A/N: Sowwy about the title of the chapter, I don't condone swearing and I use it as sparingly as possible but I thought it was a suitable name for the chapter 😅

I also just wanted to say that I am BLOWN AWAY by the support for this book! Thank you so so SO much for over 3K reads and thank you all for the comments - they really bring a smile to my face when I read them!

I'm so glad you are all enjoying the story 😄❤

Warning: Again one bit of swearing (2 if you count the title).

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Elizabeth had been struggling to sleep since Irene had left her in the painfully early hours of the morning.

When Irene did leave, the thief just sat on the sofa for a bit, mulling over her life choices and wondering about the future that awaited her. Would Jim greet her with death standing expectantly by his side? Or would she be lucky? Would Irene be right about Jim being that attached to her that he wouldn't cut her thread of life short?

Once the anxieties had fully saturated her mind, leaving no room for anymore, she left for the bathroom, to retrieve the laptop that had betrayed her. Elizabeth still couldn't believe her stupidity. Having been one of the only items to not have been harmed in the trashing of her flat, she should have immediately noticed that something was wrong.

Why didn't she?

As the hours passed, she had thoroughly scanned the laptop, searching for anything odd on the outside. When that was done, she went to the kitchen to find the kit of mini screwdrivers. Then she took apart her own laptop. Only then did she find the small listening device that had been planted on her computer. Elizabeth placed it to one side as she put back together the laptop.

And again, she sat for a bit. She stared at the small listening device, stared at it as though she would make it burst into flames. It didn't.

Dawn rolled around. Golden rays cut through the gap in the curtain, allowing a rich amber atmosphere to take up residence in the flat.

Why hadn't she slept? What was she waiting for? Why hadn't she disposed of the listening device? What could she say before she got rid of it? Should she wait for Sherlock and John before she did anything?

Questions and more questions raced through her head.

Picking up the small device, she brought it close to her face, eyes analysing it intently. It was an intricate little piece of equipment. She wasn't surprised Jim had it. Jim had money and enough contacts to get anything his miniscule, black heart desired.

Tired, beaten by thoughts, distraught and demotivated, Elizabeth breathed a defeated, "Fuck you, Jim," into the device.

She dropped it on the floor, grabbed a hard-back book and then dropped it on the tiny device. She stomped on it for good measure, not really caring if anyone heard. Elizabeth picked up the pieces and dropped it back onto the coffee table, beside her laptop.

Then, the thief just curled up on the sofa, back facing the rest of the room, still awake.

*  *  *  *  *  *

"Fuck you, Jim." Came the breathy, hoarse whisper from Elizabeth.

Seb almost smiled. There were a lot of people who probably thought that but didn't have the guts to actually say it. There was Elizabeth though. How long had this little chase been going on? Could they even call it a chase if they knew where she was?

It had been around three months, Seb guessed. And were they any further with getting her back? No. But Jim had continued to reassure him that he had a plan for either outcome of their meeting next Sunday. Seb was still skeptical. He thought that Elizabeth was getting rather cosy with detective.

But then again, he also knew that she was a bit of a kleptomaniac. Could a thief really get on well with a detective? He guessed only time would tell.

Seb removed the earphones he was using to listen to the no longer live feed from the listening device and called to Jim, beckoning him over to the table of their little boathouse.

"What? Did she finally say something?"

Seb nodded, handing him the earphones as he replayed the last piece of dialogue. While Jim's face was serious, the moment he heard Elizabeth speak, a smirk crossed his lips. He gave a half hearted chuckle.

"She misses me, wouldn't you say?"

His right-hand man frowned, not quite sure if Jim was being serious or not. The psychopath dropped the earphones on the table and walked to the other side of the boat.

"Oh, my Lizzie. Just you wait until I see you."

*  *  *  *  *  *

"Morning!" John cheerily said as he entered the 221B apartment, "Sherlock come around yet, Elizabeth? Elizabeth?"

He had turned to see her curled up into a ball on the sofa, sniffling almost silently. His brow wrinkled as his eyes fell on a small broken device beside her laptop. What had happened? He approached her quietly and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

She sniffled again, "I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"That's Jim's been listening this entire time, John."

"Moriarty?"

"Yes." She finally turned around and sat up, gesturing to the pieces on the table, "He placed a listening device on my laptop. He knew about the masquerade. He knew about Shaun. Everything I've looked for, he knows about. And I didn't check earlier, John! I didn't think about it sooner. I mean, why else had my laptop been left undamaged? Shaun said. He said I would get people killed and he was right. I blamed Sherlock for Shaun's death but it was my fault, John. I didn't think and I - I got a friend killed, I could have gotten us all - killed."

Elizabeth placed her head in her hands, the frustration getting to her again. She very well couldn't say that Irene had met with her late last night. Well, she could have. She should have. But then they would have to know about her meeting with Jim. She didn't want to risk their lives like she had already done.

John looked down at her, sympathy glazing his eyes. He sat down beside her, silently considering the words he would use for a moment.

"It's not your fault Shaun died."

"Isn't it?"

"No. Elizabeth, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. You didn't think because other things were distracting you at the time. That was no one's fault. You can't have known he would do that. Moriarty's...unpredictable."

"But I know him, John. I should have known he would do something like this."

"How? Elizabeth, look at me. How were you to know?"

She met John's gaze, tears gathered in her eyes, lost for an answer, "I - I don't know."

"Exactly, Elizabeth, you don't know. No one could have known. Moriarty is an unpredictable psychopath. Plain and simple. And psychopaths are good at lying. He could have easily pulled the wool over your eyes as to hide his real self from you. And not to say that you're blind but he would have manipulated you to not see it. We're not fortune tellers. We don't know what the future holds. And sometimes, certain events in life are out of our hands." He paused, taking her hand reassuringly, "Sometimes it is what it is."

Her voice cracked, "Thank you."

"No. Thank you. I know you viewed Moriarty as your family but...it's nice having you as part of our group now. I'm sure I speak for both Sherlock and myself when I say we couldn't imagine 221B without you now. In fact, we're happy to call you a friend."

She spoke tearfully, "Even after I tasered you?"

John chuckled, "Even after you tasered me."

Part of Elizabeth was stunned. John had given the official statement that she was welcome here in 221B. She was welcomed into their little group. She was their - friend. She was honoured. But now also scared. Scared she would lose that status for lying about the meeting with Jim but - you had to protect friends didn't you? Her friends in Jim's part of society we're more focused on saving themselves. Even she was in the beginning. But even Sherlock had proven to her that you had to look out for one another when he stayed with a wounded Elizabeth after the Scarlett debacle happened.

Shuffling could be heard in the kitchen, drawing John's and Elizabeth's attention away from each other. Sherlock appeared from around the corner, clearly still a little bit dopey from the drug Irene had used on him.

"Good morning."

"Morning." The two replied, albeit Elizabeth sounded more hoarse.

His eyes narrowed at the two of them, not quite sure of what to make when seeing John's hand was placed on Elizabeth's but his deductions told him it didn't matter. He didn't know why he seemed worried that it might though. His gaze then landed on the laptop and the broken pieces of something next to it.

"How are you feeling, Sherlock?" John asked, almost freaked out by the slowness of his friend this morning.

The detective nodded, "Something I should know about?" He gestured to the things on the coffee table.

"Moriarty had placed a listening device on Elizabeth's laptop. She only just found it last night."

Sherlock's brow crinkled. How hadn't he thought of that? Why hadn't he checked? Of all the people, she should have known. He felt even more guilty when he paid attention to how puffy Elizabeth's eyes were. How long was she crying for? She thought it was her fault. That made him feel ten times worse. It made sense now. Why else had her laptop been left untouched?

"If anyone should have known or caught onto it sooner it should have been me."

"No. No, we're not doing this either." John sighed, "I've already said that this is no one's fault. And it isn't. You both had a lot going on at the time. Neither of you could have known."

"It's my job to have known, John. I take full respon - "

"You don't need to do that, Sherlock." Elizabeth spoke up quietly, "We can't change it now. Shaun's still gone. Fighting over which of us takes the blame still won't bring him back. You don't need to waste your breath."

Sherlock's gaze softened again. He ruffled his already dishevelled curls as they all sat and stood in silence for a moment.

"I'm - sorry." He spoke softly.

"Thank you."

Again, John had just quietly watched this exchange. How many times had he heard Sherlock say sorry? He could probably count the amount on his fingers. He cleared his throat, standing up, ready to head into the kitchen.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Does anyone want anything?"

"Coffee. Coffee would be good, John." Sherlock nodded.

"I think I'm just going to go for cereal. I'll make the drinks too." Elizabeth moved to get up and follow the two to the kitchen.

Sherlock's phone buzzed with a message on the kitchen table and he picked up the device quickly. Then he groaned at the message he had received.

"Mycroft will be round soon."

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A/N: Also!

I hope you all don't mind how long the lead up to a relationship between the detective and thief is taking.

Rest assured, there will be a relationship but it felt wrong to just jump into it. I like to take time and let the characters themselves get to know each other before anything like that happens.

Thank you again for all your incredible support! Much love for you, my lovely readers ❤