"Danielle?"

Danielle hummed, lifting her eyelid up. In the dark of the room, she spotted Sherlock leaning over her bed.

"Are you awake?"

Danielle hummed an affirmation.

"I had Mycroft's people check on your flat. They fed the pets." Sherlock reported. "One of them is taking Erika-"

Danielle was awake now. She sat up in the bed- this wasn't her bed, the sheets were too soft. Where the hell was she sleeping? "Someone took Erika?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She's completely safe. They are a highly trained agent. You're in no shape to walk her today."

Danielle was still panting in panic. "They can't take my dog-"

Sherlock sat on the bed. He put his hand on Danielle's shoulder. "Danielle. Everything is fine. Alright? Your dog is fine, you are fine, everyone is fine. Okay?"

Dazed as she shifted into something finally awake. "I'm fine?"

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

"...whose bed is this?"

"Mine." Sherlock answered.

Danielle squeaked, pushing her face onto the pillow. Holy shit Sherlock's pillow holy shit- She pulled her face out of the pillow. "Why?"

Sherlock stood up off the bed. He walked over to his closet. Danielle pointedly looked away as he got himself dressed. "You fainted after being treated last night. It was easier to move you into my bed than argue about you stumbling home."

As Danielle was looking away, she looked down at her arms. Sure enough she was still wearing last night's clothes. Her arms had bandages on them. She could remember the blast, remember being tackled to the ground. The rest of the night was coming in brief flashes. Lots of flashing lights, from outside. Mycroft's people had shown up not long after that.

Right.

John hadn't come back.

One of Mycroft's people had banaged her wounds. It had just been bits of broken glass that had scraped the skin. She had been fine. Exhausted by the end but fine.

But John hadn't come back.

Sherlock had tucked away Danielle into his bed so she could sleep.

It was still too early for Danielle to say how she felt about all of it. Was this shock? Was she in shock again? Where was the orange blanket, she had liked that.

Sherlock walked into the line of sight. Danielle blushed again. Fuck she was still in his bed. This was one of those times where lingering in bed was a no-no.

She pulled herself out of bed. "You said someone was walking Erika?"

"Yes. I made sure it was completely Mycroft's responsibility." Sherlock explained with a knowing smile.

If Mycroft was walking her dog, Danielle would give Sherlock her firstborn.

"Feeding them too."

If Mycroft poisoned her dog, Danielle would kill both the Holmes Brothers and earn a knightship.

"I locked my flat." Danielle noted.

Sherlock gave her a look as he buttoned up his purple shirt. A shirt that Danielle hadn't seen before. She couldn't help but notice how tight it looked. She couldn't be blamed she'd been put in his bed so of course her thoughts would go that way!

He had picked the lock.

Danielle was definitely killing him- unfair tight dark purple shirt aside. The fate of Mycroft was still in the air.

==NKMHLY==

Sherlock walked Danielle out from the bedroom. She was wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his trousers, since apparently her clothes were needed for evidence. Or an experiment to test something about explosives on clothing. Danielle honestly couldn't care less.

The shirt was so nice.

And it had buttons.

Yes, Danielle was very easily amused. Who isn't amused by buttons?

The trousers were very clearly from an undercover role Sherlock had played- seriously, the man had so many more costumes in his closet than necessary- as a druggie. Danielle was hoping he was more methodical in sterilizing his clothes than his home.

Still. She walked out of his bedroom wearing his clothes to see his brother standing in the middle of the messy living room. The windows had been boarded up, since all the glass in them exploded. Danielel could at least tell that the glass had all been cleaned, or else what was the point of walking out? Then again, Sherlock was the kind of brother to leave just a few pieces so Mycroft would step on them.

She was wearing Sherlock's clothes.

Right.

Priorities.

"Oh. Mycroft is still here." Danielle noted.

Sherlock hummed, disinterested. "So he is."

The British government smiled politely. The thin kind of politeness that meant he really wanted to stick the end of his umbrella into his brother. Repeatedly. "Hello again, Miss Nolan."

Danielle glanced at Sherlock, who standing by Danielle like he expected Mycroft to kidnap her again. "Holmes the Stuffier."

Sherlock smirked. Danielle took that at face value.

"Is my dog dead?" Danielle asked.

"Erika was very skittish upon our entry." Mycroft noted. "But she is unharmed."

"And my bastard of a cat?" Danielle pressed.

"Your cat doesn't like Mycroft." Sherlock stated. "Tear on the pants of your right leg, you missed it."

Mycroft gave a poorly faked smile at his brother. Or was that just how Mycroft grimaced? "The matter was handled. Your company doesn't need to fret."

"I was just insulted." Danielle told Sherlock. "I'm not sure how."

"Yes."

"Do I need to make fun of his umbrella?" Danielle asked.

Sherlock grinned. Mycroft did that smile-grimace again.

"Ms Nolan, tea wouldn't be missed." Mycroft suggested.

Oh that was good. That was really good. How dare that underhanded bastard ask her for tea. Now she had to supply it. Her nature as a Hufflepuff would be forever stained unless she made tea.

Her cat also scratched his pants.

Apparently this was fair?

She turned to the kitchen. It was much cleaner than yesterday. None of it to do with Sherlock, then.

"Danielle you don't have to-"

"Yeah well I'm hungry anyways, so I'll just make tea." Danielle countered.

Sherlock declined further argument. Instead, he decided it was necessary to be glaring Mycroft's way. His elder was grinning, no doubt an exact match to Nightwing's face when he had scratched Mycroft's trousers.

She tuned out their argument. It hadn't been intentional, it was just something she didn't want to hear. There was too much zooming around her for her to also pay attention to whatever posturing those two were doing today.

She should text her family. Have they heard about it? Probably not...otherwise her phone would be blowing up (bad timing) with texts or calls. Where even was her phone? That was an important question to ask.

As she went about making the tea, Danielle went through last night to remember where her phone had gone. She'd had it on her person...had she? The gunshots had gone off, startling her off the couch. She'd rushed right over. Did she grab her phone? Where did it go after she jumped off the couch?

Biscuits and tea, she'd left it in her flat.

Well now she had to go get it.

Which meant talking to the two brothers.

Ugh.

Worst 24 hours ever.

Then it came, a loud sound that saved Danielle from awkwardness. By throwing her into something worse.

Danielle froze. The teacups stuck, the tea barely stewing in them before she had to stop.

That was her ringtone.

It was in the flat.

And it was close to Mycroft.

That bastard.

Danielle picked up a teacup. She walked towards the two brothers, only one of whom was reaching into his pocket.

"-have her phone back." Sherlock held out his hand.

Mycroft placed the phone into his palm. Sherlock held it up. Danielle snatched the phone from Sherlock.

"They didn't do anything to it, did they?" Danielle aske, checking her phone for messages/calls.

Mycroft smiled thinly at Danielle. She gave him a flat look.

"Don't worry, Danielle. The worst thing he found were the numerous pictures with you and your pets." Sherlock assured her.

That didn't help at all. That was exactly why that was bad. Looking at those photos meant he looked at all the other photos. Nobody looks at the photos first, so Mycroft totally checked her messages first and then whatever else before finally checking the photos.

There weren't any new notifications. Well except for the latest text from Felix. That was slightly upsetting.

"What did you find?" Danielle prompted the man.

Mycroft continued to smile thinly.

'Don't kill the Government, Danielle. You'll be arrested, Danielle.' A voice that sounded exactly like her mother's scolding echoed in her head.

Pity those good enough reasons not to kill Mycroft on the grounds of he's a prick.

She went about to read her messages. All of them answered, which meant Mycroft had indeed seen them all.

Danielle saw messages from Felix and the 223b tenant. Jim hadn't texted, but Danielle was mainly convinced that he went to a girlfriend's or something.

"Sherlock. Danielle." A voice yelled. Danielle sat herself at Sherlock's side. The consulting detective picked up his violin, tracing his fingers along the sides. "Sherlock, Danielle!"

John rushed into the flat. Danielle checked her Mycroft-viewed messages. Nothing had come from John.

"John." Sherlock greeted, barely acknowledging the arrival.

Danielle waved her hand. She didn't look up from her phone. She was sending replies to the few messages she'd actually gotten. "Hi."

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?" John asked. He glanced at the boarded windows before glancing to Mycroft. The annoying elder brother that had taken John's chair. That was actually a bigger insult than looking through her phone.

Okay maybe not 'bigger'...it was about the same level of insult.

"Hmm? What?" Sherlock tried to see whatever it was that was distressing John.

"He had people clean the flat." Danielle assured. "Everything's mostly not dead. Did you want a cuppa? Neither of these two are getting it."

John eyed Danielle instead. She assumed that was a no. What a waste of perfectly good tea.

"Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently." Sherlock added. He turned his head to Mycroft. "I can't."

"'Can't'?" Mycroft repeated.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock replied.

Danielle felt her eyebrow rise at that. She made no comment about it. John had an obvious look of surprise.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Mycroft instructed.

Sherlock ignored the comment. He plucked strings on his violin. "How's the diet?"

"Fine." Mycroft replied, his smile stretching thinner. "Perhaps you can get through to him, Danielle."

Danielle looked up from her phone. Her brother was relieved to hear she was okay. Her tenant was just happy that nothing was damaged in a way that would kick up rent. "Wait, me? Why would I do it?"

"John then." Mycroft replied.

John blinked. "What?"

Mycroft held back an urge to roll his eyes. Danielle was an elder sibling, she knew that face. "I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock countered.

"No-no-no-no-no." Mycroft shook his head. "I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so-" He paused. Everyone in the room was giving him a wide eye look of 'did you just say what I think you just said?' "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" Danielle was getting the implication that she was supposed to forget he said that. "Besides, a case like this – it requires." He grimaced in disgust, much like the face Danielle imagined he had when Nightwing scratched his leg. "-legwork."

He said legwork in the same way one would say dog shit on my shoe.

Danielle was proud of her pets.

Very proud.

And if they did either of those things, they would get treats forever.

Sherlock continued plucking strings on his violin. John rubbed at his neck.

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?" Sherlock prompted.

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Mycroft corrected.

Sherlock gave John a once over. "Oh yes, of course."

John blinked at them both. "How...? Oh, never mind."

Mycroft smiled. "And Danielle. Has your brother texted yet?"

"Felix texted the moment it came on the news." Sherlock countered.

"Not that brother, Sherlock." Mycroft corrected.

Danielle hummed. "Paul works odd hours. He wouldn't have seen it yet."

"Of course. Silly me." Mycroft mused.

Danielle wanted to punch his stupid face.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became...pals." Mycroft noted to Danielle and John.

Sherlock glared at his brother.

"What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine." Mycroft asked. "Or as a neighbor."

"I'm never bored." John answered.

"It's fun."

Mycroft gave them a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good! That's good, isn't it?" Danielle got the impression that Mycroft would be patting her head, if he was the sort to do that.

Sherlock glared harder.

Mycroft lifted himself up from John's usual chair. Sherlock began to twirl the violin bow. Danielle settled herself on the armrest. Not a chance she'd give Mycroft any sort of win. Mycroft picked up a folder from the coffee table, holding it out to Sherlock.

Sherlock gave him a flat look.

Mycroft moved the folder just so, enough so that Danielle knew it was being held out towards her.

Danielle fought the urge to take it.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." Mycroft explained.

Danielle mentally swore. Defeated, she took the folder. John came over to stand at her side. The two of them looked inside the folder.

"A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in." Mycroft reported.

Which Danielle could tell, from the very informative photos.

"Jumped in front of a train?" John asked.

"Seems the logical assumption." Mycroft assumed.

"But...?"

"'But'?" Mycroft repeated.

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." John noted.

"It's a bit stupid, even for you." Danielle added.

Sherlock made a small noise of laughter.

"The MOD is working on a new missile defence system-the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called." Mycroft reported. "The plans for it were on a memory stick."

John snorted, walking back over to his seat. He plopped down into it. "That wasn't very clever."

Sherlock smiled in his seat. Danielle smiled at his side.

"It's not the only copy."

"That's even worse." Danielle commented. "Now you've just got a lot of chances to lose it. Over and over again."

Mycroft glowered, not acknowledging how Sherlock's shoulders were shaking with soft laughs. "But it is secret. And missing."

"Top secret?" John asked.

"Very." Mycroft confirmed. "We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." Mycroft gave Sherlock a hard look. Danielle stood up off the couch, walking over to show John the file. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

Sherlock raised his violin, placing it just below his chin. "I'd like to see you try." He looked up at his brother, meeting his eyes with a coldness.

Mycroft met his brother's stare. "Think it over." He warned.

Sherlock showed nothing.

"Goodbye, John. Goodbye, Danielle." Mycroft held out his hand towards them. John gave it a quick shake. "See you very soon."

He left there flat. Danielle was reminded of Dementors exiting the train.

Sherlock began poorly playing the violin. Danielle tried to hide a smile as Mycroft walked just that little bit faster out the flat. Sherlock didn't stop playing the violin until he was certain Mycroft had left the building.

"Why'd you lie?" John prompted.

Sherlock looked at John. He pulled the bow off the violin, resting it back against his hair.

"You've got nothing on– not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?" John asked.

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock excused.

"Oh!" John hummed, slumping back in the seat. "Oh, I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere."

Danielle just laughed. She stood up to her feet, walking towards the kitchen. There was a cuppa calling her name.

"Was she wearing your shirt?" John asked Sherlock, when he thought Danielle was out of hearing range.

She was not, for your information.

Her pink cheeks were proof of that.

Before Sherlock could say anything, his phone rang. He answered. "Sherlock Holmes...Of course. How could I refuse?" He set down his violin. He was grinning wide-

A case.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" Sherlock prompted.

"Please." Danielle cheered.

"If you want me to." John excused.

"Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger and neighbor." Sherlock put on his coat. "We have to stop by Danielle's. She has to give her pets treats."

"Why?"

"My bastard cat scratched Mycroft." Danielle informed with a happy wide smile. "Nightwing earned a treat."

"Your dog startled him as well." Sherlock praised. "Why do you think Mycroft didn't bring you new clothes? Erika wouldn't let them."

"I've never been more proud."

==NKMHLY==

Danielle hadn't given her pets enough love, before they left her flat. She'd gotten dressed in clothes that weren't Sherlock's.

Which apparently John kept ribbing Sherlock about. Not that Danielle heard, John was very careful about saying anything in front of his neighbor. Which meant that the jokes had to be fast and hit hard. That got even easier when Sherlock excused that Danielle wore his clothes because her's had to be cleaned, and after sleeping in his bed surely the clothes can't have been that bad.

Well.

It made John's job a lot easier.

To Sherlock's relief, John was silent in the cab ride. Silent, but still going. He kept giving Sherlock little knowing smiles. Each one had Sherlock rolling his eyes to stare out the window. Danielle was none the wiser to the looks.

When they arrived at New Scotland Yard, Sherlock practically sprinted to Lestrade's office. Danielle and John had to really move to keep up. Luckily Lestrade met them along the way.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Lestrade noted.

"Obviously." Sherlock replied.

"You'll love this. That explosion-" Lestrade began.

Sherlock gave Donovan a brief look before walking past her. Danielle gave the detective no such acknowledgement. "Gas leak, yes?"

"No." Lestrade answered.

That had all three stopping. "No?"

"No. Made to look like one." Lestrade explained.

"What?" It was all surprising to John, who was more and more thankful he hadn't been in the flat but was now all the more concerned about the people who had been.

"Someone tried to blow us up?" Danielle asked.

That made Donovan scoff. "Think that highly of yourself?" Donovan asked.

"Well nobody blows up Mrs Hudson." Danielle snapped at her. "You ever meet her, and you'd get it."

Donovan just shook her head, unable to handle another person close to Sherlock.

To keep the two women from escalating to a fight, Lestrade ushered the three into his office. Sherlock caught sight of an envelope on Lestrade's desk.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box-a very strong box-and inside it was this." Lestrade explained.

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?" Lestrade countered.

Sherlock made to grab for it.

"We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." Lestrade assured.

Sherlock paused before picking it up. "How reassuring." Lifting up the letter, Sherlock walked it over to a lamp in Lestrade's office. He held it under the light.

Danielle watched with an eager curiosity. Donovan walked in, unseen by Danielle and John.

"Nice stationery. Bohemian." Sherlock remarked.

"What?" Lestrade asked. Danielle hushed him.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?" Sherlock prompted.

Lestrade glanced at the landlady. He wasn't even sure why he was surprised, of course one of Sherlock's friends would shush the Head Inspector of New Scotland Yard. "No." Lestrade answered.

Sherlock silently went back to the letter. "She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold-iridium nib."

"'She'?" John repeated.

"Obviously." Sherlock dismissed.

"Obviously!" John repeated, exchanging a look with Danielle. Neither of them were surprised either.

Sherlock took gentle care of the letter as he opened it. He'd pulled out a tiny letter opener from his coat, stretching it along the seam. Only instead of a paper falling out- as Danielle expected- a pink phone fell out.

That was a surprise.

A legitimate surprise.

"But that's-that's the phone, the pink phone." John was the first to get his bearings- or at least his voice.

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked.

"It looks like the exact phone." Danielle agreed.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-" Sherlock paused. "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"Course I read his blog! We all do." Lestrade replied. He grinned. Danielle blushed, embarrassment settling in her chest like a bad cough. "D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?"

Donovan snickered. Danielle curled her arms around her chest. She was grateful she'd gone for a dark purple sweater today. If it happened to match Sherlock's, nobody had better comment on it!

Sherlock glared at Donovan. The detective paid it now mind. Donovan left the office with her head held high, like she'd finally won something. Danielle hated it. It made the awful feeling in her chest worse, settling deeper inside.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new." Sherlock told the room. Well that made Danielle feel a little better.

Still, she was feeling like complete garbage cause now everyone had read what John had said about her. This was worse than gossip in primary school, cause at least Danielle had expected the mockings from the other kids. She didn't expect the mocking from adults.

Also it was rude of everyone here. John hadn't wanted them reading it, or he would've told them to find it.

...he didn't tell them, right?

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership." Sherlock explained. He added in a quick glance at Danielle before glaring at John. The self-proclaimed blogger was doing his best not to show fear in the presence of the Sherlockian glare.

Sherlock flipped the phone on. It pinged.

"You have one new message." It alerted.

Danielle listened as the phone let out four small pips and a long pip. She didn't get it at all, which only served to make her really nervous. "Anyone else not liking that?"

"Is that it?" John asked.

"No. That's not it." Sherlock stated. The phone pinged with a new message. Sherlock opened it, showing everyone the image over his shoulder.

It was a flat. A single, empty flat.

But Danielle knew that flat.

She'd been the one to clean it.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade wondered.

"It's a warning." Sherlock reasoned.

"A warning?" John asked.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips." Sherlock explained. "They're warning us it's gonna happen again." He glanced at the photo, holding it out to Danielle. "You've seen this place before. Of course you have, you would have volunteered."

He didn't give Danielle a chance to answer before running out the room.

Danielle and John went to follow. "H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" John asked.

"Boom!" Sherlock reminded, dramatically.

==NKMHLY==

AN: Why was this chapter so HARD to WRITE!?

Thanks to gigicupcakes, TanzaChan 313, Shade Sparda, studentr, afionna262, teensuprnatural19, broken chips, and notans5580 for favoriting

Thanks to gigicupcakes, TanzaChan 313, , Shade Sparda, studentr, afionna262, broken chips, and notans5580 for following