Sally Donovan started to get up from her park bench, noticing the ball rolling towards the runner with the hoodie pulled low over his face, probably blocking his vision. But it was too late, the ball rolled into the path and the runner's feet were tangled up. But to her amazement, the runner managed to dance around the ball and kick it up in the air to catch it, like some kind of pro football player.
She stood fully up and ran over to the path, catching the hand of her daughter who was about to run up to the stranger. Just as she approached, the runner slid the hood off his head with one hand while he held the ball with his other.
"Hello, Sally," he said, with a slightly uncertain smile.
The blood drained from her face. Dimmock. She had no idea what to say, caught in the park on a Saturday afternoon, playing ball with her daughter. That no one knew she had.
The little girl tugged on the knee of Dimmock's sweatpants. "Can I have my ball, mister?"
He looked down at the little girl, then squatted down to her level, handing her the ball. "Well, who do we have here? You look just like your mum, don't you?" He looked back up at Sally, a question in his eyes.
She had never told anyone. She'd been working at the Yard for five years, and had never told anyone. Not a single soul. Well, that was not quite true. There was one person who knew; Sherlock. So far, he had said nothing. Still, she was always on edge around him, angry that he knew her secrets, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She bit her lip, not sure what to say. Sally crossed her arms in front of her, feeling defensive. She felt a presence behind her, then smelled the whiff of baking bread and lavender soap that was her mother.
"Why don't you introduce me to your friend, Sally?" her mother asked.
Sally simply pointed at Dimmock. "This is Detective Inspector Dimmock." Then she pointed at her mother. "This is my mother." She tucked her hands back under her armpits, still defensive.
Her mother held out her hand and Dimmock stood up to shook it. "Nice to meet you, Inspector."
"Call me Ian, please." He turned to Sally then. "Actually, I should congratulate you, Sally. I heard you're Inspector Donovan now." He turned to her mother. "You must be proud of your daughter, she's climbing the ladder quickly at the Yard."
The little girl tugged at her Dimmock's sweats. "Hey, let's play!" she said.
Dimmock looked down at her and laughed. "Well, sure, but only if your mum says it's ok. Is it ok?"
Sally felt a frown and a smile battle for domination on her face, ending up with a twisted half-smile, arms still crossed in front of her.
"All right, but only if you don't mind, she never tires out."
"Neither do I," he said, bouncing back and forth on his feet for effect. "Always been my problem. Have to run to get it out of my system."
He then ran a little ways off with the little girl, never so far as to be out of Sally's sight, and they gently played catch and kicked the ball back and forth for the better part of fifteen minutes while she sat on the park bench with her mother, watching them, silent. He was quite good on his feet, really, and seemed to have endless patience for the antics of her daughter.
Sally's mother, a handsome, well-dressed woman in her sixties, was knitting a scarf. "Your friend seems nice," her mother ventured.
"He's not my friend," Sally said crossly.
"Oh, that's right, I forgot," her mother said, with a sigh. "You don't need friends, or so you keep telling me." She continued to knit. "Still, he seems like a nice young man."
Sally shrugged noncommittally. "He's all right."
"An Inspector from work?" her mother fished.
"Yes." Sally narrowed her eyes and thought about it for a moment, running over what she knew about Dimmock.
She continued to ponder what she knew about DI Ian Dimmock. He was always professional and respectful to her, but he didn't fraternize a lot, so she knew little about him personally. Except for what she had surmised from that night at The Black Feather, when she ran into him just after he'd seen Molly and Lestrade in the alley, which she had stumbled upon first. She remembered the look on his face; pain, shock, resignation. She knew then he had a thing for Molly Hooper, but she admired how he'd held it together. And then he never said a word about it afterwards, never spread the gossip around the Yard. Maybe he was a vault after all, just like her. Maybe he could be trusted to say nothing about this meeting today.
Sally cleared her throat. "He's nice enough, I guess. Never gives me any shit."
"Well, that's high praise from you, to be sure." The sound of her mother's needles clacking together filled the silence for several more minutes until Dimmock and her daughter returned.
"Kendra says she's tired," Dimmock announced. "I think she's worn me out, too."
Kendra flopped onto the bench between her mother and her grandmother. "He's coming home to dinner with us, right?" she said hopefully, looking back and forth between them.
Sally stiffened, not sure how to respond, but as usual her mother covered the situation with grace. "No dear, not today." She stopped knitting and set her needles down in her lap. "Although, I would like to invite Mr. Dimmock to come to dinner tomorrow, if you're free?"
Dimmock looked nearly as shocked as she was sure she looked. However, to her surprise, a slow grin spread across his face and he leaned down to give his answer to Kendra. "Well, I suppose that sounds nice. You're cooking, right?"
Kendra clapped her hands together in delight. "Yay!"
Damn uninvited charmer, Sally thought gruffly, then melted a little at the sight of her happy daughter, but then she scowled as the next thought followed. Oh god, this was going to be a nightmare.
***
Oh god, Dimmock thought, this was going to be a nightmare. What in god's name am I doing going to dinner at Sally Donovan's flat? How did this happen..? He felt the bottle of wine in his hands, heavy like a weight, as he rang the bell and stood before the door. It's not that he didn't want to, exactly. He just never thought…well, of all people, he never imagined he would ever get the chance to know Sally Donovan.
He remembered that evening a few months ago, at The Black Feather in the hallway. He remembered the way she had looked at him, acknowledged him with that slight shrug of the shoulders. You would think that, in the months that followed, he would have thought a lot about Molly Hooper. But after that night…he didn't. It wasn't Molly at all that he thought of. What he remembered were Sally's dark eyes looking into his. Kind but distant, unsettlingly omniscient. Beautiful.
And ever since then, he noticed more about her. She was lithe and graceful, full of energy; he imagined she had to be a runner, like him, to keep that shape. She kept her head down and she did good work. Twice as good as the others, in fact. Probably she felt she had to, to get ahead. She joked around with the other staff but at the end of the day, she went home. To where, nobody knew. Nobody knew anything about her, not really.
And now here he was, sitting at her dinner table, when before yesterday she'd pretty much scared the shit out of him on a daily basis. He was surprised to find that the evening passed very easily. Sally's Mother, Virginia was her name, was extremely easy to get along with. She and Kendra did most of the talking while Sally sat quietly in her chair, picking at her food.
After dinner, her mother took it upon herself to put Kendra to bed. She spent the rest of the evening putting things away in the kitchen, leaving Sally and Dimmock alone in the living room. Sally poured out two glasses of the wine that Dimmock had brought.
"I'm sure you need this," she said, handing it to him. "I know I do."
"Thanks," he said, taking it. "You have a nice family."
She shrugged. "My mom has been a real lifesaver. I don't know how I would raise Kendra, all on my own." She looked down at her glass. "Listen," she said. "You won't tell anyone about this, right?"
Dimmock shrugged. "Ok, sure. But I don't know why not."
Sally frowned. "Not everyone at the Yard looks at having kids that positively. I don't want anyone to think I can't do my job."
Dimmock leaned back. "All right. I get it." He took a sip, changed the subject. "I didn't know you lived around here. I run in the park all the time, and I never saw you until yesterday."
"I didn't live around here, until just recently. I got that promotion to DI, so we moved to a better neighborhood."
"So you're the breadwinner of the family, it looks like."
"Damn straight, they depend on me."
"You're important," Dimmock easily agreed.
Neither spoke for a few long seconds. There was a clock ticking somewhere in the background.
"Kendra's six now. You're probably wondering where her father is," Sally stated suddenly.
"Uh, no," he said, uneasily. "Not unless, you know, you want to say..."
"Well, he's dead."
Dimmock shifted in his chair. "Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry to hear that-"
"Since you wanted to know," she cut in.
Dimmock took a drink of his wine. "I didn't..."
"Now I suppose you want to know how?"
"Um…" he said weakly, knowing protest was useless.
"Well, it was a car accident. Kendra was just a few months old at the time." She took a sip of wine. "I don't know why I just told you that."
"Well…" Dimmock started.
"I suppose you've got a girlfriend, then?" she asked.
"Actually, no," he said, finally getting in a word edgewise. Dimmock took another sip of wine as well. Maybe it was going to his head a little, he felt his own tongue loosen. It was nice to finally, finally divulge something about himself to someone he worked with, after all these years. Maybe she felt the same. "I've had only one girlfriend in the last ten years. We lived together for seven of those. She left me a two years ago. She said she didn't like that I alphabetized my spices. I do, you know."
She looked at him over the top of her wine glass, fighting a smile, he could tell. "My mum does shit like that," she said, shrugging. "She's probably rearranging the soup cans by a color coding system right now."
Dimmock perked up a bit, fighting the urge to go look. "And that doesn't bother you?"
She shrugged again. "Well, I've got other things I'd rather do with my time, but I have to admit, it makes it a lot easier to find the basil when you want it."
More silence filled the air. Dimmock had no idea how to follow up after all that over-sharing. They might have talked about the weather, based on how little they really knew each other, but here they were, divulging their secrets. He was terrible with small talk, truly dismal. Sally, too, he guessed. They each sipped their wine again.
Suddenly, both their phones chimed at the same time.
"Uh oh, trouble at work, maybe," she said, taking out her phone and looking at it.
Dimmock took out his phone and he read the text, too. Then they both burst out laughing.
"Oh my god," Sally said, laughing so hard she was nearly in tears. "This is the second time he's done that."
Dimmock just shook his head.
"Lestrade thinks he's so clever," Sally went on, seizing on a new subject to talk about. "Thinks he's romancing his girl without anybody noticing. He might do, too, if he didn't snog Molly Hooper in public alleys or send racy messages to the wrong people! I think that went to the whole Division. He really doesn't know how to use that new phone."
Sally stopped laughing, realized what she had just said, remembering that night. "Oh, listen. I'm sorry. I know you…you know…about Molly…."
Dimmock was quiet for a moment. "It's ok," he finally answered. "There was never anything between me and Molly. I liked her, I admit it, but that's all over. She was never into me, I think it was always Lestrade."
"Oh," she said, thoughtfully. She sighed, leaning back into her chair. "Lestrade's liked her for years. Even before his divorce. I'm sure he thought I never noticed. God, it's exhausting, playing stupid."
A bubble of laughter finally had to erupt from Dimmock. It felt good, letting it all go. Felt good to wish Molly and Lestrade nothing but happiness, felt good to be sitting here with Sally Donovan, laughing about Lestrade sexting with the Yard's assigned pathologist.
"Look, do you run?" he asked suddenly.
Sally nodded. "Yeah, about every day. Why?"
"I could show you my favorite places to run in the park, now that you live over here. Some of it's really beautiful, especially at night."
"I love to run at night," she said enthusiastically.
"How about tonight?" He sat upright in his chair. "I'll go home and change, it's not far. Want to meet me at 10:00? I'll swing by here to pick you up, it's on the way."
"Ok, sure," she agreed.
He was relieved. He wanted to spend more time with her, but this was torture, making small talk. Something active would be good. Dimmock got up from his chair, and Sally walked him to the door. He checked his watch. "I'll be back in an hour, then."
She stood silently for a moment, looked him straight in the eye. They were nearly the same height. He'd bet they were nearly the same weight, might wear the same size t-shirt. He'd never stood this close to Sally Donovan before, he realized, not ever. He was closer than arm's length. She looked away then.
"Kendra likes you," she said, quietly. "Thank you for that."
He smiled. "See you at 10:00."
That was the beginning, against all odds, of a regular routine of Sunday dinners at the Donovan's, and regular late night runs in the park.
It's not that they ever talked that much, at least not about personal things, not since that first night. Just the regular talk at dinner, usually dominated by Kendra or Virginia. They saw each other at work, and kept it friendly but distant. He liked coming over on Sunday and her mum fussing around him like he was somebody special, liked how Kendra thought he was the best non-family adult in the whole world, while Sally hung back and just watched it all from a distance, but now more often with a smile on her face rather than a scowl. And there was something companionable about the running, something that held them together that didn't need words.
One Sunday he got a message from work, and he had to go in for the rest of the day. He texted Sally to tell her that he wouldn't be able to come. A few minutes later, he received a message.
Kendra says hi
And then the phone chimed again with a photo attachment. It was a picture of a sad dinosaur having a picnic alone, like a four year old would draw.
Kendra says you can be like this dinosaur and have a picnic alone, if you can't be here
It was cute, really cute, and he had to take a moment from putting on his coat and gloves to sit down on a chair, a little overwhelmed by Kendra's thoughtfulness. And increasing attachment. Her to him, and him to her. He texted back;
Tell her I love it
And then Sally's response:
Mum says Hi too. I think she likes you more than she likes me
You'd better make it next Sunday or suffer their wrath
He smiled. But then breathed in deeply. This was dangerous, he thought. He was getting dangerously close to them. He liked them, too. Especially one of them, a particularly beautiful, smart, stubborn and prickly one, with whom he increasingly wanted to do more with than just play Monopoly or run.
He didn't know if this was wise or not, getting to know her family. He didn't know what this thing was with Sally Donovan. But he wanted to see her today, even if it was late.
Running at midnight? Is that too late? I could be a while at work.
She texted back quickly.
I'll be ready
It was cold. Colder than he anticipated. Colder than common sense dictated was wise for a run. It was a late November night, and not long after they had started out, a cold rain started to fall.
"Damn," Sally said, ducking her head into the wind. "It's cold out, yeah?"
"Yeah," he answered back, breathing heavily, concentrating on keeping his footing. The temperature was dropping and the cold rain was starting to freeze on the pavement. Not really a smart idea, coming out this late and this cold, but he didn't want to miss his date with Sally. And it was a date, to him. No one else, just them, alone together.
The rain picked up, now starting to soak through their windbreakers.
"Oh shit!" Sally cried, and started to fall. Dimmock reached out to catch her and she grabbed on to him, and they both fell to the ground. At first they were stunned, then started to laugh.
"Let's get out of this," Dimmock said, trying to stand up while helping her. "My flat's closer, just five minutes from here."
They managed to slip and slide their way there, the rain now turning to sleet. Once inside his flat, he pushed the door shut and then turned around to face her, found her quite close.
"Are you all right?" he asked, noticing how wet she was and how muddy her knees were from the fall.
"My arse hurts, actually," she whispered, but she was grinning, reaching down to rub it where she had fallen.
Dimmock tried to be a gentleman, tried hard not to stare. But it was difficult. She had a beautiful shape. Her muscles, particularly her glutes, were carved and defined by exercise, fully accentuated by the form-fitting running pants she was wearing. He'd seen her legs before, on the occasions she'd worn a skirt, and they were spectacular. His heart started to beat more quickly, the air felt thick, hard to breathe.
"This was too late for running today," he said, by way of apology, finding the need to fill the heavy air with words. "I'm sorry I drug you out in weather like this."
"I'm not sorry," she said. "I knew the weather, I chose to come." She chewed her lip, suddenly seemingly nervous.
Hesitantly he reached out, laid a hand on her shoulder, which was cold and wet to the touch.
"God, Sally," he exclaimed. "You're soaking wet. You must be freezing." He grabbed her hand. "Come with me."
He led them into his tiny bathroom. He shut the door behind them, and when he turned around, she was very close to him once again, nearly touching chests, wedged in between the sink and the bathtub.
"You can take off your jacket now," he said, his breathing rapid.
Without breaking eye contact, she unzipped her windbreaker at the same time he unzipped his, and the jackets fell to the floor together with a wet squelch.
He stripped off his wet t-shirt which he let fall to the floor on top of his jacket. Then hesitated, realizing they were in a bit of a pickle—he didn't know her that well, and here he was, standing in front of her, shirtless. Probably she wasn't going to do the same. She was wearing a thermal long sleeve shirt, which was also damp, clinging to accentuate her form. Still holding her gaze, he could feel the hard coil of desire forming in the pit of his stomach.
Unexpectedly, Sally reached out, touched her fingertips to his chest.
"Damn, Dimmock," she said softly. "You've been holding out on me." Her fingers then trailed lightly across his smooth, tautly muscled chest. "You could be an ancient Olympian runner, like those carved statues in the museum." Her eyes dipped down to where his defined abs flowed under the waistband of his sweats, then came back up to meet his again. "You're beautiful. Do you know that?"
As if suddenly realizing what she had just done and said, a flush darkened her own checks and she started to remove her hand. But he reached up to catch it, held it flat against his chest.
"I didn't know that," he admitted, heat rising to his cheeks at her compliment, but also to other areas of his body. "You're the beautiful one. I always thought so. Well, you used to scare me, but even then I thought so."
"Do I scare you now?" she asked quietly.
"Feel my heart and you tell me," Dimmock answered truthfully. Scared she didn't really mean what she had said, scared she didn't want what he wanted.
She cleared her throat, looked away. "Kendra missed you today," she whispered nervously.
"I know Kendra missed me," he said quietly.
Watching her face for a reaction, he moved forward, closing the inches between them. He could feel her body heat seeping into him, could feel her heart hammering in her chest to match his own, could see her lick her lips before she spoke again. But she didn't step away.
"Mum said it just wasn't the same without you today," Sally said, her breath hitching a little.
"Not surprising. All mums love me." Dimmock quipped lightly, tilting his head. He paused, briefly, almost afraid to go on. But he couldn't stop now, he had to know. "What about you, Sally? Did you miss me today? You never say."
He could see her jaw working, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't. She looked away. "I think you know the answer to that, Dimmock," she finally said.
"No, I don't think I do. I need to hear you say it. All you need to say is, 'I missed you today.'"
"Fine. I missed you today, Dimmock." He could feel her start to tremble.
"Say my name. Please. I want to hear you say my name."
She took a deep breath, then turned her head back to look at him. "I missed you, Ian."
He crumbled, hearing his name come from her lips, his breath releasing with a hiss from not even knowing he was holding it, waiting for her to say it. It was then he knew. He knew what he felt. He'd never really even touched her before now, never even kissed her. But he knew.
A vulnerable look crossed her face before she spoke again. "Look, I…I don't know what I'm doing. I didn't mean to invite you in, to let you get close. To my daughter, my mum, to me. I haven't let anyone do that in a long, long time. But damn if you didn't do it, anyway. When you tell me something, I think I can believe you. If you make a promise, I think you'll keep it. When you say you'll do something, I think you'll do it. I don't think you're playing around with me. God, I hope you're not."
"I'm not playing around with you," he answered firmly. He hesitated, not sure if he should continue, but plunged forward anyway. "I'm falling for you, Sally. Hard."
She stared at him again, unblinking, but only for a moment. Then she said, barely audible, "Shit, me too."
Instantaneously, they both reached out to each other. He dipped his head down and kissed her, softly. As his lips met hers, for the first time, it was one of the sweetest, strongest sensations he had ever had, electricity running though his system, lighting up every nerve ending. After a few long moments, they pulled apart, looking at each other with the same expression; surprise, wonder, desire, fear, all together at the same time. He held her face gently between his hands as he looked at her, eye to eye, his thumbs gently stroking over the scattering of freckles on her beautiful skin.
"I guess we're a thing, then," he said softly, then leaned forward again, brushing his lips across hers. "Stay here tonight. The weather's too bad to go out. I'm not suggesting that we…you know. Let's just take it slow."
Sally nodded, taking a deep breath.
Dimmock smiled. "I'll get you some dry clothes."
He disappeared into his bedroom, changed into his own dry clothes, then rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a clean sweatshirt and sweatpants and handed them through the door to Sally to change. When she came out a few minutes later, it was just as he thought; the sweats fit her perfectly, they were nearly the same size.
He took her hand again and led her to the couch, where he pulled her down beside him. "Do you need to text your mum and tell her? Will it be a problem to stay?" he asked.
"Already done," Sally said, snuggling in beside him, as he pulled a comforter up over them both. "She's been waiting for this moment for a long time. You know she had ulterior motives from the get-go, when she invited you over for dinner that first time."
Dimmock pulled her more tightly against him, nuzzled into her neck. "Hmmm. I guess mothers do know best, sometimes."
With one arm around Sally, he reached for the remote with the other one and turned on the TV which played quietly in the background. Soon, they were stretched out full length on the couch, warm, dry, safe in each other's arms, feeling safe with each other's secrets and vulnerabilities. Kissing each other at first slowly, sweetly, then hungrily, urgently, giving, taking, learning. And finally falling asleep, Sally's head on Dimmock's chest, a strong and steady heart beating in her ear.