What in the fuck is wrong with me!? Why can't I wait till AFTER finals to get some inspiration for my writing….no one even reads my work anyway. They just all die on my fanfiction account…For those of you who are interested though, I made a tumblr for my writings; .com Read this ficlet. Go on. (Why is Sherlock so addicting…the shortest show I've ever been addicted to…"short") not sure why Mary never appears in my fanfictions…or any that I have read so far…. I don't hate her…just not too fond of her.

"Go to hell Sherlock!" Emma screamed while storming through the threshold and slamming the bedroom door.

"What the fuck was that?" John looked up immediately startled.

"She's being a bitch!" Sherlock screamed the last word towards the bedroom door.

"Sherlock!" John gasped in surprise. He'd never seen them fight before. "What happened?" He questioned worried about the couple.

"She's mad I pushed her out the way of a bullet." Sherlock sighed slumping down in his chair.

"A-a Bullet?" John choked on his coffee surprised. John had found a case for the couple to take, but for some odd reason, Lestrade needed John's help on something else. So the good doctor had decided that he they could go on the case alone. Never did he think that they would be placed in some real danger.

"Yes a bullet, the damn murderer came after us when we got close to catching him. I saw him pull the gun out from across the street, aim it at Emma and I pushed her out the way." Sherlock dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Then why is she angry?" John asked puzzled. Before Sherlock could answer the question, an angry Emma stormed out the bedroom.

"After this idiot pushed me out the way he proceeded to chase after the murderer. Mind you John, Sherlock isn't armed! When I finally got up on my feet, this moron was already across the street, when he got up from getting hit by the car, he proceeded to continue chasing the killer!" Emma screamed, jabbing a finger at Sherlock's broad chest.

"You were hit by a car?!" Lestrade spoke up, walking out the kitchen. With all the commotion John had forgot that Lestrade was in the flat with him working out the other case that was still in action.

"Hmm? Oh yes, was not hit. More so tapped slightly." Sherlock shrugged.

"Other than Sherlock's recklessness what else happened?" John asked.

"Well when Donovan came to make the arrest, since you know Lestrade you were here working this case with John, Sherlock started with his lecture." Emma seared in anger, glaring at the detective who scowled at her and looked away.

"Lecture?" Lestrade and John asked slightly confused, and worried about where this was going.

"He said, that if I'm so incompetent as to not see a man pull a gun out and aim at me, I should not come on cases with him. He said that I'm just slowing him down with my incompetence." Emma growled in anger.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade gasped.

"No! First she gets angry I saved her life, then she gets mad that I caught the killer?! She can't even be smart enough to know what to be properly angry at. She's a complete moron! She just slows me down in my life." As soon as Sherlock said those words, even he realized his anger had caused him to go to far. The three men looked over at a teary eyed, red-faced Emma.

"Moron? I slow you down? Well you know what? I'm smart enough to know when I deserve better! You won't have to worry about me slowing you down anymore Sherlock Holmes! We're through!" Emma screamed. She ran out the door and slammed it shut, causing all three men to wince at the sudden clap of noise. John winced again when he heard her scream again and a sob rack her tiny body.

"I-I.." Sherlock's voice faltered as he looked over at the other two men.

"Go after her." Lestrade urged while glaring at the consulting detective.

"She'll come back. Where would she sleep tonight?" Sherlock waved with his hand.

"At her actual home?" John offered.

"She won't. She knows I'm just angry. She's just angry too. No big deal." Sherlock shrugged getting up and going to the kitchen to start another experiment. Lestrade and John glance at each other realizing Sherlock wouldn't understand this. They silently got up and walked out the apartment to find her.

"She hasn't got her car. It's in the shop…after Sherlock threw that man out the window." John sighed as they walked down the steps.

"Again? What happened?" Lestrade questioned.

"A client came in to ask for help and he was quite rude to Emma, well Sherlock didn't appreciate it and he threw him out the window." John sighed.

"They're 'honeymoon' phase is over." Lestrade stated. After all this was their first real fight. Usually Emma was very forgiving of Sherlock, but today he had taken it too far. Even Sherlock himself knew that, but his pride wouldn't let him admit to it.

A couple hours later while John and Lestrade were still out looking for Emma, Sherlock began to realize this was more serious than he originally thought. He couldn't believe he had said that to his beloved companion. Why on earth would he say such awful things? Sure she was in danger, but neither of them knew the killer would turn around and bravely attempt to take their lives in the middle of the London streets. It wasn't her fault. Sherlock needed something to calm his nerves. Yes, he would calm his nerves and then he would go look for her.

"What to take." Sherlock mused to himself out loud. "Cigarettes? No." He shook his head. "Not strong enough." He looked around and an idea struck his mind. "Heroin!" He smiled as if it were the best idea he'd ever had.

While Sherlock was trying to get his hands on some heroin, Lestrade and John had finally caught up to Emma. Unfortunately, she was not in the condition they had wished to find her in. In her attempt to numb her heartache of leaving her amazing companion, she had drunk too much at the local bar.

"Can I buy you another drink sweetheart?" A middle aged man asked, sitting next to Emma he leaned in and she could smell the cigarette on him. While it subtly reminded her of Sherlock, it wasn't Sherlock. He had a scent of nicotine, but mixed with old books, a hint of his cologne and aftershave. Sometimes he would even have a bit of gunpowder mixed in if they had spent a day with Lestrade.

"No." She grumbled slamming her empty glass down.

"C'mon. You look so sad." He murmured, placing a hand dangerously low on her back he leaned in and nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck. She pushed him off, slammed some money on the table and walked out the bar. He growled at her, stood up abruptly and followed her out into the cold air of the London night. "You need to be more polite." He sneered coming up behind her and slamming her into the brick wall in the alley by the bar.

"Get off me!" She cried. It finally struck Emma that she had drank too much. Due to the copious amount of alcohol in her system, it made it almost impossible for her to push the man off her.

Back at 221B, Sherlock had managed to tie the tourniquet around his forearm and was about to jab the needle in when he realized what he was doing. He growled in frustration and tossed the needle to the ground and untied the tourniquet. He walked out the bedroom, threw his coat on and ran out the flat. When he ran a couple block towards the nearest bar he spotted Lestrade and John walking around the busy streets looking in stores and scanning the nightlife crowd.

"I know where she is." Sherlock interjected walking right between, and past, the duo. "The local bar. C'mon, you two know Emma." Sherlock sighed as they ran the two blocks left. Luckily this was the nearest bar that wasn't a tourist attraction…it just happened to be one of the roughest bars. When they neared the bar they heard shuffling and crying in the alley. Sherlock's heart dropped when he recognized the cry.

"I said get off!" Emma screamed again. She wished she could sober up faster, the one time she needed to be super sober and fight back, she couldn't even steady herself. The disgusting man had Emma's thin shirt was nearly shredded and her leggings slightly pushed down her hips. He was currently kissing all over her abdomen and pinning her arms and hips down against the brick wall. Her eyes began to blur with tears as she felt the brick wall scratch, and cut into her flesh. She kicked her legs and he bit her thigh in anger. The raven-haired detective let out a cry when he threw her tiny frame on the ground and straddled her hips. She closed her eyes harder when she felt his filthy lips on her neck. Emma braced herself for more when all of a sudden she felt his weight lift off her. She opened her eyes slightly and pushed her body against the brick wall, cowering in fear, from crying and the bruised eye he'd given her, she couldn't tell if it was another drunk in the alley.

"Emma?" John whispered crouching down next to her. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at her best friend. She cried in relief and threw her arms around his neck.

"You're alright now love." Lestrade soothed, running a hand over hear long hair. There was a scream that caused the three of them to look over at the source of the noise.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade yelled rushing over to the consulting detective. He currently had the drunk pinned against the wall by his neck and was punching him in the face repeatedly.

"If you ever touch another soul I'll throw you out a ten story window. If you ever touch her again, I'll kill you." Sherlock nonchalantly informed.

"Sherlock, a drop from a ten story window would kill him as well." Lestrade whispered in his ear before prying him off the man. He continued to inform the drunk he was being arrested for sexual assault and public disturbance. Sherlock looked over to where John was sitting on the floor holding Emma. His heart broke as he walked over and knelt down by her.

"Gumdrop?" Sherlock tested using her favorite nickname. She looked up and cried harder remembering their fight earlier. "I'm sorry about our fight darling."

"Uh Sherlock. Just kinda…uhm here." John sighed handing her over to Sherlock. He detective nodded and kissed her head. He shrugged off his coat and pulled it around her. Emma pushed her arms through the long sleeves and breathed in the scent. She loved wearing his clothes, especially his coats. Sherlock rolled up his white collared shirt and pulled the scarf off his neck, before draping if over hers. "C'mon sweetheart." He murmured bending down and scooping her up in his arms. He walked out the alley and into the waiting taxi to take them back to 221B.

When they arrived home, Sherlock carried Emma up the stairs and into their bedroom, before bidding Lestrade and John a goodnight, which had gone back to working out the case.

"Sherlock. Can I take a shower?" Emma asked in a tiny voice.

"Of course darling." Sherlock mumbled kissing her temple and setting her on the bathroom floor.

"Can I wear your clothes?" She asked again quietly.

"You always do my love." Sherlock smiled. He grabbed a shirt and a pair of boy shorts for her before walking into the bathroom with her. When he finished drawing the bath up he turned around and saw her get undressed. The brunette detective clenched his fist as he saw the bite mark and the bruises start to form on her pale skin. Emma stepped in the bath and sighed at the warm water.

"Sherlock, come in with me?" She asked with child-like innocence. Sherlock contemplated it for a moment and nodded. When he sank in the water behind her he began kissed her bare shoulders. Sherlock pressed his forehead to her body and sighed. It was quiet until he heard the sound of ferocious scrubbing. He looked up to see her scrubbing till her skin was raw. "I want that feeling off. You can't kiss me again if I'm filthy Sherlock."

"Emma." Sherlock whispered grabbing her arm and stilling her. "You're clean. Stop that before you break more skin." His heart hurt, he had emotionally killed her and might as well have assaulted her himself.

"I'm sorry." She whispered dropping her head and staring at the bubbles forming in the water.

"It's not your fault. I was stupid. Yes, I was very stupid. We didn't know the killer would have the guts to come after us in broad daylight, and during tourist season nonetheless. I just, I panicked when I thought the only person I've come to love would be taken away from me. I'm not used to all these emotions Emma." Sherlock whispered into her shoulder.

"I could have been more careful." Emma sighed as she interlaced her slender fingers with his. "I shouldn't have gotten drunk."

"I shouldn't have said those bloody awful things to you. You don't slow me down, and you aren't a moron. You have to know that." Sherlock murmured pressing a kiss to every surface of her skin he could reach.

"Thank you." She sighed. After the two finished washing. Sherlock carried her into the bedroom and watched her dress herself and brush her hair out. He pulled on a pair of boxers and slid into bed waiting for her to climb in. When she turned around she had more tears in her eyes Sherlock shot up in bed and started deducing what was going on. He finally realized the after affects of the day were taking a toll on her. He wrote it off as her being overwhelmed and tired, especially after an assault like that. He sighed and threw his arms open with a warm smile on his face. She cried and jumped into bed with him. He lay against the headboard and pulled her into his chest, wrapping the blanket around her body he pressed a kiss to her damp hair and waited for her crying to subside. When it did, she sat up slightly and looked at the floor.

"Sherlock what's that?" Emma asked looking at the syringe rolling on the floor.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked with his eyes closed still.

"The syringe." She answered.

"Oh, heroin I was going to partake in it. Numbing the pain and what not." He answered.

"Sherlock!" She gasped.

"Shhhh." He shushed sinking into the bed and pulling her with him. He reached his long arm over and turned the lamp off.

"I love you."

"As I love you, gumdrop."