Sherlock came down later in the day, after dark, and told Lily that Hayley was found; she was on the streets, and one of Sherlock's contacts found her, brought her back to the Holders, where she's staying again. The only loose end is Robert, which not even Sherlock has found. But Lily's sure he will, and hopefully soon.

In the meantime, she'll be preparing for her parents' and Liam's arrival at the flat, now set for next week. She needs to clean, go grocery shopping, and bake something before they get here. Her garden needs tending as well, and her laundry needs done.

In this week of preparation, she receives an email back from her publisher. To make a long story short, her story idea was rather basic and her publisher expected more creativity out of her considering the last book. Lily knows that she's right, and she's grateful for the assurance that she can take more time on figuring it out. Because of that, she resolves to not worry over it until her parents and Liam are gone, instead focusing on prepping her flat.

In the middle of her day of deep cleaning, Lily gets a call from Raven. She tosses off her rubber gloves and moves away from the sudsy sink to answer the phone. Usually, Raven would just text, so this is concerning. "Hello?"

"When were you going to tell me you've been detecting with Sherlock Holmes?" she says.

Lily shakes her head. "Is that really what you're calling about? I thought something awful happened!"

"It almost did; that guy could've killed you."

"Yes, but he didn't."

"He could have."

"You sound like Liam."

Raven chuckles. "Has Mr. Overprotective already gave you an earful about the whole thing?"

"No. At this point I'm hoping he doesn't find out."

"He will, if he sees this. Dr. Watson omitting your last name isn't going to keep people from knowing who you are. At least, the people who already know you."

"I know."

Raven pauses, and there's some rustling, then she asks, "So... was it fun?"

Lily laughs. "Yeah, apart from the murder and getting a gun pointed at me part, it was pretty fun."

"Tell me everything."

Lily only sees the 221B crew once during that week, when she brings them the extra crème brûlée she made, along with the small batch of chocolate chip cookies for Rosie's enjoyment.

She takes a créme brûlée to Mrs. Hudson first, expecting her dish back at some point tomorrow, when she's actually in her apartment. Then, she goes up to 221B, where Sherlock is on his laptop, and John is — or was — watching TV with Rosie, all three of them in the sitting room. John answers the door.

"Hello," Lily says, walking in when John steps aside, and she makes a beeline for the kitchen counter, worried about dropping all the food in her hands. "I need you boys to be my guinea pigs, if that's alright with you. And Rosie-" Rosie is already there, standing next to her, ready to eat whatever Lily's brought "- I just need you to eat these chocolate chip cookies. Can you do that?"

Rosie nods her head excitedly, then looks to John, who's behind her. "Can I have one now?"

"Sure. But you can't eat them all at once," John reminds her, handing her a cookie. She thanks Lily and hugs her quickly, then runs back to the sitting room, past Sherlock, who's now next to John. Thomas and Friends is on.

Lily looks at the both of them. "You two are having créme brûlée." She hands them the bowls, already torched and with a bit of melted chocolate and berries on top, then hurries into the kitchen and grabs them some spoons. "I just need to know if they're any good. My parents are coming later today with my brother to see my flat, and this is one of my their favorites, but I hardly ever make it."

Thankfully, she receives incredibly positive reactions. "This is absolutely amazing," John says.

"It's very good," Sherlock adds, his spoon still in his mouth. Lily laughs.

"And you promise you're not just saying that?" she confirms.

"Of course not, Lil," John replies, and then he pauses. "Oh, that just- is it alright if I call you Lil?"

"Oh, yeah, a lot of my friends call me that," Lily replies, smiling and happy, seeing as that means she and John are officially friends. "And thank you — for the compliment on the créme brûlée, I mean."

"You should start making this more often," Sherlock comments, and Lily laughs again.

"But every time I do, I'm afraid I'm going to burn down my kitchen with the torch. And it takes a while."

"But all the work was worth it," John replies.

"I'm glad. The first time I make these I baked the custard part too long and burned the sugar in the broiler, and then the second time I burned the custard because I didn't cover the top with enough sugar. If the third time wouldn't've worked out, I might've just given up altogether."

"I'm glad you didn't," Sherlock says. A moment later, he holds the empty bowl out to her. "Do you want this back now or...?"

She laughs. "I'll take it back now. The spoon's yours, though." She hands the spoon back to him, and he goes and tosses it in the sink. John finishes his and gives her his bowl and thanks her again.

"We'll always be happy to be your guinea pigs," he says.

"You're never happy to be my guinea pig," Sherlock complains, and John rolls his eyes.

"That's because your experiments have potential to either cause me harm or even kill me."

"Oh, don't be dramatic."

"I'm sorry — you're telling me not to be dramatic?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes, and Lily stifles laughter. "On that note, I still need to do some last minute cleaning before my parents get here, so I think I'm gonna head back downstairs."

John sighs. "Sorry for all that. Have a nice night."

"You, too." Then, she looks at Sherlock. "And try not to argue anymore."

"Why are you looking at me?" Sherlock asks incredulously.

"I meant that for the both of you."

"But you were looking at me."

Lily's mouth forms a slight smirk, matching the whimsical mood Sherlock's childish arguing has brought her to. He reminds her of one of her students. "Does someone need to stay in at recess?" she asks in her teacher voice.

Sherlock frowns, half confused, and Lily laughs yet again, leaving before he can say anything more. But as she's going down the stairs, a few moments after she left, Sherlock opens the door. "Are you calling me childish?"

She laughs, stopping to turn around and look at him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks half offended, and for a second she worries that he didn't realize she was teasing him; it doesn't always work for her when she tries to do that with anyone but Liam, Uriah, or Raven, since she doesn't do it often. But she thinks he might be amused, too...

"What do you think?" she says, leaning on the railing, challenging him with a laughing smile. "You're the detective here."

He steps forward, looking at her for a moment. "I think you're one to talk about being childish. You're being childish right now."

"How so?" she asks, knowing the answer full and well. But the answer he gives isn't the one she's thinking of.

"You're always childish."

She frowns, just as a first reaction, but she wipes it away, not wanting him to know that stung a bit; he didn't mean it in a bad way like others had, surely, and that would ruin the tone of the conversation, and she was liking where it was going. Where everything was going. But he caught her frowning.

"Oh, I- I only meant that... that you're..." he struggles for words, trying to mend the situation "... joyful. And... bright. You know, you... you smile a lot, and I heard you skipping down the stairs once, and your flat is... well, it's filled with bright colors and, um, little... charming things, and-and you're... open with your emotions and generous in a way that... that most adults... aren't."

The sting goes completely away, and she smiles, warmly and widely, feeling a bit flustered herself. She drops her eyes. "Thank you."

"You're... welcome," he says awkwardly. The silence that follows is even more awkward, until Lily looks up at him, seeing the redness on his cheeks faded to pink, and his blue eyes on her shoes, and his hands quietly fidgeting in front of him, at his waist. He's dressed for the day except for his coat and scarf, in his trousers and button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his curly hair likely combed but a bit messy, partly falling over his forehead.

Lily takes a breath. "And you're... incredibly smart and-and brilliant... and you use it to do a whole lot of good for other people, and I think that's... very kind of you, and very brave."

He smiles a little, and then gives her the least hesitant, "Thank you," that she's ever gotten from him.

She smiles widely back. "I'll see you later, Sherlock."

"See you later," he says, a bit quietly as she makes her way downstairs, back to her flat.

She commences cleaning, then gets ready before her parents and Liam arrive later in the day. Luckily, everything is done by the time they get there, and Lily goes upstairs to get the outside door herself.

"Lily!" her dad exclaims, immediately hugging her.

"Oh, we haven't seen you in so long," her mother says, hugging her when her dad pulls away.

"Well, I certainly didn't get this reaction," Liam comments.

"Well, I'm the first born," Lily replies, laughing.

"Oh, so you're in a mood, are you? Who was your previous victim today?"

"I'm not in a mood," Lily argues, leading her family back to her front door.

"When the teasing comes around, the irritating older sister within has been provoked. Who was it?"

"The upstairs neighbor, and it had nothing to do with irritation. I was... amused, and I thought it was funny." She unlocks her door, effectively dropping the subject as she begins giving her family a tour.

Her front door opens to reveal a pale yellow wall with that ivy plant hung on it, just higher than Lily's head. She hasn't moved it, and she probably won't, even as her family are maneuvering a bit around it. To the left are the stairs, with the white runners and walnut treads. They still have a romantic creak that they hear all the way down to the coat hooks at the bottom. They turn right, directly into the kitchen.

"Well, this is a Lily-style kitchen if I've ever seen one," her father says, chuckling as he looks around.

"And how many of these cabinets hold your baking supplies?" her mother asks.

Lily thinks for a moment. "Most of them?"

"Well, at least we know where the hoard of stirring spoons are," Liam says, referring to the large vase-like container on the counter with all of Lily's stirring spoons and whisks inside.

"There's not that many," Lily argues. When Liam goes to argue back, she quickly moves on and shows them the sitting room. Then, they move into the hall, where they enter her lilac office, then the bathroom.

"The bathroom is here." Lily opens the door directly in front of the pink shelf with her towels and washcloths.

"Your sink... is pink," her mother says, a bit surprised, but not disapproving.

"I know," Lily replies happily, also loving that it rhymes. They don't stay in there long, moving on to the last room on the left. "This is my bedroom."

The walls are teagreen, while the bed frame is teak, matching her side table, the chest at the foot of the bed, the dresser on the same wall as the door, and the small shelf of yet more knickknacks (including the little bear with an apple basket that her grandmother gave her) and family pictures on the other side. Next to that shelf, under the window, is a dark green, cushioned bench for reading that matches her bedspread. On the other side of the window is her adorable cloud wall clock. The closet is on the left side wall, the doors closed, but organized within. Two house plants are at home in the empty corners.

"Well, Lil, I think you've got yourself almost a whole rainbow here," her father says, laughing.

"I think you should paint the utility closet orange," Liam adds.

"Then what would be red?" Lily asks.

"Under the stairs."

Lily laughs. "That's certainly an idea. Maybe I can make it a little pantry for jams, when my garden starts growing."

"It's a wonderful place, sweetie," her mother says, hugging her.

"I second that," her father adds. "It's full of Lily magic."

"I like it, too," Liam butts in. "Though, I did help make it like this."

"And so did Uriah, Raven, Elliot, and Gabby," Lily reminds him, and Liam shakes his head.

"Honestly, what did the neighbor say to you to make you like this?"

"Nothing of your concern," Lily replies, trying not to laugh. She's still feeling a bit whimsical, which Liam eggs on with his own behavior, but, for some reason, she's a bit reluctant to tell him in front of their parents.

It's not as if Sherlock had said anything horrible — quite the opposite, actually. There's just something about the conversation after what he'd said. The one in the hall, on the stairs. She wants to keep that to herself, just for a little while, knowing that when she tells Liam he'll call every bit of it flirting, and whether that be in a negative or positive tone, she can't possibly know. Liam's never met Sherlock, so he'll likely be inclined to the former, unless the man's occupation and what Lily's said about him puts him in a positive light in Liam's eyes. Not that the fact the first case she went on put in her danger would help. He hasn't mentioned it yet, so he likely doesn't know.

But none of that matters, of course, because it wasn't flirting. Sherlock is the least likely person in the world to flirt, and Lily hasn't flirted in quite a long time. Besides, if he'd been flirting with her, she would've known it and disliked every second of it — she was never good at that sort of stuff, and it was usually uncomfortable when anyone flirted with her. They were talking as friends and nothing more, though Liam and her parents might not see it that way. She doesn't want to have that conversation.

"Was it Sherlock Holmes?" Liam asks, jerking Lily out of her thoughts.

"And what makes you say it was Sherlock Holmes?" Lily says, turning and leading him and her parents out of the room.

"He seems like the type of person to irritate you enough to put you in a mood. From what you've said about him."

"He did not irritate me," Lily insists. "He's never irritated me."

"But he did say something amusing, then?" Liam replies, a playful smile on his face. He'd caught her words; if he didn't irritate her, it sounded like he'd at least said something.

"He was childish is all," Lily says. "Now, are we going to make ourselves comfortable for a bit, or are we heading to dinner directly?"

Liam unceremoniously lay down on the couch, where he'll be sleeping for the night, while their father and mother decide to sit in chairs instead, her father in the living room, her mother at the kitchen island.

Lily chuckles. "I'll take that as a no."

"I just need a minute or two is all. I drove all the way here," her father says, leaning back and closing his eyes. The room is quiet for a moment or so, her mother looking at the sitting room from her chair.

"Hey, it's the paperweight I got you for your birthday," Liam suddenly says, now on his side, pointing to the fairytale castle on the mantle. "What was that — two, three years ago?"

"I think two," Lily replies, remembering when he gave it to her. They'd gone back home for her birthday, and her father had baked her a cake. Her parents had bought her a new mixer — the one in her cabinet now — and Uriah got her the teddy bear kitchen timer that's in one of her drawers. She'd been sent some other things, but the castle was the best one. The mixer was wonderful, of course, and it still is, but she'd been expecting to get it, as her parents had asked her what she needed. Liam never asked, and she never asked on his birthday, either. It was always a surprise.

She looks at that castle now, and the image of fairies enters her head. It gives her an idea for her book — a vague one, but an idea nonetheless. Before she can write it down, though, there's a knock at her door.

Her parents and Liam look at her, all evidently wondering who it could be. Lily isn't quite sure herself, though she has a few ideas.

Sherlock Holmes is on the other side of the door, and he has a look of excitement that can only be from a case. "Hello."

Lily can't help but smile at his expression, forgetting that likely means there's been a murder. "Hello."

"We've got a case," he says. "A woman received a box in the post this afternoon containing two ears."

Lily's eyes widen, and she's suddenly happy she hasn't eaten dinner yet. "Two ears?"

"Yes."

"And they're real?"

"The woman's friend seems to think so; she's the one that came and told us." Lily's expression worsens, but this doesn't deter Sherlock in the slightest. "We're meeting her at the woman's house. Are you coming to have a look? John's just dropping off Rosie. He should be finished soon."

Despite her revulsion, Lily feels disappointed at having to turn Sherlock down; he looks so excited, she thinks he might start jumping up and down in a moment. She frowns. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'd actually love to come, but my family's here visiting. We're about to go have dinner..."

His face falls a little, which saddens Lily even more. "I see..." he says, looking down further.

Lily musters a smile. "But you'll tell me all about it when you get back, right?"

His eyes flick back up, and his excitement returns, though not quite in full-force. "Of course... Lil."

Lily instantly grimaces at his use of the nickname without really knowing why until a moment later, when her brain catches up. There's something about the way he says her full name, just those two syllables, that she's gotten used to.

Or, maybe, it's not that she's gotten used to it, but just that she likes it. His baritone voice, with its cadences, and its various tones — some gentle and soft, some attention-grabbing, some casual, some thankful, all of them like the different parts of some piano sonata — makes her name (her whole name) sound like something it's never sounded like before. Cutting it short just sounds wrong, like the song stopped before it was over.

He frowns. "Was it the nickname?"

She grimaces again, not wanting to lie to him, but also not knowing how to explain herself without sounding weird. "Yes..."

"Well, you said before that your friends call you Lil, so I just thought that I could..." he looks up at her again, his expression full of worry. "Unless we aren't friends-"

"Oh, no, of course we're friends!" Lily says hurriedly, instinctively reaching forward and putting her hands on his arms, just above his elbows. "You've just never called me that before, so it was a bit strange..." She pulls away as she trails off, realizing what she'd done.

It's as if he doesn't know whether to smile or not. "Would you prefer it if I didn't call you that, then?"

"Yes — but we're still friends. Promise," she says.

And then he does smile at her, but not one of those thin-lipped smiles that have comforted her in times of anxiousness and embarrassment or thanked her wordlessly for something. It's wide, crinkling his eyes at the corners — genuine and happy. He's happy that he's her friend. And Lily's smile matches his, because she's happy that he's happy, and relieved deep in her chest that he really likes her for who she is. Enough to want to be her friend, to like having her around. Even if she is childish.

Maybe even partly because of it.

John walks over then, looking in between the two of them. "Are we going now?"

"We are," Sherlock replies. "Lily's family is here."

John looks back to Lily. "Oh, I forgot about that. Well... have a nice evening."

Lily smiles at him. "You, too. Even though you'll be looking at... severed ears."

John chuckles. "Just another day at work." He looks to Sherlock. "I'm gonna go hail a cab." He smiles and nods at Lily once more before walking off.

Sherlock looks back at Lily. "I'll... see you later."

"See you later, Sherlock," Lily replies, still smiling as wide as before, her cheeks beginning to hurt. But she can't stop. "Remember to fill me in, okay? This one sounds like it might be a real head-scratcher."

"Hopefully," Sherlock replies before departing with another smile. Lily watches him go for a second before closing the door.

When she gets to the bottom of the stairs, she finds Liam leaning against the island with his arms crossed and a brow raised. "Was that your oh, so amusing neighbor inviting you to go inspect some severed ears?"

Lily sighs a little, though she's still smiling. "Yes. It was."

"Not to mention the flirting-"

"What are you talking about?" Lily says incredulously, cutting him off. She sees her parents exchange a look, both of them looking like they want to smile. She shakes her head. "That wasn't flirting. Did you not hear me say we were friends, you eavesdropper?"

Liam holds his hands up in mock surrender. "And now I'm being accused of things. What has this dashing detective done to my dear sister?"

"Let me help him solve cases. And accepted my baked goods." She can't help but smile. "And been my friend. I did not come here looking for love, Liam, and I highly doubt it's looking for me."

"It sneaks up on you, you know."

"I wouldn't mind some grandkids..." her mother trails off quietly.

Lily practically gasps. "Mum." Her whole family starts laughing, and Lily shakes her head, going to get her keys. "If I were going to have any children with anyone, it would certainly not be anytime soon and certainly not with Sherlock Holmes. He is the last person I'd expect to fall in love with anybody, much less marry them." He notices what's pressing to him, he focuses on what he wants to. His life, as she's seen it thus far, is filled with his cases, his small circle of friends, and playing with Rosie. And eating baked goods.

He doesn't have time for a relationship, and, anyway, Lily's in a transitional period of her life right now. In between jobs, adjusting to a new flat, trying to write a new book, looking for somewhere to somehow open a bakery. Now just isn't the time... even if she wouldn't mind if love came up just now with the right person. She just isn't going to go looking for it. She hasn't for years.

"You never know, Lil," Liam says, following her up the stairs. He sounds hopeful, and Lily thinks she knows why, though he doesn't bring it up directly too often. It upsets her, though that isn't Liam's fault. Ultimately, it's hers...

"I won't throw your créme brûlée out if you stop talking about it," Lily replies, trying to keep the hurt and irritation out of her voice as she opens her front door.

Liam gasps in excitement. "You made créme brûlée?!"