So, here's chapter twelve. Hope you like it, sorry if you don't. Has been a rough couple of days, which hasn't been good for writing, but I still wanted to keep to the schedule I've sort of set for myself. Also, it's a bit shorter than I'd like. I guess you could consider this just a 'filler' chapter, though I'm not 100% sure what that is... Also, I'm going to try and write the rest of the chapters longer.. so I promise it'll get better. :)

Thanks for reading!

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For the next week or so, John and Sherlock's days were rather uneventful. They worked on cases by day and in the evenings they drank tea and played Cluedo. Sherlock had eaten twice since that morning at the crêpe shop, and the violin playing had stopped. Though John had to admit he sort of missed listening to the sound of Sherlock's violin as he fell asleep at night, he was glad that Sherlock seemed to be doing better. It was nice to be able to have a civil conversation with Sherlock without it turning into an argument or with one of them storming off into his room to sulk.

One lazy Sunday morning the two were relaxing in the living room watching some detective show and drinking freshly made tea when Sherlock's phone began ringing. John glanced over at Sherlock, who was laying on the sofa with his eyes closed.

"Sherlock, your phone."

"I can hear it John," he said, still not moving a muscle. John looked down at the phone, which was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, then back up at Sherlock.

"Are you going to answer it?" Sherlock let out a heavy sigh and reached down to grab his phone. Without looking to see who had called he held the device to his hear and began speaking.

"Sherlock Holmes." There was a pause while he listened to the person on the other end. He sighed again and sat up. "Alright, we’ll be there shortly." He hung up the phone and turned to John. "Lestrade. Wants us to come by his office for something."

"Is it relating to that case with the robbery at the jewelers?" Sherlock sat up and shrugged.

"Perhaps." John nodded, then bent over and began lacing up his shoes. Sherlock stood and went to the window. He looked outside for a bit before turning to go into his room. He came out less than a minute later wearing his signature scarf and coat, and the two of them left the flat.

Soon they were walking through the door of Lestrade's office to see him sitting down with his feet propped up on his desk. When he saw Sherlock and John walk in he greeted them with a warm smile and offered the bag of crisps he was eating to them. They both declined, and he placed the bag on his desk while standing.

"Hello Sherlock, John," he said, clasping his hands together and walking towards them. John gave him a tight lipped smile, and Sherlock's face remained emotionless. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Just tell me why you called us in," Sherlock said, his tone completely serious. Lestrade nodded his head, then reached behind him and grabbed a file from his desk. He flipped it open and began talking while his eyes skimmed over the papers it contained.

"Well it seems we've gotten a new lead on the case with the jeweler. Apparently there was a witness to the robbery. A man named Matthew Greene. He lives not too far from here. I figured you'd like to help with the questioning." He closed the file and held it out towards Sherlock. "What do you think?" Sherlock stood motionless for a moment, staring down at the folder. After a few seconds had passed the corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he grabbed it from Lestrade's hands.

"What's the address?" He asked after flipping through several pages.

Lestrade opened his mouth to answer but was cut off when Sergeant Donovan came into the room with a distressed look on her face.

"Sir, we've just got a call and I think you should know-"

"Not now Sergeant Donovan," Lestrade said, waving her away, "We're busy."

"But sir, we've got a bit of a problem," she said, her eyes conveying a sense of urgency that didn't go undetected by anyone in the room. "Matthew Greene has just been taken to the hospital."

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The ever present beeping of the heart rate monitor was nearly driving John insane, though no one else in the room seemed to even notice it. Perhaps it was because everyone's main focus was on the young man laying comatose in the hospital bed beside the monitor. He was covered in bruises from head to toe, and both of his eyes were swollen shut. It wasn't like they would be open anyway; The man was in a coma. The only sign of life was the steady rising and falling of Matthew's chest.

A young woman who appeared to be no older than twenty was standing beside the bed, one hand resting on top of Matthew's, the other one stroking his dark brown hair. Her dark blue eyes were full of tears, but whenever she spoke to one of the many police officers who were trying to get information out of her, she smiled. John and Sherlock stood to the side and waited until everyone else in the room had left before approaching her. Still, it was only Sherlock who spoke.

"Hello, Sherlock Holmes." he said, offering her a small smile.

"Lucy Parker." She said, giving Sherlock a quick nod of the head. She reached up and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear before speaking again. "Why aren't you dressed like the other officers?" Sherlock shrugged and shook his head.

"Maybe because I'm not an officer."

"Then what are you doing in here?"

"Helping... With the case that is. And if you don't mind I'd like to ask a few questions." Lucy nodded her head, giving Sherlock permission to begin. "First of all I want to say I'm so sorry about your…" he drifted off, squinting at her slightly, "…boyfriend?" The young woman laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, no," she said, "He's not my boyfriend."

"So he's your husband then?" Her eyebrows shot up and she stared at him in disbelief.

"What? No. We're not… we're not romantically involved in any way. I'm just a friend." Her gaze fell to the floor when she said this, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Sherlock.

"I see," he said, and John could tell what was coming next. He placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, hoping to deter him from spelling out the young woman's love life. Sherlock merely glanced down at him before turning to face her once more.

"How long did you two live together?" he asked her. She looked up at him with surprised evident on her face.

"How did you know-" she stopped mid sentence and shrugged. "Only about eight months."

"And how long have you loved him?" Lucy's eyes grew to nearly the size of golf balls and her jaw dropped. She stared at an expectant Sherlock for a few moments before taking in a shaky breath and biting her bottom lip.

"Three years." Even Sherlock seemed surprised by her answer.

"Three years?" he asked, clearly baffled. She looked down and nodded her head. "If you admit to being in love with him, and have been for so long, why say you're not romantically involved with him? Why would you lie?"

"I'm not lying," she said, "We're just friends." She looked up and saw the strange look she was receiving from both John and Sherlock, and decided to clarify. "He doesn't know."

Sherlock's expression immediately softened. When she saw this she gave him a small smile and chuckled.

"I know what you're thinking, about how pathetic I must sound to be in love with someone for years and never tell them." She shrugged. "I just never got the courage to tell him. There was always that doubt…" her eyes drifted over to where Matthew lay. "Now I may never get the chance to tell him how I feel." She sniffed. "To find out if he felt the same…" Suddenly her expression changed to defensive and confused.

"Wait, why am I telling you guys this?" The next expression to cross her face was one of worry. "Please don't say anything to anyone. Please?"

"You have my word," Sherlock said softly. John remembered his hand was still on Sherlock's shoulder, and slowly removed it, placing his hand inside his trouser pocket. He looked up at Sherlock, who was staring off into space with a doleful look on his face. John cleared his throat, and that seemed to bring him back down to Earth. He shook his head and blinked a few times before he returned back to normal. He asked Lucy a few more questions about what had happened leading up to Matthew's hospitalization, and several minutes later he and John were in the lobby while Sherlock talked with Lestrade and a few other people John had never seen before.

He left in search of a bathroom, and though had only been gone for a few minutes when he returned to the lobby Sherlock was nowhere to be found. He did find Lestrade, however, and asked him if he knew where Sherlock had run off to. He was advised to check the gift shop or Matthew's room. John decided to skip the gift shop and went straight to room 522.

He looked through the glass window in the door and saw Sherlock standing with Lucy at Matthew's beside. He stood outside the door for a moment debating whether or not to go in, but before he could decide he was spotted by Sherlock. He turned to Lucy, most likely saying goodbye, then left the room. He smiled down at John after closing the door behind him.

"What are you so happy about?" John asked, smiling back.

"Oh nothing," Sherlock said, pulling out his phone. "Just...." He didn't finish his sentence, most likely because he had become so wrapped up in whatever it was he was doing on his phone.

"Did you get some good answers?" John asked, trying to peer over at Sherlock's phone. He tilted the screen away from John and smirked.

"Oh, yes."