Rita tapped the cabin table top with her fingernails, the clack-clack-clack echoed in their room. Elizabeth was stood biting her nails as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a black nightdress with a lace gown over the top. The aim was to be alluring and she guessed she succeeded - that is, if she was trying to mimic Irene, seeing as her lips were painted dark red too.

"Silva's heading to your room now, over." Was the radio message the two women finally received at 10:22pm.

"Finally." Rita muttered, standing up to stretch.

Elizabeth grabbed the radio, responding quickly, "Did you find out which room the Silvas are in, over?"

"Thought you would beat me to it," Olly chuckled, "They're in room five-oh-four, over."

"Thanks, over." Elizabeth switched off the radio and chucked it over to Rita.

Dr Rahat caught the radio and hurried over to place it in her bedside table drawer. As this happened, Elizabeth organised the camera on the table that she had been given as part of her 'fashion designer persona' along with some items of clothing. Barely any of it would be used though as long as their plan went well.

"Got the perfume?"

"Oh, yes." Elizabeth nodded, "You're sure he won't remember anything once I use it?"

"One hundred percent certain. Used it a couple of times before." Rita smirked before heading into the bathroom, "If I hear anything that sounds like it's going sideways you can also trust I won't ditch you but I believe you got this." She gave her a thumbs up before shutting the door.

Just then, there was a knock at their cabin door. Elizabeth checked herself once more in the mirror, ensuring she looked suitably attractive so she was sure she would coax Dan in. Skipping over to the door, she paused, opening it to see Silva stood there with a charming smile.

"Evening."

"You came." Elizabeth looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"I did."

The scent of alcohol infiltrated her senses but she did her best not to react. She peered behind him with a faux concerned frown, "Won't your wife be wondering where you are?"

He shrugged, "She's in the bar."

"You didn't want to join her?"

"I couldn't very well pass up an opportunity to model for an upcoming designer now, could I? Besides, my wife is the one who gets to have the most fun - thought I deserved a little too."

Internally cringing at his words, she tilted her head, looking him up and down, consuming his build with her gaze and attempting to be as obsessed with the male form as she made Eva Smith out to be. But as she looked at him, she felt her heart long for Sherlock.

Elizabeth gently took hold of Daniel's tie and tugged on it with a seductive smile, whispering, "Come on in then."

With a hungry look in his eyes, Silva wantonly and shamelessly followed her in, shutting the door behind them.

Elizabeth's plan was bring him over to the round cabin table where the perfume bottle stood so it would be easy to reach. However, Daniel had other plans that would lead to this exchange taking longer than she would have liked. He took hold of her arm that held his tie and when Elizabeth turned to question it, his lips crashed into hers and his other hand held onto her waist.

This action, his hands, his lips all felt alien to her.

His face had stuble which made her lips burn unlike the clean-shaven and soft face of Sherlock Holmes, his hands gripped her tighter, rougher, unlike the gentleness of the detective, his shoulders were broader and chest more defined in comparison to the thinner and, in her mind, more pleasant stature of her lover.

Daniel's lips finally moved off her mouth, letting Elizabeth gulp down the air she so desperately needed, and across her cheek before continuing down the crook of her neck. She rolled her eyes. Had it been Sherlock then...admittedly it might have been a different story.

She gave a throaty chuckle, letting her eyes flutter closed as she pretended to enjoy it, "Slow down, Tiger, I still want you to do some modelling first."

"Ohh, Eva, you're killing me here."

The thief merely smiled at him again but  managed to pull out of his grip, still holding onto his arm as she dragged him over to the table.

"I never did mention that I needed you to model swimwear, did I?"

As she picked up the swimming shorts, she also picked up the perfume and as she turned around to show them to him, she brought the bottle up to his face and sprayed it directly at him three times.

"Hey - I - Eva... "

Daniel blinked hard several times and wiped his hand over his face. The agent stumbled towards her and then back again. His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor like copper to a magnet.

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, looking down at the man who had stolen a kiss from her, who had tainted her - or so she felt. Using the back of her hand, she wiped her lips roughly as though his kiss were chalk on paper - she couldn’t get rid of it completely.

Rita peeked out from the bathroom, catching this small action.

"You alright?"

The thief looked up and blinked, "Uh, yeah, fine. Just, uh, spaced out a bit."

"Right, well, I'll sort things here - you need to run along to Silva's room. Don't forget the perfume in case his wife is back."

"Yes," She nodded, taking off her lace night gown and grabbing her grey reefer coat to put on over her night dress and then pocketing the perfume, before hurrying over to the door, "I'll get back ASA - "

But she stopped dead as she looked outside the open door. She didn't know whether to smile or scowl at the person she saw stood outside. Her expression merely consisted of a raised brow, wide eyes and ever so slightly parted lips.

"Sherlock?"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

When Sherlock had managed to sneak down into the morgue only to find that, unfortunately, no one had died yet, he realised that his plans needed to change once more. Knowing Lucetta was supposed to be in the spa after their short meeting, Sherlock chose to also head that way. He would wait for Mrs Silva to leave and then follow her back to work out which room she and her husband would be in.

And then he would watch.

He didn't know how this would help himself but he did know that he could maybe leave clues for Elizabeth. Unless she would hate him more for doing that...

As he waited, Lucetta left once more, just as Daniel had arrived back.

"Luce? Where are you going?"

"To the bar," She paused, swaying slightly before slurring, "Because my own husband doesn't want to spend time with me."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yeah, if you wanted to try that red wine, well, 'fraid you can't. I'm hoping I'll find someone a little more caring and considerate when I'm down there. Have fun with whoever you're seeing."

"Luce! Lucetta!"

All she did as she stumbled down the hall, shoeless, was try her absolute best to make it seem like she could hold more than one whole bottle of wine and showed him her middle finger as she headed away from him.

Daniel let out a frustrated sigh and his let his head fall against his oak cabin door. Sherlock frowned at this as he watched from around the corner. He did love his wife but obviously the drugs and arms trade had taken over his life more than he had intended. Daniel lightly bashed his head against the door again before opening it wildly and storming into the room.

And again Sherlock watched and waited.

About an hour later Daniel arrived from out of his room, also stumbling slightly, just like Lucetta had done earlier. He, too, was now squiffy.

"Well, Luce, if you're gonna cheat on me...guess I'm gonna be a model..." He muttered as he headed off down the many corridors of the cruise ship.

"A model?" Sherlock muttered.

Perhaps he actually was cheating on his wife then?

And then the detective headed off down the corridors after him.

*  *  *  *  *  *

"Shit. Who's this?" Olly muttered as he squinted at his screen, setting down his radio after talking to the women.

He had spotted a tall, blond-haired man following after Silva.

"Who’s who, mate?" Another guard asked as he sat down in his chair.

"Uh, no one really. Just thought his hairstyle was a bit outdated." He gave a chuckle but his eyes were wide with concern.

He had to warn Rita and Elizabeth. Or, better yet, he had to stop the blond-haired man from reaching them.

"Sorry, Paul, just remembered I had an errand to run for boss."

"Cool, mate, see you."

And out of the CCTV office Olly went again. He tried the radio but of course they had turned theirs off to prevent any interruptions. He shook his head. He had to beat the stranger to them. Their mission couldn't be risked by some idiot thinking it would be fun to follow.

But as Olly turned the corner he ran into two towering men.

"Sorry, fellas, I have to get to an incident."

"Oliver Cartwright?"

"Yes?" His brow crinkled.

"You're coming with us."

And both men placed a heavy hand on each of Olly's shoulders, "No, I don't think you understand. There is a situation that I need to get to - "

"You won't be getting to it any time soon."

And the security guard struggled but to no avail as he was directed off to room three-oh-nine.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sherlock again watched from around the corner as the door to cabin one-oh-five opened. He couldn't see or hear who it was as the two spoke painfully quietly. But it wasn't long before the woman grabbed his tie and brought him inside.

The door closed.

The detective edged over to the door and gently placed his ear against it. He just needed that extra bit of confirmation but all he heard was a sullen thud. The chatter that went on inside after was far too muffled for him to make out - the downside to each cabin having a fire door. But just as he pulled his ear away and stepped back to think, the door opened to reveal Elizabeth stood there in a long coat, her night dress just about visible where the coat crisscrossed across her chest.

He took in the sight behind her where he saw Daniel on the floor, a hint of red on his lips, and Rita who was just about to move him elsewhere. The detective's eyes fell back to Elizabeth, of which he also noticed that her lipstick was somewhat smudged.

"Sherlock?"

He didn't know how to respond as the situation that had just occurred clicked in his brain.

"Wh - what are you doing here? Sherlock?"

Rita stood next to Elizabeth now, frowning, "You're Mycroft's brother, aren't you? What are you doing here?"

"Reet," Elizabeth began, "I - it's complex but I'll explain when I get back. I still have to get to Daniel's room before Lucetta comes back. Shit, no, we have to get Daniel back too."

"No, we'll keep him. He's going to be your cover and the only one who will be able to say that you can't have stolen the weapons. He stays, Eva."

"His wife - "

"He wouldn't be here if he hadn't already had the thought of cheating on her. It's his own fault what happens with his marriage."

"And, uh, Lucetta said she was going to find someone else to be with tonight." The detective finally spoke, "They had a fight an hour before he left for - for you."

"Okay, fine." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at Sherlock. Had he been doubtful of her abilities again? She looked back at Rita, pointing at Daniel, "He stays."

"How many times did you spray him?"

"Three."

"Oh, well he'll be out for a while then. You won't even need to worry." Rita waved her hand and then tried to shoo her out of the room, "But you still need to get back before Lucetta, so go now."

"You're sure you'll be fine."

"Absolutely, now go." Rita shut the door on them.

Elizabeth looked up at Sherlock, still unsure what feeling to feel most, "I don't even have words."

"You don't need them. Just - follow me."

And so she did, straying slightly to watch him from behind. The conflict she had with herself regarding Sherlock kept up in her head relentlessly. She was frustrated by his antics once again. Hadn't she told him to stay behind? Hadn't Mycroft too? And yet he still followed, still believed she was incapable. And yet she was also somewhat happy to see him after that moment with Silva. She missed Sherlock, missed his lips, missed his hands, missed his...curls. It hit her then that his dark curls were nonexistent - she had only paid attention to his face.

"You're...blond..."

"You only just noticed?" Sherlock threw a look over his shoulder at her as he continued walking.

"Well, yeah," She paused, "I don't like it."

"Neither do I."

"Then...why?"

"Undercover."

"Oh right." Elizabeth nodded. Here we go again, she thought, "Hiding from me then?"

"Not strictly. No."

"Then what?"

"I was here on a case."

"Sure."

He stopped, pivoting to look at her, "I was."

"What was the case then?"

"A woman believed her husband was cheating on her and had invited other said woman on the cruise too. The wife wanted to know who."

"You never take cases like that. You always say they're boring. Why did you take the case?"

"I - " Sherlock sighed. She had him there.

Elizabeth just shook her head, hurt once again, "Why do you think me incapable? Do you have any clue how - how humiliating that feels? Just because you caught me doesn't mean anyone else will."

Sherlock shut his eyes and turned again, walking onwards to Silva's room. Elizabeth scoffed at his lack of a response but followed after him anyway. She still had a job to do and she was going to do it and she was going to do it well.

But as they hurried through the corridors, passing the occassional passenger every now and again, Sherlock spoke, "It's not that I don't believe in you, Elizabeth..."

He knew he needed to be honest. If his truth persuaded John that he should go, then perhaps his truth could persuade Elizabeth to give him another chance. They turned the corner and saw the Silvas' room on the left side of the corridor. They both headed straight for it, Elizabeth already pulling out the master key card from her pocket. She scanned it and in they went.

"If it's not that, then what Sherlock?" She prompted by his lack of continuation.

"I - I'm - ugh." He ran his hands over his eyes but looked up to her again, his hands searching and gripping at the air as though that would have the answers.

At this, Elizabeth turned away, already beginning to search the room for the weapons.

"Two briefcases, one under the bed and the other on the top shelf of the cupboard."

"I didn't need your help."

"I didn't need to offer it."

Elizabeth shot him a look, "You didn't offer it, you just gave it." She continued over to the bed while saying, "Offering it would be saying 'oh, do you want some help' to which I would be able to respond either yes or no." She pulled the silver case out from under the bed.

"It's wasting less time."

Elizabeth spoke monotonously, "Oh joy, more time to spend with the man who refuses to let me do my job alone." She carried the silver case over to the door, setting it down there and then headed over to the cupboard, "More time with the man who thinks love is stupid and thinks that sentiment is a disadvantage." Once she had the second case, she headed back towards the door too, "More time with the man who thought it would help the situation by admitting that he allowed another woman to flirt with him just so he could bring her to fatal ruin."

She pulled a face at him and tilted her head, "You know, you drive a hard bargain but I almost definitely would have preferred wasting my time looking for the weapons."

As she slipped behind him to get to the door, the detective spoke and she paused, her hand resting on the handle.

Sherlock spoke slowly, "I came because it's no longer just about me. It's about you. I care about you. And I want you to be safe. But if something happens here and if I was back in London, I wouldn't even get the chance to try and protect you. I know I screwed up. But I've followed you on both occasions because I wanted to make sure you would at least come back. I can't make things better, I can't work things out or fix things with a ghost."

The two stood back-to-back as Sherlock continued, eyes closed as he thought about his words carefully, "Mycroft doesn't care what happens to you on these missions. If you di - if you died, if you got hurt, he wouldn't care. He would merely view it as collateral and a missed opportunity. He isn't afraid of losing you but I am."

Sherlock felt the brush of her hand against his. Elizabeth entwined her fingers with the detective's and leant back, against him, shutting her eyes.

They were both just present in the moment.

Why couldn't he just be more honest like this off the bat? Why did he always have to keep things like this to himself? She didn't have the answers but she found herself feeling bittersweet. The love and the ache to be with him overpowered her frustrations.

As for Sherlock, her touch was all he needed to know he was making some progress and that filled him with hope.

"Come on," She spoke softly after their moment, "I still have a job to finish."

______________________

A/N - lowkey regret not calling our security guard Oliver Twist or Oliver Murs but I guess that's a missed opportunity!

Question timeee:
What's a song you feel emotionally drawn to?

For me it is wayyy too many but the most recent is Where Is My Mind by Maxence Cyrin - no lyrics, just piano but it's just so peaceful and proper draws me to a calm place 😊