We arrived at St Bart's hospital, no one having uttered a word since the phone call. Sherlock was examining the trainers from the apartment, while John was pacing next to him. I was sat on one of the lab stools, staring into the distance.

"Who do you suppose it was?" John asked, causing my to turn my attention up to him. "The woman on the phone," he continued, "The crying woman." My gaze fell to the floor as I tried to avoid thinking about the poor woman we had received a phone call from.

"Oh, she doesn't matter. Just a hostage. There's no lead there." Sherlock told us, not even bothering to lift his eyes from the microscope. I shot out of my seat, my eyes filling with rage.

"Just a hostage!" I exclaimed, drawing the gazes of the two men in the room. "Are you being serious Sherlock?" I stormed up to my boyfriend, as he stepped away from the bench. He began to shrug me off, but sharply stopped when he saw my fury filled face.

"I didn't mean it like that, Chloe. I just meant..." He began, trying to reassure me, before I promptly cut him off.

"You just meant what exactly, Sherlock. That there is a woman, out there somewhere, with a bomb strapped to her, terrified for her life, but she doesn't matter, no, all that matters to you is that you have a new case to solve." I erupted, leaving him no time to reply before I stormed out of the room.

I had just made it out of the hospital and onto the street before everything I had been trying to hold back since the phone call came crashing down on me. I couldn't contain my sobs as I turned down an empty alley to the side of the hospital.

I couldn't imagine the fear that the crying woman must have been feeling at that moment. And I couldn't understand how insensitive Sherlock was being about the whole situation. I know he's a so-called sociopath but did he really not care about the woman at all. If he didn't care about a woman who's life was in his hands, how could he care about me?

I shook myself out of the thoughts I was having, knowing, or maybe hoping, that they weren't true. I wiped my eyes, taking a breath in, before heading back out into the bustling street. I put my head down, heading to the street to hail a taxi before realising that I had left my bag as Baker Street, with my purse and keys in it. I guess I'm walking then, I thought to myself with a sigh and began my journey to Baker Street.

After a walk, which was longer than I had expected, I finally reached Baker Street. I hurried through the unlocked front door and headed up the boys' apartment. I went to open the door, only to realise it was locked. I slumped down, my head falling back against the door, defeated. This day couldn't get any worse, I thought, closing my eyes.

I sat like that for a few minutes before I heard the front door open and two sets of footsteps heading up to the apartment. "Chloe?" I heard someone ask, opening my eyes to see John stood over me, with Sherlock behind him.

"I left my bag here, but the door, it's locked." I stuttered, avoiding Sherlock's gaze. John smiled down at me, sympathetically, offering me his hand. I gratefully accepted his hand, allowing myself to be pulled up from the floor.

"Let's get your bag," John told me, wrapping one of his arms around my shoulder, while he used his free hand to unlock the door. John led me into the living room, while Sherlock headed straight into the kitchen. "He didn't mean what he said you know." John tried to reassure me.

I shook my head, trying to keep the tears from starting again, "I just...I don't know what to think." I admitted, before turning away from my cousin and grabbing my bag from the sofa.

"I think you should talk to him." John placed his hand on my arm, turning me back to face him. I shook my head, trying to turn away again.

"I think I'm going to go home," I began, before I heard Sherlock joining us in the living room.

"Wait, Chloe, can I talk to you for a minute?" Sherlock asked as he approached us. John looked at me, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded to him with a small smile before he turned and left for the kitchen, probably to try to find more leads for the case.

"Go ahead Sherlock." I looked at him properly for the first time since he arrived at Baker Street. He looked almost sad, as if he was affected by the whole situation. He sighed and began talking.

"Chloe, I didn't mean that I didn't care about the woman, I just meant that fixating on who she was would just waste time that we could be using to help her. And I definitely didn't want to hurt you. I know how much this must have affected you and I'm here for you, I really am, but I'm also on a case. I guess I sometimes forget that this isn't your world." Sherlock told me, taking my hands in his.

"I understand, I really do Sherlock, but seeing you totally dismiss the poor woman just made me think you didn't care about anything but the case, and that if you didn't care about someone who could literally blow up, then how could you care about me." I sobbed, finally letting go of my pent up emotions. He pulled me in to a tight hug, holding me close and whispering into my hair.

"Chloe, of course I care about you. I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone. I care about you more than I care about myself. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't care about you or than I couldn't." Sherlock reassured me, rocking me slightly in his arms as I cried silently.

I lifted my head from his chest to look up at him. "No, I'm sorry, I was being silly. I totally blew this whole thing out of proportion. I know you care for me, I do." I nodded. He reached down and wiped the tears from my cheeks, before leaning down and placing a quick but sweet kiss on my lips. He went to lean back in when he was cut short.

"Sherlock, Mycroft- he's texting me now." John walked in from the kitchen, coughing awkwardly when he saw Sherlock and myself. "He did say national importance, you can't just ignore it!" He exclaimed, deciding to ignore the moment he had interrupted.

Sherlock stepped away from me, turning to face John with one of his arms remaining around my waist. "I'm not ignoring it. I'm putting my best man onto it right now." He told my cousin, with a smirk.

"Okay. Good." John began, before thinking, "Who's that?"

John turned out to be Sherlock's 'best man' and was sent to meet with Mycroft, a man who I still felt uneasy even talking about. Sherlock waited until the door shut behind John, before he turned back to face me. "Now, where were we?" He smirked.

I shook my head, smiling slightly, "We were going to have another look at those trainers and save that woman." I laughed at his face, grabbing his hand and pulling him through to the kitchen.