John entered the crime scene with Sherlock.

"I thought you said you don't do relationships," John said, still questioning Sherlock.

"I don't," he said plainly as he walked over to the body.

"Then why did you take her to prom in the first place?" John questioned, raising a brow.

"Mycroft made me. He said that it was important that I go with someone. He set us up," Sherlock explained nonchalantly as he searched with his compact magnifying glass.

"But you slept with her!" John pointed out.

"So? Spur of the moment," Sherlock brushed it off.

"So were you actually friends before all of this?"

"I don't really do friends. I just couldn't deduce her. I still can't. She was always impossible for me to read and I could never figure out why. Mycroft was able to real quick, but even now, back in the flat, I still can't deduce her. It's frustrating," Sherlock muttered the last bit quietly.

"She seemed easy enough for me to read. She opened the door with a genuine bright smile as well as with cookies so clearly she is kind and a generous person. Her family is middle class because of the clothes she was-"

"Wrong, her family is very wealthy. She always dressed modestly because she didn't want people to ask her for money. Her father is a head surgeon and her mother is a radiologist," Sherlock corrected as he put his compact magnifying glass away.

"Oh," John hummed.

"You wouldn't be able to tell unless you knew her. Except Mycroft. He could tell you everything about her from his first look at her. She's changed a little though. That much I can tell. She normally isn't stubborn," Sherlock shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay then," John hummed and Sherlock stared at the body before going to the living room of the building to find Lestrade.

"She was choked to death. The marks on her neck indicate heavy and harsh pressure which collapsed her windpipe. It wasn't her husband. It was the housekeeper. Let's be on then, John!"

"Wait, who were you both talking about in there," Lestrade asked curiously.

"Our new neighbor, Phoebe Hunt," John answered since Sherlock was already out the door.

"Oh, we'll see how long that lasts," Lestrade joked and John nodded before leaving with a wave.

🔎

Phoebe had just finished filling out the rest of the paperwork to buy the building for her bakery, and had bought a lilo so she actually had a place to sleep, not wanting to sleep on the couch that she had bought and was moved in a few days prior to her getting there.

She had ordered a bed as well, but it would take a few more days to arrive, along with some of the other furniture she had purchased.

She went home and got straight to work on dinner.

Phoebe was humming softly as she made some tomato soup casserole. She couldn't stop thinking about her senior prom. She wished that she knew Sherlock didn't think of her as a friend. It would've saved her the heartbreak.

Although, she knew she was an idiot for falling for a sociopath. It was really her own fault.

There was knock at her door and she went over, opening it.

"John! Hello!" Phoebe smiled brightly and then grimaced when she saw Sherlock. "Oh... it's you..."

"Good to see you too! Now, what's for dinner?" Sherlock clasped his hands together, making his way into the flat.

"Oh, sure, please come in," Phoebe grumbled at the fact that he just walked in like he owns the place.

"This place is cozy." John smiled politely at Phoebe.

"Thank you, John," Phoebe said with a small smile as she shut the door. "So, what brings you here?"

"We just solved a murder and Sherlock said that you make amazing food. I wasn't going to be rude and come, but Sherlock has something to tell you," John said and Sherlock looked over.

"Oh, yes, I wish for you to know that I do not regret sleeping with you," Sherlock said and Phoebe spluttered.

"Sherlock!" John scolded through gritted teeth.

"What? I enjoyed it. I am apologizing for leaving, not for having sex. It was pleasant," Sherlock took one of the cookies off of Phoebe's table.

"You should've started with apologizing for leaving! You don't start off a conversation by saying that you don't regret getting off with someone!" John exclaimed in exasperation.

"My apologies. Phoebe, please accept my apology for leaving before you woke up," Sherlock said flatly.

"Why are you only apologizing to me now? You've never apologized to me for anything," Phoebe said as she continued to cook dinner.

"John made me," Sherlock replied bluntly and John groaned.

"Thought so. Now, are you both planning on staying for dinner?" She asked as she looked at the two men.

"No, th-"

"Yes!" Sherlock cut John off and smiled. "Your cooking is always delicious!"

"Alright. Oh! We have another guest comi-"

"Phoebe," a voice sounded from the doorway. "Ah, brother mine."

Sherlock groaned when he heard the voice.

"Mycroft! You made it!" Phoebe walked over and hugged him.

She was much shorter than both the Holmes brothers, standing a five foot and three inches. She didn't mind it though.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm glad you're back in London," Mycroft said as he hugged her back.

"So you did send her here to spy on me," Sherlock said and Phoebe laughed.

"You think I would spy on you? I didn't think you would be living above me. Mycroft is a friend. The only friend I have, thank you very much." Phoebe glared.

"You have other friends, I'm sure of it. Your phone has gone off four times since I've been here," Sherlock pointed out.

"My realtor. I'm opening a bakery and cafe. He is just checking in because I signed the papers today to buy the building," Phoebe corrected. "I gave up my chance at friends because I hung around you."

"That wasn't my fault," Sherlock said flatly.

"No, maybe not, but I was happy with having two friends that I was close to. I didn't realize that I was just an unsolved mystery to you. You know, you may be very smart and notice everything about everyone in the room, but you are awful at being a human."

Phoebe went back into the kitchen and Sherlock frowned.

"I'm not bad at being a human," he looked at John to back him up.

"You were a really big asshole to her," John said as he crossed his arms. "And to literally everyone in the world."

"You also never realized how much she liked you, brother mine" Mycroft pointed out.

"Oh, I did. I just didn't care. I don't have room for sentiment. She was merely my assistant," Sherlock said as he took off his coat.

"You just proved our point. You need someone like Phoebe in your life," John said to Sherlock who snorted.

"Unlike you, I don't need a woman to look at to make me happy. I told you on the day we met, I'm married to my work. I can't be married to a woman at the same time. There's just no room in my life for sentiment. For love."

"I can't imagine a world like that." John shook his head.