- c h a p t e r   s i x t e e n -

Sherlock released an audible sigh as he walked into 221B to see that Emma was on her way out. She seemed to be heading out often just so she wasn't permanently stuck within her flat. Just a simple glance at her told Sherlock she was attempting to cover up melancholy feelings hanging right under her skin, but she hid it all with a curl of her lips and a snicker.

"You look sort of sick," Emma noted, doing her best to scan over Sherlock in the same manner he always did to her. While she certainly wasn't any good at deducing, she could certainly see a few things that stuck out to her - and one of them was the fact that he looked rather stressed. Flustered. Out of whack. All things she typically didn't see from Sherlock, all things she rather enjoyed seeing.

"I'm not sick," he replied, refusing to make eye contact with her as he attempted to make his way to 221B.

"Are you drunk, then?" Emma asked, trying (and failing) to restrain a giggle. "You look like you might be drunk. It'll be like the stag night all over again - you two were a mess! Couldn't hold your alcohol at all, it was quite funny..."

"I'm not drunk, either," Sherlock sighed, beginning to be fed up with everything that she brought up. Nevertheless, she seemed to have grown roots to the floor right where she was standing and therefore he couldn't get around her without purposefully pushing her out of the way (and he wasn't going to do that, no matter how irritated he got).

"Then what's going on?" she asked, genuinely curious about what was happening to make him act so strangely.

"I have a case that I'm meant to be working on," Sherlock explained. "I picked it up on John's stag night, in case you're wondering - and I plan to work it out. I just need to get more information. I'm sure it will all become very obvious once I manage to find a trail-"

"Wait a moment," Emma said, heavily amused by the entire situation. "You picked up a case on John's stag night? Really? I remember you came back to your flat, and then someone else came along...oh, you picked up a case when you were drunk, didn't you? I can't believe the two of you! You did pick up a case when you were drunk, yeah?"

"Yes, I managed to pick up a case even in my drunken stupor. If you're wondering, it's one of the best and most interesting cases I've gotten in ages."

"Oh, really?" Emma said, tilting her head in mock interest. She liked getting to do this - for once, she was messing around with Sherlock. Yes, she'd been curious at first, but now it seemed that Sherlock was actually going to go along with what she wanted and that made it boring.

This was far better than going out into the streets of London and searching desperately for a job, however. Too much of her life thus far had been spent job searching, and she would much rather mess around with Sherlock as much as she could manage before going off. It was all dull and frustrating - she would gain so much more by giggling at what she could tease him about.

"If it was so interesting, you won't mind telling me what it's about and sparing me a yawn or two," Emma said, starting to rock back and forth on her heels. "I mean, it must be so very fascinating if you decided to keep working on it even after all the alcohol from the stag night ran out. Tell me about it."

Sherlock didn't want to explain a single word of the situation to Emma. He simply wanted to go to his flat, the one that was just steps behind where she was standing. But he knew this woman well enough to understand she wouldn't budge even in the slightest unless he followed absolutely everything she wanted from him.

He formulated a quick, simple way to explain the entire situation - not only would it save time, but it would allow Emma to understand it with less downtime. He knew that anything he said would end up causing more questions to rise up to her tongue, but perhaps he could buy himself enough time to slip past her and cease the torment of having to speak with her.

"The client who came to us on John's stag night claimed she was dating a ghost, and we soon found out that she was far from the only one out there to have experienced such a thing. Now we are looking for the culprit, you see. That is all you need to know - now, if you excuse me, I must move past you and set up a session with the women to get a better idea of their experiences."

At first, Emma didn't offer any sort of resistence. She simply stood there with an absolutely blank look written across her face, no expression whatsoever entering her features. She was attempting to think in those moments, not allowing her emotions to get all too intertwined with what she was trying to determine.

Finally, however, she broke out of this trance right before Sherlock could move past her. He'd been just about to get to 221B, but she still had more things left in her arsenal to say to him.

"Wait a minute, did you say dating a ghost?" she asked.

"I did. Now, I know you might believe it was an actual paranormal spirit, but-"

"No, no, no," Emma sighed. "I think I dated a ghost too."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I mean that there was a man who was practically perfect for me after everything, too good to be true. We were going to be together for quite a while, but then...then he just disappeared completely. No source of contact. I tried looking him up, and it turns out that...he...he was dead. I think I dated a ghost, Sherlock. You see?"

Sherlock didn't make any sort of response at first, trying to allow this to sink in. Yes, Emma had described the criteria for the others on the case perfectly as it was applied to her own life. He didn't know what to think of this - had she somehow found out about the case beforehand and simply was trying to inject her own thoughts and feelings into the current situation to twist him around?

Perhaps she truly did understand what was going on, however - that was the simplest explanation, even if it was the one he liked the least. Emma didn't look as if she were attempting to mess around with him, not at the current moment. Perhaps he'd be better off simply believing her. There was only so much harm she could do, after all...

"Come with me, Emma," Sherlock said.

"What?"

"Didn't you just hear me? I asked you to come along with me."

"What? I thought...but why?"

"Because I think you might be helpful in this case."

This shocked Emma enough that she couldn't even manage to comment on it - Sherlock, asking her to help on a case? Perhaps she was the one who was drunk, she couldn't actually be hearing any of this. It was impossible, really. But Sherlock was being serious, and she was stone cold sober at the current moment.

Sherlock didn't wait for her to give a proper response - he just simply started walking past her to 221B, expecting her to follow behind. She did just that, walking through the door he'd left open specifically for her. She stepped slowly and quietly, eventually making it into the main room of 221B.

Emma sat silently, knowing that if she spoke even a single word she might end up with the consulting detective barking at her. She'd watched how obsessed he was with getting everything perfectly set up, and she didn't want to get in the way of it all. He would just keep going on without her (she started to suspect he didn't even know she was there).

It was very strange to watch what he was doing at the moment, however - he seemed to have gained an incredible collection of computers and was trying to set them all up simultaneously. All of them ended up going to the exact same website, and Emma couldn't help but feel curious to see what it was. The answer, all in all, wasn't all that surprising.

"I dated a ghost. Dot com," Emma read out, grimacing slightly. "You'd think I would've seen this sort of thing, but I can assure you that I didn't...what are you doing?"

"Looking for other people who went through the same thing as you," Sherlock explained. "They're all victims, seemingly of the same man."

"What do you mean, victims? I'm not a bloody victim. All I did was go out on a date with a man and then he never properly got to me and it seemed like he was a ghost, that's all."

"You're a victim because you believe you dated a ghost. He was able to commit a crime - you were the victim, whether you choose to use that word or not. Now, I will be conducting an interview with several of the other women who have gone through the same experiences as you. You must make sure to give me your answers as well."

Emma quietly agreed to this, knowing that any sort of resistance would lead her absolutely nowhere. She answered all of the various questions Sherlock posed, although most of them she had to read as he typed them on the screens. However, very little of it seemed to add up to anything he could use.

"Perfume?" Emma asked, squinting to see the tiny black letters on the screen. "Obviously Chanel. What else would anyone use?"

"Wait - say that again," Sherlock said. He held his hand up to signal her, but he kept his gaze on the laptops surrounding him. His eyes flicked between them all as each woman plugged in her own answer.

"I said Chanel," Emma repeated.

For several moments, it seemed Sherlock had found a connection between all of the women, albeit a strange one. But it wasn't much longer before he released an exasperated sigh and decided it wasn't what he needed it to be. He continued asking questions, continuing to look for a common look between all of the women.

Finally, one question came to mind - surely all the women had their secrets. Everyone had secrets, even though not a soul cared to admit it. Sherlock started asking them about this, but the women started logging off as they wished to keep everything to themselves. He then turned around to face Emma, to query her about this same thing, but she gave no clear answer.

"You already know all of my bloody secrets, Sherlock," Emma sighed. "No need to ask me if I have any."

With all of the women gone sin Emma, Sherlock had nothing to do but think. John entered the scene, curious about what was going on with all of the glowing displays and the same websites on each one. However, he seemed to be far more interested in supporting Sherlock in the workings of his mind.

"Why?" Sherlock hissed out loud. "Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?"

John simply shook his head, wondering how such a genius could be so dull at the most important of times. "You're missing the obvious, mate."

"Am I?" Sherlock asked. He turned around to face John fully, and Emma did the same (however, she elected to remain absolutely silent as she felt as if she wasn't meant to be a part of this conversation - she'd already done her part by being there, after all).

"He's a man," John explained, the three words hopefully being enough to convince Sherlock of what was going on.

Unfortunately, Sherlock didn't seem to get the message - instead, he started slamming all of the laptop lids shut, frustrated by how his mind wasn't properly processing what was going on. The sudden noises made Emma jump a little, but she kept herself seated throughout it all.

"But why would he change his identity?"

"Maybe he's married."

Sherlock straightened himself up as he let out an "oh." It finally made sense, of course - it had just been out of his reach for a while longer. Certainly it would all make more sense now looking at it from this direction. He'd needed John's help to see it, but now it was absolutely clear. This was something he wouldn't have been able to determine alone.

However, this new development was heavily distressing to Emma - she'd always been weary this would end up being the answer, and now that it seemed to be the final solution she couldn't help but feel somewhat angry. She couldn't possibly maintain her silence any more - there was just too much to be said.

"Of course another man who was taken would go after me just to break my heart a little more. Thought I'd gone through enough hell after Leon, but there's nothing more I can do...God. Can something just work out for once?"

"Nothing will ever work out if you don't cease your complaining," Sherlock groaned. "That sems to be the proper answer, however."

"That's just how men are, unfortunately," John said, noticing for the first time that Emma was sitting in the room. She'd been nearly silent before, but now that she'd spoken in outrage it was clear she was right nearby.

"But that's not fair," Emma complained. "I never hear about anyone else having this many problems...and why would he have to do such a thing? Why would he think it was a good idea? My God, what a bastard!"

Although she would never desire to admit such a thing to Sherlock nor John, she was incredibly hurt by Stephen's actions (except, of course, his name wasn't actually Stephen - just like Maddie/Irene, she'd been tricked into thinking something entirely wrong). It had seemed so sure to work out, and thinking that perhaps he was just a ghost who had dissipated made her feel better.

Now, however, he was seen as a real man with greedy motives she'd been suspicious of as soon as he'd disappeared. He wasn't different. He wasn't special. He was just another man out to manipulate any lonely looking woman he could find in order to have a night off from his wife. It made all too much sense.

"I'm going home," Emma announced.

"Mm," Sherlock responded, not even turning around to face her. "We didn't need you any longer, anyways."

John sighed at this response (although he hadn't been expecting anything more from Sherlock). "Goodbye, Emma. Hope things turn out better for you. Oh, and see you at the wedding."