A/N: This is a prequel to my short Sherlock fan fiction, From Through A Different Lens. You can read this without having read that, but they do work together. If you enjoy this piece, check it out. If you want closure when this piece is done, I really do suggest you read that one. As I said, it's quite short.
Cheers!
-C
Elizabeth Coppens tossed a few more pairs of heels into her luggage before pausing to rub her forehead.
"Elizabeth, darling, have you seen my blue knit dress?"
Her roommate and friend, Lady Eulalia Haywood, was considering a half-used lipstick tube as she sat on the edge of Elizabeth's bed.
The girls had two simple reasons for being friends. The first was that Eulalia had been privately tutored by Elizabeth's mother through primary and secondary school, before Elizabeth's parents died. They had known each other since before either could recall. The second reason was that Eulalia, not wanting to be alone at university, had her parents arrange for her to be roommates with Elizabeth, for the sake of someone she knew she could manage.
"You sent it to be dry cleaned," Elizabeth said, mentally reminding herself to be patient. "Remember? You wanted to wear it at the graduation ceremony."
Eulalia scoffed.
"What was I thinking? No, I'm wearing the cream suit."
"The cream suit's got a stain from Thursday, dear. It won't be ready in time. Just wear the blue dress. It looks lovely on you."
"You think so?" Eulalia said, triumphantly, capping the lipstick and tossing it at Elizabeth. "Take it. I don't fancy this color anymore."
More like she didn't fancy the shape the tube had worn down into over months of use. But Elizabeth stuck the tube into her makeup bag in one of her suitcases and glanced up at Eulalia, who had moved on to the next tube for consideration.
While Elizabeth was petite and ginger, two things that had always made her a bit insecure about what to wear, Eulalia was the absolute angelic picture of a perfectly proportioned, wispy blonde aristocrat. She'd already had four offers of marriage, two in the last month, and although she'd turned down all of them, Elizabeth wouldn't be surprised if Eulalia married quickly to some highly eligible man and settled into a life of leisure where she would never use her art history degree again.
"Are you and creepy still moving in together?" Eulalia asked as she tested a nail file on a perfectly-curved thumbnail.
Elizabeth sighed.
"Creepy" was her friend from public school, Sherlock Holmes. They'd been inseparable for ages, despite the fact that their mutual acquaintances found his knack for knowing almost everything at any time a bit...off-putting. Elizabeth thought it was brilliant.
"You know," Eulalia continued without an answer, "if you do this people are going to really start to believe you two are shagging. It's amazing you've ignored the rumors this long."
The real world was not Cambridge, though. The real world did not include Monday morning gossip as part of routine, and Elizabeth had never given too much thought to what other people thought, and didn't see why she had to start now. She said as much to Eulalia, who snorted.
"Darling, your parents were famous. Whether or not you like it, you're already something of a public figure, and if you're coming to events my family puts on you're going to be in the papers, as always. And Sherlock is... Well, even if he doesn't do anything particularly noteworthy, his brother is an important man in the government. And from what I've heard you and Sherlock saying, he keeps a close eye on him. That means people will be watching you, and as I always tell you, people talk."
Elizabeth was barely listening as she moved a couple of stacks of folded blouses into her largest suitcase. Eulalia had given her this lecture a dozen times before, and three or four times in the last week. Nothing was going to change Elizabeth's mind, and anyway, she'd already co-signed on the lease.
"What time is lunch?" Eulalia asked, tossing her final tube of lipstick into a fresh bag she'd bought the evening before.
"Twenty minutes," Elizabeth said, glancing up at the clock briefly.
Eulalia squealed, horrified.
"Why didn't you warn me sooner?" she cried. "I've got to change my hair!"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and ignored her roommate as she shoved the last things into her bags and began to zip them carefully. She had too many things, but she could get rid of them as she settled into a life without Eulalia taking her shopping every week without fail. It felt like a quiet insult to her friend, getting rid of things before they parted daily company.
Once all of Elizabeth's packing was done, she followed Eulalia over to the mirror and combed her own auburn locks lazily while Eulalia fussed over a tendril of her blonde hair until it was just-so.
"They're not going to care how we look," Elizabeth pointed out. "They've seen us at our best and worst."
"I don't dress for the boys," Eulalia scoffed. "I do it for the public. The people in the restaurant might recognize me, and I refuse to be seen looking less than my best by strangers. Lord knows who they might be acquainted with."
Elizabeth just shook her head and rolled her eyes, knowing that Eulalia was being ridiculous. She might be from a very well-publicized family, but she had one of those faces that looked like everybody else's face. If people in Cambridge recognized her, it would be because they knew her already.
The girls went down to a local fine dining restaurant, where Sebastian would be picking up the tab, wanting to take out Eulalia and Elizabeth to celebrate their upcoming graduation, and knowing that Sherlock and Elizabeth came as a package deal. Since Sebastian did not want Elizabeth to back out and leave him on what would probably look like a date with Eulalia Haywood, the four of them spent a lot of time together.
"You ladies look lovely," Sebastian said, standing and kissing their hands before the four of them were all seated. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth who merely shrugged and smiled, and he ignored Eulalia entirely.
"Let's see," Eulalia said, opening her menu. "Have you ordered wine yet, Sebastian?"
"Red and white, as commanded, m'lady. I was thinking we'd save champagne for desert."
Elizabeth ignored them and opened her own menu, noticing that Sherlock was not looking at his.
"You're eating," she commanded, gazing at the entree options vague interest.
Sherlock's lips twisted into an amused smile and he said, "Well, of course I am, it's Thursday. I presume you're eating as well. Have the scallops."
She shook her head, smiled, and set down the menu.
Of course, he had probably determined the best dishes at the restaurant within a minute of opening his menu, and spent about ten seconds further on what to advise her to eat. Indeed, he laid out all her course options for her, and when the waiter came, he ordered for all four of them, shocking Eulalia and Sebastian a little when he said presumably exactly what they'd been about to order. Sebastian laughed a little nervously as the waiter left.
"It's unnerving, you know, when you do that," Eulalia said, frowning. "How do you know I was going to have the Portobello ravioli?"
Sherlock actually rolled his eyes and said, "Because, Miss Haywood, it is the only vegetarian item on the menu. And you are still, presumably, vegetarian since dinner last night."
Elizabeth hid her giggle by sipping from her wine. She had never been a particular fan of white, but the red Sebastian ordered to Eulalia's liking would have gone terribly with scallops. When Elizabeth had managed to calm herself she set down her glass and turned to Sebastian.
"Have you worked out your terms with the bank? Are they letting you do a gap year in Asia?"
"They want me in India for the gap year," he said darkly. "If I take one, I have to travel India. I don't imagine I would do well in Mumbai. On the other hand, if I forgo the gap year, I will be able to have a fairly good start working on American trades. So although I've not decided yet, I'm leaning toward America."
"You have decided," Sherlock countered lazily as the waiter brought their bread and starters. Elizabeth thanked the waiter, as no one else was paying him any mind. "You sent the email in this morning and you canceled your flight. You just don't want it getting around that you're not taking a gap year when all your friends are."
Sebastian laughed nervously again and said, "Remarkable."
Lunch, as all fancy lunches went, consisted of Sebastian bragging about something or another, Eulalia gossiping about nearly everyone they knew collectively, and the waiters bringing several courses worth of flash, pricy, but thankfully very tasty food. Sherlock would occasionally interject something to shock either of the pair across the table, and Elizabeth spent a fair amount of time using her napkin to hide laughter. Sherlock knew she was amused by the way he picked on their companions, but Elizabeth didn't want Eulalia to take the laughter in the wrong way. While Eulalia was a surprisingly sweet girl, she couldn't stand to be teased.
Sebastian ordered another bottle of wine, but not long after he did, Eulalia looked at her watch and sighed, "Silly, silly me, I've got a meeting with my mother's publicist about what to put in the papers. Excuse me, gentlemen, Elizabeth. I'll see you all very soon, I'm sure!"
She air-kissed Elizabeth's cheeks, let Sebastian kiss her hand, and gathered up her purse with a silly little wave at a nonplussed Sherlock before hurrying out of the restaurant. More wine was poured, and Elizabeth settled into her chair for the showdown.
"You don't have to do that, you know," Sebastian said, frowning at Sherlock. "Eulalia is easily embarrassed."
"That's hardly my fault," Sherlock said, looking at his glass as he considered the color of his wine, not bothering to give Sebastian even half his attention.
The same fight erupted nearly every time Eulalia left the three of them together, and eventually Elizabeth said that she thought it was getting rather late and she wanted to be back to campus before the evening chill set in. Ever the attempted gentleman, Sebastian would immediately call for the check and offer to drive her the very short distance back to campus. Elizabeth always declined, and this was exactly what occurred not five minutes later, and instead she walked back to campus with Sherlock while Sebastian drove back by himself.
"He's going to make himself fat, doing that," she remarked lazily. She'd said as much before, but Sherlock made no comment. He didn't have to say what was on his mind.
This was the last time they would make that same ridiculous routine.
"Have you finished your packing?" he finally asked.
"I have," she said. "All that's left is listening to Eulalia whinge all through her packing."
"Come sit with me while I pack."
Sherlock didn't make requests of Elizabeth, exactly. He would tell her he wanted her to do something, and he knew that she would say yes. She rarely even thought of saying no, and when she did decide to say no she would put her foot down firmly, and Sherlock didn't bother arguing with her. Because she would never contradict him unless it was important, and he would never make her do something she didn't want to do.
They arrived at his room and Elizabeth took off her coat and sat down on the edge of his bed.
Sherlock had always kept an odd collection of things in his room. When the college told him he wasn't allowed to keep body parts on campus, he had to stop doing that (they even ruled against animal body parts, something about health and safety). Elizabeth was relieved, to say the least. She saw his fingers twitch toward his cigarettes, but he turned away from them.
The year before, she'd been taken to the hospital for lung issues, and the doctor told him that it was because she'd been around too much cigarette smoke, and that he should try to quit. Sherlock ranted and raved about the doctor's lunacy and incompetence, but he'd cut down his smoking to a crawl and started wearing patches when she was around instead of smoking. She'd not thanked him because that would force them to actively acknowledge his change of behavior, but she appreciated it all the same.
"Mycroft had our mother call," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes slightly. "She's concerned about us living together."
Elizabeth sighed, picking up one of Sherlock's pillows and hugging it to her torso. She sincerely doubted that Sherlock's mother was incredibly worried. More likely his father was, and she was simply appeasing Mycroft and her husband by calling. Mrs. Holmes always liked Elizabeth.
Then again, perhaps she had illusions of Elizabeth and Sherlock marrying, which was utterly absurd to Elizabeth. The very idea of Sherlock marrying at all was absurd.
"What did you tell her?" Elizabeth asked as he fastidiously stacked books into a medium-sized suitcase.
"I told her that we'd already signed the lease and that if she had problems with it she could bring them up again in about a year when we were thinking of renewing it."
Elizabeth snorted, tucking the pillow under her chin, careful not to get lipstick on it. Sherlock knew how to get just about any stain out of anything, but he never actually exercised that knowledge.
"Is there something I can do?" she asked as he arranged another stack of books in his suitcase. "I feel sort of useless, just sitting here."
He looked up, his eyes glancing around the room quickly.
"You can sort my files for packing."
"Alphabetical or by interest level?"
"By date."
Elizabeth nodded, dropping the pillow and crossing to the bookshelf. She moved the three large stacks of manila folders off the bottom shelf and pulled a packet of large envelopes and a permanent marker from the desk. She took each case folder and slipped it into an envelope – which she labeled and clasped – for transport. Then stacked them according to date, with the most recent case on top.
Sherlock kept files on cases he found interesting, both ones he'd found in the news and had brought to him by others. Sometimes they were brought to him by victims who had heard he was brilliant at solving puzzles, and sometimes Mycroft sent Sherlock information that wasn't classified to have him mull it over.
"Sebastian is still keen on getting you alone," Sherlock said casually after almost an hour of sorting through his things for packing.
"Hmm?"
"You know what he wants, Ella."
In truth, Elizabeth thought Sherlock had that whole situation wrong. He'd been saying for a couple of years that Sebastian's chivalry was really an attempt to get Elizabeth in his bed, but she had explained to him over and over that she wasn't Sebastian's type. It was obvious to her that it was Eulalia he found attractive, in spite of his finding her social behaviors repulsive. Sherlock had once said that if it were possible to take Elizabeth and put her in Eulalia's body Sebastian would probably kidnap her.
She told him never to say anything like that again.
"Well, I doubt we'll see much of him once we leave here," she said, looking up with a smile, the most natural one she could muster.
He raised an eyebrow and she knew he was thinking that they still had plenty of time for Sebastian to attempt to seduce her or have his way with her or whatever Sherlock expected the man to try.
Sherlock was marvelously perceptive, but there were some times he was wrong, and she found it was better just to file those moments away for later and bring them up when he was being especially ridiculous.
When the files were all packed away Elizabeth sat on the foot of his bed, looking out at the room that was nearly empty.
"Strange," she said, smiling at the room. "I'm so used to this room being covered in clutter."
"It's not clutter, Ella. I have a system."
She smiled to herself. Sherlock always insisted that he had a system, but often she knew where things were when he didn't. He always accused her of moving thing, but she knew better than to move his things. Most of his things she made a point of not touching at all, if she didn't know where they'd been or how he acquired them.
"All the same," she said, frowning. "My room still looked full when I left because you know how poor at packing Eulalia is. But this…. It almost seems like you never lived here."
His gray eyes scanned the room and he looked unimpressed with the change in landscape. She expected him to chide her for sentimentality, but he said nothing, sitting beside her, letting her rest her head on his arm because she was too short to reach his shoulder properly.
"We can properly accomplish things now," he said firmly. "We don't have to worry about mundane things like timetables or marks."
"You never worried about them," she said, breathing in a smelling the cigarette smoke on the fabric of his shirt. How many had he smoked before seeing her, for him to be so calm now?
"You always did."
She thought that vaguely unfair, but she was in no mood to argue with him. He was right, they were about to embark on a new life, life proper, and they would be unattached as it were. All they had to worry about was chasing Sherlock's highs, finding the impossible puzzles for him to solve, for her to watch him solve and be impressed.
A/N: Review Prompt: What do you think of the friendship between Elizabeth and Eulalia? If you can call it a friendship.
-C