A/N - This is a really quick fire (but long) chapter as I wanted to just tie up the case in one and not 2 chapters like originally planned so close to 5000 words for this chap 😉

WARNINGS - peeps being risqué right off the bat and also heavy swearing towards the middle (because we all know that person that swears like a sailor, don't we?).

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Elizabeth awoke to Sherlock's fingers lightly circling and tickling the palm of her hand. The detective pressed his cupid-bow lips to her bare tan shoulder, trailing chaste kisses back up to her ear.

"Good morning."

The thief felt a tender smile cross her lips as he moved his hand to rest it on her bare stomach, only to then decide that he would gently pull her so that she would lie on her back under the covers which she obliged to. Sherlock had propped himself up on his left arm, staring down at her as though she were the most precious piece of art in all the world. He tucked a loose piece of hair behind her left ear, his thumb lightly grazing her cheek, as he gazed at her.

"I never knew you had two birthmarks until last night."

Elizabeth giggled quietly, rolling her eyes. Of all the things he could say...but she would play along. She narrowed her eyes playfully at him.

"That's probably because I don't walk around nude like a certain Ms Adler."

Sherlock scoffed, collapsing onto his back and making the bed bounce slightly as he did. The thief turned her head to look at him, taking in the stunning profile of his. After the mention of Ms Adler, her mind crept towards one question, the answer of which she grew more curious of.

"I don't mean to pry but...was I your first?"

"Hm?" Sherlock turned his head and frowned thoughtfully at her.

"The nickname that she - well, Jim - had given you?"

Sherlock looked back up at ceiling,  "Yes..." He answered honestly, his eyes now tracing invisible nervous patterns above him, "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No!" Elizabeth propped herself up on her right arm to gaze down at Sherlock now, "No, you...you did everything right..."

He still couldn't meet her gaze so she took the initiative, letting her hand slide across his unclothed chest, stopping once she had reached his face and gently made him look at her.

"Sherlock, last night..." A red hue rose in her cheeks as she thought back to it, "Last night was the best. The other times - you probably don't even want to think about that but I do have a point to make - the other times didn't...didn't feel like...love. The other times were all forgettable moments that never meant anything, they always meant nothing but fulfilling a...a physical desire - again I know you don't want to think about it but - but my point is last night...last night meant something. Last night...we had something that wasn't nothing...and that something felt like...not just desire but it felt like love...I haven't felt like that before."

A soft smile brushed his lips. Elizabeth was right, Sherlock really didn't want the idea of her being in bed with other men in his head after last evening but she had made a point that made his heart sing. He was special to her as she was to him.

"Your performance last night was acceptable." Came his monotone response.

Elizabeth pulled a face at him and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Ah! I was kidding."

"Not the time, you idiot." Elizabeth gave him a coltish frown, "Besides you have nothing else to compare me to so by default I'm the best you ever had."

"And simultaneously the worst by your own admission if I have no one else to compare you to."

"Ohohoho okay. You want to play that game? Fine then."

Challenged, she slid her leg over his torso so she could straddle him. Sherlock shifted beneath her, his breath hitching as she smirked at him, resting her hands on his chest.

"What time is it?" She looked over at their analogue clock and saw it was half six, "My shift starts in an hour."

"Okay..."

"You have a case to solve today."

"Y - yes..."

"You need to find Ava's mum."

"Yea - " Sherlock swallowed as she shifted her own body against his.

Elizabeth leant down, nipping at the skin on his neck. Sherlock groaned softly which elicited a mischievous smile from her as she stopped, moving to whisper in his ear.

"Solve the case before I get back."

"And - ahem - then what?"

The thief sat back up and shrugged, "Then we'll see."

And then she swung her left leg over him, the sheets falling from her shoulders as she did, just so she could sit on the other side of the bed. Sherlock watched her, not entirely sure what had just happened but all he knew is that he wanted her to stay...even if it was just for a little bit longer.

The thief stood, only a little unbothered by the fact she was clothes-less, and approached the gowns on the back of the bedroom door, again choosing the blue one to slip over her body. Sherlock had watched enchanted and she smirked at him when she turned to face him again.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay..."

She approached the bathroom door, leaning against it, "I have an hour."

"Yes. You said."

"You can do a lot in an hour." A coy smile crossed her lips, "So I'll leave this door...unlocked..."

And then she disappeared into the bathroom and Sherlock heard the low rumble of the shower through the wall. He processed her words for a moment. They were an invitation. Should he take it? He didn't want to be the reason that she might be late for work and for a reason such as intimacy. Before she had said for him to solve Ava's case before she got back from work which was a suggestion that, should he succeed, perhaps a reenactment of last night would occur...he found himself wondering if he could wait that long.

Sherlock's gaze looked towards the bathroom door again and he huffed. She had to make this difficult, didn't she? He rubbed his hands over his eyes, tortured by his indecisiveness. But he had to choose quickly because she didn't take any longer than ten minutes.

His arms fell by his sides as he stared back up at the ceiling, drawing a mental pros and cons list. But then he stopped, rarely deciding to go with his heart instead of his head.

"Oh, screw it." He muttered to himself, throwing the covers off him and headed straight for the bathroom.

*  *  *  *  *  *

"Well, you're looking a little brighter this morning." Came Cleo's voice as she let Elizabeth in to the manager's office, "There a reason?"

"Not really, just...content."

"Lovely." Cleo took a seat at her desk, giving the ginger cat a little scratch behind his ears, "We have a job coming up. Fourteenth of March. I want you there."

"First proper job? What is it?"

"We are performing a bank heist. As our most experienced thief, I'd like you to come along and show off your skills."

Elizabeth nodded, "Where? How many of us?"

"Bank of England of course. Team of five including myself."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and whistled. While she was doing this to get information in order to bring the gang down, she couldn't help but be excited. It was something not as difficult as a case, nor as stressful as a mission but something just for her. And the Bank of England? Oh, was she in love - she was still taking this gang down but that didn't mean she couldn't have fun while doing so. Briefly, she wondered why Jim hadn't sent her to the Bank of England while she had worked with him. Seemed like a pretty easy target...but then again, maybe that was why.

"Sounds good. I'm in."

*  *  *  *  *  *

Sherlock was sat in his chair, in his dark purply-red gown, right leg crossed over the left, scanning the newspaper as he awaited for his doctor friend to appear. John appeared with Ava in his arms somewhat shyly and when he saw Sherlock he paused, considering what words to use carefully.

Having forgotten to take a pack of nappies upstairs with him, he had returned to collect them from the kitchen and had heard things he wished he hadn't heard. While he was happy for his friend, it was just one of those things that you didn't really want to think about especially when it was with his other friend.

"Uh, sleep well?"

"Yes. Didn't hear any crying last night, John. You are obviously a natural."

"Don't suppose you would have." John instantly realised this impulsive statement was a little telling judging by Sherlock's look of instantaneous deduction, "I mean, we were upstairs. You were downstairs. It's quite a way for sound to travel, isn't it? Look, Ava wants to say hello, you clearly made some impression on her yesterday."

John sat the baby down in his chair and went straight to the kitchen to make her another bottle.

Sherlock swallowed dryly having failed to come to a conclusion with his deductions, "Hello Ava. Today we find your mother."

"Aren't we going to wait for Elizabeth?"

"She challenged me to finish the case before she got home because..." He stopped his sentence right there.

Well, John didn't need to know his motivations for today. That was a matter between himself and his partner. No one else. Not even John. Just a matter between himself, Elizabeth and potentially the bed...or shower...

"Challenge you?"

"Challenges are...motivating."

"You didn't want to find her mother?"

"I do. I just...challenges can be fun too."

John chuckled, "Yeah but Sherlock, you rarely need motivation when you have a case because you enjoy the high it gives you. Why does she want the case finished before she gets back?"

Sherlock shrugged and rose the newspaper to hide his face.

"Sh-ahh-ba." Came Ava's gargly input.

Sherlock briefly lowered the paper to peek at her, one eyebrow raised, "No one asked you."

"Ba-ja-bah."

"Is Sherlock ignoring you, eh?" John asked Ava as he strolled back over to her, "You'll have to get used to that. He ignores me all the time."

Sherlock let the paper fall on his lap, "I do not ignore you."

"But you do forget I'm here."

"I do not."

"Yeah, you do."

"Not always."

"A lot of the time."

"Yah-yah-yah." Ava added.

Sherlock frowned at the baby girl, "You're not supposed to agree, Ava."

"Sha-ba-bah." The baby girl squealed and pointed at Sherlock accusingly.

"Sherlock is bad sometimes, isn't he?" John nodded, amusement lighting his face.

The detective huffed as he sat there, glaring at Ava. Little humans could be so rude sometimes. It was ridiculous. Why did no one teach them any manners?

"So how come the case wasn't solved last night then?" John hedged his bets as to the answer he would receive.

"What?"

"You made it sound like the case was easy to solve yesterday."

"Because it is."

"So what happened to solving it last night?"

The detective's eyes narrowed slightly. Sherlock knew John knew something judging by his awkward demeanor this morning, it was just a matter of what. John now wondered if Sherlock had actually caught on to what he had meant.

"Did you...have fun last night?" John decided to make what he knew more obvious due to Sherlock's obliviousness.

Sherlock nodded slowly, "I slept well."

John fought back a chuckle, "Yeah, uh...I forgot her nappies last night."

The detective blinked at his friend, processing what this meant and then looked away, at the fire place, where his gaze silently screamed the fact of how much he wished death upon himself after this. He gulped, shutting his eyes and mentally erasing himself from existence.

"So...you...?" He pointed at his own ear to convey the word 'heard'.

"Yeah...I'm...I'm happy for you." John resolved, trying to make it a bit less awkward, "I'm happy that you are becoming that little bit more human every day and all because of Elizabeth."

Sherlock's hand moved to grab his cup of tea, nodding in appreciation but still not daring to meet his gaze. As he raised the cup to his lips John spoke up again.

"So if it's a boy, you'll call him Hamish won't you?"

Sherlock Holmes almost choked on his tea.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The front door opened, revealing Sherlock and John stood there with smiles on their faces. The detective had his hands clasped behind his back, swaying on the balls of his feet as he looked at the tall, buff inhabitant.

"Hello there, Mr Holt is it?" Sherlock greeted, "We're here regarding your missing daughter, Amelia, and grandchild, Ava. Name's Sherlock Holmes and this is my assistant, John Watson."

The man nodded solemnly, standing to the side and invited them in.

Moments later, John and Mr Holt were sat in the front room. Sherlock stood, analysing framed photographs that decorated the windowsill. John had his notepad open and pen ready to record anything of importance. Mr Holt watched the detective looking his photos curiously.

In all of them spoke the closeness between father and daughter - arms around each other's shoulders, fatherly forehead kisses, enjoyable family birthdays and a single photo of a loving grandfather to a baby Ava.

"My wife died young, when Mills was only four. It was a struggle but I loved my daughter and loved my wife more than enough to not want to let either of 'em down...either of you have children?"

"God no." Came Sherlock's quick reply but then he paused, looking over his shoulder and catching John's warning gaze, "But I'm sure they are...wonderful."

Mr Holt looked at John but the doctor also shook his head.

"Do you want them?"

This question made Sherlock's mind go off track. Did he want them? Ava was hard work...what would a mini Holmes be like? What would Mrs Holmes - Mrs Parrish - Holmes-Parrish - Parrish-Holmes - Elizabeth Holmes (that had a nice ring to it) be like with a child? What would he be like as a father...would he fail as spectacularly as he was doing with Ava? No, no, he was certain he would be more prepared if he had a child of his own. Only if. That wasn't a definite yes.

"Maybe." John shrugged, "I guess it all depends on if I meet the right person or not."

The two men looked at Sherlock again who appeared to be dissociating again as his gaze remained on a spot on the floor. John cleared his throat to garner his friend's attention. Sherlock blinked at them both.

"I don't know. Continue."

"When you've looked after your child for so long on your own and it's time for them to leave the nest...it's terrible. Old enough to make their own decision but you know that life isn't done throwing hits at them yet. So you just hope that the hits that are given aren't...aren't gonna be too bad." Mr Holt shook his head, "I haven't seen my daughter for months. I was there for Ava's birth but after that...gone."

"Did Amelia have a partner?"

"Yes. Boyfriend, Lee."

"Lee who?" John enquired.

"Lee Moss. Always gave me an odd feeling that one but they loved each other, you could certainly see that at Ava's birth. Couldn't keep each other's eyes off each other and he certainly couldn't leave her side."

"Tell me why he was odd." Demanded Sherlock.

Mr Holt shrugged, "Before they met, Mills and I called each other twice a week. After it became once a week. And then gradually less until I barely heard from her at all. I didn't even know she was pregnant until the hospital phoned me."

Sherlock frowned, his suspicions growing.

"Where do they li - "

Hammering at the door drew their attention.

"Arthur! Open this fucking door, where's  'Melia? Where's my daughter? Arthur! I'm gonna break this door down if you don't fucking open it."

The three men all looked at each other. Sherlock sighed, thankful that for once, the criminal came directly to him.

"Mr Holt, I believe Mr Moss has been abusing your daughter hence your lack of communication with her. The only reason you were at Ava's birth was because Amelia must have been alone for at least a short amount of time to get a message to a nurse. But you said when you were there he couldn't leave her side, clearly aware that she may say something. Some women in abusive relationships have it dawn on them when they fall pregnant that raising a baby with a violent partner is by no means a good thing. The baby is their eye opener and she was clearly looking for a way out. Mr Holt, don't worry about your granddaughter, Amelia left Ava with us and she is currently with our landlady."

"That..." Mr Holt's face reddened as he listened, looking out into the hallway with a murderous intent, "I'm gonna - "

"For the sake of your granddaughter, I suggest you phone the police." John jumped in.

"John and I will deal with Mr Moss. C'mon John." Sherlock beckoned his friend to follow him to the door.

Just as Lee was about to kick the door open, Sherlock opened it, pulling John by his sleeve out of the way of the kick and promptly watched Lee fall flat on his face. He growled up at the two men and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" Lee slurred as he stood back up before yelling again, "'Melia! Arthur, where the fuck is Amelia!"

Sherlock took a strong sniff, the scent of alcohol drifting into his lungs and coughed a bit. Alcoholic. Probably threatened Amelia in a drunk rage and when he passed out she took her chance to go. Must be with a refuge...nothing his homeless network couldn't help with - they could locate her quicker and more discreetly. No doubt someone saw her leave the baby on their doorstep.

"Mr Moss, you're an abusive alcoholic so quite frankly you shouldn't be surprised that your partner left you. That said, who knows if that will penetrate your dense mind given the state you're in."

"Listen here you fucking prick, who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."

"I've done nothing wrong you hear me! You have no right to - "

"Call you a drunken abuser?"

"How do you even fucking know I drink? Haven't touched a fucking drop since yesterday...Amelia! Arthur, where the hell are you!?"

Sherlock shared a look with John, unimpressed and quite frankly fed up with the behaviour of this man. The detective sighed, looking at Lee with disdain - he would still have his fun though. John watched the following exchange in awe (as always) like a cat at a tennis match.

"How do I know?" Sherlock very briefly looked the man up and down, "Other than the obvious fetid scent of alcohol practically dripping from you and your evident slurring, your hands are red, otherwise known as palmar erythema, which is a common symptom of chronic alcoholic liver disease. If that doesn't scream that you should be putting down the bottle, then there's also your nails: judging by the white bands running parallel to your lunula with normal pink nail between the bands, I surmise you have muehrcke nails again associated with heavy drinkers. Then there's the state of your facial profile: jaundice in the eyes is always very telling and aside from your face reddening in the cheeks, a more notable point is the talengiectases on your right cheek and neck."

He took a breath before continuing, "And how do I know you've been abusive to Amelia? Well, the state of your knuckles for one, those are the knuckles of a man who has hit something and hit something hard - how do I know it's a person and not a surface? Well, judging by the fact that Amelia took her newborn Ava and left you after you had passed out tells me that something is very wrong in your household. That and the scratch on your left cheek tells me it was person - particularly a woman - because inanimate objects don't fight back, Mr Moss. Add on the fact that you've been limiting her contact to her father? And, wild guess, probably getting her to cut ties with her friends? The evidence speaks for itself, doesn't it?"

"None of your fucking business!" Let boomed, "Arthur!"

The two friends were glad that Mr Holt was taking their advice to call the police and were also impressed that he continued to remove himself from the situation. The mention of his granddaughter was clearly more than enough motivation for Mr Holt to keep away. Mr Moss moved to go further into the house but John stood in his way, just as they saw the police car pull up outside.

"For everyone's benefit, I think it's best if you stay right there."

Lee, practically fire-engine-red with rage, now threw a lazy punch at John, which still roughly caught him on his nose before Sherlock could intervene, pushing him out the door and promptly sending an incapacitating jab to Mr Moss himself, who proceeded to fall on the ground, flat on his back. His alcohol intake probably helped to put him to sleep.

Sherlock turned to John, "Are you alright?"

The doctor had his head tilted back, blood running from his nose, "Yeah. Yep. Just fine. Great even." He peeked past his hand at the unconscious Mr Moss, "Quite a punch you gave him."

The detective offered a small smile, "No one hurts my blogger."

The police car called by Mr Holt finally pulled up in front of the house.

*  *  *  *  *  *

A woman wearing black joggers and a grey hoodie pulled tightly around her walked out of the back door of the Women's Refuge centre in Croydon. In her hand was a black bin bag that she took to the bins. She opened the lid, threw in the bag and let the lid shut with an echoey clash.

"Amelia Holt?"

She spun, terror in her eyes at who the stranger would be.

Sherlock walked from out of the shadows, "It's alright. I didn't mean to scare you." He reassured and then introduced himself, "Sherlock Holmes. I believe you hired me."

Amelia frowned at him, puzzled. It had been a day since she had left. How could he be here? How on earth did he find her so fast? She had heard he was good but she thought she would have more time. She opened her mouth to speak but had no words.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade is holding your partner currently and while my deductions are sound, we still need a statement from you if you want to put him away."

Her lips quivered as she pulled back her hood so she could let the detective see the state of her, "I - Ava wasn't safe."

"She's safe now. You're safe now but you have to make a statement." He paused, "They'll take photos of your eye - of the bruises - as evidence. Your word will be the final nail."

"Will they believe me though?"

"Yes."

"Even after I abandoned Ava?"

"And left her in the care of a private detective while you sorted yourself out."

"I didn't sort anything."

"No. Because I took your case and sorted it for you. Will you come to the station and give a statement?"

"Is Ava okay?"

"Yes." Sherlock paused thinking of Elizabeth, "She brought a lot of...light to us."

Amelia gave a misty-eyed smile, "Thank you."

Sherlock nodded, "Come to Baker Street. You can see your daughter before you make your statement to the police."

*  *  *  *  *  *

Elizabeth hurried up the stairs to 221B, clearly exhausted after a full day at the café. Who knew they could get so busy? Who knew the work could actually become hard! Thank God she was back home.

Opening the door, she was surprised to find a strange woman sat on the sofa with baby Ava in her lap. She looked up at Elizabeth, alarmed by the sound of the door opening so fast. The thief's gaze softened when she saw her bruised face and it clicked in her head about who this person must be.

Elizabeth smiled a friendly smile, "Hi. You must be Ava's mum?"

"Y - yes. I'm sorry I left her here, I hope she wasn't a burden - "

"No! No, not at all, she was wonderful." The thief reassured, "Truly lovely. You're daughter was an angel."

"She was sick on me." Sherlock announced, walking into the lounge with two cups of tea in hand, one for Amelia.

"An angel to some of us then."

Amelia chuckled, "That's babies for you."

"But no, really, she was sweet." Added John as he walked in with two cups as well handing one to Elizabeth, "Sherlock said you'd be home soon."

"Thanks, John." Elizabeth nodded, impressed with the service, before addressing the three of them, "So, um, what's happening now? How did the day go?"

"Ms Holt's partner is currently being held at Scotland Yard. All those missing people pages online, found the profile that matched her, most likely a plea made by her partner, then tracked down her father. Luckily, we didn't even need to go and find Mr Moss because he came straight to Mr Holt's door in a drunken stupor while John and I were there. I had my homeless network track down Amelia." Sherlock shared an understanding look with Amelia, "They are about to make a statement down at the station."

"Which means Ava won't be staying much longer?" Elizabeth said with a little sigh, looking at the baby's little face lovingly.

"I'm sorry if you got attached." Amelia spoke quietly, "I didn't know any where safer to bring her. Lee would have gone to my dad's immediately - as you experienced - but I didn't think he would've thought about coming here. And I just needed some time to organise myself and where I was going next."

"Have you sorted that now?" John asked.

"Not completely but the refuge said they would help. I'll speak to dad about it too after the statement."

Elizabeth popped her handbag down by the sofa and placed her tea on the coffee table, taking a seat by Amelia so she could coo at Ava for one last time. Ava gave them both this wide toothless smile and a happy babble. The two women grinned at the little girl.

Sherlock watched this exchange between Elizabeth and Ava again, this time eliciting the corners of his mouth to subtly turn upwards. John, who smiled more obviously at their exchange looked over his shoulder at Sherlock. At seeing his reaction, the doctor took a few steps back until he was stood next to the detective.

"So...you will put Hamish on the list, won't you?"

Sherlock Holmes instantaneously glared daggers into his friend.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The cloudy grey of the day progressively faded into the blueberry blue of the late February evening. The lights were on in 221B and in the window stood the detective, admiring the quiet and yet also finding he missed the excitement that a baby had brought to the flat.

Elizabeth silently crept up behind him, slinking her arms around his front and fiddling with one of his purple shirt buttons as she rested the side of her head against his back. At the feeling of her hands, Sherlock gently rested his own hands on top of hers. A dejected sigh left her lips.

"You know you're a private detective?"

"Consulting - "

"Yeah, whatever, you're basically a private detective...I have a new business proposition."

"We are not running a babysitting service."

"221B Babysitting Service has such a nice ring to it though."

"Absolutely not."

"Spoil sport." Elizabeth chuckled, moving her head to kiss his shoulder through his shirt, "You liked looking after Ava by the end of it."

Sherlock remained silent as to his answer for this. He didn't. He did. But he didn't really (of course he did though, particularly the violin playing). He turned to face the thief of his heart and looked at her softly.

"You want children, don't you?"

Elizabeth shrugged, "I don't know...maybe? Not now..."

Most definitely not now with all the silent chaos going on within their lives. Too much stress if one added a baby on top. So no, not now. But maybe...

"One day?"

Elizabeth nodded, "What about you?"

"I don't...know."

"One day?"

Sherlock nodded, albeit a little unsure. He was certain that if he did though, he would want them with Elizabeth. There was no one else in the world that could understand him like she could (apart from John, Molly, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade...maybe Mycroft?).

"Where's John?"

"Went out for a date with a woman that he probably won't end up in a long lasting relationship with."

Elizabeth gave the detective a disapproving look, "And Mrs Hudson?"

"In her own apartment most likely."

Elizabeth's frown faded as she looked over her shoulder to see that the door to their flat was closed and looked back at Sherlock, giving him a kittenish smile. She took some steps back, holding onto his hands as she did to pull him with her.

"You solved the case before I got home."

"I did."

"Therefore, I recall myself saying 'we'll see' what happens after."

"And what is going to happen?"

"Guess we'll see...in the bedroom."

An amorous smile crossed the lips of Sherlock Holmes as he followed after his lover...