A/N - Sorry for the delay!
I didn't realise how much downtime I would need after the holiday to recover from the loss of the sea :(((

But the new chapter is here now! Enjoy ❤

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"John, do you want tea?"

"Uh, yes, please." The doctor nodded, handing the thief his empty mug.

"Elizabeth?"

"Do you want anything else, John?"

"Elizabeth?"

The doctor looked sympathetically at the  detective who was desperately trying to get her attention. He was sat in the chair opposite, hands toying with the edge of a coaster, looking up at Elizabeth as though he were a child awaiting attention from his mother.

"Elizabeth?"

"Um, n - no. Not really. Just tea, thanks." John looked back to her and nodded quickly.

"Elizabeth, could I please have some tea too?"

The thief smiled at John but proceeded to pretend as though Sherlock had never existed. And she scarily seemed all the happier for doing so.

"Elizabeth? Please?"

The thief paused. Sherlock perked up at this, hoping he had finally gotten through to her but she momentarily turned around simply to meet the detective's gaze and still continued to pretend he wasn't there.

"Did you hear something, John?" She asked coldly, "No? Must have been the wind."

Elizabeth turned back to the kitchen and continued to the counter.

Sherlock sighed, looking genuinely upset with the fact that he had screwed up so badly. Was this what it was like when he had emotionally retreated after Irene’s fake death? If it was then he only felt all the more guilty. Probably rightly so. But she wasn't grieving - she was pissed. And at him no less. And it hurt. It hurt his heart - that tiny, little organ he wasn't even sure he had until John and Elizabeth came along.

Since they came along, he found he had experienced companionship, happiness that didn’t come from solving cases, warmth, regret and love. He couldn't even recall the last time he had felt that last one. Of course, he loved his family but that was a different kind of love - more distant than that of what he now used to have with Elizabeth.

He missed Elizabeth.

And it was only day two.

John was still struggling to believe how much Sherlock had truly messed up. But the extent of Elizabeth's blanking told him that she was very hurt by his words last night. Words John still didn't even know as Sherlock refused to speak to him last night also. He just slumped in his chair, looking at the cold fireplace with remorse dripping from his expression.

The army doctor wanted to be there for both of them but if neither would talk then he would just have to watch from this sidelines, helpless.

In the kitchen, Elizabeth got a text from Mycroft:

<I have your next missions lined up. I'll be at the flat this afternoon to discuss them further. - M.H.>

She just hoped it wouldn’t interfere with her own, personal mission.

As she brought John's tea back into the living room, she announced this to them both (although, more so John).

"Mycroft'll be round this afternoon." She took a sip of her own tea, "Has more missions for me."

"Did he say what they were?" Sherlock asked, looking thirstily at the hot beverages they both had.

She ignored this and just took another sip of her tea.

John, again, looked between the two. He repeated Sherlock's question with a slight difference, "Did he...say anything more about it?"

"Just that he would talk about it more later." She shrugged.

Sherlock tried again, "Did he say what time he would be here?"

Again at the lack of an answer, the detective looked at the army doctor, willing him to ask his question.

John repeated, "Did Mycroft say what time he would be here?"

"No. Just said in the afternoon."

"Okay." John nodded, sipping his coffee, eyes still flicking between the two.

The room was plunged into silence again.

Sherlock stared at Elizabeth, his brow an eagle's ready-to-flap wings, housing two glossy eyes beneath its feathers. He just wanted to be heard.

Elizabeth even disregarded his stare, only looking at the little red coaster on the table. She was thinking about how she would execute her plans to infiltrate the Forty Elephants gang on her own.

And John - well, he couldn't stand this anymore.

He stood, placing his mug down on the table with a resounding knock.

Both thief and detective looked at him expectantly.

"Right. I am not having this anymore."

"Not having what, John?" Elizabeth asked.

"This." He gestured to the two of them.

Elizabeth again pretended to peer around the room, still refusing to acknowledge the detective.

Elizabeth answered with a shrug, "I can't tell what you mean, John."

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to formulate the words both of them needed to hear now. Sherlock stood though, with the intention of shaking some sense into her (quite literally) and moved to grab Elizabeth, gently, by the shoulders, hoping a physical touch would bring her back to him. He was about to talk but was interrupted by Elizabeth's shrieking:

"OW, WHAT THE HELL, SHERLOCK?"

He had forgotten she was holding her tea.

Never before had you seen someone retract their hands faster than the detective did as though he were having a reflexive reaction to a hot surface. Except, Elizabeth had experienced the hot surface; he, merely the shock.

Sherlock wasted no time in grabbing tissues from the box on the table to help with the hot tea spilled down her front, "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean - "

"You never meant anything though, did you?!" She snapped at him loudly.

Tears spilled from her eyes - from the feeling of hot tea down her front or from her own built up emotions, one couldn’t tell. John again stood dumbfounded by her statement. Sherlock just became a statue, tissues ready to help but the words hit him so hard that he froze.

Elizabeth snatched the tissues from him and headed to Sherlock's room. She didn't know how she felt other than hurt - still emotionally and now physically too.

She wanted to scream.

Could she ever trust the detective again after hearing words so harsh from his own lips?

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"I don't know what to do, John..."

"But what did you do, Sherlock?"

"I - spoke without thinking."

"Like that doesn't happen often." John murmured.

Sherlock glared at his friend who sat in the arm chair opposite him. But then silently agreed.

"For a genius you can be an idiot an awful lot of the time." He added.

At this Sherlock's mouth dropped in offense. The detective never thought his friend could be so brutally honest but - he also guessed he deserved it. He was notorious for his brutal honesty so it was only fair someone did the same back to him.

John smiled, amused by his reaction, "So what did you say?"

"Many things..." Sherlock sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to forget yet he felt the conversation would forever be engrained in his brain.

He explained to John then, the night before where Irene had surprisingly appeared as the antagonist in this case. John listened to the woeful tale of Sherlock having felt like a fool for being played. The detective couldn't leave out the vengeful conversation he had with Irene which contained the statements that appeared to irk Elizabeth most. The doctor sat, patiently acknowledging every word.

And by the end of it, even John was at a loss for helpful advice.

"You really have screwed this one up, mate." John muttered as he ran his hands over his eyes.

Sherlock just gave him a look said 'tell me about it'.

John rested his head on his hand as he sat and stared at the detective, "You do still want to be with her, right?"

"Yes, John, of course!"

"So have you actually apologised to her then? Properly?"

"She's ignoring me and snaps at me when she does acknowledge me, John. So...no..."

John shrugged, "Well that's your first course of action. I'm not saying it will work but it's a bloody good place to start."

"Yes but how?"

"Once again, Sherlock, I have to leave that up to you."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The knock at the door finally dragged Elizabeth out of Sherlock’s room. She had received a text from Mycroft, stating that he was here so she knew she wouldn't be able to stay hidden away from the detective for much longer.

When she appeared in the living room, she took a seat at the table.

Sherlock watched her cross the room, never daring to glance his way, even for one second. He wanted to talk with her but he needed to be in detective mode now. She was to be given another mission. Full focus would be needed to listen to Mycroft's brief.

John was the one that let in the government official.

Mycroft strolled in, as always with an overwhelming sense of authority as he stopped to stand in the middle of the room. He greeted the three of them and they greeted him back. Very briefly, his gaze scanned both Elizabeth and his brother. Something bad had happened between them after they met with himself and Irene last night.

Secretly he was pleased.

Perhaps they wouldn't be likely to get back together again.

What a fortunate set of circumstances Ms Adler had left him with.

"Where's Irene?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Ms Adler elected to leave rather than to be imprisoned. Expect not to hear from her again. Ever."

The thief gave a slow nod. She really did hope that Irene would live regardless of their run-in and the issues she had caused. Death was the last thing she wished upon any person after all, no matter if they were friend or foe.

Sherlock was visibly worried by Mycroft's answer.

Mycroft went on, "And Miss Parrish, about last night - "

She was quick to defend herself, "I followed Irene to keep an eye on - "

He raised his hand to quieten her, "Having been given time to think it over, I understand the logic of your decision. I'm not saying it was a clever idea but I understand and am thus willing to let you off."

The thief was stunned, "Th - thank you."

"However this will not excuse you from your obligations, being the missions."

"Of course not..."

Mycroft stepped over to the table where Elizabeth was sat, placing two files on the dark oak platform, "I have two missions lined up for you. The first needing to take place tomorrow. You will be required to infiltrate a club owned and run by one of London's most notorious gang leaders. We suspect Alistair Sandborn of the Sandborn Syndicate of being responsible for the assassination of one of the cabinet ministers."

"When did that happen?" Elizabeth questioned, "Surely we would have heard about it on the news if it was an assassination."

Again Mycroft's Forced Smile™ slid across his face, "You may have heard of his death actually. Richard Peters, the Secretary of State for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy, was found dead in his home."

"Oh, I did hear of that." John nodded, "The news said he died due to a sudden stroke."

"Which isn't an explicit lie. A toxicology report found he was poisoned by - "

"Methyl iodide, I presume?" Sherlock finished, "If I recall correctly, a medical report stated that it could present itself as mimicking an acute stroke."

"Yes..."

"So how does the Sandborn Syndicate factor into this then? Why do you suspect them of assassinating Mr Peters?" Elizabeth questioned.

"It is strongly suspected that Mr Peters sold scientific secrets to Mr Sandborn in return for the ensured safety of his family. The only issue being that we don't have cold, hard evidence to prove Mr Sandborn's involvement."

"And the scientific secrets are the evidence you're looking for?"

"Indeed. Intel we've received informs us that the USB drive holding the information is stored in a safe within his club. Tomorrow night the club is shutting down for renovation and while still heavily guarded, I see this as the perfect opportunity to retrieve the drive and to plant cameras and audio recorders around the building. The more evidence we have, the stronger our case against the Syndicate and the sooner we can get closure for his family."

"Okay..."

"Anything more you need to know will be in the file. As for your other mission, this will require three days of your time."

"Three days?"

"You will be going on a cruise."

"That actually doesn't sound too bad." Elizabeth said, almost honoured to have this next mission.

"Of course there will be a rather important task to complete while on this cruise. I will require you to stop a drugs and arms dealing between the Sandborn Syndicate and one of the government's secret service agents, Daniel Silva."

"Has anyone ever told you that there seems to be a hell of a lot of corruption in the British government?" Elizabeth quipped.

"Yes. Why else do you think I require your services? These crimes can really only be investigated by those outside the government. Think of this as not only pay back for your crimes but also as your duty to Queen and country."

Both Sherlock and Elizabeth rolled their eyes at this last statement.

"Mycroft did say that not even the monarchy could trust their own secret service." John said.

"Exactly. Give a man too much knowledge and power and they'll believe that they deserve everything and more." Mycroft paused, "I'll need you to you to steal both the weapons from Silva and the drugs from the Syndicate while you're there. They will be collected once the cruise is over and Silva and any Syndicate members there will be arrested. When you go on this cruise, you will only have one other contact to minimise the risk of being found out."

"Who will that be?" Elizabeth was concerned at the thought it might be Sherlock.

"A dear acquaintance of mine, Dr Rita Rahat. She will know why you're there and your real background. The file will tell you who you are to pretend as. Another important fact to remember is that Mr Sandborn's sons, Simon and Grayson, will be the main members present to deal with this transaction. Your best bet is getting close to them to access their rooms, and consequently the drugs."

Elizabeth nodded as she absorbed this information quietly.

Sherlock hadn't spoken for a few minutes now but when he did, only one question was on his mind, "So she won't have an accomplice like last time? For either mission?"

"No." Mycroft's gaze met with Sherlock's, "I've deemed it an unnecessary risk. Miss Parrish's track record is near perfect; I've seen to it that we trust in her abilities and trust she is telling the truth when she says she works better alone." As he finished the sentence, Mycroft looked back to Elizabeth.

An unnecessary risk? To who? The accomplice or to the mission? Because judging by what happened to the last one, Sherlock wouldn't be surprised if Mycroft deemed it a risk to the the agent. But there was still himself. He would happily go with Elizabeth...although, it would seem more dependent on whether she wanted him to or not. That was the issue.

Trust was never a word she ever thought she would hear slip from Mycroft's mouth while her name was in the same sentence. But she appreciated it nonetheless. Get the older brother on side and then there would be less to worry about with her plan to infiltrate the Forty Elephants. It seemed it would become simpler as time went on. She just had to have good behaviour.

"Any other questions?"

"One." Elizabeth said with a small, kind smile to Mycroft even though she still wasn't that keen on him, "Where is the cruise to and from?"

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A/N - just as I was about to publish this, weird things happened and Wattpad died on me...

So I started up the app again and came back to this:

1970???

1st of January???

What??? O-O

Like my actual chapter was fine (the one straight after 56) but the others were all blank? I was so confused >~<