were the truth, or if she had thrown him out - as the rumours had suggested - because she didn't like the way he had fathered the boy. (Perhaps he had been doing a decent job as opposed to the awful one she had done in not telling him off.)

"Tell us about the day he disappeared."

Emily wanted to hear no more about it and turned to leave when Mrs Pecker spoke once more. "Oh, I just know that awful child had something to do with it."

"Awful child?" John asked, sounding utterly confused as Emily took up the space beside the door once more. Meeting Sherlock's gaze as the woman continued.

"There was this girl who lived down our road. No one liked her other than her brother and his horrible friend. Her mother certainly never cared for her. Always complaining. She always seemed to be...messy...at school, as if no one had dressed her properly. Timothy had lots to say about her, let me tell you." She had lost the worried tone her voice had carried when talking about her missing child. It had turned into something snide and nasty and instantly, Emily's dislike of this woman deepened.

"We'd rather you kept to the facts and told us about Timothy." Sherlock finally spoke. Had he sensed Emily's feelings towards what was being said?

"Oh, oh yes of course Mr Holmes."

Emily rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the door, forgetting about the boiled kettle and running up to her room, slamming the door closed behind her.

Would he take her case? Was there any possibility that he would find what she had to say remotely interesting? Perhaps he had already solved it and was waiting for her to stop talking to tell her all.

Emily all but threw herself onto the floor to check under her bed for the other shoe box, shoving things out of the way in order to get to it. With shaking hands she slid it closer and removed the lid. Nothing seemed out of place and not wanting to look at anything to do with her childhood bully immediately shoved it away again, hiding it behind Jim's coat and Irene's Christmas present so with any luck Sherlock wouldn't notice.

It had seemingly worked so far. Hadn't it?

But the fact that this woman was downstairs, attempting to get the Consulting Detective interested in her missing son caused Emily's panic to fly through the roof.

Mrs Pecker had gone all this time with nothing. Why did she have to reemerge now?

Half an hour later, Emily had managed to calm her racing heart though she still felt as if she would explode with agitation.

She had been standing by the window the whole time, willing the visitor downstairs to just hurry up and leave. It had felt to Emily that this would never happen and just as she had started thinking of how to set the flat on fire the front door closed. The familiar face of Mrs Pecker glanced back at the building as she moved away. Emily quickly tucked herself away behind the curtain so as not to be seen.

She managed to last a good minute and a half (just long enough to change) before heading back downstairs, trying to take it easy and not rush. Wouldn't want to arouse suspicions.

"Oh, there you are." John greeted her as she entered the living room. "How was your day?"

"Oh, it was a bit strange actually." She answered honestly though she was itching to ask questions.

"How so?" Sherlock mumbled, though she doubted he was even interested.

"Roid didn't come in and bother me once." Not a lie as she hadn't seen him all day. She had been about to continue and inform them of the encounter with Matthew when she thought better of it. Wouldn't want John teasing her. Or Sherlock to stop talking to her again."And I managed to actually get a seat on the train home." This one was mostly the truth until she had stood to allow a pregnant woman to sit down and ended up being rewarded for her trouble with an armpit in her face.

"Miracles never cease." John tucked the chair away back under the table and turned to face her with a big grin on his face. "Want a drink?"

"I'd love one, thanks. You look happy."

"Potential client." He answered.

"Anything interesting then?" She hoped she sounded as casual as she was trying to make it sound.

"Missing child."

"Oh?"

"Hmm," Sherlock continued. "Been missing for a number of years."

"A runaway?"

"No." She watched Sherlock watching her from the corner of his eyes and she wondered what he could have been deducing.

"Speaking of strange," John spoke as he entered the living room with Emily's mug, carefully placing it down on the table (Emily absentmindedly thanking him) before sitting himself back down in his chair. "This woman, Mrs uh, "

"Mrs Pecker." Sherlock supplied.

"Yes, Mrs Pecker, she said she'd been reading about us in the papers, but hadn't been sure about contacting us until she received a note in the post urging her to get in touch."

"Did she say who it was from?" Emily asked though she sort of had a suspicion.

"She said she had no idea. At first she thought it was the newspaper writer she'd got in contact with but...well, apparently not."

"So, two potential mysteries from her then. No wonder you're thinking of taking her on?"

"Perhaps." Sherlock uttered.

"Perh - uhh, was that not interesting to you? A missing child. A mysterious letter? Potentially from her son himself? What's not to enjoy about this case?" John sounded a little outraged that Sherlock hadn't immediately jumped straight into the work and already solved it.

"I'll do a little digging and see what I can find. It will more than likely just be dead ends."

"But you are going to dig, aren't you? That woman needs answers." John implored.

Sherlock, who had been engrossed in his phone, finally glanced up at them, though his gaze focused mostly on Emily. "Most probably."

Emily leaned forwards to pick up her drink in the hopes of hiding her gulp, blowing on it in the hopes she wasn't about to burn her tongue. "Well, hopefully you'll find what she's looking for."

"Yes." Sherlock uttered and Emily moved her gaze over to the Doctor to find him watching them curiously.

Only when he noticed Emily looking at him did he smile again and focus on her properly. "So. A day without Roid bothering you? How was it then?" He chuckled.

Emily, not really tasting her tea though grateful that it had been cool enough to drink, placed her mug back down on the table and shifted her thoughts back to the day she had had rather than whatever was coming.

It had been a very long night for Emily. Thoughts and questions swimming through her mind had caused her to fall into a troubled sleep filled with dreams of being at the house she had grown up in and more specifically its kitchen.

She had managed not to ask anymore questions though had found it extremely difficult.

Now, the morning after, she had managed to sleep in so she was, as always, running late. She was grateful this was a normal occurrence for her as she felt her flatmates would have questioned her hurry and silence.

Now, standing in her office, the door firmly shut behind her, she called the one person she had not wanted to talk to. But he was the only one who she felt would have any answers.

"Ah, there you are, Little Elephant. I've been waiting for you." He answered on the second ring.

"What have you done?" She asked immediately.

"I have no idea what it is you're talking about." She might have believed him if he hadn't been practically singing the words.

"Oh, please." She spat at him. "We had a visit yesterday from a woman who is looking for her missing son. It turns out she's been searching for him all this time and was encouraged by an anonymous letter to come to 221B Baker Street to speak to a certain Consulting Detective. I wonder if you can guess her name?" She was speaking through gritted teeth and felt that if she didn't take a deep breath then she would perhaps collapse.

"Why don't you give me a clue." He sounded almost giddy. Emily was unsure if the reason for this was because she was so riled up or because she was talking to him but reasoned it was probably a mixture of both.

"Mrs Pecker was - "

"Ooooh, yes, I think I remember her. How is the old bat?"

"Still missing her only child apparently."

"Did she recognise you?"

"I made sure to stay hidden." There was silence from the other end of the line and she couldn't decide if he approved of this or not. "Did you send her that note? Encourage her to speak to that reporter Kitty something? Why are you trying to dig this back up?"

"An interesting choice of words you have there Emily. But this is what happens when you ignore my messages. I have to...stir things up. Cause some chaos."

"But why this chaos? Can't you just...I dunno...make another building explode? Preferably with no one in it?"

"But that's not half as fun as watching you panic."

His words stung. Did he really enjoy knowing she was feeling this way? "You don't mean that." She whispered.

"No, you're right. I don't" She released a breath rather shakily. "But these have just been warnings."

"About what?"

"You continue to ignore me, and I'll keep sending her round to your flat. You continue to ignore my presence in your life and I'll make suuuure everyone in your world knows what happened. That's a promise. And you know I've always been good at keeping my promises Emmy." With that, Jim Moriarty hung up.

Emily slumped against the door, glancing back down at her phone screen when it lit up with a text. Was this blackmail?

Let's have lunch together soon? How does that sound? xxxx

With slightly shaking fingers, Emily typed out a reply.

Lunch sounds lovely.

Not twenty seconds later her phone lit up again.

Wonderful. See you next week. xxxxx

At least there was the possibility of enjoying herself on a lunch outing with Jim. She didn't even want to think about the other option.

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