A/N - My apologies for taking so long with this chapter!

I have had a very up-and-down two weeks and am only just getting back into the swing of things again.

Also me and my snazzy outfits again. Can't help it - I just adore a costume 😄

Enjoy the chapter ❤

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"I'm not going."

"Uh, Sherlock, yes. Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Lestrade has kindly invited us to this party." John said, "You can't back out last minute."

"I'm not wearing a costume."

"It's a costume party!" John gestured to his own outfit, consisting of bandages, bandages and more bandages.

"So, I will go as a consulting detective. Near enough a costume, isn't it, John?

"I would argue that your vicar disguise was better."

Sherlock mocked John silently.

"What are you two complaining about now?" Elizabeth asked, strutting into the room, dressed as a fallen angel.

"He doesn't want to wear a - a costume." John was stunned by her efforts.

The thief smiled a silent thank you at the doctor but turned her attention to Sherlock, "Bit abnormal for you, Sherlock. I thought you liked dressing up?"

Sherlock was looking out of the window, "I refuse to dress up for ridiculous superstitious events that originally came about because our ancestors were too thick to realise that ghosts were not - not - not, uh, real." The moment he turned to face her, he was in awe of her beauty again, even in a silly costume.

Elizabeth grinned. She liked to surprise him, "Like it?"

"Y - yes."

"Thank you." The thief strolled over to the detective, "Would you wear a costume for me?" She asked, straightening out his collar.

"I - no. No. I would not." He tried to keep a straight face.

"You're cute when you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"Mm, erratic heartbeat would say otherwise." She spoke in a hush tone, using his own methods against him, as she held her hand on his chest.

"I - "

Elizabeth kissed him, on the lips, once again for a distraction. Her other hand snuck up to his curls and rapidly slid a devil horns headband on him. She pulled away grinning.

"Perfect."

John stiffled his laughter at the scene that had played out in front of him. Sherlock stood there, blinking at her, unsure of what had just happened. He felt on top of his head for the horns and even walked over to the mirror above the fireplace to see. He frowned.

"No."

"Yes." Elizabeth chuckled, "It's only fair."

"How is this fair?"

"Do you really think we all wanna be dressed up like this? John looks like a walking noodle for goodness sake."

"Hm, yeah, thanks for that." John chortled.

"This is the least street-cred-tarnishing costume there is. So, deal with it." She patted him on the shoulder.

"And what if I don't?"

She teased, "Then you'll go to hell."

"By your choice of costume, you've judged me as being already there."

"And by my choice of costume, I'm technically there with you too." She smiled, "Not so bad now, is it?"

"Perhaps not." He replied quietly, entranced by her gaze.

"HaMiSh." John coughed, drawing their attention away from each other.

"What?" They questioned, innocently.

"In case you were looking for baby names." John smiled, "John Hamish Watson."

Both blushed.

"Don't think we're quite there, Johnny boy, haha." Elizabeth edged away from Sherlock slightly.

"No. Definitely not." Sherlock replied monotonously. He then moved the conversation on, "Fine. I'll wear the horns."

"I knew you would."

"A taxi should be on its way to collect you all soon!" Mrs Hudson announced, walking into the apartment, dressed as a witch with a pointed hat.

"Oh, Mrs H, you look marvellous!" Elizabeth complimented.

"Thank you, dear. Your outfit suits you quite well too. And John, very fitting, I see. Did you manage to get - Sherlock! Oh you're wearing the devil horns!" She chuckled.

"Yes. I am wearing devil horns." Sherlock nodded, glaring at Elizabeth, "I thought they weren't noticeable."

"I never said they weren't noticeable, I said they were the least street-cred-tarnishing."

John watched their exchange again, happy that Elizabeth was getting him to open up more and in more ways than one. She really seemed to help his presence relax. Almost like she had the detective wrapped right around her finger.

"Come along then, you two, we should head downstairs for the taxi." John ushered them all.

Elizabeth offered Sherlock her elbow with a smile to which he frowned at and offered her his own.

"You don't have to be this gentlemanly. It's only me."

"And it's really only you I'm this polite to." He spoke honestly, "I'm giving you permission to exploit these opportunities while you can."

Elizabeth chuckled, accepting his elbow instead, "I'll stop arguing then."

"Today, you two." John tried to hurry them.

Sherlock shared a look with his friend as he and Elizabeth walked out of the apartment.

Yep, John thought, it was still going to take a while for him to get used to the sight of the two of them so close with each other. Never let it be said that he wasn't happy for the detective though.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

There were significantly more people at the party than Sherlock was expecting. Sherlock quietly wondered how Lestrade had so many friends? It was almost like half of London was there.

The moment Lestrade caught sight of the three people, he approached them with open arms.

"You all made it! I'm impressed you got Sherlock out of the flat." He joked and then it dawned on him that the detective was wearing devil horns, "And you got him to wear the head band too!"

"We did indeed, Sheriff. Liking the cowboy get-up." Elizabeth noted.

"Ha, thanks. Anyway, there's food through the hallway and there are more people out in the garden if you want to mingle. Other than that, please, have fun!" He encouraged.

John caught sight of a pretty girl, and immediately left the thief and detective to their own devices. But he did return very quickly, just to say:

"And Sherlock, please, try to have fun."

The detective rolled his eyes as he turned to Elizabeth, who had her arms crossed across her chest.

"John's right you know. We've all been on edge this past month. This is necessary to keep us from going insane."

"I'm fine - "

"You've been working yourself to the bone, day and night especially for these past two weeks. You need a break, Sherlock."

"I'm working to find Moriarty for you."

"Yes. But Jim has gone underground. You won't find him unless he wants you to...So, please, just let loose a little...for me?" She batted her eyelashes at him, "Pretty please?"

"You already made me wear these ridiculous horns."

"Pretty please with a murder case on top?"

"Really? A murder case?"

"Well, you don't like cherries; you like cases. I thought it a fair swap."

Sherlock shook his head at her, silently amused by this. She nudged him with her elbow playfully before taking his arm and walking him to the backdoor outside. As they stepped back out into the cool air, they regrettably caught sight of Donovan and Anderson. Elizabeth grimaced, as did Sherlock and they almost made a U-turn back inside, however, Medusa and the Werewolf caught sight of them.

"I'm sure staying with Mrs Hudson and dishing out sweets to children would have been less insufferable than this conversation is about to be."

"I am inclined to agree with you. So let us - "

"Freak's here with his thief girlfriend again." Sally glared at Elizabeth, "You're lucky I didn't report you for that little prank."

"Equally, you're lucky I didn't report you." Elizabeth sneered at her, "So let's call it even and move on with our lives."

"How did you even get a girl like her anyway?" Anderson questioned, his wolf mask sat upon the top of his head.

"Girl like me?" Elizabeth questioned, getting more riled up by the minute.

Sherlock just gently took her by the arm, "According to Donovan here, I kidnapped her which isn't entirely untrue." He spoke honestly, "Of course we had her consent though."

"Well - "

Sherlock softly nudged her with his elbow, "Isn't that right?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Yes, I was kidnapped. Yes, I agreed to said kidnapping."

Donovan and Anderson looked at the detective, mildly horrified for a moment and then looked to Elizabeth mildly concerned despite the tension between them.

"Nice costumes. Can we move on with our lives now? Because, you know, I feel like there are better things to do." She smiled, "And dear God, stop staring at me like that, he was joking! Jeez..."

Elizabeth turned to walk away, grabbing Sherlock's hand as she did and pulled him over to the little garden seat swing.

"Some people are just pathetic."

"Which is why I save time and ignore them." Sherlock noted, "No point in arguing if she hassles me as a part-time job."

"She's just jealous of your skills."

He hummed in agreement. They sat there, appreciating the chill evening air while looking up at the starry sky.

"You didn't have my consent to kidnap me by the way." Elizabeth spoke with a grin, "Then again you didn't need consent to arrest me and have me stay in your custody."

"You didn't really complain. Well, not a lot."

"I didn't say I was. The view was nice." She said suggestively before leaning her head on his shoulder.

Sherlock tensed, still not used to any displays of closeness to his being in public. He even saw Donovan and Anderson look at him as she lay there. But it wasn't for long as she had felt his posture become more rigid when she did.

"You always do that."

"What?"

"Tense up. Anytime we're in public and I show a bit of PDA. I know you have this 'emotionless detective image' to keep up but...never mind."

"But what?"

"Never mind." She stood, looking down at him, "I'm going to get us some drinks quick. You stay right there."

Elizabeth turned to be faced with a zombie bride who chirped a meek: "Hello, Sherlock! Who's this?"

"Hello, Molly." Sherlock greeted, "This is my friend, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Molly, she works at St Bart's morgue as a specialist registrar."

"Very fitting choice of costume." Elizabeth commented with a smile, "Nice to meet you. I was just getting drinks, do you want anything?"

"Ha, yes, I guess it is!" Molly nodded, "Oh  and no, thank you! I'm fine, thanks."

And Elizabeth took that as her cue to leave.

She wasn't annoyed-annoyed with Sherlock. It was still early days - early weeks now, actually. But she thought they had decided to give it a go. And yet he still flinched at the brush of her hand in public or tensed at a hug. And he had just called her a friend. In the safety of 221B it was like knowing a completely different human being. At the flat, he was sometimes affectionate towards her, rather than the other way around.

She didn't quite know how she felt about it but she knew Sherlock didn't have to come across as so cold all the time.

Perhaps she was frustrated?

Inside Lestrade's house, while she was getting drinks, she noticed a lady, dressed as Catwoman, staring at her intently from the living room. When she saw she had gained the thief's attention, she beckoned her before walking in the direction of the front of the house.

Elizabeth cast a glance out of the kitchen window behind her to see Sherlock still talking to Molly. She then looked back to the spot where the woman had been.

Curiosity got a hold of her.

Leaving their drinks on the kitchen counter, Elizabeth headed after her.

She found her outside the front door, smoking a cigarette in the cool October evening. A waft of the toxic smoke blew into her face and she coughed, gaining the attention of the Catwoman that stood in front of her.

"I thought you might follow." Her voice was rich and smooth.

Elizabeth frowned, "Do I know you?"

"No. But I know you. And your work."

Elizabeth paid attention to the woman's recognisable details regardless of her facial features being hidden by her cat mask. She had great, frizzy blonde hair, smoothed back into a pony tail.

"What do you mean by work?"

"I know you're a thief, Miss Parrish. One might argue one of the best in the business - that is, if you still are in the business."

"Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"An eager eye scouting for new employees."

"Who. Are. You?"

"Moriarty's competition, of course. In comparison to me, he merely dabbles in a network, whereas I have a fully-fledged, one-hundred percent successful girl-gang." She smirked.

Elizabeth thought for a moment, Amber came to mind, "You're with the Forty Elephants?"

"Well, more so their leader, if you can call it that. Organiser, delegator, commander...take your pick."

"So the woman at the top is speaking to me now?"

"Indeed, I am." She smirked.

But Elizabeth didn't trust it, "What do you want?"

"I mean you no harm, Miss Parrish. I can see you are comfortable with the detective. I merely wish to offer you work - and on the bright side, I'm not going to kill you if you say no."

"I don't thieve anymore."

"My employees tell me otherwise."

"I don't."

"If that's what you want to believe." She shrugged, dropping her cigarette on the floor and stepping on it to put it out, "I heard you were only ever caught once. And by the detective you are currently staying with. A very impressive success rate. You say you don't thieve anymore but do you ever really give up that urge?"

Elizabeth remained quiet at this question.

"I can see potential in you, Miss Parrish. I believe Moriarty handled you wrong."

"And you can handle me right, can you?"

She gave a quiet, gutteral laugh, "Arrogance be damned, but I do. If you work for me, I can promise it won't be a choice you regret."

Elizabeth shook her head. She had Sherlock. And she wanted to start afresh. She wanted a clean slate. The thief couldn't turn her back on them now. The brightside, as this woman had said, was that she wouldn't be killed if she said no.

"Thank you for the offer, but I can't." Elizabeth made a move to head back inside.

The mysterious woman grabbed her arm though, gently, not roughly, "In case you change your mind." She handed the thief a slip of paper.

"I could tell Sherlock about this, you know."

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because there will be no point. No one can touch anyone in my network, least of all, me."

Elizabeth frowned.

"I have an alibi." She whispered, "I always do."

And with that, the woman with the combed back frizzy hair walked away from the house, "Call if you ever reconsider." Was the last thing she said over her shoulder.

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, looking down at the number she had written on the paper.

She could throw it away. She wouldn't have to worry about it again. This could all disappear if she just ripped up the number and threw it away.

So why couldn't she bring herself to do it?

With a sigh, Elizabeth folded up the piece of paper and pushed it down the side of her boot. Heading inside, she was determined to act like nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened. Yet. And it still wouldn't. She had Sherlock to keep her company and to distract her from the thoughts of stealing.

But the reality was, she never stopped thinking about it...