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JOHN'S POV

"You're home early," I noticed as Sherlock stepped in, looking up from my laptop.

"Am I?" he questioned, pulling off his jacket.

"Yes, you are. I thought I wouldn't see you before tomorrow," I admitted, thinking about previous experiences where he'd been upset.

"Oh, because of the case!" he remembered; "Yes, I had help."

"You had help?" I questioned in disbelief, quite honestly unsure if it was a matter of a deeper lie or if he'd genuinely worked with someone - besides me, of course.

"Yes. I ran into Cassandra," he told emotionless and left to the kitchen.

"Cassandra? I thought she'd gone home?" I asked loudly as I heard him rummage around out there.

"She'd stopped for a coffee, I offered for her to come with," he replied. I moved the laptop from my lap and moved so I could see him.

"You offered her to come with?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock looked at me.

"Yes. As I said," he repeated, confused by my question.

"Why? Why would you do that?" I questioned, gathering my arms over my chest.

"She wanted to come with," he claimed, opening the fridge and pulling out a tray with some sort of opened up animal.

"Since when do you do anything for anyone but yourself?" I asked; "Were you trying to scare her away from moving in here?"

"John," he complained, turning to me; "I'm fairly certain she enjoyed herself."

"Oh... So you're actually becoming friends with her?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I don't do friends, John," he told, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of the silver tray.

"You do me," I reminded him; "I mean, you, you do me as a friend - have me as a friend."

He didn't reply, and I decided to continue.

"Alright then. When are you seeing her again?" I questioned.

"I suppose I'll have to run into her eventually once she's moved in," he muttered, looking through a magnifying glass.

SHERLOCKS POV

"Why did you ask Cassandra to come over?" I asked as I heard her steps on the stairs and realised why.

"Because you didn't," John stated; "She's going to live here, you two should know more about each other."

"I know everything about everything," I scoffed.

"Alright. How do I drink my coffee?" I challenged. Sherlock looked at me, analysed.

"...49 degrees Celcius," he stated.

"That's not what I meant," I told as a knock sounded on the door.

"120.2 Fahrenheit," he told as I opened the door.

"Cassandra!" I greeted; "Come on in."

"Sherlock. Cassandra's here," I told Sherlock, sending him a saying look, which seemed to confuse him even more. He thought for a second.

"You're here," he told her, making me moan in frustration.

"Sherlock, that's not what I meant," I complained; "Cassandra, go ahead and sit down."

"322.15 Kelvin?" he yelled after me as I went into the kitchen.

"No!"

SHERLOCKS POV

I rolled my eyes before looking up at Cassandra.

"What's wrong?" I immediately asked, standing up.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," she lied.

"Cassandra," I tried, but before she could reply John returned.

"We're out of biscuits, but-"

"Unacceptable," I interrupted him.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Well, we need biscuits. Go ask Mrs. Hudson if she has some," I ordered, not looking away from Cassandra. Her eyes were focused elsewhere, clearly avoiding my deducing look.

"Sherlock, I don't think I've ever seen you eat a biscuit," John complained.

"And you're not going to unless you go downstairs!" I complained before looking at him.

"Alright, alright. I'll be right back," he muttered before leaving.

"You order people around a lot," Cassandra commented.

"Don't change the subject," I said hardly, making her look at me. She narrowed her eyes at me.

"You're worried, aren't you?" She realized.

"Don't change the subject," I repeated.

Cassandra looked away and took a deep breath before I wrapped my arms around her comfortingly.

I didn't know exactly what I was doing. I knew what a hug was, of course, had even experienced it on several occasions, but I had never been participating, nonetheless the one to initiate it.

"She had to stay at the hospital," Cassandra said, letting me hear her cries.

"I know," I muttered quietly, moving a hand up to slowly run it down her hair.

"I'm sorry," I said, realizing it was true. I was sorry. She didn't deserve it. She laughed before pulling away from the hug.

"Sure you are," she agreed with a small laugh.

"No, I... Cassandra, I truly am-""Got the biscuits!" John interrupted from the doorway.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked slowly, looking between my confused face and Cassandra's teary eyes.

"Not at all," she lied, quickly throwing on a smile.

"Ah, good. I'll go get the tea," John decided, heading back to the kitchen.

"Are you gonna be alright?" I asked her quickly.

"Of course," she replied quickly.

"No, Cassandra, I know you don't like being at your apartment when she's not there. You could stay here," I pointed out. She looked at me with big eyes, her arms hugging her body.

"Why would you do that?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"So, Cassandra," John said as he once again entered the living room; "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," she told, looking directly at me.

"I heard you helped Sherlock on a case?" John asked as he sat down the tray, the three of us placing us in the chairs and on the couch.

"Oh, yeah, it was a lot of fun," she told him, the shine already back in her eyes.

"Yeah? What was the case? Burglary? Robbery?" he asked, pouring the tea from the small pot in the cups.

"Murder," Cassandra happily told, making John momentarily freeze and me smile.

"Oh... That's... Nice," he decided, finishing the tea and handing her a cup; "Did you catch the murderer?"

"Oh, no, but we interrogated the guy they had in and found out he didn't do it, and then found a new suspect," she told.

"They got the wrong guy?" John asked, handing me my cup.

"Yeah, they thought it was the boyfriend because he said it was his fault, but he only said that because he felt guilty. They'd had a fight and she'd stormed off, he'd done nothing to go after her, so he thought it was his fault," Cassandra explained.

"Well, good solve to the two of you," he congratulated, leaning back in his chair.

"It was actually Cassandra who figured it out," I commented, finally joining their conversation.

"Sherlock had already figured it out, he was just trying to give me a win," Cassandra added, smiling sweetly at me.

John looked between us, seeming slightly confused, but apparently decided to accept it.

"So, Cassandra, what do you do for a living?" he asked instead.

"Breathes," I replied and sipped my tea.

"I was asking Cassandra," John said aimed at me.

"He is right, though, you have to give him that," Cassandra pointed out. I pretended to take another sip of my tea to hide my smile before putting the cup down again.

"He always seems to be somehow," John added with a small smile; "But what do you do?"

"Well." Cassandra shifted in her chair; "Technically speaking I don't have a jooob, but, I mean, I sometimes think about getting one, and I've been told it's the thought that counts."

"I don't think that saying works in this specific situation," John told her.

"Well, they really should have specified that, then," Cassandra pointed out with a shrug.

"And Sherlock doesn't either," John sighed.

"I have a job," I commented offended.

"No, you have murders. You need jobs," he insisted.

"What, both of us?" I asked confused.

"Fine, okay. I guess, you have a kind of job," John admitted to me; "But Cassandra, you really should consider getting a job."

"She could always come work with me," I suggested with a shrug. Cassandra looked to me.

"I could?"

"I mean, you could if you'd like," I specified; "I don't care."

"Ah, just what a girl wants to hear," she hummed before continuing.

"Health care?"

"None."

"Insurance?"

"No."

"Company car?"

"I could be willing to pay for a taxi."

"Every taxi," she insisted.

"Every tenth," I bargained.

"Fifth."

"Seventh," I tried, her narrowing her eyes at me.

"Hm... Discounts?"

"No, but lots of the people you'd work with would be dead, stealing from them is easy."

"Company credit card?"

"I'll get you a starbucks gift card."

"Fun?" I smirked at her.

"And lots of excitement," I added.

"You've got yourself a deal then," she decided with a smile, reaching her hand out to shake mine.

"Wait, so she gets to not pay for every single cab and a gift card? What did I ever get?" John complained.

"Oh, John," Cassandra began; "Don't worry, you can get something from my 50 quid gift card."

"10," I commented.

"45," she shot back, turning to me again. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"30."

"40," she continued.

I huffed and muttered a sort of agreement, making her smile and lean back.

"Wait," she realised; "What is my job?"

"Secretary," I replied.

"Partner."

"Assistant," I offered generously.

"Alright, guys, I think that's enough," John interrupted our bickering before asking more about Cassandra as well as telling her about himself. Mary, their new shared apartment and some anecdotes I suppose was meant to be funny. Perhaps they were - Cassandra seemed to enjoy them. Throughout the conversation my eyes somehow always seem to end on her, as well as her aiming constant glances at me, one time even a teasing wink that, quite frankly, left me baffled.

"I have to go, I have an appointment at four," Cassandra eventually broke it up, glancing to the watch on her wrist; "This has been lovely, though, John. And Sherlock, I'll see you tomorrow then?". She raised herself from the chair and pulled her coat on.

"Yes. Don't be late." I could tell she had her eyebrows furrowed from the corner of my eye, even though my look was fastened straight ahead.

"When do I meet?" she asked.

"Not quite sure yet," I told, looking up at in time to see a smile reach her lips.

"Right. I'll see you, then," she decided, saying bye to John one last time before exciting the room.

I quickly arose from my chair, reaching the window just as she stepped onto the street, glanced around herself and turned right.

"Sherlock, are you sure it's a good idea for you two to be working together?" John questioned unsurely.

"It's a marvelous idea," I stated, losing Cassandra of sight.

"You're going to be living together and working together, aren't you worried you'll get a little tired of each other?" he tried explaining it. I turned to him.

"No. Why would I get tired of her?" I asked; "Sure, she can be tedious, but I quite... Enjoy, her company."

"No, Sherlock, that's not what I meant," John said with a sigh; "Are you sure she's not going to be a little tired of you, maybe? You can be a little..."

"Intimidating?" I suggested.

"Tedious," he replied, using my own word against me.

"Oh."

"Not that I think so! I, just, you know you have a tendency to piss most people off-"

"Do I piss you off?" I interrupted.

"No, but I'm your friend," he explained.

"Well, could she not be the same?" I asked quietly, glancing out the window once again.