Last nights argument continued the following morning, subsided when Charlie went to work then came back in full force the next evening. She couldn't deny Sherlock turning up hadn't put a spanner in the works, and she couldn't deny that she still felt something for him. But she could deny it to Charlie, she had too. This was her life now, she choose Charlie and Isabelle and she wasn't going to let all that slip through her fingers, and even after all the certainty about what she wanted she still hadn't sent off the bloody divorce papers.

Since Charlie returned from work things had stayed at the same level of tense as they had been that morning, he'd slept in the spare room that night which was an absolute first.

She'd done tea for them all which Charlie seemed reluctant to eat then set about putting a wash on, he spent some time with Isabelle whilst she did the ironing, he then went for a shower whilst she put their clothes away and tidied the living room, he watched telly whilst she put his daughter to bed. It was all feeling more and more one sided on Eleanor's part and this was what stirred up the next argument.

"I work long hours so I can provide for you and Izzy" he set down his fifth beer of the night, Charlie wasn't much of a drinker so this was fairly unusual for him.

"You're not listening to me, Isabelle needs you to be present. Not just to be physically there but she needs you to be present. To listen to her and take interest in her day, to ask her things and just damn well be involved with her life"

"Christ Eleanor!" he slammed his fist down on the table, then immediately regretted it, looking up to the ceiling and listening for footsteps, hoping that he hadn't woke his daughter. Eleanor started at him with wide eyes, "Sorry, hey look" he quickly mellowed and took her face in his hands, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry I didn't mean to lash out I'm just stressed. What with Izzy being poorly and Tracy giving me grief. Forgive me El I know I've been an ass this past few days"

"Yes you have" her voice was strained.

He sighed.

"It's just like I said yesterday. We had a really good thing going me and you and then he just turns up randomly out of the blue and I know it sounds childish but I feel second best to someone who hasn't been here" he plonked himself down back in his chair, trying to find the right words. "You're always making an excuse up to not be intimate with me I can't help but put two and two together and I'm starting to think if the problem might actually be me"

Eleanor felt at a loss. What could she say?

"Charlie, please listen, it isn't you or anything it's m-"

"'It's not you it's me?' Really El come off it. You won't even divorce him now which puts me in a shitty light shagging his wife" she scrunched her nose at the vulgar use of language,

"Don't say it like that it makes me feel cheap"

"You still love him don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous" she folded her arms and held his gaze, the stare he was giving her was so intense the vain in his forehead looked like it was going to pop.

"Cut the crap El it's written all over your face"

"You" she moved forward and cupped her hand to his jaw, "I love you"

She bent and kissed his nose lightly, a display of tenderness he seemingly needed because his shoulders relaxed from the ridged position he's held them in all night.

"Please darling I'm just not feeling myself recently it's nothing to do with you, here" she blatantly lied and grabbed his hand to lead him upstairs.

She walked him backwards to their bed and sat him down, bunching her nightie up so she could straddle him. "I love," she then kissed his nose again and then his cheek, "you."

That was as much encouragement as he needed for the moment.

She woke up during the night, Charlie's arm was laying heavily on her chest, he'd taken her particularly rough that night, it was becoming more frequent she had noticed, in the few and far between times they'd actually engaged in such activities since the Sherlock issue that is. Their once thorough love making had as of late become almost painful and rushed, like the honeymoon period was over and he was content with just seeing himself satisfied.

She padded over to the bathroom and switched on the light, her reflection in the mirror stared sleepily back at her, light bruises were beginning to appear around her neck and chest, and not just from playful toying. Finger marks were still white against her neck that she was sure would be a deep shade of bluey purple by morning. He'd apparently taken her really rough that night. It's not that she minded so much it was just the intensity of it was getting out of hand. It was as though he couldn't snap out of it, he was so driven with frustration it was frightening.

She started running the hot water - suddenly feeling the urge to get clean - and perched on the edge of the tub with her head in her hands. Tonight had just made things a lot more messy for everyone concerned.

The next evening she met up with Mary after Charlie decided he was going to work from home as to spend more time with Isabelle and do a bit more around the house. John had taken Rosie to a late session swimming class so the two women had an hour or so to do some much needed catching up, which they did. Eleanor told Mary everything about Charlie and their recently fragile relationship, everything that had happened since the Christening. Mary had expressed giggly interest in seeing a certain person back together with another certain person then listed off all the pros (and then cons from Eleanor) of reestablishing the relationship.

The more the conversation about Eleanor's now messed up life went on the quicker they seemed to drink. It was almost three bottles of wine later when John came home to find the pair in an intolerable stare.

He'd left the house two and a half hours ago and returned to find his own wife slumped in one dining chair and Eleanor knocked out in the other.

"Oh for fucks sake" he exclaimed under his breath.

Mary stirred, "Oh you're back! What time is it?"

"It's twenty past seven you alky"

She blinked several times and noticed her friend still fast asleep facing her, "bloody hell"

"Bloody hell indeed, let me just go put Rosie down. See if what's his name's number is in her phone"

"We can't return her like this, Charlie will go mad!"

"Return her, what've you got a receipt?"

He walked back into the dining room looking cross.

"John no, it was my stupid idea to drink wine" she hiccupped and nearly threw up, "besides if he thinks she's gonna come home pissed every time he's gonna turn into a bigger arsehole. You know what happened at the Christening"

"'Bigger arsehole?' What've you been talking about all night?" she gave him a knowing if ever so slightly queasy look, "never mind. Let's just get her home, I'd drive but someone needs to watch Rosie and I feel like you need to spend some time with your head in the toilet"

"No John, it was tricky enough getting Charlie to be okay with her coming here we can't send her home like this"

"Send her home? Charlie's okay with it how old is she, five?"

"Trust me"

"She needs her own bed Mary, look at her!" he gestured at Eleanor who was snoring with her face in a puddle of her own saliva. He'd never really seen her like this unless she was with his wife. Terrible influence.

Mary gave him that look and he almost physically jumped at the realisation.

"Ohh no you don't. I am not calling Sherlock"

"Mycroft then? Oh please John"

"Fucking mess" he mumbled reaching into his pocket for his phone as his wife practically hurtled to the bathroom.

Not twenty minutes later and they were both plonked on the couch feeling sorry for themselves. Eleanor was already drifting off again when Mycroft entered.

"My my Eleanor, what have we got here?" he then lent over her to inspect what he could see of her discoloured neck above her blouse with distaste.