Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

During the butterfly kisses, Sherlock let gist hands re-exlpore John's warm back. He caressed it with slow, long strokes of skin on skin. The meaning behind John's words didn't lessen of the repeating, on the contrary. Sherlock's heart fluttered of glee, he felt so in love with this man. This man that loved him and he loved back.

Though Sherlock had been kissed by John uncountable times this day and in general, but this particular one made him gasp. Of course, he loved kissing John, and loved being kissed. But after almost a year of being together, the new, jumpy feeling of being love, had worn off a tiny little bit.

This kiss though. It was a sweet, yet emotional kiss, literally taking Sherlock's breath away. John moved his lips against his with such delicacy, such appreciation for Sherlock's well-formed lips. Sherlock cupped the back of John's head to deepen te kiss. He wanted to give this back to John. This love, this unlustful declaration of love that he was receiving right at that morning. But when he wanted to deepen the kiss to serious snog level, John broke the kiss smilimg.

Sherlock wasn't aroused or planning to become, so he showed this to John with kissing his forehead.

"I love you too, Doctor John Hamish Watson."

They turned in bed, both shifting to a comfortable position against eah other. Sherlock lay his head on John's good shoulder and within minutes, he fell in a dreamless sleep.

((I went to a Shakespeare play tonight, so that explains the cheesy love declaration))

((I thought it was adorable. Actually, it's really funny because I watched Hamlet today- thought that one lacks cheesy romantic declarations of love))

John had a happy night without any nightmares, due to sleeping with Sherlock's arms around him.

He woke up to the now-familiar sensation of Sherlock's arms and legs pinning him down to the bed. This time Sherlock had somehow in his sleep moved so he was completely on top of John- head tucked on his shoulder, rest of his body preventing John from moving.

John laughs, causing the sleeping detective to grumble and shift slightly. John tries to move his arm out from under Sherlock to push him off, but can't. He sighs and tries to come up with another way to get Sherlock off of him. It seemed like it might be an impossible feat. John manages to crane his neck and look at the clock on the bedside table- 7:30 am, late enough that they should be getting up anyways. Sherlock had actually gotten a great amount of sleep for working on a case, he would be fine.

John turns his head now so that he could reach Sherlock's ear with his mouth.

"Hey, up and at'em sleepyhead," he whispers, "Come on, time to wake up."

He kisses Sherlock's ear, but doesn't get any more response than another grumble.

"Sherlock," he says a bit louder, "get up, you wonderful git, you're smothering me with your affections here."

He gets a slightly more coherent grumble this time, with a growl included, "Don wanna, can't make me get up Mycroft, go away."

Well, John thinks to himself, that does it. I don't care if he's dreaming, he's not getting away with calling me Mycroft.

John nips Sherlock's earlobe sharply. He jerks awake with a yell, looking around, confused. He eventually puts the facts together and looks down at John, outrage clear on his face.

"John!"

"You called me Mycroft," he explains calmly, "plus you weigh a lot more than you look, and I needed to regain use of my limbs. It was perfectly justified."

((Ok, I think wake-up scenes are officially my favorite type to write. They just make me giggle.))

((I love your waking-up scenes. They're so adorable.))

"I called you Mycroft?" Sherlock raised his brows. "Well, then you certainly had a reason to bite me."

Sherlock rubbed his eyes and yawned a bit. He looked down at John, who was smirking up at him, hands folded under his head. He looked too damn smug with himself, so Sherlock had to lean down and kiss it away. He failed, of course. John's smile only got wider when he retreated.

"Good morning, Sherlock."

"A very good morning, John."

Sherlock bowed down and kissed John again. They kissed for some time, dragging it out. Sherlock made sure the kiss got tuned up and he felt John wanted to, but was reluctant. He wasn't surprised when he felt John's hands softly pushing him up.

"Not now Sherlock. We'll be late for breakfast."

"But I think we'll be fine. I don't have to shower and you don't either."

John sighed. Sherlock bowed down again and whispered slow in John's ear.

"Come on, I know you want to..."

((Sherlock being a sex addict, obviously.))

((Haha, obviously. I would too if I woke up with John Watson in my bed))

John groans and rolls over so that he can kiss Sherlock back. He wraps his finger in Sherlock's hair.

"I really should say no. One of us should at least try and be responsible."

John feels Sherlock smirking against his lips.

"Boring."

John laughs, "I love you, even if you have managed to kiss away all my good intentions."

"I would think you would love me because of that."

John rolls Sherlock on top of him, "Come here you incorrigible bastard," and starts sucking on one of his nipples.

He leans up and kisses Sherlock deeply.

"Hmmm, maybe you should practice your deducing. Warm yourself up for work today," John says with a smirk of his own. He lays back and puts his hands back behind his head.

"Go on then, detective," he purrs with a roll up of his hips, "tell me what I want from you."

Just as Sherlock's mouth opens to talk, John gets another idea.

"Wait though. You need to be prepared to try and deduce in distracting circumstances. Be able to keep your train of thought under pressure."

John starts trailing his fingers over Sherlock's chest, and moves so that he can kiss along Sherlock's thighs. He looks up at Sherlock from under his lashes.

"Go on then. Lets see that amazing brain do its work."

((Oooooh Sherly likes this game very much. I would do that too if I'd wake up next to John (and)or Sherlock :3 (preferably and)))

"Eh."

Sherlock caught himself on muttering the useless sound he hated so much. 'Eh' said nothing, was noise clouding the essence of the message. And now he hated 'Eh.' even more. It showed his inability to think. Luckily, with John that was not a problem.

Sherlock saw the urge to speak to weaken the damage done on his reputation. But it was hard. Almost literally. John's kisses on his thighs did nothing to stop that. He gave John a quick look over and then started.

"You roll your hips violently, you purr and tickle, but you want me to do the thinking work. You don't want to be teased, you want to be the teaser and you are doing a very- ah- good job at it."

John had bitten down on one of his nipples and was now soothing it with his tongue. Sherlock let the tension in his neck go and his head bowed down.

"Oh fuck."

Come on Sherlock. You can do this. This is easy peasy. Sherlock thought to himself. He lifted his head again and spoke quickly.

"You're being very direct. No teasing or a soft build up. No, as you proved in giving in so quickly, you proved you are ready. You want me, here, now."

Sherlock growled into John's ear. Things were heating up quickly. John was trying to distract him more grotesquely, rolling up his hips with more force.

"But what I don't understand is why you want me to top when you can take what you want, unless..."

Sherlock groaned. John, again, kissed his stomach merciless. Sherlock arched his back, curling over John. Sherlock had troubles with focussing, because John distracted him immensely. He chose to focus on a small object, this time John's ear. He whispered.

"Unless you want me to take you. You want to be the prey, the prey that seduces, that lores his captor into his lair. But does he really want to be captured or does he plan on turning the tables when his captor has been-nnfffm- done in?"

((Yes...yes, that would be amazing))

John's blood was racing at this point, he could hear his pulse faintly thumping in his ears. God, he had always found Sherlock's deducing amazing and impressive, but when he did it in the bedroom like this- using that low voice and with the added heat behind his sharp eyes...it undid John like nothing else.

"Very, very good detective," he gasped out, rolling his hips higher up into Sherlock.

He reaches up and twists his fingers tightly into Sherlock's hair, keeping his head down so he can whisper back.

"You deduced me completely correct. I want you now, and I want you to take me. You see, it's easy enough to take what I want, wrestle you underneath me and control you. That just takes strength. To make you take me though, to make you want me, to make you want to please me and use me- that takes much more, and I see it as a much greater accomplishment."

John pulls back so he can look Sherlock straight in the eyes, letting his feelings shine clearly through, every bit of his desperation. This particular round of sex for him was falling more towards lusting than loving. The love was still there, but this was not one of their slow times where it was clear. At the moment, he was just feeling need- the need to have Sherlock bring him to orgasm. The love would be there strong as ever when he came down, but at the moment he was being guided more by basic instinct.

"Take me Sherlock," he begs, slipping his hands to the backs of Sherlock's thighs to press him so close it was almost uncomfortable, "Take whatever you want from me, but do it now."

((I'm so sorry to disappoint you with an empty post, but I just wanted to say I can't post tonight. Today went like this: getting up-shower-breakfast-visitors-dinnet-car-theatre-taling with the artists-car-home-brushing teeth-bed. I just wanted to leave a note tthat you don't have to expect an answer from me tonight. I know I always stalk the forum when you have to reply, so I thought I'd calm your eventual expectations =)))

((Haha, funnily enough I also was busy tonight. It's my last day home before heading back to school, so I was out all evening- was feeling guilty about you maybe waiting for me to post around 7. Guess there was no need for me to worry! Hope you got some good rest after the crazy day.))

((It was busy but one of the best days so far :')))

John made his insides inflame. His voice, his words, his hips, everything. He wanted to be taken, roughly, quickly.

"Oh fuck, John."

Sherlock rarely swore outside or inside the bedroom. When he did though, he just couldn't think of any other way to express his own desperation.

This time lust definitely was the stronger motive of this round. The sweet love making was of yesterday, today was a brand new day. Sherlock's breath was rigid already. John handled him roughly and it was good. Very good. The way John pulled him in by his hair, gripped his hips and rolled his pelvis succeeded in conveying the message. Sherlock groaned.

"Oh and how I want you right now... so desperate."

With a practised hand, he quickly pulled John's pants off. After he dropped it somewhere on the floor, he positioned himself back between John's legs. He first pulled John in for a searing kiss. He heard John moan under him. He was so damn proud every time he made John gasp or groan in pleasure. Then, he lowered himself between John's spread legs and gripped their cocks together.

Sherlock broke the kiss and muffled a groan in John's shoulder. They were both starting to leak precum, which slicked the first stroke. They both exhaled shakily, moaning right after. Sherlock waited a second too long so John urged his hips up.

"Oh fuck, move!"

So Sherlock did. He pumped and rocked his hips down. Finally, they found a rhythm of strokes, jolts and moans.

((Glad to hear! By the way, how is the boyfriend going?))

John panted into Sherlock's neck. His hands were gripped into Sherlock's shoulders, tight enough to probably bruise. He thrust up into Sherlock's hand and quickly started falling apart.

He felt Sherlock's mouth working along the back of his neck, and he started up a whispered string of swears.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, God, I'm so close. Please, please, I need..." John cut off with a gasp, he couldn't focus to finish the sentence, "Sherlock! Sherlock, please!"

The next moment Sherlock bit down hard on John's shoulder, and John came with a breathless keening cry.

John moves a shaking hand from Sherlock's shoulder down between them. He pushes away Sherlock's hand. He starts up a quick motion with his hand, still shaking from his orgasm.

"Yours, yours, I'm yours, forever," he whispers hoarsely into Sherlock's neck.

((the boyfriend is brilliant! It's a month since we've been together. Its funny, when we make out, I always compare it with the dozens of times we've written about it. It's like 'fangirl discovers real life smut' x))

"I know". Sherlock said breathlessly, his voice as husky and rough as John's. A shiver rolled down his spine, he had accomplished what he wanted to do: take John, make him fall apart under his touch. His chuffedness was soon clouded with a new pinch of arousal, now John had him in hand.

While stull laying under Sherlock, John pumped him with his hands slickened with John's semen. He laid the hand John had just pushed aside on John's and urged him to slow down. He received a quizical look back, but then he started to thrust into John's hand to make clear what he needed.

Thrusting is a basic human instinct. Even women, who don't necissarily need to do it, jolt their hips up as a sign of arousal. In that moment, that urge was so stong, Sherlock may have wished for a vagina to ravish and pound into. He knew a woman's vault was sensitive, but less vulnerable than a man's hole. A woman was supposed to push a baby out there, so it might as well be fit for a rough round of fucking. That disn't mean he was suddenly attracted to women. He would still choose cock over clit. It was just that he would never give John's tight anus that treatment. But John's fist would.

With every thrust, Sherlock's movement got more frantic. He whimpered needily, desperately against John's good shoulder.

"Oh Christ. Oh fuck, John, fuck fuck fuck..."

John knew Sherlock's body so well by now, that he knew how to give him that last push over the edge. John pinched one of his nipples while giving Sherlock one last twirl over his tip. With a gasp for air, Sherlock came all over John's hands and stomach.Sherlock shuddered all over, his cock bobbing and spurting smaller waves of semen. Sherlock collapsed on Johns chest and sighrd.

Good morning John."

((sorry for typos and grammar stuff, I'm writing this on my phone again))
((I never asked you: how is your love life?))

((Non-existent at the moment. Not a huge concern. If I meet a person I click well with, I'd love to have a partner, but it's not my biggest priority at the moment. My past/ only two relationships ended...messily and somewhat recently so I don't want to push things now. I'm so happy to hear that things are working out well for you though! That sounds absolutely wonderful :) ))

John chuckles and leans over to kiss Sherlock gently.

"Good morning Sherlock," John replies with a grin.

He presses a few sweeter, gentler kisses along Sherlock's shoulders.

"I am really tempted to get you back for all those days you've made me late to the clinic by keeping me in bed. If we were at home I might. I would just keep kissing you, not even to make you aroused, but just to prove that a day spent in bed can sometimes be better than--"

John is interrupted by a knock on the door. He looks up with a sigh.

"Just a moment!"

"Sorry sir, I hope I didn't wake you," a man calls through the door, "The Count, sir, just wanted me to inform you that breakfast will be removed by 9 o'clock, and if you want to eat, sir, you should come down now. Otherwise you will have to have something cold from the kitchens."

John rolls away from Sherlock and out of the bed.

"Yes, thank you, we will be down in a few minutes."

"Very good, sir."

John moves to the bathroom and wets a flannel with soap and water. He washes and then rinses his hands and chest. He then dresses and brushes his teeth with a quickness still lasting from the army. He walks back over to the bed and leans down to kiss the still-lounging Sherlock.

"I'll go down and get some food in case you feel hungry. Do you want tea or coffee?"

"Coffee."

"Ok love, see you in a few minutes."

John goes down and loads up a plate with eggs, hash, and toast for himself. He makes a small plate of toast and some fruit for Sherlock, just in case. He makes up his tea and Sherlock's coffee, then sits eating and making polite conversation with the Count while they both waited for Sherlock to come down.

((Ah, well, that's a healthy opinion on love. Hope it will find its way into your life one day :)))

After John shut the door, Sherlock got up with a groan. Though he loved his work, he hated getting up. That's why he thought sleeping was tedious. He was as lazy as fuck and even on a case, he had trouble getting up. It was a pity John had left, he might be able to help him. But on the other hand: that would only make things slower as they would never get out of bed if they had a choice.

He crossed the bedroom to the bathroom, still in his birthday suit. He rinsed his face and abdomen and brushed his teeth before going back to the bedroom. He retrieved a new shirt and pair of pants from their luggage. He put them, plus his suit and a pair of fresh socks on, finishing the job with his shoes. When he wanted to leave, he remembered something.

The chest. They had not yet looked in it.

Sherlock called for a footman. He arrived shortly to his cry.

"How can I be of service, sir?"

"This chest needs to be taken down to the breakfast table. Could you help me with carrying it?"

"Excuse me sir, but I it is too heavy!"

"Yes, I know, but I don't presume you have a lift in this manor, built in 1849?"

"No, sir, we haven't. Not a lift for personnel. We do have a small lift for refreshments, luncheon and the like."

"Excellent. Let's use that one."

The pair of them managed to bring the chest safely to the dining room. The Count looked a bit shocked when Sherlock dropped it plumply on the white table sheets.

"Good morning, Count! I hope you had a peaceful night's rest!"

Of course Sherlock didn't really care. The Count blinked two times too much and muttered a faint.

"Eh, no, not really I-"

"That's a pity. Now, I suggest we'd open this chest now or after breakfast."

John coughed and deliberately watched Sherlock from under his eyelashes with his Sherlock-sit-behave-now-iloveyou-eyes. Sherlock complied in silence and took his place next to John. When he looked down to grab an apple, he saw that his plate was filled with the exact amount of food he had intended to eat. He smiled softly, looked sideways at John and gave him a quick squeeze in his hand as a 'thank you' while he was really touched.

((Tired. Me. Bed. Now.))

((Yeah, I have my first day of my new classes tomorrow, so I won't be up much later myself))

John smiles softly to himself as Sherlock strides into the dining room with the chest. Sherlock was always very sluggish getting out of bed, but once he got dressed and started moving in the mornings he was as alert and energetic as ever. It would always annoy John because Sherlock would seem extra energetic in the mornings in comparison to him- he needed a full cup of tea and some food before he could normally be bothered for any type of intelligent conversation.

When Sherlock starts eating the breakfast he had set aside, John is even more pleased.

"Count, have you called anyone about the chest yet?"

"Yes, I put in a call last night to a connection of mine who works with the Royal Treasury. They obviously didn't answer due to the hour, but I left a message. I got a call back from them just before you came down. They are sending someone over as soon as possible. Hopefully the person will arrive this afternoon."

"Well good, that's sorted then."

John glances over at Sherlock, who is eating his toast. He decides to sum up Sherlock's findings from the night before.

"Last night Sherlock went into the village. He spotted your butler talking to some other men in the pub. They seem to have made some sort of plans that will take place today, but Sherlock didn't hear them say what those plans were. We can surmise that they involve the chest, but we're not sure if these men know that we have the chest or not. So, we must make some plans of our own to keep you and the chest safe, and learn what these men are up to."

"Dr. Watson, I cannot imagine Alfred ever harming me. He has served me loyally for years, he wouldn't just turn on me like this!"

"How have you treated him in return?" John cannot help but ask, "If he served you for all those years and you just took him for granted, that could very well be a motive for him to act against you. At the end of the day, as much as Alfred might have been friendly to you, this was still just a job to him. Unless you treated him so, he would not have thought himself a part of the family or anything. Did you give him regular raises?"

"Well of course! I just gave him a raise...oh...well, I suppose it has been a while."

"How well did you actually know him?"

"Well...he was a good employee, always reliable and respectful. He knew his place."

"So you never really talked to him personally, is what you mean."

The Count is silent, which serves as answer enough. John turns and gives Sherlock a look asking what he thinks.

((I'm sorry, but I can't post tonight. It's after ten at night, so I lost my computer to my mom again. I also need a little bit more time to thinkover the plot. So sorry! But no post tonight :x))

((That's fine, no worries, I understand the need to think it through. Let me know if I can do anything to help))

((Kay, got an idea. You'll see))

Sherlock swallowed the chunk of food away before he spoke.

"Well if that's the case, the butler does have a motive to hate you. But he could have done other things than leave you. If I was him, I would steal money to begin with."

The Count looked thoughtful for a moment.

"In fact, some has gone missing. I remember-"

Sherlock waved with his hands to the count that he should shut up.

"Not important right now!"

John shot him a glance. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. He calmed down a bit.

"The thing that is important, is that I have to sort out your maid now. She has been missing for three days now. And I have a place where to start investigating... but first, dear Count de Mauley, can you tell me something more about the maid or were you as disinterested in her as in your butler?"

De Count turned red and coughed in his napkin. Sherlock interuppted him when he, after a long pause, wanted to speak again.

"Thought so."

Sherlock got up.

"Sherlock, sit down, maybe he actually can help."

"I don't think so. I think you, Count, think that she was a lovely young woman. A beautiful young woman. I don't think you listened to her if she even talked about her family and relationships."

The Count looked semi-disturbed by the truth that hit him.

"But don't worry, there's no reason to panic. I only have to find Helen. And we're going to start with the bartender of the pub. Bartenders know everything. Come along, John."

Sherlock rose from his chair, buttoning his jacket button in place. He looked down at the Count and at John, hoping he would come with him.

((Ok, so less than I wanted to post, but it is late again. Well anyway: I thought the two of them could go to the pub, talk with that bartender, who recognises Sherlock and naturally concludes John is his fiancé, but doesn't make a problem of it. I imagine him to be like the one of the Hound... or not if you think otherwise. They talk to him about Helen and the maid whose name I forgot and then go to Helen's house to talk with her. If they find out something about the maid's probable hiding place, they'll follow that lead. If not: they'll go back to the mansion and open the chest. How does that sound to you?))

((Oh, an other note: I cannot post tomorrow again, because I have this grand gala ball and it's going to be awesome with beautiful dresses and men in suits and just fantastic. So, yah.))

((Oh, fancy dress parties are the BEST!!!! I hope you have a lovely time))
((Plan also sounds good to me!))

John follows Sherlock out, and together they walk into the local village and find the pub. It is open now, fairly empty, only the late stragglers from breakfast remaining, most of whom were older. Sherlock is spotted by one of the workers and approached.

"Oy, you're that fellow who was in 'ere last night, weren't you? Sorry about the trouble you got from Jimmy and the boys. They're not bad normally, but after a few drinks they don't always keep the best judgement."

Sherlock says nothing in reply, but nods his head stiffly in acknowledgement of the apology.

The man then introduces himself as Arnold, the owner of the pub. He is a large man in his early 60s, ruddy-faced, dark hair liberally streaked with gray, and one of those warm personalities that made John think of the uncle everyone wants to get a seat next to at family dinners. Easy to talk to, good listener, knows when and how to give advice, inherently trustworthy. From this impression, John suspected there was a very good chance this man knew something about the maid's whereabouts- he also seemed like the man who knows everyone in the village, an unofficial benevolent patriarch who watches over everyone. Sherlock also seems to pick up on this and John can see him deciding how best to get information from the man. Before he can put on a fake personality though, Arnold claps his hands together and laughs.

"Hold on now, I know you! You're that detective fellow who's all famous in London, the one with the odd name! What is it...Sheldon? Shylock?"

"Sherlock," John cuts in, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes! Sorry about that, never had a head for remembering names without meeting someone. So that must make you the other one, the writer on the internet, ummm..."

"John, Watson."

"Yes, thank you. Are you..." he makes a back and forth motion between the two of them, "I remember there being some sort of to-do in the papers about the detective coming out and having a boyfriend, and last night you said you were engaged. His flatmate, I believe, which didn't seem to surprise anyone. Are you the same person?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well, congratulations. Lots of the folk around here are a bit more conservative minded, but I say if you're happy and find someone who's right for you, that's all that really matters. Seen too many people get hurt because they married the person they thought was proper rather than the person who they fit with. Besides which, my brother ended up gay and he has the nicest little place in the next village over, his man Ned has a fantastic eye for decorating. It's really amazing what they've done with the place."

John is ready to tell the man to shut up, and he can see Sherlock is 3 seconds away from throwing something.

"Well that's lovely. You are correct though, this is Sherlock, and as you know his job, you can guess we are here for an investigation," his voice instinctively drops so as not to carry to the other pub members.

This sobers Arnold up very quickly, "Oh, I see. Well I don't know if I can help much."

"We're not the police," John assures him, "this is a completely private matter. We are wanting to find the maid of Count DeMauley. She has gone missing recently. Any information you could give us would be very helpful."

John still sees hesitation in the man's face.

"Rest assured sir, we are not planning on dragging her back to the Count. If she has left for a reason and wishes to remain invisible to the Count, we will let her be. All we want is to get answers to some questions from her and ensure that she is safe. There is a very good chance we could help her with whatever it is that caused her to leave. Please, Arnold."

Arnold hums and runs a hand over his face. He then insists they sit down and all drink some coffee while he talks.

"Look, I didn't know Rachel had left, but I'm glad to hear it. That poor girl has been miserable for months now, and it had something to do with the manor. I'm not sure what, when I asked her she would never give straight answers, but any fool could see something was wrong. She used to be a sweet, happy girl- always had a smile, kind to everyone. She was in her upper twenties, but seemed 5 years younger just because there was something so alive and optimistic about her. Lately she had lost all of that. I've known the lass since she was a child, but I ain't never seen her like this and it's been breaking my heart. I kept telling her to leave, get a job somewhere else. I even offered to hire her here for a bit, just until she found other work. She never did though- always said she wanted to, but she couldn't. She stopped coming in as often, and when she did come in she would look nervous. I would see her talking to people I didn't know, or people I know are bad people. Caught her hanging about with Jack Hammond and the like, warned her off. Told her not to get caught up with troublemakers like them, she was better than that. After that I only saw her come in once more, about a month ago, with Ed Brunton from the manor. They didn't stay for long, but...something seemed a bit off between them, not sure what. They normally get along easy, joke around and whatnot, but none of that was going on."

Arnold looks down heavily.

"If anyone knows what's going on with Rachel, it would be her sister, Emily," he scribbles an address down on a napkin, "You can tell her I sent you over, should help. She works from home and if you head over now the baby will be napping. I'll warn you though, she might not be willing to talk if she thinks it's better for Rachel. She's been taking care of her little sister since Rachel was born, beat up Jack Hammond when she was six because she found out he had made Rachel cry in school. It's a fierce love between them both, they'd do anything for each other."

John takes the napkin and shakes Arnold's hand. They also quickly get Helen's address, though Arnold seems slightly skeptical about how helpful she will be- he says nothing against the woman, just rolls his eyes a bit at her name. They then head out of the pub.

"So, who first, Emily or Helen?"

((This work ok? Sort of just made it up off the top of my head. I am fairly overtired and only had cold tea to keep me up long enough to quickly finish this before bed, so I apologize if it doesn't have a ton of solid substance to it. I checked the names you made for our maid and butler- Rachel and Brunton. Gave Brunton a first name because it sounded like a surname to me, then decided to name one of the gang members Jack. No idea if we want him to be an important gang member, or just an asshole minor member. Again, hope you have a fun time at your ball!))

((oh your work is more than ok. It's brilliant!!))
((sorry I didn't post yesterday. The ball was fantastic, but I was really tired and a bit tipsy afterwards. Yesterday, I claimed the couch as my property and just couldn't do anything. And I'm afraid I can't post today too. I felt lots better today and had to studh my ass off for a test I have to make in 7 hours. I want to mame a decent post and not just a sribble, so I'll postpone my post until tomorrow if you don't mi.d ))

((That's totally fine, I understand. Glad to hear you had fun!!!))

((Omg I hate those emoticons. I think I came across angry but I wasn't! I was just tired :'))

"Helen."

Sherlock looked to his side, meeting John's questioning gaze.

"As I understood from the bartender, it's hard to convince Emily of our secrecy towards Rachel, so if we can take Helen with us to Emily, she might be easier to convince."

They went off to the address the bartender had given them. Sherlock knocked on the door. After hearing a shuffle, Helen opened the door.

This was the first time Sherlock had a decent look over Helen. A bright, young woman stood in the door opening. She suffered from acne in the past, but that didn't affect her confidence now as much as it did in her past. Her smile didn't fade when she saw them and she greeted Sherlock heartedly.

"Ah good morning! Sherlock, was it? And, oh, your partner, isn't it?" Helen held out her hand.

"John Watson, nice to meet you." John shook hers.

"Can we come in? I have some questions to ask you."

"Oh, of course! Is either of you allergic for cats? Because I have one."

"That's very thoughtful of you. No we aren't" John answered.

"All right! Come in!"

Helen let them in and closed the door. She went for the kitchen and made tea for them all. Sherlock wanted to rush to her and ask the questions to spare time, but John reminded him he owed her for breaking her heart a little bit the day earlier. Sherlock sighed and seated himself at the table, his feet tapping impatiently.

When they were all settled, Sherlock fired away.

"Please describe Rachel for me."

Helen blinked and looked surprised for a moment.

"Em... She was my best friend in primary school. In secondary school, things changed, she went out with.. boys. Of the.. bad kind, if you know what I mean. Like Jack Hammond. She is a sweet girl, but she is such a dumb lamb when it comes to men. I warned her so many times-"

"Yes, that's good of you. Now, what do you know about Edward Brunton?"

A shudder seemed to roll over her spine. Her voice darkened and she bowed a bit towards them as she spoke.

"Ed Brunton. The ladiesman of the town. It was only a matter of time until he caught her in his web. I saw it coming when she started working for de Mauley. It's said that he suffers from STI's and that he had a criminal record before the Count saved his reputation."

"What kind of crimes did he commit?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was in primary school back then. Ed is twelve years Rachel's senior, which was highly in his disfavour, you understand."

"Yes, we do."

Sherlock was beginning to loose his patience. John caught up on this and asked:

"A few days ago, Helen went missing. Have you any idea where she is?"

((Omg I am so uninspiring, I am so sorry :x))

((Haha, no worries, I realized you weren't angry. Also, it was fine! Moved things along nicely, and I had no ideas on how to shape Helen's character, so thank you for giving me someone to work with!))

Helen goes white.

"Rachel's missing?" she whispers, "Jesus Christ....look, I wish I could help, but...shit...sorry, give me a moment."

Helen stands up and paces around a few times, swears, opens and window and lights a cigarette. She takes a deep drag and blows it out the window.

"Well, I was trying to quit...sorry about that," Helen drags a chair over to the window so she can continue smoking without making the kitchen smell, "This is the first I've heard of Rachel disappearing. She called me up the other day...talking a bit funny. She sounded upset, but I...I didn't really pay attention. I was behind on a deadline at work that day, and I my mom had called earlier which had ended in a fight, and I just didn't have the patience..."

Helen begins to tear up a bit, "I should have taken it more seriously. All I remember is her babbling on about getting into something with Ed that she hadn't understood, and needing to get away from him, and that she was scared of him. I thought it was just a sex thing that would blow over, I snapped at her- said it was her own fault and that I warned her about him...I told her maybe now she would finally learn. Oh God, I feel horrible!"

Helen starts to cry. Sherlock walks over and shakes her shoulders, yelling at her to focus. John also catches him taking deep whiffs of the cigarettes. He walks over and pulls Sherlock off of the woman- he glares and points Sherlock back to his chair. John then kneels down next to Helen and takes her hand. He gives her a tissue, then waits for her to dry off her eyes.

"It's ok, Helen. You didn't know what was really going on, you can't blame yourself for this. If I were in your place, I probably would have reacted the same way. You can't change what you said, but you can help us now. We want to find Rachel, and we're going to need you to do that. I need you to remember any details Rachel might have mentioned about what she had 'got into' with Ed, and if she had any plan out how to get out of it. Can you do that?"

Helen pulls herself together and nods.

"She didn't really give me details. She just said that she was doing something with Ed, something outside of work. I'm pretty sure that sex was a part of it. When it started she seemed so...infatuated with him, everything he did was amazing. I saw them together a few times, he was smooth with her, a charmer. He had control over her, completely wrapper her around his little finger- showered her with compliments and sweet words so she would do anything he wanted...."

John takes some notes, but is distracted when a large tabby cat starts butting its head against him and meowing to be pet. John tries to shoo the thing away, but it just puts its front paws on his leg and rubs against him more insistently. Helen looks down and giggles faintly.

"Oops, looks like Percy has decided he likes you. Perce, get away, you're being a nuisance."

The cat stalks off with a highly indignant glare. When it turns around though, it spots a loose lace on Sherlock's shoe. It quickly pounces over and starts attacking the lace. Sherlock makes a loud noise and bats at the cat with his hand. The cat glares at him, then stubbornly hops up onto his lap. It curls up, staring at Sherlock, clearly showing that it intends to stay on Sherlock's lap just because it knows that this will annoy the man. John can't help but chuckle at mutually intense glares traded from man to cat.

"Anyway," Helen continues, "things changed after a while. Ed started treating Rachel badly. He would say cruel things to her, and yell at her often. Even she could tell that something was wrong. She stuck with him though, thought she could fix it. When she called me the other day...that was the first time she had talked about leaving....all I remember her saying is that she needed to get away from Ed for a while, things had gone wrong and she couldn't stand to be with him anymore. She was thinking about taking off of work, but she couldn't tell de Mauley why and was afraid she would lose her job. That was when I lost patience and hung up the phone."

"Thank you Helen, that's really helpful to know," John says, squeezing her hand, "Do you think it's likely Rachel went to her sister?"

Helen nods firmly, "It's the only person I could imagine her going to."

"Do you think you could take us over to Emily's to talk with her? Would having you there help her to trust us?"

Helen looks wary, "You might have a hard time getting her to talk, but...yeah, it would probably be better if I went with you. Hold on, let me switch the washing and pull myself together and we can go over now."

Helen walks out of the room, leaving just John, Sherlock, and Percy the cat (who had now decided that instead of glaring at Sherlock, he wanted Sherlock to pet him). John walks over and sits back down next to Sherlock. He smiles and reaches out to scratch at the cat's ears. The car purrs and pushes up against John's hand.

"What do you think?" he asks his detective.

((Yes, I jumped on the idea of the cat as a way to harass Sherlock.))

((damn woman your posts are fabulous. I have so little time nowadays, this is gonna be a short one again.))
((and awwww hs detective))

The cat. Was. On. His. Lap.

It was not that Sherlock didn't know how to treat cats, it had just been a very long time since it had been necessary to touch them. He still paid attention to what Helen was saying, but with that cat, heavy and warm on his groin... things were uncomfortable. He held his hands in the air, like the police had just arrested him when John sat next to him.

"Yes, it was very useful in fact."

Sherlock lowered his hands. He stroked once over the cat's fur to recall what it felt like. He had always had a cat he had ben very fond of at his parent's house. Trotski had been its name. The cat died shortly after Sherlock had left his home for University. It was a small death Sherlock had never mourned properly. He had never had a cat since, maybe because his homes had always be unsuitable for oets, but probably because he automatically linked them to his elderly home.

But with John next to him, things might change. Though not now.

With a little jump, Sherlock awakened from his little daydream and got up. The cat rolled on the ground, meowing that it was very rude to just drop him.
"She is lying." Sherlock stated coolly. "The crying: an act. She looked out of the window, searching for something to look at. Real cryers just stare jnto space. It seems to me very unlikely that she would have hung up after hearing her best friend was about to lose her job. And she blinked too much."

"She let her mask fall when you asked about Emily. Like the bartender thought: it's a logical step to o to the sister. But I think Rachel thought Brunton would think so too and went to Helen instead."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Look at the dishes! She hasn't done the dishes yesterday evenimg and this morning and look! Two pairs of knives, plates,mugs and glasses! Who could it else be? We know her flirtnight yesterday failed, because I turned her down. She didn't have sex with anyone this night and/or morning. With her hair still so flat? No."

"I think" Sherlock lowered his voice. "Helen is not at all refreshing the washing at all."

((plot twist! You can decide what to do. Is he right? Is Rachel still there or has she already fled? Or is Sherlock wrong? (but you know he hates that ;) ))

((Posts are fabulous because homework is boring- I was avoiding it and spent far more time than I responsibly should have trying to think that up. Thank you though, it is very nice to hear.))
((Ooo, that plot twist surprised me! Hmm, what to do...Sherlock's argument is VERY convincing.))

John looks over at the sink- sure enough, two sets of dishes. He gives Sherlock a beaming smile, then leans over to peck him on the cheek.

"I can't believe I missed that, you're so amazing."

He picks up the cat from where Sherlock dumped it. The cat allows John to hold him as he stands to talk quietly with Sherlock.

"So there's a chance she might still be here? How could we find out??"

John's hand stills on Percy's fur, and the cat- highly annoyed by this on-and-off treatment- bites him. It wasn't a sharp bite initially, just meant as a reminder to John to keep up the stroking, but John jerks his hand in surprise and causes the teeth to sink deeper.

"Ow! Hey!"

He drops the cat.

"Bad cat!" John scolds, in a similar voice to the one he uses on Sherlock in relation to unsanitary experiments, "Now look, I'm bleeding. That was completely uncalled for."

The cat, similar to Sherlock, decides guilt is not an emotion worth its time, and stalks off. John glares after it, sucking on his finger to try and stop the bleeding. Then, a look of inspiration blooms on his face.

"Wait, this is actually perfect!" he turns to Sherlock, excited, finally feeling that same rush Sherlock gets when he makes a breakthrough on a case, "I know how to see if Rachel is here. Did Helen go upstairs or downstairs?

"Upstairs, from the sound of her footsteps."

John darts forward to press a quick grinning kiss to Sherlock's lips, then walks off.

"Perfect! Just wait for me, I'll be back in a second!"

John walks up the stairs, carefully listening. He hears a woman's voice from behind a closed door on the right. He walks closer and pauses outside it, listening:

"Ray, I think they mean well. They seem like they want to help. You should talk to them, it's probably the best chance you have to get out of this mess-"

Upon hearing that, John knocks and starts to open the door.

"Helen, I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a plaster? I seem to have annoyed your cat."

((Duh-duh-da!!!! Cliff hanger!!! Is Rachel in the room, or is Helen on the phone??? Either way, seems Sherlock was right.))
((Sneaky John, Sherlock will be so proud, he has taught you well.))

"Erh..." sounded Helen's voice from the other side of the door. An other was bearly audible, but clearly gasping. It was silent for a second.

"Er eh, yes of course! I'll be right with you, just let me... You can't come in, I'm still changing!"

Sherlock had stood downstairs at the beginning of the stairs and now, he came up, measuring exactly every step he did on the stairs. He didn't want to sound too light, nor too heavy or too formal or hurried, bcause he knew Rachel would be listening to his footsteps on the creaky staircase.

"No, you're not. You don't have to lie to us Helen, I'm world's most observant man, I know when someone's lying. And I know that Rachel is in the room with you, but please don't worry, we not here to hurt you. You probably are safer with us than with your friend."

He tried to sound poilite and reassuring, but he wasn't sure if he was sucessful. One had to be carefull and delecate approqching a person who is key ro the case. Sherlock knew at least that much of social behaviour. He shot John a glance, who acknkowledged his attempt.

"So, can we come in please?"

Helen sighed and opened the door. Sherlock let John walk in first. John looked trustworthy from himself, he didn't have to made an effort to seem kind, so it was a wise decision to introduce him as the first stranger.

Then Sherlock followed him inside. The room was romantically decorated, wirh a lot of light wooden furniture and pink/grey wallpaper. It looked bright in cobtrast to the woman curlex up on the bed. She looked awful, eyes swollen of crying, but dry and surprisingly clear. She loomed emotionally drained and Sherlock could easily deduce that something very bad had happened to her, but that she was a survivor. Helen sat beaide her, her arm wrapped around Rachel's shoulders.

"Hello Rachel." John said. "I'm John, and he's Sherlock, a detective. We are here to find out more about you being missing. We would like you to talk about it, but before you do... Helen, can I get that plaster please?"

Helen got up with a grim expresaion. Clearly Rachel was affecting her, and she preferably didn't want to leave them alone with her. She asked if John wante to come with her, she apparently thought they were less of a threat when seperated. Sherlock wasn't sure about this, but before he had time to ckntemplate on this, he saw the cat's head peeking around the corner of the door. The cat shot Sherlock a dubious glance, before jumping up on the bed to cuddle with Rachel.

"So are you... You know... Tohdther?" Rachel asked quietly. She pointed with her finger from Sherlock to the door through which John had left. Sherlock nodded.

"How do you know?"

Rachel shrugged and pouted. "Don't know. You stand so close and don't even notice it."

Sherlock grinned just the smallest of grins. He didn't know whether it was because he was starting to like this Rachel or that rhese village people were so amusing.

John and Helen were back in a tic. Helen had produced an other chair from an other room so that all could be seated. Once everybody sat, Sherlock began.

"Please tell us everything that happened in the greatest detail."

((I thought she had to be in the room because how could she know Sherlock and John were there? Ok, Helen could have told her earlier on the phone, but why woyld she?))
((sorry for typos. Writing via my phone again and it's too late to bother))