"Are you going to at least tell me where we're going?"

It's a little past midnight now, right after we left the jail, Sherlock said he had a plan, but failed to explain what it is.

"We're going to meet an old friend."

I stop walking and try to bunch up my dress in my hands, it really is hard walking in this poofy thing.

Sherlock notices I'm no longer beside him and stops, he watches me struggle with my dress and sighs.

He walks back to me and carefully grabs the bottom of my dress.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I say, backing away.

"Trying to help."

He hands me the bottom of my dress, the material is smoothed out and folded, unlike the wrinkly ball I was carrying.

I grab the fabric, it's much easier to carry now.

I clear my throat, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We start walking again, there's a few drunk guys passed out along the buildings. I watch as they mumble to themselves drunkenly.

"Reminds me of you," I say, pointing to a drunk man who is stumbling down the street.

Sherlock shakes his head, but I can see a hint of a smile on his face.

"We're here."

We stop in front of a small building, the lights are out, but he walks inside anyway.

I follow him cautiously and he walks towards what looks like an office.

"Have you any sense of what time it is?"

I spin around to see a woman walk out from the shadows. I look back at Sherlock, this must be the person he was talking about.

"Hello, Edith."

The woman shakes her head, "You're lucky, I almost broke your legs. Then I recognized the shoulders, you have very recognizable shoulders."

That is very true.

"Enola's been arrested."

Alright, straight to the point.

The woman tilts her head, "For what?"

"She's being framed for murder," Sherlock says.

"I see," she slowly looks to me, "And who might this be? Is she your girl?"

I shake my head quickly, "Absolutely not. I'm Enola's partner, we're working on a case together."

I stick my hand out for her to shake, "I'm (Y/n) (L/n)."

Her face brightens as she shakes my hand. "It's an honor to meet you. I'm a huge fan of your book!"

"Thank you, now back to, Enola. Sherlock said you could help get her out?"

Edith gives Sherlock a look, and he steps forward. "Please, Edith. I need your help."

"Well, like my mother always said, 'Those who can turn to others when they're in need are the truly brave amongst us.'"

"Your mother sounds very different to mine," Sherlock says.

They stare at each other, and I cough awkwardly.

"I'm gonna wait out there," I say, pointing to another room.

Sherlock nods and I make my way out of the room.

I can hear Sherlock sigh, "I tried to stop, Enola, but she's extremely dedicated to this case. I thought (Y/n) would stop once she saw how dangerous it is, but she's proving to be just as stubborn."

"There is no stopping, Enola Holmes."

There's a silence.

Edith speaks again, "As for Miss (L/n), it seems her and Enola have a lot in common."

"More than you think."

Edith's muffled laugh echoes, "You like her."

"Don't be ridiculous."

I should stop eavesdropping.

"There's no denying it, Sherlock."

I walk further into the room, trying to get far away from where Sherlock and Edith are.

My heart thumps against my chest roughly. There's no way Sherlock would ever like me, I must get these silly thoughts out of my head.

"We must be going now, thank you, Edith."

Sherlock walks towards the door, I quickly follow him, and wave goodbye to Edith. She winks at me, but Sherlock pulls me out of the building before I could question it.

"I think I'm capable of walking on my own," I say.

He links his arm with mine, "It's late, dangerous people are out. Someone could drag you away."

I raise my eyebrow. "So what? This way they'll drag both of us away?"

He furrows his eyebrows, "Didn't think about that."

The great detective not thinking something through?

I smirk and hold on to his arm tighter, "I think you're just looking for an excuse to be closer to me."

"Don't be-"

"Ridiculous," I say in a horrible British accent.

He looks down at me in amusement, "I don't sound like that."

I shrug my shoulders, my left hand still holding the bottom of my dress.

"Where do you live?"

"Greene Street."

He nods, "Not too far from here."

We continue to walk in a comfortable silence, but as we get closer to my street I begin to hear an extra set of footsteps.

I lean closer to Sherlock, "Someone's following us."

He looks around before sighing, "It's just Jameson."

"Who's Jameson?"

Sherlock stops us and clears his throat, "You can stop following us now."

A short man steps out of the shadows behind us, he's holding a notebook and pen.

"Nice to see you again, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock stares the man down, after a few seconds the man waves bye and retreats back to the darkness.

Sherlock starts walking again, pulling me along with him.

"Well that wasn't creepy at all."

Sherlock sighs, "He works for the newspaper, he's constantly following me around, and taking notes of what I do...."

"Which means?"

"Which means you and I will be on the cover of tomorrow's paper," he says, looking back at me.

"Oh, wonderful," I say sarcastically.

We make it to my street, Sherlock lets me lead him now, and I stop us in front of my house.

The lanterns in the living room are on, which means my mother is still awake.

"Enola should be out by tomorrow afternoon."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

I stand on the steps to my house, while he still stands in the street. The two of us watch each other in silence.

This is painfully awkward.

I jump down the steps and grab his hand, he looks at me in shock, but I kiss the top of his hand and mockingly bow.

"Thank you for getting me out of jail, Monsieur."

He pulls his hand away from me, an annoyed look on his face. "Why must you be so ridiculous?"

"Because it's fun, you should try it sometime."

I make my way back up the steps and turn back to him again, "Good night, Mister Holmes."

He smiles, "Good night, Miss (L/n)."

I close the door behind me and lock it, slowly sliding down to the ground.

"You're late."

I look up to see my mom standing at the top of the stairs in front of me.

"Sorry, mom. A lot happened, I'll explain later."

She helps me to my feet and starts unlacing my corset, "You better. And you better start with why you left that gorgeous man out on the street by himself."

"Mom!"

She turns me around to face her, an amused grin on her face. "I'm just kidding. But seriously how could you not go back home with him? You are much stronger than I am."

"Oh my God, I'm not talking about this anymore."

I make my way up the stairs to my room and throw myself on to my bed.

Sherlock Holmes is truly a beautiful man.