It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

18 - Pout

A/N: Thank you for over 1000 reads! Apologies for any typos.

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"It is the middle of an incredibly warm July and we are in the middle of London - how are you wearing a suit?" Elizabeth asked quite frankly when she walked into the kitchen and headed over to the fridge.

It had been a month since the whole Scarlett situation had happened. Elizabeth's wounds were healing nicely and she was slowly being trusted more and more by the residents of 221B. Sherlock looked up from his experiment on the table when he heard her speak.

"I don't care much for warm weather."

"Then you truly are one in a - oh my God!" She shut the fridge again hastily, traumatised, as she looked to Sherlock concerned, "There are two arms in the fridge."

"I know. I put them there." Sherlock nodded with a smug smirk at seeing her reaction.

"To do what with, Frankenstein?" Shaking her head she went over to the counter, "Do you want some *black* tea?"

"I'd prefer mine with milk." He grinned at her.

And she grinned sarcastically back, "Then you can fetch the milk yourself, detective, from the fridge you have claimed as your own with the amputated limbs you keep there."

They grinned back at each other. Elizabeth was slowly learning to disregard the idea that Sherlock and John only kept her for the information about Moriarty's network. While it was probably still the prominent reason why she was still at 221B, they had both been rather caring towards her after the whole ordeal - well, John more so than Sherlock but that was just because Sherlock was Sherlock.

Of course she missed stealing. It was probably the only thing she was good at apart from a bit of hacking. It was gradually becoming something like an itch she had to scratch, as though she was having withdrawal symptoms from her previous lifestyle. Maybe she was. She didn't like to acknowledge it though. In her mind, it was ridiculous to have a compulsion for stealing like it was an addiction. The point was she wasn't addicted to it though. It wasn't like it had been her whole life before John and Sherlock.

What had replaced that lifestyle though was what she was close to calling a friendship with the two men and Mrs Hudson. A real friendship unlike the people she had met in Jim's network. It wasn't a brief friendship or a particularly dangerous friendship in the respect that they weren't likely to kill her if she made a mistake or even a fake friendship. Just something real. Something different to what she had. Nicer, more welcoming.

"Good morning, Elizabeth, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson greeted them as she came into the kitchen with a tray of tea, "I heard your scream, dear. I'm afraid you'll be getting used to that for some time to come so I thought I would help by bringing you tea myself."

"You're a lifesaver, Mrs H." Elizabeth smiled gratefully at the old woman.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson."

"Just remember I'm not your house keeper." She warned him, pointing a spoon threateningly at him.

The detective just nodded and went back to him experiment.

John came downstairs next and greeted them all, "Morning."

"Morning." The three of them said back in unison.

"Any clients today?"

Elizabeth checked the calender hung up on the fridge, "None scheduled, John."

"No, none off my blog either."

"Does anyone actually read your blog?" Elizabeth posed the question to the detective.