Repens

Mrs. Hudson's door was locked, not a sound to be heard coming from inside. Sherlock skillfully unlocked the door with an uneasy feeling in his chest. He didn't care for the way he was worrying over her constantly but he had been warned that worry came with the relationship. Little had he known it would be to this degree. The lock made a sudden pop and then he silently opened the door. It was obvious that Mrs. Hudson had been in bed for some time- the old thing was already snoring. But where was the holder of his deepest affections?

He quietly made his way down the hall to the guest room. In his robe, watching something on her computer with ear buds in, she sat like a statue with her eyes glued to the glowing screen. There was much going on in that mind of hers. Endless thoughts could almost be seen floating above her in a jumble of words. It was as if she hadn't even noticed his presence but her being slightly tense let him know otherwise. Not a word was spoken as he sat behind her, taking special care not to touch her.

They sat this way for thirty silent minutes. When he took a seat behind her, she was researching crime leaders of London, recent videos and news articles. Next she quickly glanced through each leader's profile and history, hacking into Scotland Yard's private files. From there she checked her email, nothing of importance. After that, she created a new memo and typed one word: hello.

"We have perfect internet upstairs as well," he gently whispered in that kind voice she couldn't get used to.

Stephanie closed her laptop and put in on the floor. Keeping silent, she crawled into his lap. His protective arms wrapped around her as his chin rested against her forehead. Now wasn't the time to tell her about the gift. It wasn't time to make one of his smart remarks either. For the first time, he was ready to hear what she had to say. It clearly wasn't what he had originally predicted. She wasn't about to make a profound confession. Something was wrong and had been wrong for days. He just wanted to continue as they had been the first few days, without danger or threat.

"Tell me," he whispered into her hair, almost hating himself. Sherlock felt her take a deep breath for courage.

"We were being followed yesterday. I traded shirts with a girl that looked enough like me to throw them off. Didn't want to worry her so I lied and said I didn't feel well. She fell for it and you know the rest." He paused, already putting a fraction of the puzzle together- despite not having all the proper pieces. "And I heard Mycroft the other day. That note was a warning, Sherlock. I should have told you sooner."

He could tell that she was avoiding any and all signs of weakness or helplessness. She wasn't about to ask for his help. But she also wasn't going to let him know how scared she genuinely was. He couldn't tell her yet but it was that precise moment that he was certain. He had known it from the night he rescued her but there was no turning back now. Perhaps this was the climax of his new strange emotions.

"Steph, I need you to tell me everything. No details spared."

"You could probably deduce most of it yourself."

"But I need to hear it all from you the way you perceive it. All accounts through your eyes."

She pulled away from him to search his light eyes in the darkness.

"Are you sure you want to see inside of my mind, Mr. Holmes?"

"Please." He was half lover, half detective now.

She kissed him once before beginning. "I received an email the day after arranging my flight to Heathrow. They were probably looking for someone my age and gender going to London. All they had to do was check up on the few girls heading this way. There is a possibility they connected me with aunt Hudson, perhaps not. If they had someone who knew what they were doing heading the research party, which they did, it would have been simple. The email told me to meet them, gave a time and a place- after my first night and I was to give them information about you and John. I had decided against it before the plane even landed. They could have tagged my phone so I've used it as little as possible since arriving- not big on talking anyway since texting is far less time consuming."

One corner of his mouth curled for the briefest of moments, but she noticed his delight. How alike they were.

"That first time we talked, I knew right then whose side I was on. And when that brute got me the first time, I knew he wasn't involved just by looking at the idiot. Whoever sent me the email told me to stay within arm's length of you without getting involved. So they've taken note of our every move since I've been here and have probably been watching us here as well. Your nickname didn't help matters," she grinned, realizing how bitter-sweet it was all becoming. "We were followed on our day out by the same men that followed me yesterday. Not sure about the phone and internet connections. Maybe they are bugged, maybe not. The note was their last warning. Until now, they were giving me time to change my mind, to change my side. Since I haven't and don't plan to, they are sure to retaliate. I've been sick mostly from stress but I can't stay inside forever. And others will eventually be drug into this. Starting with John and Mrs. Hudson. She doesn't know about any of this. Nor does John for that matter."

"Right," he sighed, trying to form a plan.

She took his hand, "It won't be too much longer, dearest. We need to take extra precaution from here on out. Maybe ring Mycroft? He could be useful." Sherlock rolled his eyes with a noise of disgust. "We need all the resources we can get."

"John and I have a case tomorrow morning, nothing of great importance. Should be solved by noon, three at the very latest. Stay here with your aunt and don't let one another out of your sights. Understand? We can sort the rest out and form a plan tomorrow evening. Maybe go somewhere secret, somewhere they won't expect all of our little group to go."

"Fine." She put her small arms around his slender body and listened to him take several deep breaths.

"Come upstairs?" he nearly begged.

Steph stared at him for a moment, her head and heart in disagreement.

"I need to stay with her. Wouldn't know what I would do without her," the girl tried to smile, not wanting to imagine her life without the best woman she knew.

"Nor I without you." It was said so soft, mostly so unexpected, that she questioned if she had simply imagined him saying the words. All doubts of his sweet remark were dashed when he kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin longer than a casual kiss permitted. "Then I'll stay down here tonight."

"No, you protect John. We'll be fine down here."

"Already tired of my company, Cassidy?"

"Never," she breathed, amazed how different this man was from the one she had met only a few days ago. Their lips brushed before she sweetly ordered him upstairs. "Sweet dreams," she whispered down the hall when he disappeared.

"Good night, Stephanie Thomas," he sang in the same hushed tone.

They changed into their night clothes and got into their beds in almost perfect unison. Their routine had already been made and tonight was their first night apart. The clocks read eleven when all the lights in 221B Baker Street were turned off.

When the creaking of stairs woke Stephanie up a bit past one, she found herself in a perplexed cold sweat. Stunned, the young woman could only watch as her bedroom door crept open. The walking pattern sounded too familiar to go completely mad over. His silhouette, bouncing curls and all, sent a flood of relief through her body.

"I thought we agreed," she giggled, more asleep than awake. She moved over towards the wall to make room.

After he was settled next to her under the covers, he whispered, "Sleeping alone is nearly impossible knowing that you are only a staircase away."

His arms wrapped around her the way they had for the last week. It was the deepest feeling he had ever had in his life. The thought of losing her absolutely unbearable. Never would he have guessed the distance that would exist between them in just twelve hours.