A/N - Heyyy my Sherlockian Loveliesss!

Ya girl has 28 plays under her belt now, not all perfect but they do have potential 😄😉

Man, has it been a minute! A whole month away from this book has felt weird but I am happy to be back 😄 it took me a couple of days as I have been trying to adopt the mindset of BC's Sherlock Holmes again by rewatching the series (for the millionth time and it still doesn't get old 😂).

Anyways - NEW CHAPTER AND IMMA BACK.

Which also means, if you are Marvel fans, that I am putting "An Entity Within" back on hold again while I finish this.

Do I regret not splitting the book so it would be more manageable for you all? YES. And I regret it for me too.

I can say that I will refuse to go over 100 chapters for this book - my plan is to finish it around 95 (fingers crossed).

Anyways! New chap - hope you enjoy! ❤

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"How is she?" John questioned Sherlock as they sat together in the kitchen.

Sherlock sighed, pausing his experiment to look at John through his safety glasses, "Didn't speak after it. Didn't sleep the first night. Didn't speak yesterday. Had a restless night last night but I think she slept somewhat and didn't speak again when she woke up. Oh, and has appeared to have set up permanent camp in the bedroom - I suspect it will only be a matter of time before her body leaves an unmoveable imprint in the mattress."

John nodded, frowning, "Eaten anything?"

"She has adopted my appetite for the time being."

"Oh, so tea, tea and more tea?"

"And the occasional biscuit."

"Of course, how could I forget the little food that you do eat?"

"John, do I detect sarcasm?"

"Well - "

The two men stopped their conversation at hearing the bedroom door open suddenly. Elizabeth appeared from the short corridor, dressed and ready for the day, handbag slung over her arm and all. John and Sherlock shared a look.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" John asked her out right.

She scoffed, of course she wasn't, but didn't respond as she headed for the bowl of fruit on the counter and grabbed a tiny tangerine.

"You shouldn't go to work so soo - " Sherlock tried to say, having already deduced what she was doing.

"I'm already late." She paused, not daring to look at them, "And I need this job."

Hesitant to leave her on her own, Sherlock spoke up again, "I can walk you - "

"I can walk myself." She headed to the kitchen door that led out to the landing,  "Be back later."

And off she went, jogging down the stairs. They heard the front door open and then close with a slam and all was quiet for a moment. John turned to look at Sherlock sympathetically as the detective stared out of the open kitchen door, slightly hurt by how quickly he had been rejected.

"Don't take it too personally." John advised, "She's hurting. She just needs some more time."

*  *  *  *  *

As Elizabeth walked the London streets to her new job, she felt the anger build up in her and slowly that anger fuelled her walking speed as she became quicker and more hasty. She entered the café, a furious jingle overhead as the bells above the door rung out, silencing the low chatter and drawing all attention towards her.

One of the café girls with dark hair and olive skin saw her and her face dropped as she approached. The customers all stared as the waitress stood in her path.

"Where is she?" Elizabeth growled at her supposed-to-be colleague.

"You need to calm down first, okay." The waitress subtly gestured around her, "We have customers. Do not cause a scene here."

"Then tell me where she is."

"Cleo's in the back. But please, calm down."

"I'll be fucking calm when I get fucking answers."

The waitress glared at her, stepping aside and allowing her to head through to the back. As Elizabeth headed towards the back, she felt she recognised the man behind the counter, pulling a tray of pastries out of the kitchen oven. Where had she seen him before? Where? Nevermind him now though, her mind needed to keep on track with what she was really here to do.

She entered Cleo's office, the door swinging open and frightening the ginger cat that sat in the basket on the desk. It trilled at the noise, ears plastered back as far as they would bend and two huge black eyes stared at Elizabeth.

Cleo sat there, brows raised by the thief's tantrum-like behaviour.

"You're late. I'm deducting it from your pay."

"Don't you dare give me that." Elizabeth snarled, her cheeks reddening with wrath as she pointed her finger at her new boss accusingly, "Don't you dare act normal after what you've done."

Ms Black stood from behind her desk and moved to shut the door, giving them more privacy. The frizzy-haired woman turned to look at Elizabeth, all calm and fine, without an inch of remorse for what she had done it had appeared to Elizabeth.

"You're upset but there's really no need to be."

"No need to be?" She practically roared at Ms Black who stood quietly by the door, "I watched one of your girls kill my friend."

Cleo scoffed, "Elizabeth, what did I text you?"

"That it would be okay! But it wasn't." Elizabeth's voice broke as she remembered Shaun too, another friend she had failed, "I heard the gunshot, we watched her fall, we watched her brains bleed out into the bloody Thames and I - I saw her body. None of that was okay. None of it!"

"Calm down."

"I swear to God if one more person says that to me - "

"Rita's alive."

"I'm going to fucking ki - "

Elizabeth stopped mid-sentence as she processed Cleo's statement. She shook her head and laughed through tears that spilt.

"No. No, I saw her body, I saw her, she was..."

Cleo shook her head, "I couldn't do that to her. She's my friend too, Elizabeth. It was faked."

"Her - her body - the gunshot - her funeral's next week."

Ms Black took Elizabeth gently by her upper arms and looked at her honestly, but spoke in a hushed tone, "We had a vote: a majority of the gang agreed that we should get rid of her but myself and a few others disagreed. Rita was shot with sheep's brains, hence the blood. Old trick but it looks real enough. The people who got her out of the Thames were from my brother's gang, my sister, and Gia, who you met in the café just now. When they got to the hospital, they took over the places of the technicians there - Gia did the make-up and my sister, who is training to be a doctor, discussed and gave Rita medication which would paralyse her muscles enough to pass as dead. It was...hard work but I did it for her. Rita is alive and as well as can be."

"But - the funeral - "

"There will be a different body. Lucky for us, they've said they want the casket closed."

"She's - "

"Fine. I know this is a shock but I couldn't risk you knowing. Your reaction had to be real as we know the Holmes's are quite observant."

"Where is she now?"

"At my family's home, with my sister. No one else can know."

"What's going to happen with Rita?"

"She stays at our house as long as she needs to treat herself and then she leaves."

"Where?"

Cleo shrugged, "She's a ghost to the world now and certainly has more than enough willing contacts to help her out. She can go where she pleases."

"Can I see her?"

"No."

"How will I know if you're telling the truth then?"

Cleo met her gaze sternly, "You'll have to trust me."

"Why can't I see her?"

"For your own good. Had you not decided to get with a formidable detective then maybe you could but we have to play this smart." Cleo warned, "They can't know she's alive therefore you have to keep your act of grief up. Depriving you of proof of life can do that thus keeping the heat off us."

"It wasn't just me that lost Rita." Elizabeth found the words leave her mouth and found she had surprised herself, "Mycroft - "

"Loved her, I know. But then he didn't when he found she was keeping something from them. She loved him too but his lack of trust broke her heart."

"His heart broke too."

Cleo scoffed, "Rita told me you didn't like him."

"I don't. But I saw what this did to him."

The boss shrugged again, "Shouldn't have distrusted her then, should he?"

"Shouldn't have abducted me then, should you?" Elizabeth retorted, knowing this had come about after they took her to beat.

Cleo scowled at her before pacing over to her desk and pulling out a waitress's uniform, chucking it on the tabletop.

"I asked you to be here early. You're late. Get to work."

*  *  *  *  *  *

Elizabeth unlocked the door to 221B finding Mrs Hudson in the hallway and unintentionally startling her. The dear lady held a hand to her chest in fright and gave a little chuckle when she saw that it was just her other lodger.

"Oh you did give me start then - "

But the thief didn't respond, just kept walking past her, blanking the land lady as she headed upstairs.

Mrs Hudson watched after her with a quiet, sympathetic 'ooh'.

She entered the flat and saw Sherlock sat in his chair, his hands steepled under his chin as he thought soundlessly. But when he heard the door creak, his eyes flashed open and his head looked to her. He looked her up and down as she paced over to the kitchen table to put her handbag on the table. She walked back in to the living area and headed straight for a book on a desk.

Stiff gait. Sharp movements. Avoiding eye contact and thus conversation altogether. Clenched jaw. A hint of a fist in her free hand.

"Anger. That's the second stage of grief - "

"Not in the mood, Sherlock."

"You are going to lash out at the people who are still here because you feel like there was something we could have done - "

"We could have." She turned to him, glaring daggers, "In fact you could have. You didn't have to accuse her or - or suspect her."

His head looked away from her and down to the floor, "Here's the lashing out."

"Oh Sherlock, for the love of God, shut up!" Elizabeth raised her voice at him, "I am not in the mood for any of your arrogant or sarky deductions. Just leave me the hell alone."

"We live together and share the same bed."

Oh, how her stormy eyes burned him then. He could tell he overstepped a mark then and raised his hands in defense.

"I'm merely trying to help you acknowledge what stage of grief you're going through right now so - "

"I didn't ask you to do that though, did I?" Came her sharp tongue.

Sherlock exhaled quietly before continuing, "So you and I both know that I don't blame you for the way you are acting right now."

Then, there was a sharp change in her facial reaction, one that went straight from the idea that she would reign hellfire across the flat if one more snarky comment was made to that of someone who was genuinely moved to the point of being upset with themselves. Sherlock watched this transition and stood as he did, as her gaze fell to the floor, too ashamed with herself to look at him. He approached her by the desk and gingerly raised a hand to her face, ensuring she would look at him.

"You're upset. Understandably so. But we all...care about you and you can try to push us away because of this but, because you're human, because we're human, we're not going to stop being there for you - I certainly won't."

Elizabeth didn't deserve his words. Watery guilt pricked at her eyes as she stared up into those chameleon eyes of his. His thumb gently stroked her cheek.

"I'm - I'm sorry." She whispered, her lips quivering.

"You're human. It's okay." Was all he said as he drew her head to his chest.

Her arms wrapped around him as he gently caressed her brown hair. That little hiccough and the dampness he felt on his shirt told him that her anger was gradually turning to sadness.

And she cried and she apologised.

But not for the behaviour Sherlock thought she was apologising for, but for her plan that could not yet be revealed. The plan that couldn't be revealed for the sake of those around her, for her own sake, because she knew if she were to tell them, they wouldn't hesitate in wanting to help. She couldn't let them help, couldn't let them know. It was safer this way.

Because the last time they had helped, Sherlock had almost died.

And she wouldn't - she couldn't - lose him too.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Cleo Black entered the riverside dockhouse in the early evening. The workers were gone for the day and she was alone as he had requested. She rounded one pile of boxes and saw her younger brother, Ivy's twin, held in place by a man who held a gun to his head.

"Cleo!"

"Jacob!"

"Ah, ah, ah." Moriarty shook his finger at the usurped queen as he walked out from behind her, strolling around to face her, "You want little Jakey here back in one piece, you listen to me."

"But Cleo!"

"SHUT. IT." Jim paced right on up to the young teen that was being held by Seb, "Listen, you little weasel, all you've done is whine, whine, whine and if you just so happen to whine again, I will cut out your tongue and force it down your own  THROAT!" He glared at the boy before straightening himself up again, "Capisch?"

The tearful teen boy nodded quickly as the consulting criminal paced on back to a terrified Cleo. One wrong move, one wrong word and who knew? It could be the end for herself or her younger brother - neither of which she wanted but the latter she definitely wanted less so. Jim smiled at her.

"Quite a simple one: get the ball rolling."

"I've only just hired her."

"You know what the first job is - bring the date forwards. I'm getting impatient."

"The planning - "

"You'll just need to reorganise a few things."

"It's not that easy."

"God, if you find it this difficult maybe I'll just go elsewhere...and take your brothers with me."

Cleo stepped forward as she snapped, "You dare..."

Moriarty smirked, stepping forwards also until he was a mere centimeter away from her face, "You know I will. Don't think I won't, Cleo."

Her gaze flicked to the side of his head, where, just over his shoulder, she saw her panicking little brother. Her eyes met with the psychopath's once again and she swallowed. Accepting defeat. At least this way she would get one of her brothers back.

"Alright. We'll move the dates forward."

"Excellent." Jim smiled, walking off behind a pile of crates, only to drag out a groaning, roughed-up Chris.

"Chris?" Cleo's expression was one of hurt at seeing the state of her other brother.

Jim dropped him about a meter in front of her with a sullen thud as his back hit the floor and Chris groaned, "I'll let you take this one back - he's borrring. I still want to see if your brother with the girly scream is going to annoy me enough to remove his tongue. Might have to take his little finger off first though."

The psychopath grinned and gestured with his hand for Seb to start taking Jacob away and back to their car. Jim gave a little wave of his hand as he turned to walk away from her.

"Cleo! Cleo, help me!"

"Jacob!" She stepped after him, "Moriarty - "

Jim stopped in his tracks, still facing away from her as a devilish smile played on his lips, "Yes, Ms Black?"

"Please." She begged, "Give Jacob back to me too - "

"No."

"Please. He's not supposed to be a part of this life. I'll do anything!"

"Yes. You will. And especially while I still have him."

"Cleo!"

"Shut it!" Jim hissed at young Jacob, "Do you want to lose your tongue?! Because I want you to so just say one more word and..." Jim stuck his tongue out and imitated cutting his own tongue out, a fearsome look in his eyes as he did.

The teen shook his head quickly, eyes as wide as a lamb being led off for slaughter. Cleo sent her brother a sympathetic look but had no words of her own.

"'Til the next time, Cleo." He waved again, "Laterz."

And the criminal left with his right-hand man and her brother. Cleo looked back at Chris, rushing over to be by his side and brushing his matted hair out of his face.

"Chris? Christopher? Stay with me."

*  *  *  *  *  *

Thursday, Friday and Saturday had passed quickly. Now Sunday was saying its goodbyes until the next weekend.

Late night; maybe midnight, maybe before, maybe after - she didn't know. Rain pitter-pattered onto London rooftops, those that were sloped sending  a clear stream of liquid down the gutters with a gentle watery rumble, splashing out onto the tarmac ground below.

Like a shadow in the night, she slunk around in the alleyways in all black except from the pure white blanket kindly bundled in her arms. She reached the end of the maze of buildings and sighed as she looked out across the streets.

The bundle in her arms shifted and she dared a look down at the sleeping babe, eyelids still closed, button nose red from the cold. Softly, she gazed at her daughter. One day she would understand that this was for her own benefit. She was just terribly sorry it had to happen like this.

Another look back out at the shimmering streets as she cradled her baby girl and she decided it was time. Time to say goodbye to her.

The mother stepped out and calmly paced down the empty streets, the occasional car rolling past, until she came to a black door with golden numbers and letters on the front.

221B.

Where better to leave your daughter other than in the hands of a well-known detective who would hopefully understand all the whys (from what she had heard anyway)?

Glancing back down at the snoozing child, she placed a kiss upon the top of her brow, inhaling that newborn smell that all mothers loved so much for the last time. Her baby girl would be safe. That was what she had to remember.

Carefully, she laid the blanket down on the doorstep and checked that her note was left within the blanket.

"Bye-bye, my sweet girl." She whispered.

Standing back up straight, she knocked on the door with a loud bang, waking her daughter in the process who began to cry. The mother's heart broke but knew she couldn't stay and hurried back the way she had came, darting behind the wall, lingering to check that someone would open the door and take her girl in.

At hearing the loud knock so late at night, of course Mrs Hudson awoke.

And when she opened the front door to see who was there, only for her gaze to fall upon a crying baby, she gasped softly.

"Oh my!" The land lady crouched to pick up the baby bundle, shushing her quietly as she shut the door.

The mother breathed a sigh of relief.

Her daughter was safe.

Now, she just had to get away.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Sherlock's violin cranked out a peaceful tune as Elizabeth sat, curled up in John's chair, admiring the calming melody. He had started playing for her the tune he had first played her, the tune he had come up with on the spot, her tune. Sherlock saw how she loved it and adored the attention she paid to his music, clearly lost in the song as well as each other's gazes.

"Sherlock! Elizabeth! John!" Mrs Hudson called up the stairs.

Elizabeth looked over to the door and then back at Sherlock who silently conveyed that she should go check. He couldn't leave a tune unfinished after all.

The thief stood, opening their flat door and walked down stairs.

"Everything alright, Mrs Hudson?"

The landlady turned around to show the sleeping baby in her arms and her eyes widened.

"Some poor soul left this little one on our door step. I checked outside but there wasn't anyone else around."

"I - they just left a baby?"

Mrs Hudson nodded, "Elizabeth, can you take them? I'm afraid I'm finding them a little bit heavy."

"Of course." Elizabeth held out her hands to receive the child who had been lulled back to sleep, "I - I can take care of them. Perhaps you should head back to bed?"

"Yes, I think that's a good idea. You're alright with taking them to Sherlock?"

Elizabeth nodded, wishing Mrs Hudson a good night before heading back upstairs. Sherlock was now facing the window, playing a different, softer tune. He had barely heard them come in he was so focused on the music.

"Sherlock?"

The detective turned, a peaceful look on his face - that was until he saw the baby in her arms and his playing froze, brow bunched as he stared at them blankly. He lowered the instrument, letting the bow and violin dangle in his arms as he blinked at them, tilting his head curiously.

"I don't - recall us - me - you - a baby?" He gestured with his violin bow between them, puzzlement beautifully lighting up his expression, "Babies don't - happen that - quick?"

Elizabeth chuckled quietly, "Oh, so you've thought about it?"

"Hm? What? No. No, of course not." He swallowed quickly, "Not at all. That would be - "

"Fine." Elizabeth finished for him, a soft smile on her lips at the thought herself as she stepped over to him, "Left on our doorstep. I said Mrs H should go back to bed and we'd take care of it - them. John has work tomorrow, I don't think we should wake him."

Sherlock peered down at the dozing early human, disgusted and intrigued by it at the same time. The crazy scientist in him considered using the child for Pavlovian conditioning experiments very briefly. He wondered he could get a baby to learn how to -

"Stop it." Elizabeth moved the baby away from him.

"Stop what?"

"You're staring at the kid like you're going to use them for, I don't know, world domination."

Sherlock shrugged, pulling a face that said 'why not'? Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head, moving the blanket slightly, only to see a piece of paper peek out. The detective peered over her shoulder and reached around to slip out the note.

"Her name is Ava. Please look after her. Please keep her safe." Sherlock flipped the note around, squinted at it closely, even sniffed at the paper, "Definitely a woman. A woman in danger to be more precise and so much so that she has given up care of her daughter to a detective which means a..."

Elizabeth and Sherlock looked at each other, both speaking up at the same time, "Client."

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A/N - adding on random notes because it's being difficult with savinggg