A/N - Bit of a shorter chapter guys!

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Elizabeth woke to the rays of sunshine in her face. She blinked slowly a few times. When her eyes opened, fully aware, her gaze landed on Sherlock, still sleeping. His curls were dishevelled, his cupid's bow lips slightly parted and his face was expressionless. But not the cold kind of expressionless, the peaceful, innocent, almost child-like kind. She felt the intense need to ruffle his dark locks but refrained.

There was still a foot of space separating the two. Her need to ruffle his curls was replaced by the want to get closer. So she did. Carefully, she slid herself under the blankets to be closer to him. She smiled, moving a stray curl out of his face. This was calmest she had seen the detective. The first time she had seen him sleep out of his own will also.

She lay a loving, chaste kiss against his forehead.

The relationships she had had in the past had been few and had never lasted long. They had always been quick, intense, forgettable experiences, only ever fulfilling a physical desire. It had been another downside to her job. But this - what she hoped she had with Sherlock - this felt different. It wasn't a relationship based on physical desire.

This felt more like love.

She felt like she truly loved the detective. Regardless of his harsh comments and often cold detective demeanor, she still loved him. Even after this past week, the hurt that she had felt when he had retreated mentally and emotionally from the world around him made her feel like saying, yes, this was what it was like to be in love. To have the realisation of 'you didn't know what you had until it was gone' really opened her eyes to that fact. Nobody's relationship was perfect. In fact, she was sure that one's partner had to get on the other's nerves even just a little bit. Lovers would butt heads sometimes - that was normal. The important part was to talk it out calmly after.

"If you take a picture it will last longer." Came Sherlock's alluring baritone voice, his eyes still closed.

"I didn't know you were awake."

He sighed, opening his eyes to give her a sleepy look, "So you're saying you would watch me in my sleep?"

She hummed a laugh, "Well maybe. You look awfully loveable when you do."

"And now you know why I don't sleep."

"Awh, because I'll call you loveable?"

"Yes. Or another variant such as 'adorable' and 'cute' which you have already exhausted on my physical description."

"You're so dramatic." She teased.

"It's a trait few finesse."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, a grin forming on her face. The detective found her smile contagious, mirroring her the shape of her lips with his own.

"We should probably get up."

The detective hummed in agreement.

Elizabeth sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, pausing to stretch. Sherlock still lay in bed for, already missing the previous moment. Once Elizabeth had stood up, she headed straight for the kitchen.

"Come on, lazy bones." She teased Sherlock again, "Want tea?"

"Please." He said as he sat up in bed, ruffling his curls.

Elizabeth had a feeling that today would be a better day.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Hiya, Molly." Elizabeth waved at the pathologist as she and Sherlock walked into the lab.

"Oh, hello! Hi, Sherlock." She gave a little wave to the both of them, but then gasped slightly at the sight of Elizabeth's cut and bruised temple, "Are you alright, Elizabeth? What happened? If - if you don't mind me asking that is?"

Elizabeth waved her hand, not too bothered by the question, "Americans."

"Americans?"

"Yes," Sherlock interjected, "We had a burglar problem yesterday. The burglar was American which has now unfortunately caused Elizabeth to make huge generalisations about them."

"I - " She saw Sherlock's look and looked back at Molly with nod, "Yes. But I meant it jokingly. Obviously not all Americans are burglars that slam your head against a table."

"That - that sounds horrible."

"Uh, yeah. It was. But it's okay - the burglar's probably going to remain in this hospital for a little while yet. He fell out of the window when trying to escape." Elizabeth nodded with a tight smile, "Fun times..."

Molly looked traumatised by the thought and tried to move the conversation on, "So are you two on a case?"

"Indeed we are, Molly." Sherlock nodded, also eager to move the conversation on, "You're not using the x-ray at the moment are you?"

"Um, no. Please, go ahead." She nodded to the back of the lab.

The pair made their way over to the X-ray machine and Sherlock popped the phone into the safe-like cube. He then turned around to the computer and waited for it to start up.

Elizabeth sat beside him, dropping her voice to a whisper, "Why shouldn't I talk about the Americans?"

"Because I would prefer it if we didn't risk the lives of everyone we knew."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, "Fair enough, my apologies." She messed with her ring as they waited for the computer to load, "What are you hoping to find?"

The detective shrugged, "Hopefully that we can take it apart and extract the information that way."

The computer beeped and Sherlock typed in a password with lighting speed. He then pulled up the x-ray program and activated the process. Slowly, a scan of the phone formed on the laptop screen. Both observed the four black dots on each corner of the phone.

"What are those?" Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, pointing at the dots.

Sherlock looked exasperated, "Looks like a preventative measure; either small amounts of an explosive or acidic substance."

"Ooh..."

Molly gingerly approached, her brow wrinkling curiously as she saw what they were x-raying, "Is that a phone?"

"It’s a camera phone."
 
"And you’re X-raying it?" Molly was perplexed.

"Yes, I am."

"Whose phone is it?"

"A woman’s."

"Your girlfriend?" Molly questioned Sherlock.

Elizabeth looked at her and sharply exhaled, "Who wants coffee? I'll get coffee." She stood, not hanging around to hear anyone's protests.

Sherlock watched her leave with a sigh himself. So the topic of Irene and any connotations of being a girlfriend was still a bit sensitive. He couldn't blame her but all the same, he wished she wouldn't be like this. Molly watched Elizabeth leave, unsure of what to say.

"Is - is she okay?"

Sherlock gave a single nod, not wanting Molly to worry, as the door slapped shut. He also knew Molly liked him. It was painfully easy to deduce. He was surprised that Molly hadn't yet realised his and Elizabeth's situation. That only meant he would have to break it to the timid pathologist at some point.

He frowned, changing the subject, "You think she’s my girlfriend because I’m X-raying her possessions?"

Molly laughed nervously, "Well, we all do silly things."

"Yes..." He dismissed it for a moment and then it dawned on him, "They do, don’t they? Very silly." Sherlock stood hurriedly, turning to open the x-ray machine and grabbed the phone out of it, holding it up in front of his face, "She sent this to my address, and she loves to play games."

"She does?"

Sherlock brought up the home screen and input 221B as the code. But the phone beeped in warning, bringing up the message:

WRONG PASSCODE
2 ATTEMPTS REMAINING

Exasperation crossed his looks again as he pocketed the phone. Was he ever going to get the passcode?

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"When are you going to tell Molly about...us?" Elizabeth questioned the detective while they were taking a taxi back to the flat.

"Hm?"

"Molly. When are you going to tell her? Because you know it's wrong to give her false hope."

"What? When have I ever given her false hope?"

"Every time you see her and don't tell her you're no longer single." Elizabeth pointed out, "It's not right, Sherlock. You need to tell her."

The detective sighed. He knew Elizabeth was right. He truly needed to get on with telling Molly the truth. It wasn't like he omitted the information...or did he? Elizabeth had pointed out that in public he was often more professional than she would have liked. It might be obvious to him that he and Elizabeth were an item but to anyone else? If he rarely showed any PDA then of course they wouldn't know.

"I could tell her now - "

"Do not, Sherlock Holmes," Elizabeth gave him a stern stare, "Do not for one second think about finishing that sentence by saying 'through text'."

Sherlock closed his mouth and said nothing further.

There was silence between them for a moment.

"Just...pick a day, organise to meet with her and explain in person." She suggested.

Sherlock took this advice on board, "She'll be hurt."

"Maybe for a little while. But she will appreciate you taking the time out to tell her properly."

The cab pulled over by their apartment building and the two got out, heading straight in. Sherlock hung his coat up on the downstairs coat rack before heading upstairs with Elizabeth.

But he stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs and sniffed the air.

The thief turned around, tilting her head at him, "Everything okay?"

"Do you smell that?"

"What?" Elizabeth sniffed the air too, "Smells like...perfume. What's wrong with that?"

"You don't wear that brand."

"You can tell the brand by the smell?"

"Only the ones I've smelt before. That's Dior. You wear Chanel. Mrs Hudson tends to wear something cheap but nice. No...who wore that brand...?"

The detective seemed to switch his personality for that of a blood hound as he let his nose lead him into the kitchen and over to the window. It was open. He was sure it was closed when they had left. He sniffed the air again, following the scent towards his bedroom. Elizabeth followed the detective, her eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Sherlock entered his room and stopped, his gaze falling upon the bed. The two heard John rushing up the stairs and heading into the kitchen. It didn't take long for John to spot them either.

Elizabeth walked into the the room, her mouth slightly agape when she saw the sight in front of her, just as John called to them:

"Hey Elizabeth, Sherlock - "

Sherlock looked to John out in the passageway, "We have a client."

"What, in your bedroom?!" John was puzzled by Sherlock's statement.

Nevertheless, the doctor still made his way over to where the thief and detective stood in Sherlock's room, a bottle of wine in hand. When John reached them and turned to the bed, his jaw consequently dropped also.

"Oohh."

There before them, in Sherlock's (and now also Elizabeth's) bed, fast asleep, lay the infamous Irene Adler - fully clothed in a moss green attire.