Author's note: It's been a while since the last story in my Sherlock/Sally universe, and I realized it was time for Sally to be jealous.
A little bit angsty.
I don't own anything, please review.
There are many things she has come to expect from her relationship with Sherlock; violin concerts at four am, for example. She normally chastises him for it – telling him something along the lines of "There are some people who have regular jobs, you know" – but since he never seems angry, or even sorry, she suspects he knows she enjoys lying awake and hearing a melody by Beethoven slowly drift through her flat. Or 221B – she has spent more and more time there over the past few months, and she's glad she does, because it means their relationship is growing stronger, despite the misgivings of people like her ex-lover.
She has also learned to accept the body parts in her fridge and the microscope and experiments in her small kitchen. There is really no reason for him to do experiments in her flat as well as in 221B and St Bart's; she suspects it's his way of telling her he wants to spend time with her. They don't talk much about their relationship, what it means to them, what they mean to each other. They like what they have – she's sure he does, too, otherwise, being Sherlock Holmes, he would have ended it long ago, or never have kissed her to begin with – and it's enough. She doesn't need big declarations; knowing Sherlock, it's unbelievable they have dates to begin with.
It's unbelievable they are dating, to be honest. Once upon a time she hated him and he hated her, and she was responsible for him being arrested. And now –
Now she spends the nights she lies awake because of his violin thinking about how she'd never have thought she'd be this happy one day.
She wouldn't change a thing if she could, not even the jar full of tongues she happens to find one day on the second shelf on the fridge that should be clean – she told him she wanted one shelf, just one tiny shelf, and he nodded, so she'd thought he'd realized what she meant – not even her relationship with Anderson, as longs as she would still end up here.
Plus, she's rather sure that nothing can surprise her at this point, not anymore, so why bother changing anything at all, even if she could?
Turns out, she's wrong.
Because, if there is one thing she didn't expect to experience as Sherlock's girlfriend, it's jealousy.
Not the certain small twinge of jealousy that she feels when a woman checks out her boyfriend a little too long for her liking; that is completely normal. Sherlock is an attractive man, after all, and ever since he's returned from the dead, he's been more famous than ever. There are quite a few women who recognise him on the street.
There are some who try to show him that they would have nothing against spending some "quality time" with him either. She remembers a witness who'd found a body, brunette, attractive, about thirty, who wouldn't stop flirting with him, even after he had introduced Sally as "my girlfriend" (and, just like that, there were butterflies in her stomach, not that she'd admit it). But –
These women – Sherlock didn't look at them twice. He never looks at another woman twice. In fact, she thinks he never looked at a woman twice, until he decided to kiss her.
Turns out she's wrong about that too.
Because Irene Adler's return certainly makes her life even more complicated than it already is.
It's not even Sherlock who tells her; John calls her one day, asking if she'd like to get something to eat in her lunch break. That's nothing new; she and the doctor have become rather good friends since Sherlock came back from the dead, and she likes him a great deal, so she says yes. Sherlock has been busy with an experiment for the last few days, so she hasn't seen a lot of him, actually she hasn't seen him at all in the last two days, but that's not unusual when one is dating a consulting detective who considers eating and sleeping and even being polite a waste of time (although he certainly eats and sleeps more since they got together, she makes sure of it). That he hasn't texted or called her during this time is a little bit more unusual, but Sherlock often forgets to call when he's experimenting or in his mind palace, so she's not worried.
Until she meets John, because the doctor has always been very easy to read, especially when you know him rather well (as she does, by now), and he looks definitely worried.
She doesn't ask immediately, knowing he'll tell her in his own time. She can see he's trying how to tell her. Sometimes, she thinks John's almost too polite. Maybe that's why he and Sherlock get on so well: They even each other out.
Before the food arrives, they chat mostly about Molly and Greg and Mrs. Hudson. He carefully avoids any mention of Sherlock, and it's making her uncomfortable.
Then, when they both have their plates before them, he starts eating and, fixing his eyes on the food, asks slowly, trying to make it sound casual, "Has Sherlock ever told you about Irene Adler?"
"No" she answers, confused. "Who is she?"
And John tells her. About the case he couldn't post on his blog. That Sherlock seemed fascinated by her (she suspects the doctor would use a different word than "fascinated", if he was talking to someone else). That he thought the consulting detective hated her in the end, but apparently, he didn't, because he saved her and helped her fake her death –
And that she returned two days ago.
She's not prepared for the hot, scourging wave of jealousy that sweeps through her, making it hard to think. Women who hit on her boyfriend in the street or at crime scenes are one thing.
A beautiful, intelligent, mysterious woman her boyfriend is fascinated by is something completely different, however.
And he didn't call or text her since this woman – this dominatrix, John tells her – returned.
She asks John, very calm (or at least she thinks she's calm, John's face tells her something different) where Sherlock has spent the last two days.
The answer is, predictably enough, "In our flat – Miss Adler comes and goes at all times".
She doesn't want to ask the next question, but somehow, it happens. "What are they doing?"
John looks shocked (so he, at least, thinks there's nothing between them, at least not yet), and replies, "She is in trouble again – apparently she tried to blackmail some drug lord, and his hit men have followed her. She needs Sherlock's help."
"It's a case then" she says, although she knows it isn't just any other case, and seeing John flinch confirms her suspicions.
She will go to 221B directly after lunch and look at this woman – at The Woman. She wants to know what she's up against.
John doesn't protest; in fact, he just sighs, like he has expected something like this, and suggests they take a cab. Greg doesn't say anything when she calls; maybe the doctor warned him something like this would happen.
She is silent during the cab ride. She is even silent as they enter the house, only nodding politely to Mrs. Hudson, who looks concerned. She is silent as she walks up the stairs, John behind her (he tried to get in front of her, naturally. But she's not going to allow anyone to tell Sherlock that his girlfriend is there, at least, not yet).
She is, however, not silent when she walks into Sherlock sitting on the sofa, phone in hand, and an indeed very beautiful woman sitting next to him, leaning into his personal space, and wearing his dressing gown.
She isn't particularly loud, either. She simply says, "Hello, Sherlock".
He looks up, once again not having heard her come in because he was focused on his phone (and probably on the beautiful woman beside him) and at least has the good grace to look somewhat ashamed.
"Sally". He stands up, walking over the small table in front of the sofa, obviously trying to put some distance between him and Irene Adler, who is very clearly completely naked under the dressing gown. "I got caught up in a case."
"I can see that". Her voice is flat, and she would say he looks worried, if he wasn't Sherlock Holmes, the man she'd somehow assumed was a decent human being after all. Before he can say something, she turns towards Irene Adler. "Sergeant Sally Donavan. Sherlock's girlfriend. Miss Adler, I presume?"
She smiles almost coquettishly, and Sally is reminded that John told her she's a lesbian (but, seeing how wonderfully honest the doctor is, he couldn't help but tell her about her crush on Sherlock). The thought reminds her of John; she can feel his presence in her back, and indeed Sherlock is by now looking over her shoulder, obviously imploring his best friend to do something. She hears John shuffle in the kitchen to put the kettle on. Naturally. Tea.
And then, just when she thinks this situation couldn't get any worse, Irene Adler decides to speak. "Sally. Sherlock hasn't mentioned you. I had no idea he found himself a girlfriend..." She stands up and comes to stand beside Sherlock, her hand slowly trailing along his right arm. He doesn't flinch away; he simply stares at Sally, clearly at a loss what to do, and at any other moment, she would probably enjoy the side and tease him. But –
This is just too much. She could scream, she could cry, but she has always prided herself on her ability to stay strong. Sherlock knows her well enough; he knows that it's over if he slept with her (and it seems more than likely). Ironic, considering she helped a man to commit adultery for years. But this is different. Sherlock was hers, and she was his, and they were happy. At least she thought so.
There's nothing more to say, really. She turns around and walks away, hearing Sherlock's footsteps behind her. He grasps her arm.
"Sally – "
"Let me go, freak" she spits out, and feels a twinge of satisfaction immediately followed by guilt when he flinches because she just used the same tone on him she did all those years ago. For the first time since he came back, she meant to insult him. And she has succeeded.
Feeling the tears coming, she shakes his arm off and leaves 221B as quickly as possible, ignoring Mrs. Hudson who is just shuffling up the stairs, apparently having decided to find out what "her boy" has done now, and walks home. She angrily rubs the few tears that have escaped away.
No use crying over it. What's done is done. It's over.
Then she hears footsteps behind her. She has heard him running so often that she recognizes Sherlock immediately.
That confuses her a little. She didn't expect him to come running after her. It's too normal, too cliché for the consulting detective.
"Sally – Sally. Please."
Just when she thought nothing could surprise her. Sherlock Holmes just said "Please". It's enough to make her stop and slowly turn around.
He looks – sad? Confused? Determined? All of the above? She can't say and she tries not to care.
He takes a deep breath and then says, "I didn't have sex with Irene Adler. Her case was fascinating – not because of her little problem, but because I now can have the drug lord arrested. Her phone – the information she had – was all I needed. I didn't tell her about us because she isn't important to me."
He bites his lip and looks down on the pavement. "I'm sorry. I should have called."
She nods, even though he can't see her. She can understand why he's confused. In a way, the thought that he would cheat on her is utterly absurd. But, before her talk with John, she thought he'd never shown interest in anyone...
"She interests you". It's a statement, not a question.
He shrugs his shoulders. "Her case does. Any interest I might have had in her long since evaporated." Then, he adds, "She should be gone now. I asked John to make sure she leaves."
She looks at him, shocked. "And the drug lord?"
"I have enough to bring him down in time".
He sent away Irene Adler for her. He left a case unfinished for her. Sally is touched.
She walks up to him and lays a hand on his chest. "I'm sorry. For the "freak"".
"Granted, I may not be the best at social interaction, but shouldn't I be the one to apologize?" he asks, smirking.
She sighs. "But we both know that would be a long wait – "
"I'm sorry" he says, and suddenly, she feels like she could cry again, but she doesn't want to, so she kisses him instead.
Then she takes his hand. "How about we spend the rest of the day in my flat?"
He smiles and nods.
Later, much later, when he's sleeping – of course he hasn't slept since Irene Adler returned – she gets a text. She looks at her phone, surprised; she's already called John to tell him everything's alright, and he has surely told everyone else.
What she reads surprises her even more.
I must admit I am surprised. He ran out without looking at me, simply told John to "Get her out". Take care of him. He needs it.
IA
She doesn't answer, because she suspects the dominatrix doesn't need an answer. She slowly walks into the bedroom, looks at his sleeping form and realizes that she will indeed take care of him.
For as long as he'll let her.
Author's note: Jealousy and Irene Adler – and Sherlock/Sally to make it even more implausible. Maybe that's why I like writing these.
I hope you liked it, please review.