Elizabeth and Sherlock were sat in Scotland Yard's canteen. The thief had calmed down now, thanks to Sherlock's reassurance. Both had tea in front of them. Sherlock was actually making the effort to drink it but Elizabeth just held it and hopelessly stared down into the beige liquid.

"You're not just scared of Mycroft having you arrested, are you?" He asked this quietly.

She gave a miniscule shake of her head.

"You're afraid you'll enjoy it?"

Elizabeth gave a barely noticeable nod.

Kleptomaniac was the word that sprung into Sherlock's mind now, as ever voiced by Mycroft in his mind palace. So the stealing was a problem for her as the drugs were for a user - not an addict - like himself. But she was obsessive over it. He didn't think that she would need to know about his drugs 'issues'. He had been clean for a while now. No matter in mentioning them.

"Maybe not enjoy it but - when Jim gave me jobs, it quashed that need to steal petty things. I could live off the high for long enough until he had another job for me. I asked to join you on cases because I was being driven insane by knowing that I couldn't leave the flat to steal anything and that I couldn't steal anything in the flat because there would be no point. You, John or Mrs Hudson would notice. I'm afraid I'll have to rely on the missions like I've been relying on the cases." Elizabeth never looked up when she spoke.

"We can get you help - "

Her eyes darted up from the tea, "I don't want help. I just want to move on."

"Even you've admitted that you're struggling."

"I've looked up help before. Help means seeing a therapist. I don't want that."

"There's also medication you can take - "

"I don't want to be reliant on drugs either. I just want to move past it."

Sherlock's brow hooded over his eyes which radiated concern for her wellbeing. He knew you couldn't help a person unless they came to you for help. He then thought he would wait. Sherlock would wait for Elizabeth to come to him. And if it got worse then they would have to stage an intervention, like Mycroft, John, Mrs Hudson and all the rest had done for him at various points in time.

"Okay." He said.

Her gaze returned to her tea.

Lestrade appeared in the canteen, heading straight for the two of them.

"Listen, we've had to let Amber go because - "

"You don't have evidence to keep her. We know." Elizabeth finished for him.

Greg nodded, worry lacing his tone, "Yeah. Are you okay?" He then silently mouthed to Sherlock 'Is she okay?'

"I'm fine, thank you, Greg."

Sherlock nodded for the detective to leave them. With a reluctant smile, Lestrade left them as Sherlock finished his tea.

"I suppose we should head back to Baker Street then?"

"I don't know why you ask me. It's not like I have a choice." There was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"I think Mycroft will let you off the hook soon enough."

"I bloody hope so if he's going to have me go on missions for him."

"He will. I'll see to it that he will."

Elizabeth looked up at Sherlock with a more playful smile, "You think you have so much control over your brother."

"I do." He insisted, "He said he 'cared' about me. Mycroft's own words. I'm sure I can use that to my advantage."

"That's horrible, Sherlock. You can't exploit his care for you."

"We're siblings. Worse has happened."

She chuckled almost silently, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of his ideas. There was her smile again - her proper one. It felt good to have made her smile. Perhaps his fondness of her was okay for things like this. It almost gave him a natural affinity for knowing what to do to make her feel a little better.

"Do you want to get chips on the way back? I know a place." He felt compelled to provide a distraction for her.

"Oh. My. God. The great Sherlock Holmes wants chips? Wow. You're really outdoing yourself to try and cheer me up, aren't you? Yeah, don't think I don't know what you're doing 'Net 'Tec."

"Well, is it working?" He offered her a hopeful smile.

"Mm, I'll decide after we get the chips."

He stood up, amusement crossing his face, "They really are the best chips."

"I'll be the judge of that, Mr Holmes." Elizabeth stood in front of him in the canteen, "Lead the way."

* * * * * *

Having bought a large portion of chips to share, the two strolled home quietly to 221B. Once they were back at the flat, they disposed of the evidence of their nice meal so John would not feel so left out.

"I feel bad, Sherlock, we should have gotten him something for when he came home."

"John will be fine. He's learned to be very self-sufficient having lived with me for a year already."

They chuckled like schoolchildren.

"I still can't believe you actually ate something but, then again, they were really nice chips."

"I told you."

"Yes. You did. Now stop grinning at me like you've achieved something." Elizabeth playfully nudged the detective.

"Am I not allowed to smile?" He mimicked her from the last time their playful behaviour had acted up around each other.

"No! Especially when you keep using my own words against me." She couldn't fight back her grin.

Sherlock found that he was happy that he was able to make Elizabeth smile. Expecially, after her minor panic attack earlier. He struggled not to frown due to his concern for her being brought back to the front of his mind palace. It had really caught him off guard. It didn't seem like her to have a breakdown so easily triggered. She was more stressed than usual but why? Could it really just be Mycroft's plans for her or was there something else stressing her out too?

Elizabeth plonked herself down on the sofa, closing her eyes very briefly as she inhaled. For a brief moment, she contemplated telling Sherlock about her meeting with Jim. But, again, she came to the conclusion that she couldn't. He was so nice to her and she was going to end up letting him down. Exhaling, she opened her eyes to look at Sherlock, a question on her mind to distract her from her worries.

"Will you play for me?" She nodded from him to his violin stand.

He blinked, drawn out from his thoughts, "What?"

She repeated, "Will you play the violin for me?"

"Why?"

"I like it when you play. Your music is...calming." She complimented him.

Thinking this was a valid response and wanting to keep her happy, he nodded and walked over to his violin stand. Gently, he picked it up, respecting every inch of the small instrument. He rested the instrument on his shoulder, facing towards the window. Sherlock closed his eyes for a brief moment, clearing his mind as he searched for a song. Oddly, he felt under pressure having to perform specifically for Elizabeth.

He wanted to please her.

"Do you have any preferences." He queried without looking at her.

She thought for a moment, "Something original."

Original? If that was what she wanted then that would be what she would get. Why was he trying to impress her? No. That didn't matter. His mind was on the music now.

He raised his slender arm, the one that held the violin bow and gently laid it on the strings. Then he pulled it gently and pushed it lightly and repeated this as he began to form a tragic melody which flowed from the heart of the instrument - the heart of himself. It reminded him of Elizabeth, the piece would be hers and hers alone and she wouldn't even know it. He would never tell.

But why? All because he was scared of admitting this fondness for her aloud? Admittedly, it was a ridiculous reason to keep a heartfelt gift, such as this mellifluous song, unknown to her. But he would never be able to bring himself to say any more words other than 'friend'. And even then, he struggled.

Elizabeth smiled fondly at Sherlock as he played the tune. It was haunting beautiful and authentic. She loved it. The thief felt at peace with the song he played, as though it resonated with her directly.

Her eyes traced and admired his features; his gorgeous curls, his defined cheekbones, his porcelain skin. His musical skill was incredible but then, he was a genius after all. While she had denied it countless times, perhaps the thief truly was falling for the detective. But she didn't quite know why or how. When so many disliked him for his incredible abilities, she felt as though she had missed a memo. How could anyone not appreciate his intellect?

Sure, he acted like an emotionless machine for a large majority of the time but she had seen past that. Sherlock Holmes had bared his softer side to her on more than one occasion. She saw that he was just as vulnerable as everyone else. And yet, she still had some understanding as to why he had to present a harder exterior to the world.

Detachment from emotion kept your logic going strong. That was necessary for cases. She also knew very well that it often protected those you cared about. So why wouldn't he not hide that emotion? It made sense to her. She just understood him like that.

Elizabeth's eyes began to close as the Sherlock's sweet serenade continued. She wasn't bored, just at peace with the sound. Soon enough, she had slipped into sleep.

Shortly after she had transitioned from the land of the living to the land of nod, Sherlock ended the song, making a mental note to write it down before he forgot it. When he turned to find her asleep on te couch, a soft smile brushed his lips.

Sherlock put his instrument away, and fetched her blanket off of the arm of the couch. He tenderly laid the blanket over the thief, mentally wishing her a good sleep. After the day she had, she deserved it.

"Goodnight, Elizabeth." He quietly mumbled, before leaving the lounge for his own bedroom, so as to not disturb her.