Seven

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock sat, silent and still, while nurses rushed by in a chaotic blur. The whitewash walls of the hospital corridor seemed to burn his eyes as he and John sat waiting for news. John had insisted that he come, something about taking responsibility for ones actions or something stupid like that. A nurse walked up to them; her face extremely grim. John looked like someone had punched him in the guts. It was an odd expression if Sherlock thought about it, being punched in the diaphragm always seemed preferable than the pain people went through over their feeling and attachments to others. The nurse led them down the corridor and into one of the rooms. One of the beds was filled, its occupant very still and very pale; her breasts rising and falling slowly with each breath. There was one other person in the room. Belinda looked up from beside her daughter's bed side and gave them a tightlipped, watery smile which John returned. Sherlock merely sighed; why did they have to visit the girl if she wasn't even awake, he highly doubted talking to a coma patient was going to be very productive in fact he rather wished Charlie were here…

"Sorry I'm late. Trying to catch a cab in London nowadays is a bloody nightmare." A familiar voice called from behind them and Sherlock felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach as Charlie walked over to where they stood and stared down at the sleeping girl with a bored expression on her face. He grinned to himself at the sight of her dress; a sleeveless turtle neck patterned in black and white stripes, her pales legs were sheathed in bright red stockings and her red hair was piled into a messy bun that had obviously missed it's daily combing. He quickly dismissed it and smirked at her.

"I told you to leave earlier; it would have saved time…" Sherlock began. He saw her cheeks flare a slight shade of pink (barely noticeable to most) and she held up a single finger; he fell silent.

"One more word and will hide your skull and your eyeballs." She said and he wisely stayed that way. John chuckled whilst Belinda merely looked confused.

"Don't ask." John advised her and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Why are we here again?" He asked and John scowled.

"Emily has been showing signs of waking up… she apparently woke up yesterday said your name then relapsed." Belinda said, ignoring the rudeness of the question and standing to clasp her little girl's hand. Eyelids flickered slightly but she didn't wake.

"The doctors say that she should make a full recovery, despite the fall… thank you again John if you hadn't grabbed her I'd hate to think of what would have happened to her… probably something like that poor boy." She said and shuddered. Sherlock thought back on what had happened.

As the pair fell back Sherlock cried out. He watched, almost in slow motion as John moved forwards and just about threw himself over after them. Charlie moved forwards and grabbed his legs to keep him from toppling over the edge himself and the pair of them began to wiggle to pull whoever they had managed to catch back over the edge of the bridge. As soon as John's feet were planted firmly on the ground the four of them helped him to pull the now unconscious Emily back onto the sidewalk. The girl looked like she had a broken arm and there was a thick line of blood coming from her hairline which Sherlock suspected had com from the side of the bridge when John had caught her. Belinda, sobbing hysterically by now had taken her bleeding daughter from John and sunk to the ground, pressing her lips to her daughter's dark curls and whispering softly.

"Nice catch John." Charlie said and moved to look over the edge of the bridge and down onto the Thames. Sherlock moved to stand beside her and also peered down. James broken body was now lying, face up in the river, he face pale and completely lifeless as he gazed up at them. Charlie turned to look at Sherlock and the two of them exchanged identical stares of disappointment.

"I should have seen that coming… psychology degree and all." She said and he shook his head.

I don't think there was anything either of us could have done too differently that would have changed how this ended… neither of us are negotiators however it is true that you could have suspected…" He trailed off and she hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shush Shirley, you didn't predict it either even with your superior knowledge on all things." She pointed out and he rolled his eyes and they moved back to help John and Belinda.

Lost in his thoughts he hadn't realised that Charlie had spoken to him.

"What?" He said intelligently and she smirked. He mentally kicked himself.

"Have you answered those letters I left on the mantel this morning?" She said and he nodded.

"Even the one from Arabia?" She asked quietly; well aware of the busy hospital around them. He nodded but seemed less than pleased.

"I don't think I'm the right person for this kind of thing however it is a diamond." He said and she smiled.

"Of course you didn't because the great Sherlock Holmes has absolutely no idea what to do when something goes missing." She teased and he scowled before turning his attention back to the now awakening Emily who, although hadn't opened her eyes, was squeezing her mother's hand and trying to speak. They all leaned closer to catch it.

"Mo… Mor…" She seemed to be trying very hard to say something and Sherlock leaned in very close till their cheeks were almost touching and his lips beside her ear.

"Try again Emily." He said and she drew a long shuddering breath.

"Mess-age for Sh-Sherlock 'olmes." She said breathlessly.

"Yes," He said and she drew another rattling breath.

"He s-said… to w-watch out for him s-sexy." Sherlock frowned but continued to listen.

"Who?" He asked and Emily's eyes opened suddenly. She grabbed his coat tightly and held him so their eyes were centimeters apart. The sixteen year old wet her lips and her eyes darkened momentarily.

"Moriarty." She said and fainted clean away. Sherlock released himself from her grip and moved away. Brushing invisible lint from his clothes, he indicated for Charlie to leave with him and the two quickly made their goodbyes to Belinda who wished them all the best… in between her never ending thank yous. Sherlock moved away as Belinda pulled Charlie into an obviously uncomfortable hug and whispered something in her ear. Charlie's stiff posture stiffened even further, if that was even possible, and she shook her head briskly. Belinda just smiled and wished her luck.

"I'm going to need it." He though he saw Charlie mouth to herself and frowned.

"What was that all about?" He asked and she waved a hand towards him.

"You're supposedly the genius around here, you figure it out." She said and he shoved her lightly out the door. He heard John apologise and smirked as they headed to the exit. Standing outside the pair of them breathed deeply in relief. People, cars and bikes all rushed past as the odd pair stood ext to each other; Sherlock tall and striking in his traditional trench coat and Charlie shorter by a head and dressed in stripes.

"Well…?" Charlie asked and Sherlock shrugged. He decided to walk. Charlie kept up with him as they began to move slowly through the crowded street. The pair of them were silent but not uncomfortable with each other. Sherlock gazed over at his silent companion and marveled at the colour of her hair. It's beautiful shade was becoming rarer now and he resisted the urge to reach out and stroke a thick strand and twirl it around his finger. Sherlock felt an uncomfortable impulse to put arm around her waist and he noticed she seemed to be so close yet not once allowed their hands to touch. She even pulled her arms around herself. He fought the feeling off valiantly and began to listen as she spoke.

Charlie POV:

Charlie was in absolute turmoil. As she and that sociopathic bastard of a genius walked down the street she began to wish they were a little less… them. The wind began to blow a little and she pulled her arms around herself and gazed steadfastly down the street.

"Why does that name keep popping up everywhere?" She asked him and he seemed to jump.

"Moriarty? Seems we're not the only ones who get bored Charlotte." He said and she scowled at him from beneath her fiery fringe. She had reminded him countless times not to call her that and yet the insufferable jerk continued to say the damn thing whenever he could. Like she need more reminded of her mother… she had been late this morning thanks to the female half of her biological origins and had left the apartment in a hurry after speaking to her on the phone for nearly an hour. Neither had given into apologizing; they were both too proud for that but Charlie had the feeling that her mother had generally wanted to talk rather than yell, as she had, down the phone line at her only daughter.

"Oh, so this is a regular thing for you is it? I can't help but ask seeing as I've only been in the job for a two weeks but even an amateur such as myself knows things like this don't happen everyday. This Moriarty hired someone to kill… who does that?" She asked, she wasn't impassioned merely curious. Who would sponsor a serial killer and why? He shrugged. She resisted the urge to throttle him, he honestly couldn't help being a jerk could he?

"I honestly don't know but I have a feeling; yes I know…" He said at her amused look. She smirked but held her tongue.

"I hypothesise that we will find out sooner or later." He said and she nodded. There was a café nearby and Charlie felt a sudden craving for toast and jam.

"I'm hungry, by me some lunch will you." She said and he looked at her like she was mad.

"What? I don't have money and I need to eat so come on." She said and sat down on one of the hard, iron chairs. After a slight pause Sherlock joined her, sitting in the chair opposite and gazing around the packed café in boredom. This was going to be such a pleasant experience. A waiter, a young man of 24 going by his state of cleanliness and facial hair, walked up them and after trying to flirt with Charlie took their order.

"It's like Angelo's all over again." She said, burying her face in her hands with a groan, and knew that Sherlock had to be smirking.

"Please shut up." She said and he actually chuckled.

"Why are you in London Charlotte?" Sherlock asked, more out of politeness than ignorance. If the phone call this morning had been anything to go by he had probably concluded that her family life was about as smooth as his own.

"How's Mycroft going with his diet?" She retorted and her head flew up as she pierced him with a glare.

"We had an agreement." She reminded him and he merely shrugged.

"Fine, safer topic then… why psychology? Your smart enough to do anything and yet your happy to sit in a small office for about 8 hours five days a week… why?" He asked and she smiled.

"It's sort of a joke really… something to remind me of why I bother sometimes. Also it's easy I have more time to think about things when I have menial work to complete… probably come in handy now I'm around you." She said and he nodded; an unconvinced look in his eye. Silence reigned heavily between them until Charlie's lunch appeared and she thanked the young waiter, who slipped his number under the dish as he placed it on the table. She barely looked at him while he walked away; visibly saddened but not unperturbed.

"Fantastic." She muttered and spread the jam generously over the pieces of toast on her plate. When they were satisfactorily slathered she folded them in half and bit in the bread closing her eyes in relish and simply enjoying the sweetness. She could feel Sherlock's amused gaze on her but ignored him. He stretched out a hand a grabbed a piece of her toast and bit into it.

"On the table three over there's a woman in a green dress… who is her lover and who is her husband?" She asked Sherlock who started she opened her eyes to find him looking over at said woman for a split second.

"The waiter over by that table is her lover and the man sitting two down from her with their son in between them." Sherlock said without pause and Charlie smiled.

"How many children does that man over there have?' Sherlock asked ad pointed to a middle aged who was sitting with a woman who looked lie his wife.

"None, she's a call girl… going by the state of her stockings." She said and he grinned at they both stared at the blonde woman's laddered stockings with amusement.

"Whose the wealthiest person in here?" She asked and he simply nodded towards a stout elder woman by the bar who sipped a quiet glass of cherry before she groaned.

"How many men had that woman had intercourse with in the past week?" Sherlock asked and Charlie took a bite of her toast before answering.

"Two. Her husband, going by the wedding ring, and a lover, going by the fact that said husband has not turned up in the past hour and yet she is doll up to the nines." She said and Sherlock smirked.

"It won't last." He said and she nodded as the poor woman gazed around at the still crowd.

Almost makes you hurl, people put themselves through so much just because they feel… that's why I don't bother." She said and he nodded slowly. Suddenly he stood up and walked over to the woman. He whispered in her ear and watched as she got up quickly and ran out of the café, tears streaming down her face as she passed their table. Charlie waved goodbye to her retreating form just as John turned up. Sherlock returned to his seat and the two sociopaths started to laugh. It had been a rather mean thing to do but the woman would have been their all day if they hadn't done something and seriously wouldn't it be best for everyone involved?

"What's so funny?" John asked as he sat down in a borrowed chair. Charlie explained what had happened and fully expected him to laugh too but he merely frowned at the both of them reproachfully.

"What?" She asked and he shook his head.

"You can't just do that to people Sherlock, it's a) no polite and b) quite hurtful to people." John said as though the pair of them were two years old and learning to use their manners properly. Sherlock suddenly looked awkward and Charlie actually felt rather bad. The two looked at each other over the top of the table and sighed.

"Not good?" They said in unison and John rolled his eyes. They caught the drift and went back to their toast. The bill came and was paid for and the three left the café. Sherlock merely raised a hand and a cab pulled up beside the kerb they were standing on. Charlie growled.

"Really, first time and you get a cab?" She asked incredulously and he smirked. He opened the door and indicated for her to enter. Struck by his manners she smiled and settled herself inside. He clambered in and left John to crawl in behind and shut the door.

"So is Belinda going to be alright?" Charlie asked and John nodded.

"Emily should be ready to leave at the end of the week. Their going to go home and try to forget what happened, oh and Lestrade showed up… wants both your heads on a silver platter." He said and both Charlie and Sherlock pulled faces. John chuckled as Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Well I'd like to know where or good-for-nothing chief inspector was when we were pulling that girl back onto Tower Bridge?" Charlie said in a huff and stared grumpily out the window until they pulled up outside 221 Baker Street. They got out, paid the driver and walked into the apartment. Aunty Em must have been out because there was no sound from within the flat. The three of them climbed the stairs and entered 221 B. John and Sherlock removed their coats before moving into the lounge room. Charlie merely kicked off the ballet flats she was wearing and led the way. All three settled themselves down into their personal favourite seats and stared at each other for a moment. John settled comfortably into his Union Jack pillow and Sherlock and Charlie curled up on the couch they often shared whenever they were in the room. After a few moments of silence Charlie spoke.

"Weren't you going to do the shopping John?" Charlie said and John groaned.

"But…" He said and she growled, much to Sherlock's obvious amusement.

"But nothing, I did it the other day now it's your turn. Shoo!" She said and made flapping motions in his direction. He sighed and stood up, grabbed his jacket and wallet before heading out the door. She grinned at Sherlock and stood. He grabbed is violin and began to tune it. It sounded rather mournful in the quiet room but Charlie loved it when he actually played, just not when it was 3 o'clock in the morning.

"Don't forget about those letters Sherlock, I know you lied to me before." She said and he groaned.

"Fine." He said irritably and moved to the mantel once he finished the tuning. She smiled and moved over to him.

"You did good Sherlock, I know this morning's been dull but a case had got to spring out of nowhere right?" She said and tentatively wrapped her arms around his back, resting her head between his shoulder blades. They both stiffened at the contact then suddenly relaxed. She swore she heard him sigh in relief. She let go quickly and stepped back. They gazed at each other awkwardly, Sherlock unsure of what to say and Charlie shocked by what she had just done.

"I'm going to go have a shower, peek and you will die." Se said calmly and began to walk away. His voice stopped her as she entered her now organised bedroom.

"Thank you." He said and she smiled. Maybe this whole situation would just pass. She didn't like him, she couldn't… could she? With a small smile she moved into her room, picked out a more suitable array of clothes and moved to the bathroom. She also brought her stereo; setting it up as far away from the shower as possible before turning it up and undressing. The shower was turned on and she stepped into it. Even as the shower thundered I her ears and the stereo blared Charlie could almost swear she heard thumping. She stopped to listen but couldn't really hear very well. Shrugging it off she returned her attention to washing. It had almost sounded like a fight but seriously why would a fight be going on in 221 B Baker Street?

"Shit!" She yelled and slammed off the water. Grabbing a towel she hurriedly dried herself; listening to the sounds of thumping and grunting coming from the living room. Piling on her underwear and tee shirt she ran out of the room, hoping she didn't miss too much of the fun…

There we go… A Study in Pink finished. I'm going to be writing a new story based on The Blind Banker so look out for it. It's going to be called I'm Banking on It so look out for it and thanks for all your support.