A Game Of Hearts And Minds

CHAPTER XII - Don't marry a Holmes, unless you're into drama

"So basically your, and of course my own, sister tried to kill me?" I asked. Sherlock was seated beside me while the monitor I was attached to was still loudly beeping into my ear. "I suppose so." he answered.

"What have I decided to marry..." I whispered under my breath as I jokingly rolled my eyes at Sherlock, who snorted and chuckled at my remark. As soon as his chuckle faded away, i returned to my serious self. "Moriarity?"

"I'm sorry. But he's nowhere to be found." Sherlock said as he turned his gaze down to the ground, I returned mine to my hands. "Lauraine, I'll make sure to protect you... At all costs."

"I know Sherlock, but as much as I love you, you can't always be by my side. You'll get on my last nerve." I joked, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. "Any idea how long I have to stay in this ridiculous bed?"

"As long as I say you have to."

"That rule only works in the bed at home, Sherl." Sherlocks face plastered with a smile as I spoke the words, that dirty little Holmes. Silence fell in the room, and it maintained to me so for a couple of seconds before I spoke. "You are getting me out, aren't you?"

Sherlock smirked from ear to ear, before he stood up and walked over to my IV-pole. He gently took my arm, admiring the IV planted in my arm. "Don't worry." I remarked, as I took the IV in my free hand and grid my teeth together. Sherlock had to stop himself from puking as I pulled it out in one quick motion. "You can see a bullet impale a body, but you can't handle an IV?" I giggled.

"Well it's different." Sherlock opposed. I laughed. "Did you happen to have pickpocketed Lestrade recently?" I asked.

"Yes..."

"Are we thinking the same?"

"Yes..."

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"What are you doing here? She's not supposed to leave yet!" A nurse turned the corner as Sherlock had his one arm wrapped around my waist, supporting me, while I had my arm around his neck. With his one free hand, he flashed his ID with practiced ease. "Detective Holmes, this is an ongoing investigation. I need to take Ms Lauraine into protective custody immediately."

The nurse visably hesitated, glacing at my wobbly form. "But she's under our care. I can't just --" Sherlock cut her off. "Do you really want to be responsible for hindering a police investigation? This is a matter of national security."

That poor nurse swallowed nervously, glancing between both Sherlock and me. "I ... I suppose, but I need to inform my superiors."

"Oh by all means, do so," Sherlock immediately replied, his tone conveyed a sense of urgency. "But every second we waste here puts her more and more in danger." The nurse nodded, she rushed out of the room to supposely make the call. "What are we doing now?" I asked as I looked up at Sherlock.

"Just follow my lead." He assured.

The nurse came practically running down the hallway towards us. "I've informed my superiors, but they're not happy about this," she said, eyeing me.

Sherlock softly squeezed my arm, and then he swung my arm around his shouder more securely. "I appreciate your cooperation. Rest assured, this is for her safety. Thank you."

We sped off, Sherlock leaing me towards the exit. "Good job." I whispered to Sherlock, and he grinned from ear to ear.

When we arrived at 221B Sherlock carried me up the stairs, but as soon as we reached the door to our apartment, Sherlock immediately came to an halt. "Sherlock?" I mumbled. I turned my head away from his chest that it was recently burried in, and looked towards our door. It was creaked open a bit, but not enough for me to look inside. I could however, smell a man's cologne, more specific; Tom Ford tabacco Vanilla. This could go two ways, it was either Moriarity or Mycroft. I hadn't paid close attention to the knocker on the downstairs door. Would Moriarity already be waiting? Probably not, maybe though, balance of probability. I looked up at Sherlock, he looked down at me. I nodded, he nodded back then opened the door.