Elizabeth entered Mycroft's chauffeured car with a passive-aggressive slamming of the door once she was in. She removed her gloves and com hurriedly. There was a noticeable twinkle in her eyes as the tears continued to gather.

"Where's Sherlock?" Mycroft questioned her.

He wasn't particularly happy at his brother for turning up without any warning. Sherlock could have compromised the mission, for goodness sake. But this unpredictable behaviour also worried the elder Holmes as he was starting to see the toll this minor break up with Elizabeth was having on his younger brother. Surely he would get over it soon. He hoped he would.

"Probably still in the damn cupboard." She spat, removing her backpack and placing it by her feet before wiping the water from her eyes.

Mycroft was in half a mind to leave his brother there for what he almost did, risking the mission so wrecklessly, but it was his brother after all. Surprisingly, even to Mycroft himself, he almost got out to see if he could spot Sherlock but there was no need as he soon spotted his brother exiting the alley way with a glum look on his face.

Opening the car door on his side, Mycroft got out, "Did we get lost, little brother? Or were you really so stupid as to follow?"

Sherlock paused at hearing his brother.  He almost began walking in the opposite  direction until he heard the fire door behind him open. Seeing the security pile out, Sherlock realised that joining his brother and Elizabeth would be unfortunately necessary. The detective hurried over to his brother's open door, where Mycroft glared at him as he got in.

Elizabeth didn't even glimpse Sherlock as he entered the car. She was still fighting back tears.

Mycroft closed the door and tapped the the seat in front of him, alerting the chauffeur that it was time to go. The car started with a low rumble and just as the security turned the corner out of the alley, the midnight-black car was on its way back to 221B.

Sherlock sat on the seat facing his brother and Elizabeth, looking like a child who had been sent to the headteacher's office for misbehaving.

"May I please have the drive, Miss Parrish?" Mycroft broke the silence and held his hand out as he glared at Sherlock.

Without uttering a single vowel or consonant, Elizabeth pulled the USB out of a pouch in her belt and placed it in his hand.

The thief continued looking out of the window, "Now that Sandborn knows he's being watched, won't he discuss anything incriminating elsewhere?"

"Possibly. But the cameras and coms will still be useful. We may discover that Mr Sandborn begins frequenting other locations where we can find out more. Think of it like smoking a rabbit out of its warren and we've only left it one way out."

"Are your comparisons always this cheery, Brother Mine?" Sherlock joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

This didn't happen though. Instead, he was glowered at by the Ice Man.

"Sherlock, in case you didn't get the memo, you're not exactly high on - " It was at this point that Mycroft noticed the red mark on his brother's cheek, "Apparently - either of our lists of favourites at the moment. I would suggest keeping your mouth shut for the time being."

With a subtle gulp, Sherlock's hint of a smile disappeared and he looked over at Elizabeth. She was still looking outside. The detective found that his stomach didn't quite feel right - he wasn't sick - or maybe he was - but it felt different. It ached but not in sick way, just an uncomfortable one. How did people describe it? Like it was butterflies in their stomachs? He wondered why the idiom had used butterflies instead of something else. Not that he knew what he would replace it with.

Elizabeth watched the world whiz past outside in the cloak of the night. Personally, she loved the night in London; it was much calmer than the day. The first few drops of rain splashed against her window. She wondered why, when they had kissed, she hadn't pushed Sherlock away sooner. She wondered why Sherlock had kissed her in the first place if she was such a burden on his mind. She wondered if she had been wrong.

But it was so conflicting. Nothing ever could be simple with Sherlock Holmes could it?

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Oh, how John Watson loved to deal with the nuclear fallout of an argument between his two flatmates. Again.

He had been sat at home, as Sherlock had left him, now almost finished with the editing. His mind did wonder about what could have happened to Sherlock and he did send a text but he never did get a response. It wasn't unlike the detective - he only would respond when he felt like it. The doctor's questions were soon answered though, as Elizabeth walked in with Mycroft and (to John's unsurprised surprise) Sherlock.

"Hello - " John barely got to greet the three before they started on each other.

"Were my instructions not clear enough, brother? Or is your skull really as thick as I deem it to be tonight?" Mycroft commented, wholly disappointed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the comment, "I was right to come, Mycroft. She was in trouble and all you were doing was staying in the damn car - "

"She has a name." The thief snapped, "I was fine on my own."

"You were almost caught by the security - God knows what they would have done to you - "

"And I was almost shot by Alistair Sandborn himself but, oh, guess what - I wasn’t and I was on my own and I was fine."

"You don't know that - "

"And you do? Who made it your job to care about me, Sherlock? Because it might have been me before but now? You gave that up when you said - "

"I know what I said and I am trying to make up for it! I am sorry, Elizabeth, but you won't accept it verbally and so I have tried to show you, I am trying to show you, to gain back your trust - "

"Well you're not going to do it by undermining my skills and following me around like some bloody lost sheep. Get a grip, Sherlock!" Seething tears spilt from her eyes now, "This isn't going to be fixed with repeated rambling and impulsive, overprotective actions that could have jeopardised us both."

"I - "

"No, Sherlock. Just stop talking - for once." The thief ended their conversation with that and went to his room to get ready for bed.

Lord knew she would need it.

Sherlock stood there staring at the spot where Elizabeth had previously stood. He couldn’t deny that he was possibly being a bit too overprotective. He just missed her. Perhaps the kiss was bad. Perhaps him following her out of worry wasn't the best decision.

Mycroft stepped over to his brother, "Sherlock. Let me make this clear: you are not to join her on the cruise. Contrary to your thoughts, I believe in Miss Parrish's skills and believe she is more than capable on her own. She had a life before you, Brother Mine, and she was fine before. She'll be fine now too."

"Don’t even pretend to care about her, Mycroft."

"I don't. I care about you, a shock, I know. But if you keep on like this, brother, then know you are developing your chemical defect rather rapidly."

Sherlock glared at Mycroft but absorbed his words nonetheless.

"All chemicals are good for us, Sherlock, but only in small doses. Don't let your...feelings for her just be an excuse for another pointless high." Mycroft backed away from his brother and turned to John, "My apologies for bursting in with the both of them like this, Doctor Watson. I'll bid you a goodnight."

"Have a good evening, Mycroft."

And the Ice Man left, leaving the detective and the doctor in the living room. They shuffled in silence for a moment.

John knew he couldn't form an opinion or a constructive comment without knowing what happened.

"Why's your cheek red?"

"Elizabeth slapped me."

John scoffed, "The Woman would be proud."

Sherlock shot a look at him.

"Why did she slap you?"

"I kissed her."

"Context?"

"I pulled her into a cupboard in the club, out of sight of the guards. She was going on about why I shouldn't have been there - "

"Especially not when you were supposed to be with Molly, checking a corpse as I recall."

"I - "

"Lied. I know. Continue."

"I - kissed her to keep her quiet until the security guards passed."

"Sounds like a justified slap to me." John shrugged.

At seeing his friend's somewhat betrayed reaction, John shook his head.

"The things you said hurt Elizabeth."

"I know - "

John held his hand up to silence Sherlock, "You're not giving her a chance to think through it. Yesterday, I was wrong to try and force her forgiveness. Elizabeth's extreme reaction to a mere accident told me that, Sherlock. You need to give her time to think and - rather than using drastic actions like following her in an attempt to keep her safe - work on the smaller ones. I know you care about her, Sherlock, and I know you love her, but if you keep trying to force her into liking and forgiving you, all you are going to do is push her away more."

After this lecture, John headed towards the door, ready to go up to bed himself, "Just give it time, Sherlock, give it time."

And so the doctor departed too.

Sherlock was left, standing in the middle of the room with the words of his brother, friend and ex-lover (hopefully-to-be-lover-again) spinning in his head. It was a lot of food for thought. Three lectures in one night was a lot to process - especially without his blue thinking gown that was trapped in his bedroom where Elizabeth was.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

After Elizabeth had 'left the chat' so to speak, she had collapsed on Sherlock's bed, running her hands over her face and through her hair. She groaned. Why did he have to kiss her? What did it mean? Why did Sherlock Holmes have to be -

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her questioning mind.

She sat up again, being sure to rub the tears from her eyes one last time before checking her phone.

There was a message from an unsaved number:

<A contact of mine will be joining you on the cruise. She'll tell you more then. - C.B.>

So the leader of the girl gang knew about her mission. Did that mean she had an insider on Mycroft's staff too? She would be stunned if she did. Elizabeth didn't think anyone could lie to Mycroft successfully and get away with it. Then again she had gotten away with one ash tray when she had stolen two from Buckingham Palace. Perhaps Mycroft Holmes wasn't as perceptive as she originally thought?

Her plan also appeared to be working, albeit slowly, but at least it was working for now. The thief knew she had to perfect her double-blind plan or else someone would pick up on either her disloyalty or her dishonesty. She had to stay true to - Sherlock, even if they weren't together. If ever he doubted her loyalty for even a second, she would be unsure as to how to fix the situation.

Just as he seemed unsure with how to fix them.

Just thinking that made her fall back on the bed again with a gentle bounce.

Elizabeth was beginning to realise that her feelings for him had never ceased after his poisonous words. In fact, loving him still made it all the more painful.

But how could she love a man who called love a destructive, dangerous, chemical defect found on the losing side?

How could she not love the man, as infuriating as he was, who was so desperately trying to earn her trust back but kept doing it the wrong way every time merely because of his lack of social skills?

Perhaps she was trying to distance herself from him now, simply because of her plans to infiltrate and take down the Forty Elephants all on her own. In distancing herself, Sherlock wouldn't be there at every turn psychoanalysing her daily choices and tone of voice and clothing and God knows what else.

In rejecting Sherlock, was Elizabeth really only trying to protect her goals?