Chapter 7: Moving-In Day

Thanks for the recent reviews in the last chapter. Once again, I'm happy that you love Evie and the story. Here's a chapter, that's not from the episodes. I want to put in my own chapters to show more of Sherlock's and Evie blooming relationship.

Evie's POV

I woke up refreshed and happy to meet my day the next day after the case with the pink lady. After we solved the case, Sherlock treated John and me to Chinese. When it was past closing time, we left. John went back to his flat, promising he'd come to Baker Street tomorrow with all his things. I was going to call for a taxi to take me back to mine, but Sherlock wouldn't hear it. He told me simply that I was going to stay at Baker Street. He gave me a change of his pjs and then told me to sleep in his bedroom. I tried to put up a fight, saying that I could sleep on the settee but Sherlock refused to let me. He slept on the settee and I slept in his really cozy bed that smelt amazing.

I sat up in the bed and stretched while smiling. I grabbed my bra that lay beside the bed and put it on before leaving the bed. I didn't want to leave his bedroom in a mess, so I tidied up his bed. I nearly slipped twice because of Sherlock's long pajama bottoms, they were way too long and they often tried to slip down my legs. I used the tie to tighten them around my waist; I wouldn't want them to fall in front of Sherlock or John that would just be too embarrassing.

I left the room and went into the living room. Sherlock wasn't in the living room, maybe he would be in the kitchen. That's where I found him; he was sitting at the table looking at something through a microscope. He still wore his gray shirt and gray plaid pajama bottoms along with an open dressing robe. His curly hair was haphazard and sticking everywhere which way, it was adorable to look at. I almost wanted to run my fingers through the messy curls, but how Sherlock would react stopped me.

I walked past him, without touching him, I didn't want to bother or annoy him. I got to the fridge and pulled out my cheesecake from the Italian restaurant and sat in the chair opposite him. He didn't even seem to notice my presence, not that I minded. That way I could look up at him and study him as I liked.

He was so very concentrated as he looked at whatever it was. Beside in a petri dish was red mush and beside it was the jar of eyeballs. All looked bloated and discolored, not something you want to see when you're trying to eat.

I was half way done with my cheesecake when Sherlock finally looked up from the microscope. He looked up at me, but he didn't seem to really see me. After a moment, Sherlock realized that I was there.

"Oh, good morning, Evangeline." He said.

"Mornin'." I mumbled, my mouth was still full of thick, yummy chocolate cheesecake.

"You're eating cheesecake for breakfast." He remarked.

I had so many sarcastic comebacks in my head but instead I just smiled and said, "Indeed." I got another forkful and ate it, savoring the rich flavors. I closed my eyes and practically moaned, there's nothing better in this world than rich chocolate.

I opened my eyes; Sherlock was still gazing at me from across the table. He didn't say a word as he watched me eat the last few bites. I wasn't one of those women who hate it when people watch them eat, but Sherlock watching me was very weird.

"What?" I asked, setting down my fork.

His brows knelt in confusion, "What do you mean what?"

"You're watching me eat a little too closely." I answered.

He shook his head slightly, "Sorry, I wasn't looking at you, I…" He thought for a moment, "zoned out."

"Uh-huh." I hummed, "So what are you looking at?"

"The radiation that trapped in the eyeballs after the microwave, it's only a small amount, but I'm curious." He looked down at the gooey mess on the petri dish.

"No cases?" I asked.

He looked annoyed, "None."

"So this is what you do when you don't have cases, you microwave eyeballs?" I asked softly, it wasn't meant to be an insult to him. I was only curious.

"The eyeballs are just an experiment. I do all sorts of them." He replied, "It keeps me from getting bored." He said bored with disgust. I reached over and took the jar of eyeballs and looked at them. I felt like giving myself a pat on the back since I wasn't gagging looking at them. Though I did want to once I smelled the formaldehyde. I turned the jar in my hand as I examined the eyes.

"Where do you get the body parts?" I asked, looking at a pair of milky green eyes in the jar.

"Molly, who works in Barts' morgue gives me spare parts." He replied while watching me.

I set the jar back in its original place, "The eyeballs reminded me of something I read, where people actually collect eyeballs. It didn't go into that much detail, however."

"Where did you read that?" He asked looking down through the microscope.

"Jamie Frater's The Ultimate Book of Bizarre Lists. It's really interesting; mostly I got it to read the lists about the gruesome torture devices." I laughed. It's true, I liked stuff dark and weird. I often googled serial killers and other strange things, yet I can't stomach thinking about Sherlock experimenting on eyes. Aren't I a strange combination?

Sherlock looked back up at me, "Torture devices?" He tilted his head to the side while looking at me.

I nodded my head, a bit too eagerly, "Yes, there's this one called the head crusher where they would put a clamp on the person's head. They slowly tightened it every time he wouldn't answer a question or they thought he didn't answer it truthfully. If he answered one or they thought he was telling the truth, they would loosen it a bit."

Sherlock thought for a moment, "They person would actually feel his own teeth shatter in his skull. I don't think a person survived it, even if they were released. There would be too much damage to the brain and skull."

"Yeah, I would imagine so." I agreed, "There are some other pretty gruesome ones. I'll let you borrow the book. It's pretty interesting in a creepy way."

He nodded, "I think I would like to read it."

I smiled, "Great. I hope you don't think I'm too weird after you read it." My old friends from Ireland hated it when I talked about it. One even claimed I gave them nightmares. It's funny when people see me as a sweet little angel, but who loves reading about dark and twisted things. Does that make me strange, oh no, there's plenty of people who love reading the same thing. Because that's all it is, reading about the strange stuff out in the world or that's happened.

"Evangeline, I just microwaved eyeballs." Sherlock said, pointing at the mush.

"Touché." I laughed.

A moment later, John walked into the living room, "Sherlock?"

"In here, John." Sherlock said, he then went back to looking at his eyeball mush. John walked in, on seeing me sitting there; he froze and stared at me in surprise.

"Oh, hello, Evie." He said.

"Good morning? You got everything from your old flat?" I got up and washed the fork, then threw the Togo box away. Once again the pants tried to slip even lower from my waist, showing John and Sherlock a bit of my lower back.

"Yeah, I'm about to take it up to my room. Which by the way, you can take the one with the private bathroom." He said.

I turned to him, "Are you sure? I don't mind sharing with Sherlock." I said.

"No, no. A woman needs her own bathroom." John shook his head. I could only smile and playfully roll my eyes at him. I was grateful he was letting him have the room with the private bathroom. I was fine with sharing, but I secretly wanted it. What woman would turn down her own private bathroom? Let alone when you're sharing it with two men.

"Thanks, John." I smiled. I walked to the living room and took Sherlock's copy of Edgar Allan Poe then curled up in Sherlock's chair. John stood in the doorway of the kitchen and living occasionally glancing between Sherlock and me. He looked worried and awkward; I wonder what got into him. Finally, he sat in the chair across from me.

"So…Evie." He started. I put the book down in my lap to show that I was listening to him, "You, uh, stayed here last night."

"Yes." I nodded, unsure where this was going.

"And you're wearing Sherlock's pajamas." He continued, glancing down at the loose gray shirt.

"Of course." I drawled.

"Where did you sleep?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but I could tell something was up.

"In Sherlock's bed." Then it clicked, "Ah, God, John! He slept on the settee. He didn't want me going home alone last night. You really think I'd just sleep with a stranger?" I felt a bit insulted, but the awkward moment leading up to it made it so funny. Not to mention John's appalled look-he was ashamed at himself.

"No, no. I didn't think. Well, I thought…nevermind. I'm sorry to even think..." John apologized, well sort of.

I held up a hand, he stopped, "It's fine." I held in a giggle. Awkward John was hard to stay angry at. I looked up at Sherlock who was still looking at his mush.

"Did you hear any of that, Sherlock?" I asked. I doubt he did, but I felt John deserved a little punishment which was bringing it up to Sherlock.

Sherlock immediately looked up at me, "Hear what?"

"It's nothing." John hastily replied, looking at him while blindly seeking my mouth with his hand to cover it.

With a smirk, I pushed his hand away, "John thought you and I slept with another last night." I chuckled seeing John tense up. Sherlock just stared at us blankly.

"As in, he thought we shagged." I elaborated.

It took a moment for him to show anything. If anything he seemed to think about it while staring at me, then he scoffed, "Please John. Why would I want to do something like that? With Evangeline? Never."

That stung more than I wanted it to. I slammed the book shut, making it echo throughout the room, "Please, don't hold back." I snapped. I put the book back on the shelf hurried out of the room, not before catching John and Sherlock talk.

"Did I say something wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock, you said something very wrong." John sighed.

I ran into Sherlock's room. It was where my clothes from last night were. I threw off his clothes, not even caring where they landed and yanked on my own. I was angry, for Sherlock to sound like the prospect of sleeping with me was humorous and at myself because I was offended and hurt that he thought that. I didn't want to shag Sherlock. I just wanted to be flatmates, but what he said hurt my pride and feelings. I shouldn't get so easily offended by it.

I opened to find Sherlock standing there with his hand, ready to knock on the door, "Oh, you're done." He said.

"Yes." I said shortly.

"Listen, with what I said earlier, I didn't not mean it to be taken as an insult." He explained. I opened my mouth to speak, but Sherlock held up a hand to stop me, "What I meant to come out was that I couldn't do that because one I am married to my work and two, I respect you."

My jaw dropped, "You respect me?"

"You are intelligent." He said like that was reason enough.

I thought it over for a minute, "You're forgiven." I said.

Sherlock pulled something out of his pocket, "I also had this, if you wanted it." Inside his hand was the most beautiful thing I've seen, a king-sized Cadbury Dairy Milk Mint Bubbly Bar. How did he know I loved those?

I could only stare at the candy bar in his hands with love and awe. It was so beautiful. I didn't even know they made them in king size. I already forgave the man and then he pulls out a candy bar. Oh, he's good.

"Do you want it?" He asked, smirking at my hungry look.

"Yes, please." I looked at him pleading.

Sherlock smiled, handing it to me. I didn't waste a moment to rip off the wrapper and take a large bite of it. I closed my eyes as I savored the mint and chocolate tastes that was thick in my mouth. There was nothing better than chocolate.

"Now Evangeline you best be hurrying up." Sherlock ruined my moment. I opened my eyes somewhat irked and gazed at him.

"For what?" I asked. Can I just enjoy my chocolate in peace?

"The movers, obviously." He replied. He checked his watch, "They'll be arriving at your old flat in about thirty minutes or so."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, "I didn't call any movers."

"No, but I did." Sherlock said, "Now, may I have my room back? I don't wish to stay in my pajamas and dressing gown all day."

I stepped out still looking at Sherlock confused as ever. Why would he call the movers for me? Did he want me to move in that bad? I just shook my head. I really best be getting back to my old flat if I want to get there in time for them.

I was making my way to the stairs when John stopped me, "Where you off to?"

"Sherlock called a moving company to help me move out. I got to get there to open the door and pack." I replied. I grabbed my long black peacoat and slipped it on along with my green cotton scarf.

"Oh, would you like some help?" He asked.

"You don't have to." I smiled at the thought; John was truly a sweet man.

"Well, it's not like I have anything better to do." He smiled, "I wouldn't mind at all helping you. Let me grab my jacket." John grabbed it off the back of his chair and then we were off to the tube station. We rode in silence, but not an awkward silence. John let me loop arms with me and allowed me to lay my head on his shoulder. People might see us a couple, but I see him as an older brother that I always wanted. John didn't flirt with me and seeing how he was quite the flirtatious man, I think he saw me as a little sister.

The movers were impatiently waiting outside the building to my flat. I apologized profusely saying that I didn't even know they were going to be here today until thirty minutes ago. Luckily they thought I was cute and wasn't too upset about waiting. John's presence kept them from flirting with me, but it didn't stop them from checking me out.

"So where should we start?" John asked. I looked around. I didn't have anything in the living room. Vivian's stuff took over the living room. Everything I owned was in my bedroom, my bathroom, and my few groceries.

"I'll stuff my clothes and bedding into bags, if you'd pack up my books." I figured John wouldn't want to handle my underwear.

"Sounds good." He nodded. It took me a minute to remove my bedding, and then the movers took apart my bed to pack it away in the truck.

"You have a lot of books." John pointed out while looking at my four floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. They were filled with all sorts of books from fantasy to classic to mythologies to books about history.

"Yes, reading is another one of my addictions." I laughed.

"Where are your trashy romance novels? Shouldn't everyone have them?" John asked jokely.

"Please, those are dull. I like books with more mystery or mythical creatures in it than some overly muscled meat head who loves a fainting damsel." Granted, not all romance novels are that way, but I couldn't stand reading them.

John pulled a book down and gave me a disapproving look, "You love the Hobbit?"

I turned at him insulted, "You don't?"

"It's a bit boring, isn't it?" He scrunched up his face.

"John Watson, I have the strongest urge to smack you upside your face with that book. How dare you insult such a wonderful and classic story." I scolded. I took the book away from him and placed it gently in beside The Lord of the Rings.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He laughed. He wasn't intimidated by my reprimanding look; I really need to work on it. He reached up to grab some other books from the highest shelf, but couldn't seem to grab them. I smirked as I watched him stand on his tip toes to try to grab the book with the tip of his fingers. After watching him suffer for a moment longer, I took pity on him and grabbed the book. It was good to be three inches taller than him.

"Shorty." I laughed.

"Giant." He retorted.

"Small fry." I crossed my arms.

"Big foot." He countered.

"Bite sized." I stuck my tongue at him.

"Beanstalk." He smirked. Oh, you're not going to win this.

"Vertically challenged." Try coming up with something now.

"Amazon." He held his head up high.

"Hobbit." I smiled. He narrowed his eyes at me and I narrowed my right back. We stood there for a long moment just glaring at one another until finally at the same time we burst into laughter.

"Did you just call me a Hobbit? Vertically challenged?" He wheezed through his laughter.

"You did call me big foot." I laughed.

"And an Amazon, don't forget about that." He chuckled. He laughed so hard he was bending over with his hands on his knees. It only made me laugh harder watching him trying not to laugh. I fell over onto my butt. We stopped for a moment, just the smallest moment and then once again-we laughed our arses off.

"What are you two giggling like children over?" A deep voice said from my doorway.

I didn't have to turn to see who it was. It could only be Sherlock. What he was doing here, I had no clue. I didn't think he'd be the type to offer anyone to help them move. When I finally turned to look at me, he was glancing around my room trying to read everything he could from my possessions. His eyes darted from my books, the ones that were still on the shelves and in the boxes, to my pictures, then finally to me.

"What are you doing here?" John asked.

"Well, I thought you could use an extra hand." He told John tersely since he didn't like to be questioned.

"Oh, well, that's kind of you." I smiled. I picked myself up from the floor. I went back to packing things like my pictures on my desk and bedside table, my laptop, and then the pictures on my walls. Sherlock didn't do that much help; he mostly watched John and me as I packed my things. I had a feeling he was looking for some sign about my marriage to Liam, not that he knew I was married. All he knew is that I was in a serious relationship that ended.

I was deep in thought about him that I didn't even notice Sherlock come up behind me, "You like sunflowers." My eyes went to the vase of sunflowers on my desk. The poor things needed some sunlight, but he was right. I loved sunflowers. I don't really care of flowers, but something about sunflowers always seemed to make me smile.

"Excellent deduction." I rolled my eyes. I was too busy to play with Sherlock; I wanted to be finished moving today.

"Don't most women love roses?" He asked.

I turned to him and looked up into his eyes, "Well, I'm not most women." I remarked.

Sherlock silently eyed me before mumbling, "Indeed you're not." He walked over to my bedside table. I didn't have the chance to empty it out yet and I didn't want him to go through it. I had some…private things in there.

I didn't make it in time. Sherlock slid open the draw and stared blankly at the contents of the draw, "Evangeline." He started.

"Yes?" I was biting my lip nervously.

Sherlock reached in and grabbed something. I was starting to sweat when John looked over to see what Sherlock was gawking at. Sherlock turned to face me and held up a handful of candy. I let out a sigh of relief. I could see from my draw now that my stash had covered up my 'private things'.

"You have a problem." He said looking at the clutched Cadbury sweets.

I rolled my eyes and took the candy away from him, "I do not. Now, help John pack my books." Thankfully he listened. While their backs were turned, I scooped the candy and 'private things' into a box. I only let out the breath I was holding in once the box was taped up.

The moving went faster than I accepted. John helped a lot with packing and bringing in the boxes at Baker Street. Sherlock helped a little with the packing, but none of the heavy lifting. He mostly watched us, the lazy bum. After all my things were moved into my new room at Baker Street, Sherlock paid the moving crew-he wouldn't allow me to do it. I texted Vivian telling her I was no longer living there, we weren't at all close so I didn't mind not telling her in person that I was gone. She texted me back, turns out she had been planning on kicking me out, she wanted her best friend to move there. Thank God, I've been trying to move out and found a place.

I decided to make the boys dinner, lasagna. John and Mrs. Hudson loved it, but Sherlock barely touched his. He didn't even eat with us. He stayed mostly in front of his microscope looking at his exploded eyeballs.

Then John and I spent the rest of the night painting my new room mint green that went perfectly well with my mint green and cream bedding. I slept on the settee my first night so that my room could dry. I didn't get too much rest because Sherlock was still in the kitchen, every hour or so he'd stick some more eyeballs in the microwave. The beeping would wake me up.

I woke up the next morning to someone throwing something in my lap. It was none other than Mr. Rudey pants-Sherlock Holmes. The thing that landed in my lap was a computer that already had a page pulled up-The Science of Deduction, Sherlock's page. Sherlock paced back and forth before sitting down on his desk chair facing me.

"This is not how a girl wants to wake up in the mornings, Sherlock." I grumbled.

"I need a case." He said.

I set the computer on the floor, "Why the hell are you waking me up for? Find your own case." I turned over facing away.

"I'm bored." He bellowed. God, he sounded like a child.

"Then read a book or dissect a finger. Or you could take up a hobby. I've heard crochet is very therapeutic, and in the end you have scarves and blankets." I pulled the cover over my head hoping he would see that the conversation was over.

"Evangeline." He grumbled.

"No, Sherlock. Go away or I'll put you in time out." I said.

He got up and set the computer on my hip. I pulled the cover away so I could glare at him, "Why don't you get John to help you find a bloody case?"

"Because he's asleep." He replied, rolling his eyes.

"I was asleep!" I yelled. I set the computer back down and kicked off the covers.

Sherlock said nothing; he picked up the computer and set it back on my lap. I glared at him for the longest time. Why did I move in with him again?

"If I find you a case, will you let me go back to sleep?" I asked with my head in my hands.

"Yes, yes, of course." He said snappishly. I didn't believe him for a moment, but I looked at his inbox anyway. He had plenty of people wanted him to solve something for him, why didn't he need my help.

"Olive Hawker thinks her husband is having an affair." I summarized the first case.

"Dull. Next." He said.

My eyes skimmed the next cases, "Affair. Affair. Affair. Affair. Damn, doesn't anybody trust their spouses these days?" I rolled my eyes. Sherlock didn't comment or laugh, he just stared.

"Ok…" I looked back down at the computer, "Oh, here's one. A couple thinks their house is haunted."

"What?" Sherlock jumped up to stand beside me so he could look at the computer.

"They say they've seen spectral dogs, floating orbs, and a ghostly woman wearing a wedding gown walking about their mansion at night between 3 AM to 3:30 AM. They would like you to figure out what is going on and stop it." I read the email then looked up at him, "Are you going to take it?"

"It seems like a complete waste of time, but I guess it will have to do." He said, "Now, change your clothes and grab your coat. We have a case to solve." He grabbed the computer to reread the e-mail.

"Hey, that's not part-." I didn't get to finish before a bag of Cadbury Buttons landed in my lap. Curse him! But I wasn't going to give up that easy. I looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What? Is that not enough?" He asked bemused. I crossed my arms and shook my head. Not a second later, a pack of Fry's Turkish Delight landed in my lap. I quirked a brow at him, still not enough. Sherlock sighed and pulled a several Cadbury Eggs from his coat pocket. He tossed one at a time in my lap, three joined my chocolaty bribe.

"You get those now and when we finish I'll give you more." He said.

I smiled and jumped up clutching the candy, "I'll be right back." I ran up to my room. Though I wanted to sleep in, I was excited about this new case with Sherlock. Were we going to solve a ghost story?

So whatcha think? What's your favorite lines and/or part? I liked it when John and Evie called each other names?

The next chapter(s) will be about the ghost case. It's not based off of Sherlock Holmes cases, I'm making it up with some inspiration from urban legends, ghost stories, and my imagination.

'Til Next Time. I love your faces. ^_^