Chapter 1
A wise woman once said "nothing, of course, begins at the time when you think it did." I guess the more you think about that statement, the more and more it begins to make sense. It does, however, have absolutely nothing to do with this story, as this story had a very clear beginning indeed; it began with cold coffee and ended in church bells; but we don't care about that. What we care about is the bit that came in between, for that major fiasco is where this tale truly has its beginning
It was another cold November in London; a chill breeze blew past causing her to tighten her coat around her as she opened the door to her favourite coffee shop. She nodded at the barista behind the counter as she headed to her usual seat in the corner with a clear view of the rest of the room and the entrance. She no longer needed to state an order. She had been having the same thing every day since she found this safe haven two years ago. Every morning she would walk in, nod at whoever was working the shift that morning; receive an acknowledging nod and smile from said employee and then take her seat, extract her laptop from its bag and start to type. Nothing ever changed; but she liked it that way. She had come to realise that if she always knew what to expect then she could never be disappointed.
A few moments later a cup was placed at her table with a small "good morning Miss Fox," she smiled at the young boy who had brought her order and thanked him and was then once again left alone with her thoughts. The barista, a blond boy whom according to the badge pinned to his lavender pinafore was named Ben, was relatively new to his current profession. She had only seen him there once or twice and the grubby trainers he was being reprimanded for last time had now been replace with a pair of shiny new, black, patent work shoes; she couldn't help a small smile at wondering how long that shine would last. The rest of his apparel was rather non-descript apart from the aforementioned pinafore which made her grin, she always questioned why a café with the name 'Jade Gardens' would have its workers wear lavender, to her it made no logical sense and she was nothing if not logical.
However, even though Ben was new to this neck of the woods he already had her order committed to memory. Coffee, black, one sugar. Simple really. Just like her, nothing adventurous; no caramel macchiato or white chocolate mochas for her, no, just coffee, black.
It hadn't always been this way of course, as a girl she had dreamed of excitement of a tall, dark and handsome stranger who would whisk her away into a world of danger and excitement. However all that changed and she did what we all must do, as time ventures inextricably forward without our consent; she grew up. She realised that dreams where just that, dreams. Her past was something she didn't think about often but due the events of it, well… she had to admit that the growing up part kicked in a little early than perhaps it should have. Innocence is never allowed to flourish these days, too much evil in the world, some would call her cynicical, and she would reply "yes, I am; but all cynicism is is an unpleasant way of telling the truth, so are you calling me unpleasant," at which the other member of the conversation would start to fidget uncomfortably and undoubtedly change the subject.
As she sat there in her home away from home, staring at the blank document before her, she realised that how could she write about things she had never experienced. The thrill of the chase, the fear of discovery, the triumph of success; it was all foreign to her. Of course she could write about her childhood but she did not even want to think about that, causing her to beg the question, why would others wish to read about it?
As she was considering forgetting about writing today, give it up as a bad job and try again tomorrow, the door to the 'Gardens' opened and from her vantage point she saw a man walk to the counter and place his order, a man whose mere appearance would have been striking to even the most casual of observers. Height wise he must have been at least six feet, his lithe stature making him seem taller still. His thin hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which showed a man of determination; but through all of this it was his eyes that captivated her the most, blue, almost crystal-blue, piercing, alert and so very much alive; and currently fixing her with a stare that made her feel extremely exposed. Turning away from that stare, in fear of incriminating herself, she continued to stare at the desktop of her laptop wondering whether or not to try writing again, just to give the illusion of her actually doing something.
That concept was driven from her mind however when two mugs where placed on the table before her and the new occupant of her little teas shop had situated himself in the now not so vacant seat before here.
"Coffee, black, one sugar." His voice was calm controlled and it was highly obvious that he did not find this situation strange in the slightest. She sent him a questioning look, "from the new life form that is being created on the top of that previous cup I do believe that it has long since gone cold, therefore I was under the impression that the polite thing to do would be to buy you another and begin conversation since we are the only two occupants of the rather charming little establishment; was I wrong?"
For a moment she was quiet, allowing his explanation to filter through her head leaving only the slightest trace of meaning. It wasn't often people could leave her speechless and she suddenly felt rather intrigued about the stranger who sat before her. "No you were not, and thank you…for the coffee that is."
"Your very welcome Miss Annabelle Fox, "the slight smirk on his face suggested his anticipation of her surprise, but she was not going to give in that easily. 'Two can play that game' she thought.
"And how could you possibly know that?" she said hoping it had come out as assertively as she had originally planned.
"Simple, the young man at the counter asked me how long I had known 'Miss Fox' for when I placed the order for your coffee; I of course delighted in telling him I hadn't seen you since university and the least I could do was buy you a coffee after that dreadful business back then, I do love to see that fire light in someone's as at the concept of gossip don't you?" she was currently in the process of making sure her jaw had not hit the floor, for this game of theirs would certainly be over once it had. "As for your given name it was not to difficult you are wearing a necklace that states 'Bella' I assume this to be a nickname as the engraving on the bracelet you are wearing clearly states your initials to be A.R. Fox. Therefore, placing the A and your nickname of Bella it is easy to deuce your first name to be Annabelle. Simple really."
Even under her shock a small amount of triumph was seeping through at the fact that the genius did not know everything after all. "Close, but not quite." She replied a challenging smirk on her face as he raised a brow at her. "The only thing I have always wanted to change about myself, my name, Arabella Regina Fox."
"Arabella of course, there's always something," he muttered more to himself than to her. "Well, miss Arabella," he said standing. "If you're looking for a story find me tomorrow, mid-day." Now her jaw did officially drop, as he headed to the door dodging tables and chairs as he went.
"But, wait…I don't even know your name! Where will I find you?" she called after him. He paused opening the door and looked back with a grin she could only describe as ….manic spreading across his face.
"The name is Sherlock Holmes and as for the latter, you're a clever girl I'm sure you can figure it out. Good day, Miss Arabella Fox." And with that he was gone, leaving her sat there considering whether the past five minutes had just been a hallucination; had she finally cracked.
She was bought out of her reverie by young Ben clearing his throat stood next to her table. "Sorry to bother you miss, but my boss will have me head if she finds out I wasn't paying attention…ummm….your friend left his wallet on the counter and I have only just realised ...You wouldn't be able to pass it on would you."
Arabella took the wallet from the frantic young man almost without thinking, it was as if someone had switched her on autopilot, and she was only remotely paying attention to Ben's mantra of thanks as he returned to the counter to prepare for the dinner time rush that was slowly beginning to file in. Bankers, lawyers, high-flying business men all queuing up for their take-away caffeine fix, carrying their drug out in paper cups that would undoubtedly start to leak as they got half-way back to the office.
But she wasn't paying attention to any of this. She was staring at the wallet in her hands as if it were her lifeline; the only thing assuring her that she officially wasn't going mad. Slowly she opened it and inside was a small square of paper which proudly stated the words, 'Mr. Sherlock Holmes, 221B Baker Street.'
She would spend the rest of that afternoon doing her usual routine, stay for another couple of hours, go home, shower, shove some flavourless excuse for sustenance into the microwave, feed herself, feed the cat, watch something calling itself entertainment on the television and the call it an early night.
Little did she know that was the last time she would follow that routine for a long time. Was that a good thing, I guess only time will tell; but would thing would soon become certain; maybe naïve, childhood dreams aren't lost; maybe they are just buried under the surface, in the darkness, waiting for some tall, dark and handsome stranger to show them the light.
Hi
So just to add a disclaimer to this I don't own anything except Arabella! Please let me know what you think this just come to me out of nowhere the other afternoon and I am going to be using feedback to see if I should continue it or not.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Esmeralda Rose