A/N - ASiB story line is almost over! I'm so proud of myself for making it this far considering I lose interest in stories I write far too often for wanting to be a writer 😥

But I'm doing it! I'm following a plan (straying from it occasionally along the way) but still sticking to it!

And thank you so much all of you lovely readers and commenters 😄 seeing the read count go up slowly and reading all of your comments really brightens my day so thank you so so SO much! 😁

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There was a knock at the door.

Elizabeth was sat on top of the remade bed, on her side. She was faced away from the door in a fetal position, trying so hard not to cry. She loved Sherlock, she knew she did, because when his gaze was stuck on others it hurt the most. He hadn't cheated, she knew that too, but the fact that he was just allowing Irene to say and do such things to him really truly hurt her.

Especially when this new little family was all she had. She just wanted to keep her new nest together.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Elizabeth, I - please. Let me in."

"No, Sherlock. Go away. Go solve that stupid case of yours and leave me alone."

John silently approached the detective from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder, saying in a hushed tone, "Just leave her for now, Sherlock. She needs to cool down. And you actually need to think about what you're going to say because this isn't just going to be a simple sorry."

Sherlock sighed, looking at the closed door longingly before walking with John back to the living room.

"Where's Irene?" The detective asked.

"I sent her upstairs to my apartment while we talk."

Sherlock nodded, an amused look crossing his face. They were going to 'talk'.

John went to sit in his chair, "So..."

Sherlock sat opposite John as he so often did, "So you're a couple's counsellor now, are you John? I'm impressed considering you can barely keep a girlfriend for longer than two months."

"Sherlock." John glared at him.

"What? It's true..."

"I am just trying to help." John said sincerely, "Sherlock, she has no one else. And we've welcomed her into our - family. It's our job as family to take care of family. We all know what Irene is trying to do - "

"Seduce me?"

"Yes, exactly - "

"I know. I am not oblivious to the physical and verbal expressions of interest. How do you think I saw Elizabeth was somewhat interested in Victor?"

"Well there you go." John sat back in his chair, "If you know that, why aren't you stopping Irene? Just as Elizabeth said, you weren't doing anything to discourage her."

"I - " Sherlock had no words.

"You - what?" Then it clicked, "You really like the attention don't you? It's that or you really do like her too?"

Sherlock just stared at John, conflicting emotions flashed through his eyes. There was something about Irene that he felt drawn to. The Dominatrix was interesting. But he still liked Elizabeth more so than Irene. The attention was always nice although he wouldn't admit it in so many words out loud.

"I - I do like Elizabeth more than Miss Adler."

"But?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking it was for the best. If he stated that he thought Miss Adler was one of the few intriguing figures he found in his life then it would make it real. It would make what real? It would make that tiny part of him who was mildly allured to The Woman real. That was wrong, he knew, especially when he was with Elizabeth. He shut his eyes momentarily. Oh, how destructive even a little love could be. Probabaly would have been best if he had stayed out of it altogether.

"But nothing." He stated bluntly, "I like Elizabeth more than Miss Adler. That's all."

And his statement wasn't wrong. If he had to choose between the two he would prefer Elizabeth. Hands down. Or at least that's what he convinced himself. While love's chemistry was simple, he found the emotional psychology of it all quite taxing. Here he was, the man that was able to break down even the most complex of situations and yet love was just as labrythine a situation to the great detective as it was to everyone else.

It didn't feel right to be so - clueless.

John frowned pensively at Sherlock's curt response. He leaned his head on his hand, elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, just watching Sherlock, trying in his own way to 'deduce' the perplexing man. The detective never met his friend's gaze, just gave a hard stare at the dusty, cold, unlit fireplace.

John sighed, "You need to find a way to apologise to Elizabeth meaningfully. Not just through words but through an action."

"How?"

John shrugged, "You need to find your own way to express it Sherlock. I can't tell you what to do all of the time."

"And yet you seem happy to, John." Sherlock huffed.

"You're the one that often asks for my opinions." The doctor rose his hands in defence.

Sherlock said nothing. Just stared at the wall miserably. Then without a word he stood up, almost like he was a puppet, picked up his violin and went back to his chair. The strings needed changing. And his mind needed a distraction from all the emotions going crazy in his brain.

Sensing this, John probed, "Did you ever work out what flight double oh seven meant?"

The words triggered his mind back into thinking mode. Double oh seven. The famous codename for the fictional British Secret Service agent James Bond. Bond. Bond Air is go. That's where he had gotten to. The conversation with Mycroft - what else did he say? He would have to think back; the answers were there deep in his mind palace. He would have to relive that day again - every word, every cough, every scuffle of shoes on the carpet.

He needed to connect the dots.

He needed to understand.

John had stood up by now, waving his hand in front of Sherlock's face in order to get his attention but nothing worked. The doctor sighed. Mind palace mode, John thought. Of course, he was used to it happening often but each time it did happen never made it less annoying.

The doctor decided to try and talk with Elizabeth. He needed to apologise after all, considering the statement he had made earlier had visibly irked her. He went to Sherlock's bedroom and knocked on the door.

"Go away, Sherlock."

"Uh, it's me, it's John." The doctor hesitantly answered back, "Mind if I come in?"

"Why?"

"Just to talk?"

Silence. He received no affirmation that he could or could not enter the room. Sherlock had received a verbal cue. John straughted himself out, bravely taking her lack of an answer as acceptance into her current abode. He cracked open the door, bracing himself for any verbal attack in case he had read the situation wrong.

Luckily, there was no attack of any sort.

"I, uh, just wanted to say sorry for what I said earlier. It was inconsiderate of me." He paused, "Are you okay?"

Elizabeth was still facing away from the door in a fetal position, "Absolutely incredible, John. Yeah, I'm great, thanks for asking."

John's brow softened at her response, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. What I want is Irene gone."

"Why?"

Elizabeth scoffed, finally looking over her shoulder at John, "Really? Why wouldn't I want her gone after earlier?"

"No. I mean why?"

Understanding the 'why' he wanted, she frowned, looking away for a moment, unsure of whether to divulge her feelings. Elizabeth liked John. She trusted him. He was a good listener and a great friend.

"Because - I feel like she's ruining things."

"Things like?"

Elizabeth shuffled to sit up in the bed, "John, I've never had this before. I had Jim. And before Jim, I remember an aggressive step-father. Jim - aside from the psychopath bit - was great, he was fun and funny. But it was just us two. Sure, there was Shaun - we were good friends - but I hardly ever saw him. There were occasional partners on the way but nothing loving just...quick, you know. Shaun said I turned my back on family before he died - it never felt like a proper family. Jim was sibling-like, that's it, that's what I assumed family to be."

She paused, "But then I came with you and him. And I actually feel like I fell in love with Sherlock. And you both welcomed me into this little family that actually felt like what a family should be - you're always here for each other, always here to help or to advise, to fight for each other no matter what mistakes they made, you'll even just go out and buy biscuits for each other." A sad smile brushed her lips.

"If anyone I worked with made a mistake the call was to leave them behind. And I have done that. Never liked doing it but I have. Here, you don't do that and I like that. I like this. With Irene here, now, I don't trust her. I feel like she's going to jeopardise what I have now and - I don't want to lose it, John."

The doctor's brow knotted together in sympathy, "Sherlock likes you, Elizabeth. You can trust that."

"But he also likes Irene and you can't say otherwise. I can see it. I saw it earlier."

At this John had no reply. To reply would be to lie as even the doctor had seen what Elizabeth had seen and while he hadn't admitted it, it was uncomfortably obvious that Sherlock was drawn to The Woman in one way or another. He thought silence was fair enough response. This lasted for a few moments.

"I, um, I'm going to head to the shop if you want to come along? Get away for a bit?" He suggested.

Elizabeth contemplated this, "Thanks John but I think I'd rather stay here...where's Sherlock?"

"Mind palace." He tapped his temple.

"Right...so not...conscious, as such?"

"Nope."

Elizabeth nodded, "I might head downstairs to Mrs Hudson, see if she needs anything."

"Okay. Need anything from the shop?"

"Mm, no, don't think so."

"Not even ice cream?"

Elizabeth chuckled, "Well, if you're offering I can hardly say no, can I?"

John smiled at seeing her smile, "Okay, well, be back later." He waved as he left the room.

"See ya!" She called after him, the smile still left on her lips.

Everyone deserved a John Watson.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Afternoon turned to evening. In that time Sherlock had still remained still as a statue in his chair, the neck of his violin resting on his shoulder, occasionally, rhythmically twanging the strings, deep in thought. He had lived through the day again. He could hear Mycroft’s words echo clearly in his head now.

Bond Air is go. That's decided.

Check with the Coventry lot.

A word unknowingly left his lips, "Coventry."

"I’ve never been. Is it nice?" The Woman's sultry voice broke his trance. 

The detective blinked, briefly taking in his surroundings. It was evening. The curtains were drawn, the fire was crackling away. He was mildly disoriented considering in his mind it had been day a mere few moments ago. Why was Miss Adler in John's chair? Where was John? Where was Elizabeth?

"Where's Elizabeth?"

"Helping Mrs Hudson."

The detective nodded, "Where’s John?"

"He went out a couple of hours ago."

"I was just talking to him." He sighed, putting his violin down on the small table beside him.

"He said you do that." She smiled curiously.

Before John had left, he had also informed The Woman that he was going out. He was like a loyal little guard dog - protective over everyone seeing as John had told her not to do anything to upset anyone. But then, when did the Dominatrix ever listen to anything a man has said? Just wasn't her style. She had drifted back down into 221B to find the detective sat in his chair. She too had called his name and waved a hand in front of him to receive no response.

So she sat down in John's chair and observed him.

Sometimes his lips would move, sometimes letting sound slip or sometimes making silent statements. His expression was vacant and yet his eyes were anlytical all the same. She wondered where he was, wondered where he could go in that funny little brain of his. Irene wondered where she could make the detective go, if ever given the chance.

The fact that the detective remained so still really impressed her. He was like a piece of art on display, half his face covered in shadow, the other in light. Very metaphorical. Very powerful. Man is not truly one but two, she thought. She wondered what his Hyde must be like. Or perhaps what his Jekyll was? It was impossible to tell which side she was shown without knowing what the other was like...

Well, the detective seemed conscious now, she couldn't oogle forever with him watching.

"What’s Coventry got to do with anything?"

Sherlock reluctantly answered, "It’s a story, probably not true. In the Second World War..."

As he spoke though, he never noticed the quiet creaks of Elizabeth's feet coming up the stairs. The detective was once again too engrossed in impressing Irene to realise. Mrs Hudson had finally let her go for the day, much to her dismay. As she neared the open apartment door, she could hear Sherlock speaking inside.

"...the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they’d broken the German code but they didn’t want the Germans to know that they’d broken the code, so they let it happen anyway."

"Have you ever had anyone?" Irene's vixen-like gaze stared Sherlock down seductively.

At hearing this, Elizabeth lingered by the door, just listening.

He frowned at her and blinked, puzzled, "I'm sorry?"

"And when I say 'had', I’m being indelicate."

"I don’t understand."

"Well, I’ll be delicate then."

Elizabeth heard Irene stand up. The Woman took two steps over to the detective and crouched in front of him, taking his hand suggestively. Sherlock notably tensed up a little at this. The two were locked in a staring competition once again, nothing could disrupt their intense gazing.

Elizabeth risked peeking into the room to watch, hurt flashing in her eyes at seeing their intimate moment.

"Let’s have dinner."

"Why?"

"Might be hungry."

"I’m not."

"Good." Irene smiled cheekily.

Sherlock's eyes darted down to his hand. He shuffled it flighty to hold her wrist, discreetly taking her pulse. It was fast. His eyes looked into hers again. Dilated pupils.

Oh, Irene truly did like him.

"Why would I...want to have dinner...if I wasn’t hungry?" As he said this, he had edged forwards in his chair.

In fact, both were nearing each other rather shamelessly as Elizabeth watched, heartbroken, from the darkness of the landing.

"Oh, Mr Holmes...if it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"

The air was thick with sexual tension between the wrong people. At least, the wrong people in Elizabeth's eyes. The thief would ask how he could do this but she already knew why. Irene was prettier and smarter. Elizabeth was just a thief who had fallen helplessly in love with a man who would never be able to see her as his equal.

This was untrue. But she wouldn't know it unless she and Sherlock spoke.

Not that she would want to speak after this.

"Sherlock!" The shrill shout of Mrs Hudson echoed through the house.

Elizabeth rapidly disappeared behind the door frame, slipping into the kitchen to hide behind the wall there as she had done once before.

Sherlock's gaze switched to the doorway. He could have sworn he had seen a shadow move.

"Too late." Came Irene's disappointed statement.

"That’s not the end of the world; that’s Mrs Hudson." He smirked at The Woman as she let go of his arm.

Irene stood, edging back towards the kitchen and away to Sherlock's room. No one else knew she was here. Best to keep it that way. In her haste, the Dominatrix completely missed Elizabeth who glared at her as she went.

Mrs Hudson had made her way into 221B with a guest in a fancy suit in tow. It was the man who had originally brought them to Buckingham Palace.

"Sherlock, this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?" She turned to his visitor, "He shot it."

"Have you come to take me away again?" Sherlock questioned, attitude in every bop of his head as asked this.

"Yes, Mr Holmes."

"Well, I decline." He looked away.

"I don’t think you do."

The well-dressed man gave the detective an envelope. Without a word, Sherlock opened it quickly, only to see it was an airline ticket.

An airline ticket for Flight 007.