"Upstairs," Phoebe said to Sherlock before she went up to the bedroom where John was checking on Kate who was unconscious.

John stood up and looked at Sherlock. "Must have come in this way."

"Clearly," Sherlock responded, going over into the side room.

"It's alright. She's just out cold," John said to Irene as she looked at Kate.

"Well God knows she's used to that. There's a back door. Better check it, Dr Watson," Irene said and Phoebe hummed as Sherlock gave a slight nod.

"I'll go with," Phoebe spoke and she went down stairs with John.

"Are you okay, Phoebe?" John asked as he walked beside her.

"Yeah. It's not the first time I've been held at gunpoint. I'm fine," Phoebe said as she flashed him a small smile.

She heard a thud come from upstairs and she turned.

"What?" John questioned, looking to where she was gazing.

"Come on," she said quickly, running back up the stairs.

When they got back into Irene's room, Sherlock was on the floor and Irene was walking away from him with a leather crop.

"What are you doing?" Phoebe asked immediately as she rushed to Sherlock's side.

"He'll sleep for a few hours," Irene said as she walked to the window. "Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse."

"What's this? What have you given him?" John asked after he pulled the syringe from Sherlock's arm.

"Sherlock?" Phoebe put a hand on his cheek, trying to get him to respond.

"He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends," Irene said as she sat in the open window.

"Sherlock, can you hear me?" Phoebe asked as she tapped his cheek only for him to let out a groan. She felt relieved that he at least wasn't dead.

"You know, I was wrong about him. He did know where to look," Irene said as she held onto a rope.

John turned to look at her. "For what? What are you talking about?"

"The keycode to my safe," Irene answered.

"What was it?" John asked curiously.

"Shall I tell him?" Irene looked at Sherlock who was trying to turn over and Phoebe helped him so if he threw up, he wouldn't choke. "My measurements."

With that, Irene swung out the window from the rope she was holding and disappeared.

🔎

Phoebe peeked into Sherlock's room and saw that he was still unconscious.

She sighed softly and walked over, sitting beside him on his bed. She ran her hand through his curls gently and looked at his face.

"What am I supposed to do? I want you to be a bad person. I need you to be stupid and careless and just... not you... I need you to be someone I could never fall in love with..." Phoebe whispered as she closed her eyes.

She hated that she had fallen for him all over again. She didn't even know why she loved him.

"I don't want to love you, Sherlock. I know that you don't love me back. At least not because you just don't want me. I wish you could give me a chance though. Just one chance."

She sighed and gently pressed a brief kiss to his forehead. She rubbed her thumb against his cheek as she rested her forehead on his.

"But I know that it will never happen. No matter how hard I try."

She then got up and walked out with a soft sigh.

🔎

"How is he?" Phoebe asked after a couple hours and John looked up.

"He's okay. He woke up and is still really out of it. He's not dead though," John replied.

"What a shame," Phoebe joked playfully to which John snorted. "I'm gonna check on him one more time."

"Suit yourself," John said and Phoebe went to Sherlock's room.

She knocked gently and he grumbled something so she opened the door.

"Sherlock?" Phoebe looked at him as she walked over to his bedside. "Are you okay?"

"Do you think I'm sexy?" He asked suddenly and she spluttered.

"What kind of question is that?" She backed up a bit.

"Miss Adler said that brainy is the new sexy. Do you find me sexy?" Sherlock looked at her with a completely screwy look.

"I'm... not gonna answer that question," Phoebe said uncomfortably.

"If she's right then you are very sexy," Sherlock looked her up and down.

"You are definitely not okay. I'm gonna go now," Phoebe said as she turned to leave.

"Won't you stay?" Sherlock sat up as he watched her.

"Why?" Phoebe looked back at him.

"Because I-"

There was a moaning sound from the phone on his bed.

"What was that?" Phoebe asked immediately.

"A goodnight text," Sherlock replied as he looked at the notification.

"I see..." Phoebe fiddled with her necklace.

"So, are you gonna stay?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea." Phoebe opened the door.

"Will you join us for breakfast then?" Sherlock asked as he lied back down.

"Sure," Phoebe agreed softly.

Sherlock smiled and watched as Phoebe left.

She went back to her flat and when she was lying in bed, all she could think about was Sherlock.

She sighed and stared at her ceiling, having been afraid of this happening.

She had only herself to blame for falling in love.

But why did it have to be Sherlock Holmes?

🔎

"The photographs are perfectly safe," Sherlock said as he sat at the table in the living room of 221B Baker Street.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker," Mycroft replied as he stood in front of the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, looking at the three people sitting at the table.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants... protection, for some reason," Sherlock said as he thought about what she could need protection from. "I take it you stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house."

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied?" Mycroft gave his little brother a harsh look.

"She'd applaud your choice of words," Sherlock remarked as he looked up at Mycroft. "Do you see how this works? That camera phone is her get out of jail free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

"Though not the way she treats royalty," John joked and Phoebe snorted.

There was suddenly a moaning sound which made Phoebe look up.

"Wasn't me!" She threw her hands up in defense.

"What was that?" John looked at Sherlock.

"Text," Sherlock answered plainly as he put down his newspaper, going over to get his phone.

"But what was that noise?" John asked, only to be ignored.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John, Phoebe, and I in there?" Sherlock asked as he looked at the goodmorning text he got from Irene. "CIA trained killers, I think an excellent guess."

"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft," John said as he looked to the man.

"John and I almost got our lives cut short," Phoebe grumbled.

"I thought you would be going to work. I thought only John and Sherlock would go since you normally like to avoid Sherlock if you can. Plus it was your shift. I timed it accordingly," Mycroft said and John was shocked.

"Oh, so you'll let Sherlock and I get killed, but you tried to protect Phoebe?" John huffed.

"It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes," Mrs Hudson said as she put some food in front of Sherlock and looked into his cup to see if he needed more tea.

"Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson," Mycroft scoffed.

"Mycroft!" John, Phoebe, and Sherlock shouted in unison.

Mycroft looked between the group before looking back at Mrs Hudson. "Apologies."

"Thank you," Mrs Hudson said before walking back to the kitchen.

"Though do in fact shut up," Sherlock said as he looked back at his newspaper, flinching when Phoebe kicked his shin.

His phone moaned again and Mrs Hudson looked back at Sherlock. "Oh, it's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?"

Sherlock just looked at his phone and ignored the text.

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do, as far as I can see," Sherlock said to Mycroft.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her," Mycroft said as he shifted on his feet.

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her username is TheWhipHand," Sherlock replied as he looked at his newspaper.

"Yes, most amusing," Mycroft commented as his phone rang. "Excuse me."

He walked out of the flat to take the phone call.

"Why does your phone make that noise?" John asked Sherlock curiously.

"What noise?" Sherlock played dumb and Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"That noise, the one it just made," John replied.

"It's a text alert, it means I've got a text," Sherlock answered.

"Your texts don't usually make that noise," John said and Phoebe hummed.

"Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently, as a joke, personalized their text alert noise," Sherlock replied calmly.

"So every time they text you..." John stopped as the phone moaned again.

"It would seem so," Sherlock said as he put down the newspaper to look at his phone.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit. At my time of life..." Mrs Hudson shook her head and Phoebe sat back in her chair.

"See, I'm wondering who could've got hold of your phone, because it would've been in your coat, wouldn't it?" John asked.

Sherlock raised his newspaper up in front of his face. "I'll leave you to your deductions."

"I'm not stupid, you know," John said as he leaned forward a bit.

"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock mocked and Phoebe rolled her eyes once again.

"Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later," Mycroft said over the phone as he walked back into the flat.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked his brother quickly. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more. Much more." Sherlock stood up and walked in front of his brother. "Something big's coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours," Mycroft replied calmly. "From now on, you will stay out of this."

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock challenged.

"Yes, Sherlock. You will," Mycroft said in almost a threatening tone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

"Do give her my love," Sherlock said as he picked up his viovlin and started playing God Save The Queen.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked out. Phoebe relaxed and John looked at her.

"You know, Phoebe, I didn't know you could fight like that," John said and she hummed.

"Oh, yeah. I went to school to be a police officer. I wanted to be a detective for Scotland Yard. When I was fourteen, a guy broke into my house. My parents were at work so I was home alone. The guy came at me with a knife so I ran. I ran straight to my Aunt Clara's room. Thank God we didn't get rid of her stuff after she died because I knew right where her gun was," Phoebe spoke as she remembered the moment.

"You killed a man at fourteen?" John looked at her with surprise and Sherlock hummed, remembering the events.

"No. I didn't kill him. I shot him in the leg twice and then I was able to call the police. He was arrested and found guilty of seventeen different murders. They had apparently been looking for him for almost a month. That's when I knew I one hundred percent wanted to be a detective. I went for criminal justice and training, but then I decided to open up my bakery," Phoebe explained.

"Why would you have given that up for a bakery? You could've followed your dream," John said, not understanding why she had just settled for the bakery.

"Because I was accepted in my senior year. Then Sherlock and I had our falling out... I guess I just didn't want to do it anymore after I lost Sherlock." Phoebe sighed softly. "He was a big reason why I wanted to be a detective in the first place. I followed through with college, but then I moved here."

"I'm sure you would've been the best detective at Scotland Yard," Sherlock said as he put down his violin.

"Was that a compliment?" Phoebe raised an eyebrow.

"I guess. You are much smarter than all the detectives at Scotland Yard. Although the smartest thing any of the detectives have done is come to me," Sherlock replied and Phoebe snorted.

"Well, I appreciate that you don't think I'm an idiot," Phoebe said and John crossed his arms.

"What about me? I'm smart," John butted in.

"Sometimes. You do have your moments, but Phoebe is smarter than you," Sherlock responded to John.

"I have to disagree. She fell in love with you. That makes her the biggest idiot here," John said and then looked at Phoebe. "No offense."

"None taken. I completely agree with that statement. I was a moron," Phoebe agreed and Sherlock frowned. "Couldn't tell you what I was thinking."

"I wasn't that bad," Sherlock defended.

"You lied to her for years, Sherlock. You slept with her and then left before she woke up," John pointed out.

"You also decided that it was perfectly okay to sleep in my bed the other night. Naked, may I add. I did not appreciate that," Phoebe spoke up and Sherlock couldn't come up with an argument. "Plus, you called me sexy last night. Granted you were utterly delirious."

"What?" John spluttered.

"He asked if I thought he was sexy because of what Irene said and then he said I was sexy. He was definitely not okay last night. I thought he was dying for sure," Phoebe joked and John chuckled.

"You guys are mean." Sherlock pouted as he lied on the couch.

"Aww, did we upset you?" Phoebe stood up and Sherlock just huffed. "I'm gonna sit on you if you keep acting like a baby."

"No, you won't," Sherlock challenged and Phoebe shrugged.

"Suit yourself." Phoebe plopped herself down on Sherlock's chest.

"Hey!" Sherlock pushed her off and sat up.

"I told you I would!" Phoebe laughed lightly as she sat on his legs.

"You're so annoying," Sherlock muttered.

"Then why do you keep me around?" Phoebe crossed her arms and Sherlock opened his mouth, only to close it a moment later.

He really didn't know why. Something about her intrigued him and he wanted to keep her close.

"Because you help with cases. Plus, John invites you up all the time. I also can't just make you move out of your flat," Sherlock replied.

"You're not wrong," Phoebe said as she stood up.

"Aww, damn. I thought you two were gonna start making out right in front of me," John teased and Phoebe glared at him.

"Absolutely not. I don't want to kiss him. I'd rather kiss a spider," Phoebe replied and Sherlock huffed.

"I'm not that bad of a kisser," he mumbled.

"I didn't say that. I just don't want to kiss you," Phoebe said as she looked at him.

"You two fight like an old married couple," Mrs Hudson said, cleaning up the table.

"I would never marry her. I'm far too busy to have any time for a stupid little relationship with some clingy woman who will be needy and absolutely useless," Sherlock scoffed and Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"No one wants to date you anyway, so don't worry," Phoebe grumbled, although it did make her heart ache.

She wanted him. She didn't want to, but her heart had different plans. She knew that she could never give her heart what it wanted though. She could never have Sherlock Holmes.

🔎

"Hey, Sherlock," Phoebe said as she walked into the flat to see him moping on the couch. "Where's John?"

"He's going on a date with his newest girlfriend," Sherlock muttered and Phoebe snorted in amusement.

"Oh, you poor thing," Phoebe mocked, setting down the plate of brownies she had brought.

Sherlock shot up and immediately snatched two brownies.

"Is that better?" Phoebe cooed teasingly.

"I'm not a baby," Sherlock huffed to which Phoebe snickered.

"You sure act like one," she retorted as she sat down in the chair beside the couch.

"I am not!" Sherlock pouted and narrowed his eyes at her.

"You sound like one too," Phoebe continued, relaxing in the chair.

Sherlock just huffed again and kept eating his brownies.

"Why don't you look for a case while John's out?" Phoebe suggested as she looked at the detective.

"I already have one, but I was waiting for John," Sherlock replied with a mouthful.

"You're actually waiting?" Phoebe raised a brow in surprise.

"Well I don't feel like going alone. Too boring," he said before lying back down.

"I could go with," Phoebe offered. "Or am I not as interesting as John?"

"Really?" Sherlock looked at her with what seemed like excitement. "You'll actually help me?"

"Why not? Being mad at you just takes too much energy," Phoebe admitted and he hopped up.

"I'll tell Lestrade that we are on our way!" Sherlock went straight to the door and Phoebe pushed herself up.

She couldn't help but smile at the excitement in his face. She put on her coat and shoes before following Sherlock out to the cab.

🔎

"Where's John?" Lestrade asked when he saw Phoebe and Sherlock walk over.

"He's out on a date. It's just us," Phoebe said and Lestrade hummed.

He noticed that Phoebe and Sherlock had gotten closer ever since the Moriarty incident.

"Well, a man was found dead and his wife was a suspect because she would've gained his fortune," Lestrade started as he led the two into the house.

"But you wouldn't have called me if it was already solved," Sherlock pointed out.

"His wife was murdered this morning. Their daughter reported a man came in and killed her mother, that man being a former employee of her father by the name of Clint Lauders," Lestrade continued to explain.

"But?" Phoebe took down some notes as she looked around at her surroundings, listening to every detail.

"Clint Lauders doesn't exist. At least not one that worked for the man's company. But cameras did catch someone break in with a gun," Lestrade finished and Sherlock hummed.

"We'll figure this out for you, detective inspector," Sherlock assured.

🔎

"I had a feeling it was the daughter. It all made sense when we found out the woman was her step mom," Phoebe said as she walked into 221B with Sherlock.

"With both of them dead, she'd get the money, not his wife, but she killed her because she must've known something. The daughter gets the money and the company," Sherlock replied as he closed the door behind them.

"That was fun," Phoebe admitted as she set her purse on the table in the living room.

"Next time I'll ask you to come," Sherlock said, putting his coat on the back of the chair by the table.

"If I'm not busy, I'll say yes," Phoebe replied as she looked up at the detective with a smile.

"Well then, I hope you won't be busy," Sherlock spoke lowly, looking down at the blonde baker in front of him.

"And if I am?" Phoebe bit her lip slightly.

"I'll still ask," Sherlock answered as he inched closer to her. "I'll ask if you want to have fun with me again."

"What if I say no?" Phoebe didn't let her eyes leave his, knowing that they weren't talking about cases anymore.

"I know that you won't say no," Sherlock murmured, now able to feel Phoebe's soft breath on his skin.

Phoebe couldn't take the tension anymore. She grabbed his jacket, pulling him close to her before she kissed him.

Sherlock wrapped an arm around her waist and his other hand went up into her hair.

Their lips melded together and Sherlock felt himself unable to pull away. He held her against him and her arms looped around his neck.

Phoebe couldn't stop herself as she became putty in Sherlock's hands.

He picked her up, letting her legs hook around his waist. He pressed her against the wall, keeping her up in his arms so that she was level with him.

Phoebe trailed her fingers through Sherlock's curls gently, smiling against his lips.

Then the front door opened.

The two split and Phoebe pushed Sherlock back, standing on her feet again.

Sherlock frowned as Phoebe moved away to grab her purse.

John came into the flat as Phoebe picked up her purse from the table.

"What did I miss?" John asked as he looked between the two.

"Nothing much. Just got back from solving a murder," Sherlock said simply before Phoebe left without a word.