A few days went by, and I began to believe that Sherlock only wanted me with him so he could verbally abuse somebody.

He wasn't as cruel as I'd anticipated, which was a plus. What wasn't was the fact that he constantly put me down. The annoyance contest was back, like it had never been forgotten.

Today I wasn't feeling up to dealing with him, so I dropped by Mrs. Hudson's. She was very surprised to see me, as she thought I'd left for home already. She practically pulled me inside and made me breakfast, no questions asked. While Mrs. Hudson cooked, my mind wandered back to the same topic: Mary's pregnancy.

I needed to talk to someone about it. I wasn't ready to talk to the parents. I could try Amanda, but I wasn't sure what was going on with her anymore. We weren't exactly being good friends to each other, neglecting to reach out. I didn't want Madison and Kendal to talk to; they'd focus on Sherlock more. My adoptive parents were an option, as were Max and Darien—more so Darien. I definitely couldn't talk to Sherlock about it, as he would ignore me or tell me to shut up about it. Besides, he was hardly a person to listen to that sort of problem.

And how was Sherlock taking the baby news, anyway? He could be affected by it, definitely not as much as me though. Not having my dad around in the apartment anymore didn't seem to bother him so much. I mean, he had me, and he most likely was living alone before Dad came into the picture. But for all I knew, Sherlock could be taking Dad's absence a lot harder than I thought.

I hadn't ruled out Mrs. Hudson. I was sure she didn't know. I felt this weight on my chest; I had to get it out.

"There you are, Rachel," she said ten minutes later, laying a hot breakfast in front of me.

I softened. "You're really too sweet, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you."

"So what's keeping you hanging around?"

I swallowed a bite. "You're really asking me that question?" She sat across from me. "Sherlock's keeping me cooped up."

"Really?" She was definitely surprised.

I nodded. "He told me he wanted me to help him on a case."

"Huh. And you accepted?"

"I kind of had no choice. He didn't threaten me, he was just persistent."

"I believe it."

"Mrs. Hudson, can I talk to you about something?" I put down my fork.

"Oh, does that taste funny? I thought I used some expired ingredients..."

"No, it's not about the food." I was now a little worried about getting sick later. "It's about my dad and Mary."

"Ah, it's still a big adjustment for you." She nodded in understanding. "It shouldn't be, they've been together for a while."

"It's not that. There's something else."

"Don't tell me they're arguing already! They seem so perfect together."

"No, they're fine. Pretty damn cheerful actually." My tone got razor sharp towards the end.

"What's got you so upset, then?"

I let out a large breath. "Don't tell anyone I told you, but, Mary's pregnant."

"Oh, wonderful!" Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands. "That's big for them."

"Tell me about it."

"Oh, so there's the real reason behind your grouchiness." She jabbed a finger at me. "It's got nothing to do with the parents so much as the baby."

My eyes fell to the table, hand clenched into a fist. "I'm working through it, but I think a big part of it is that I haven't been able to talk to someone about it. Gosh, saying that makes me sound like a whiny brat, doesn't it?"

"Well, it's a big adjustment for them, and for you. People often don't have good reactions to change. It takes time for it to settle before it's accepted. Have you talked to them about it?"

"No. They're not going to want to talk to me, not while they're still honeymooning and fawning over their baby." I frowned.

"Don't make it sound like that's all they'll think about, Rachel, because you know that's not true. As you said, you need to work through this. Did you feel the same way about when you knew they were getting married?"

"I was cautious about Mary, but I got to know her and it kind of solidified me being happy for them both."

"Then do the same about your brother or sister. Think about how happy John and Mary will be. It'll be an adjustment, for sure, but it'll be a welcome one. Think about all the bad that's gone on in the world. A baby will make their lives better, and yours. You don't have any siblings?"

"I've been an only child all my life."

"Then perhaps it'll give you some insight you never realized you wanted. Take your time, get used to the idea of change, and then you'll be able to work through the negative things." She reached across to grab my tense fist on the table. The tension faded.

I shook my head. "What would I do without you, Mrs. Hudson?" I heard faint shuffling upstairs. "It sounds like he's awake."

"How's he taking it?"

"I guess okay." I shrugged. "I don't know. Sherlock isn't an open guy; you should know that, Mrs. H." I heaved a sigh. "I better get back up there. Hopefully I figure out what case I'm working on."

As I rose, Mrs. H did as well, hugging me. My heart melted as I held the little old woman. I couldn't imagine Baker Street without her. "Oh, when you talk to your boyfriend next, tell him I said 'hello,' would you? He's such a nice boy."

"I will."

"When you two get married, make sure to invite me to the wedding."

"I won't forget, I promise." With a parting wave, I left Mrs. H to deal with the nightmare that was Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

The day seemed rather calm.

Sherlock didn't say much, if he did it was very low and to himself. I never bothered to try and listen to what he was saying. Odds were he was rambling to himself.

When dinnertime came around, I was the one to cook. I tried something simple; all while trying to focus on a new show titled The Following. I cooked as I listened. The show pulled me away from my food making duties, which resulted in a badly made dinner. Sherlock made comments, mainly about how I would be a terrible housewife with being easily distracted. He wasn't the only one who wasn't happy about the end result. The commentary I could have lived without.

So after that disaster was endured, I passed the time with continuing the show. Despite how violent it was, the show was intriguing. I was glad Moriarty hadn't had a league of followers like Joe Carroll did in the show. I shuddered at the thought of what chaos Moriarty's followers could have done. I hadn't even known how many allies he'd had when I'd been in his care.

This show gave psychos great ideas, just like CSI gave murderers and serial killers great methods on taking out people. That's what people were into nowadays for entertainment: criminal dramas with a good amount of violence and blood.

A startling question came to mind now: did Sherlock ever kill anyone? Did he ever have ideas of murdering people before? No, he couldn't have. He's not like Moriarty. Moriarty wanted to kill people, and he did. Sherlock isn't Moriarty.

Once I finished a few episodes, I decided enough was enough for one day. I also hoped I didn't see Joe Carroll in my dreams tonight either. Though he was a fictional character, he could remind me of a monster of my past.

"So," I began, breaking the silence, "this case you need me for. You haven't told me anything, and it's been days. If you won't tell me anything, there's no point in me staying here."

"I'll tell you details when I feel you need to know them."

"I could be back in Maryland right now!" I could be back with my boyfriend.

"But you aren't."

I snorted, lumbering over to the empty fireplace. I felt the urge to light it, but considering it was almost summer there was no point. I looked at myself in the mirror above the fireplace. I didn't look any different than I had the first time I'd come here, but I definitely felt different. I felt changed.

Change. For some reason, that stuck with me, that word. I looked around, noticing not much had really changed, with a few exceptions. I hadn't realized Sherlock had gotten rid of my dad's chair. There was a gaping hole in the living room now where it used to be. I'd been here for days and I'd never known it was gone.

"Did we decide to sell the chair?" I asked.

"There was no need for it."

"What if I wanted to sit there?"

"You've got the sofa."

Out of the blue, something connected in my head. My true purpose for being back in Baker Street was obvious. I couldn't be here for a case. "I know why I'm really here," I murmured to my reflection. "You miss my dad. You need somebody here. This isn't about a case at all, is it?"

"Oh, you're here for a reason, just not for company."

That stung a little bit. "You could ask anyone else to be here with you. Why me?"

"You've been around me, you know my habits." That was hardly true. "Besides, you're the only person who I can tolerate being in the same room with for some time aside from your father."

"I'm flattered," I joked. "But I'm not my dad, Sherlock. Whatever you expect of me, I doubt I'll be able to reach your standards. By the way, you still didn't tell me why I'm here."

"I need your help."

"You told me that at the airport," I said shortly. "I don't understand what you need help with."

"It's something I've never dealt with before."

"Not having my dad around?"

"No." The long silence that followed made me look in the mirror at Sherlock. He looked hesitant. "I need your advice."

I blinked hugely. Did I hear that right? Did Sherlock Holmes, the know-it-all, actually ask for advice? "O-on what?" I sputtered, still at a loss for words.

"Relationships."

My brows came together. "You're asking me advice on...relationships?" I had to be hearing this wrong. "You're messing with me, right?"

"No." Sherlock looked dead serious.

"You kidnapped me back here only for me to help you on...relationships." I shook my head feverishly. "This would have been so much easier over the phone." I sighed. "Okay, I'll go along with this. What do you need help on specifically? Everything?"

"I'm not entirely helpless, Rachel," Sherlock deadpanned. He tilted his head back against his chair, eyes closed. "I managed to get her number."

"She probably gave it to you; I can't see you asking a girl for her number."

"Focus, Rachel."

"Okay, so you've got a girl's number. Is it conversation issues?"

"No."

I groaned. "If you tell me flat-out what you need me for, then I can help you faster." I whirled around to face him.

"How does the first date thing work?"

If I'd been drinking water, I would have spit it out by now. "Every couple is different. Wait, are you two together?"

"No."

"Take her out for dinner or something."

"Dull. Predictable."

"Girls don't care about that. Look it up on the Internet. You'd get a lot more ideas from there than from me."

"I didn't ask you for ideas on what to do. That's not my problem."

"Then what is?"

"It's more of what happens after."

"Oh." My lips pursed in thought. "Well, that's simple enough. You escort her home like a gentleman."

"You think I'm not one?"

I sighed through my nostrils. "Gentleman isn't the first thing that comes to people's minds when they see you, Sherlock. Anyway, once you be nice and escort her home, the rest is pretty simple. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"I'm not sure I can."

"You're intelligent; reading a woman's body language to figure out what happens next isn't that hard."

"It can be misinterpreted."

I moaned, closing my eyes in irritation. "If this girl is really into you, kiss her. She'll expect it, unless she's one of those take-it-slow types. Either way—"

The alarm bells in my brain malfunctioned pretty quickly once I realized what was going on.

It was obvious as to how much Sherlock lacked skill when it came to women, his lips told me that much.

This was too sudden. This was too startling.

I moved away from Sherlock, realizing what just happened.

Sherlock Holmes freaking kissed me. And what did I do? I kissed back. I felt contaminated.

"No, this isn't right." I grabbed my hair in my hands, pacing. "This has to be some kind of joke."

"You know I don't fool around."

"I should slap you for that."

"Yet here you are, pacing and panicking," he noted.

I stopped in my tracks, glaring at him. "Why would you do that?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Rachel."

"Oh, so I'm supposed to believe that that," I swallowed, "is because you care about me?" I couldn't bring up the phrase "in love." I could never connect that small phrase to Sherlock.

"Do you have another explanation?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Was it bad that I was considering the possibility that what happened was because he was in love with me? But with him it's not possible. He's not that human. "I can't go with this." I shook my head vigorously. "I have a boyfriend back in Maryland who loves me. I'm with him, not you."

This isn't real. Sherlock didn't just do that. I didn't just kiss him back. I wanted to pinch myself and keep telling myself that none of this was real, but I knew it would be futile. I couldn't avoid what was right in front of me even though it was something that I deemed to be impossible.

"Convince yourself all you want, Rachel, but you and I both know you feel something for me." Sherlock tried to approach me, but I stepped back, eyeing him warily. "It's been there, buried."

"Oh, like you would know."

"I do. At the wedding, you always found me with Janine. You didn't look happy about it. I expected you to go further with your jealousy."

"I wasn't jealous," I snapped.

"Oh really? Then tell me what it was if it wasn't jealousy."

"Was this your plan?" I ignored him. "Keep me here in London so you can try and steal me from Bayley?" This sounded strange coming out of my mouth.

I bolted for my things, but Sherlock grabbed one of my arms. I whipped around, ready to punch him, but he caught it before it could connect with his face. I struggled, trying to wiggle out of his grip. Sherlock wasn't giving in.

"I'm trying to make you see reason," he said gently. "Why are you denying it?"

"Because it's wrong," I hissed through my teeth. "It can't happen."

"It took me so long to admit it to myself, why can't you?"

Hearing took me so long to admit it to myself threw me for a loop. My head wasn't really clear, between what he was saying and that kiss. "You aren't the one in a stable relationship," I choked.

"I'm also not in one where my partner is possessive of me." His eyes narrowed.

"Don't try to make Bayley sound like a bad guy, because he's not. Now let me go."

"Not until you admit it."

"Stop acting childish, Sherlock!"

"You're one to talk." I forced myself to look unhappily up at him as he closed the gap between us. "I can see you want this, but you want to be a good girl and not pursue it. You want to chase something forbidden, but you would rather follow the rules. You've already lived dangerously, Rachel. Why stop now?"

I bit my lip, wondering why I was even mulling this over. The answer was pretty clear, though I couldn't say the same about my head—it was still recovering from the kiss. I wasn't willing to go behind Bayley's back and cheat on him with the very man he once thought was trying to break us apart.

Or...was I?

It wouldn't be like Bay would know. It would be between Sherlock and me, our secret. Our dirty little secret. I knew both of us would keep this behind closed doors. How would I juggle it, though? I can't stay down here forever. Bayley would eventually suspect. And so would Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and Dad. But I guess a case can take a while, can't it? There would be some details that would still need to be hammered out. Aside from the up-in-the-air details, the idea sounded pretty solid.

Was I willing to take the leap?

I thought about it for a while, lost in my thoughts, and still held by Sherlock. When my answer was decided, a kiss was all it took to seal it. 

**I honestly can't even tell you how I thought 'oooh, let's do this!'

Maybe some part of me lowkey ships Rachlock as an otp. I'm not entirely sure.

Needless to say, oh Rachel. Rach, Rach, Rach.**