I trudged out to the kitchen, rubbing my eyes. Digging through the fridge, I tried not to touch the fresh head Sherlock had put in last night. After several agitating minutes of searching, I groaned and after glancing at the grocery list, I turned to Sherlock. He was sitting in the living room, violin balanced on him knee. We hadn't spoken since yesterday in the park. 

"Sherlock," I said softly. He looked up. His face seemed to sag a bit, and the area under his eyes were considerably darker. It was clear that he hadn't gotten much sleep. "Did you finish the last of the milk or did you hide it somewhere?"

He grimaced before rolling his dark eyes. "Why would I hide the milk, Ivy?"

I shrugged, trying to stay relaxed. "I don't know. I just thought... never mind. I'll be at the store." I walked slowly over to the coat rack, and shrugged my coat on. I was pulling my boots on when I heard him sigh and stand up. I stood up to find him standing next to me. I regarded him for a moment. "Everything alright, Sherlock?"

He nodded, and grabbed his coat. I smiled quietly, and followed him out of the flat. 

-

I sighed, pushing my hair back with a gloved finger. Molly and I had been examining this body for some time now, and I was ready for my lunch break.

"You see the bruises along the waist here? It's clear that they're from being held tightly. This person was probably a dancer, or gymnast of some kind," Molly said absently, running a finger over the purple marks. 

"Or she could have an exciting partner," I muttered, glancing at the clock.

Molly giggled. "Yes, well. I suppose they might. Anyway, did you bring your own lunch, 'cuz I thought we might go down to that sandwich place on the corner."

I grinned. "I did bring something, but I've been wanting to try that place, I go past it on the way here."

We were suddenly interrupted by Sherlock barging in. Molly blanched, then blushed, then stammered, "Oh, hi, Sherlock."

He nodded to her, but brushed right past us to the microscope table. 

"Hey, care to have lunch with us? We're going to the sandwich place right down the street," I invited. He seemed to consider it for a moment.

"I'll have a club sandwich, on whole wheat. No lettuce. And a coffee, black, two sugars," he listed off, still not looking at me.

I glowered at him. "I said care to join us, not would you like anything. We are not delivery girls."

He finally looked up at me. "Oh. Well, I suppose I only need a minute here, if you don't mind waiting."

I looked over at Molly who was staring at us with a sort of shock, or awe. "Molly," I waved my hand in front of her face. She blinked. 

"Sorry, what, Ivy?"

"Do you mind waiting a minute for Sherlock," I repeated.

She raised her eyebrows in concentration before nodding. "Sure, no problem."

I nodded before giving Sherlock a look. He was no longer paying attention to us. Oh well.

The sandwich shop turned out to be quite charming, even though it was busy at lunch time.

I stared out the window. It was cloudy, but not raining. Cars crawl along the road, poor things subject to lunch rush hour. 

I turned back to the table. Sherlock was finishing off his club sandwich, and Molly was desperately trying to catch his attention. I don't think she had stopped her one sided conversation with Sherlock since we left the Morgue.

I stare down at my empty plate. Damn, I love me a good sandwich.  

"Ivy," Sherlock stood abruptly, his chair toppling over. "I will be out the rest of the day, and I'll handle dinner."

I raised my eyebrows. "Um, OK. I'm going to be at the Morgue until around five thirty, so I'll be back for dinner. Are you cooking?"

He nodded, and pulled his coat on. "See you then."

I nodded slowly, trying to understand why he was acting so... common. "See ya."

Molly and I shared a look as he exited the restaurant. 

"What was that?" Molly said, almost aggressively. 

I threw my hands up. "I have absolutely no idea!"

She huffed and crossed her arms.

"What?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm just petty, is all."

I frowned. "Well, if you want someone to talk to, or someone to feed you info about Sherlock, I'm here for you."

She smiled at my words. "That's something we used to do when I was in junior high."

I grinned. "And who wouldn't want to be in junior high again?" She giggled at my sarcasm. "In all seriousness though, you alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Glad I have a new friend, is all."

The rest of my day was slow. By the time I made it home after work, I was bursting with intrigue.

"I'm home, Sherlock!" I called up the stairs, hanging my damp coat on the rack. I could hear him banging around with the pots, and Mrs. Hudson's shrill voice scolding him.

"Get that out of the oven, Sherlock! You'll burn my house down!" 

"It's a flat, Mrs. Hudson!" was his cheeky reply. I stole up the stairs quietly. This has got to be good.

I poked my head around the corner and observed the kitchen. The lab equipment had been cleared off of the counter, and Sherlock, who was wearing a frilly floral apron, was furiously fanning the dish sitting on it. The room was a little smoky. Mrs. Hudson was chatting away, setting plates and silver wear out on the table.

I grinned, deciding it was time for my entry into the situation. "Oh, Sherlock!"

He whipped around, his messy hair bouncing nicely. "Oh, you're home. Do you mind helping me with this?"

I smiled even wider, and after kicking off my boots, I walked over and stood next to him. "So... what did you do?"

He scowled, fanning the baking dish half halfheartedly. "I made the recipe, just like it said. Measured everything perfectly, timed it just right, and it still started burning!"

I nodded, peering at the food. "And, uh... what is it?"

He frowned at me. "According to the recipe, it is baked ziti. Italian."

I giggled. "Yes, I'm familiar with the dish."

"Well, could you explain to me why it didn't work?" He seemed legitimately stressed out about it.

"Well, you see, all dishes are different. Sometimes you need way more time than the recipe calls for, for outside reasons, like the altitude or the temperature or climate where you're doing the cooking. Sometimes it needs less time. You should usually set the timer for the shortest time given, and then once that's completed, you check to see if its done, if it is, then great. If not, you put it back in and watch it."

He studied my face carefully. "That makes sense, I suppose."

I grinned. "Now, how about you help me scrape off this burnt cheese, hmm?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"Oh! Ivy, you're here!" Mrs. Hudson interjected. We both turned and stared at her.

"Mrs. Hudson, did you take your pills?" I asked kindly.

She made a face. "Of course, I did."

"Are you sure, Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock continued. "Because she's been here for five minutes and she's been talking the whole time."

She scowled at him. "I'm your landlady, not your house keeper, dear!"

We shared a look. This's going to be a long night.