Amongst all the memories he had of her so far, he discovered that he kept coming back to one particular moment. He was returning from a lengthly case when he discovered her sitting in his chair reading one of her favourite books. He found himself in a state of shock, watching her for quite sometime before even making his presence known. Her legs were tucked underneath her body, safely cloaked in the comfort of her warm soft quilt, her glasses resting low on the bridge of her nose. Of course she only wore them when she was fully engrossed in one of her tales. Her long light brown hair hung in its lose strands, obscuring her face as she flipped the page of the worn piece of fiction she held carefully in her hands. That book had seen better days but she could never put it down.
The light from the window behind her made her seem all that more beautiful. The ominous cloud colour highlighted all of her features and darkened the ones that were less prominent. Her pointed nose, her round forehead, and the smoothness of her skin. He noticed the way her eyebrows scrunched up as her eyes skimmed over the inked words. She was deep in thought, fully consumed in the story she had memorized since she was a child. The window was set open due to the built up smell of formaldehyde coming from the kitchen in the other end of the flat but now, all that was left was the wet smell of London. Sounds that could be heard added to the moment. Her relaxing breathing, changing delicately with a sudden change in the written adventure. Toby's soft snores from the top of the couch were meant to be ignored as the fat cat snoozed with no care in the world. The soft melodic noise of the pages of the novel, turning over with such a tenderness that it seemed at any moment, the ancient binding would crumble into dust. The consistent pitter patter of rain on the roof and ledge of the window echoed around her and left vibrations in his ears.
Every so often, a small comforting cold breeze swept through the flat and left the detective with a delightful shiver across his face.
She reached over to a nearby side table, never removing her eyes from the novel and grabbed on to the sturdy handle of her favourite mug. Lifting it slowly, she brought it to her lips as the steaming liquid could be seen in the uplifting trails. Tea, no doubt, as she didn't have work today.
Placing it back down on the intended coster, she moved her free hand to join the other in it's weak grasp. For a few more minutes he was left standing in the doorway not knowing how long he had been there. He was rarely seen standing on his feet in the same spot for no longer then what was deemed necessary. Always moving, always solving something with an enigma concealed inside. However, this sight was one of many that left him frozen.
Then, she cautiously closed the two frayed hard covers together, a sigh following her lips after. Her shoulders shrugged with the serene release of air, her muscles loosening from their stiff position. She had been there for awhile he had concluded.
She removed her glasses and placed them with her mug, only to have both hands curl into fists to rub at her eyes and one to cover her mouth when a surprising yawn escaped her lips. Her gaze never faltered from the cracked title page and she absentmindedly trailed her sift fingers down the timeworn fabric of the cover. He unconsciously let out a breath and felt a tiny pounding sensation nudging his rib cage.
Suddenly, her gaze finally lifted. Her eyes reached out beyond the sightly fogged window as if she was desperately waiting for someone. For him. She didn't blink as if her mind was off somewhere else.
He had taken this as motivation to go to her but even as he walked across the wooden floor with a creak to each step, she didn't seem to take notice. Nothing it would seem could distract her from her train of thought until he placed a hand on her shoulder. Her body jumped at the unexpected contact. Her face remained grim until she looked up, a warm smile replacing the expression instantly. He bent down and placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Her eyes closed and the smile became wider.
"How much more worn can that book get?" He had asked, like the countless other times.
"Worn till it's tissue" she would always reply.