"Trouble, I don't get into trouble," Sherlock said. "Don't be ridiculous. I never get into trouble." He paused. "Lestrade hands it to me."

"You manage to find trouble on your own," Elena said with a snort. "Between the gangs and other people you meddle with, and yes, you do meddle."

"I do no such thing," Sherlock denied. "And there are no gangs, I keep an efficient network of the homeless as informants, nothing more."

"Uh huh. The Blind Banker." Elena knew he'd know what she meant. Because, really, he had gotten involved with gangs in the past.

"That was a case," Sherlock retorted. "I did say Lestrade is the one who hands me trouble. Although, that one was an old acquaintance, rather than Lestrade. But the sentiment remains."

Elena sighed and shook her head. "You can find trouble just fine on your own because you want to know about any murder or mystery Lestrade can't handle."

Sherlock made a face at that and pointedly took a sip of his tea, not looking at her.

Elena shook her head and, when they were done with tea, instead of heading home she walked with him back to his flat.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow when she didn't head back to her own flat.

"You're following me," he said. "Why are you following me? Surely you have better things to do with your time."

"Not really, Lestrade cancelled tomorrow on me, so I've got no plans. Besides, I'm not following you, I'm walking with you." Elena shrugged.

Sherlock gave a small, wordless hum, but didn't tell her to stop. He let her accompany him all the way back to Baker Street.

But Elena didn't make a move to head home even then, instead looking at him for a few moments.

"Going to invite me in?"

Sherlock turned and looked at her, a little confused.

"I had assumed you were just going to follow me in," he said. "Is the invitation necessary?"

"No, since you assumed I would follow you in," Elena said. She motioned for him to lead the way, grinning to herself.

Sherlock went up to 221B and opened the door. He promptly took off his coat and scarf, grabbing his blue robe, and sprawled out on the couch.

Elena laughed a bit at that and shook her head, going to make herself comfortable as well. Yup, their place still looked like a bachelor pad.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to get completely, spectacularly bored. He lay sprawled out on the couch, one arm over his face, the other hand tapping randomly on the floor. One foot tapped on the end of the sofa.

Elena, meanwhile, had started poking around the flat, going so far as to look at his violin. She plucked one of the strings gently.

That got Sherlock's attention, and he sat up to look at her. He didn't reprimand her, however, just watching to see what she did.

Elena tested the other strings, pausing after each one with her head tilted. Then she plucked out a simple chord, grinning at the quiet reverberations.

Sherlock watched her. He wanted to tell her to stop touching his violin (because it was one of his most treasured possessions) but for the moment, he stopped himself. Somehow, he liked the way it made her smile.

After fiddling with the violin for a few more moments, Elena straightened again and went back to her exploring.

Getting up, Sherlock went over and picked up his violin. He tested the strings briefly, tightened one, and then drew the bow across them smoothly.

Elena turned to look at him, wondering if he was going to do more or if he was just testing to make sure she hadn't messed up his instrument.

Sherlock glanced at her, and then did indeed do more, sliding right into the piece he had been working on recently. He didn't compose all that often anymore, but he did still do it occasionally.