Chapter 1
Sherlock's finger hovered above the 'Add to Cart' button, he was unsure but he couldn't tell why, this should be easy it was something he had always wanted and yet his finger hovered, uncertain. He jumped as the door bell rang, almost upsetting his cold cup of tea and wandered out of his living room and down the hall hoping beyond hope that is wasn't a group of pining pathetic fangirls. He opened the door, the sun sat low in the sky, a huge golden disc just above the horizon obscuring the figure between his bottom step and their car, casting them into silhouette. He frowned, squinting and shivered in the freezing mid-winter air. "Hello," he asked the figure with its back to him facing their car. Its fists clenched and the figure slowly turned to its right, so it faced the afternoon sun. His heart leaped and he took a step out onto the freezing flagstones. Her name stuck in his throat, what if he was wrong... Again. Then, incredibly slowly she turned and faced him. "Sherlock?" she whispered hopefully. "Elodie!?" Involuntarily, he grinned and hurried down the steps despite his lack of shoes. "Hahaha, Elodie. It's you, it is you, you came."
"Said I would, didn't I? Promised, didn't I?" And despite herself she smiled, a little.
Ignoring that it had not reached her red, blotchy eyes, ignoring fifteen whole years and ignoring the silver engagement ring and golden wedding band on her finger, Sherlock stepped closer to Elodie, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing her to him. He leant down pressing his lips to hers and despite how they had last parted, despite fifteen whole years and despite the silver engagement ring and golden wedding band on her finger she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his for the first time in fifteen long years. He pulled away and smiled at her, "Come in." It was an order, but gently put.
She perched on the arm of his chair, fingers laced around a cup of tea hours later. The two were looking through old newspaper clippings, photograph albums and John's blog, reminiscing about the years when the three had solved cases together and when they had first met. Sherlock didn't dare ask about the last fifteen years and there wasn't much to say about himself. A spike of fear ran through him as he heard the distinctive chink of a ring on china, he glanced right inconspicuously, finally noticing the rings on her left hand. She was married and had been for a while and quite happily by the looks of it. What should he do? He'd kissed her, but she's kissed him back. And why the hell was she here? "... Elodie?"
"Mmm," she smiled kindly.
Sighing, "Why did you come here today?"
Frowning, "What do you mean?"
"Why did you come?"
"I- well, John told me that when he'd last spoke to you you were talking about bees and I knew once you got bees I would never see you again and I couldn't bare the thought of that. I couldn't bare the thought of that being the last time I saw you. I... just had to see you again."
But rather than softening him that simply angered him further, he stood suddenly grabbing hold of Elodie's left wrist and forcing her into a standing position. He shook her hand, "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't care?"
"I don't understand," she whimpered, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
"Does he know you're here?" Her pathetic crying only angered him more.
"Who?"
"Your Husband!"
"Oh! Oh, Sherlock."
"Does he know?"
She smiled sadly, "No, I suppose not."
"Why? Are you too afraid to tell him? Would it break your marriage?" How could she smile like that, as if it was alright?
"No."
"Then why doesn't he know? Why didn't you tell him?"
"Because I couldn't, Sherlock, because he's- Well, he's dead," she looked down suddenly all happiness gone from her face.
"Oh," Sherlock whispered, "Oh, I'm sorry. H-how long..."
She smiled and whispered, "Five years now."
"That's a while... I'm sorry for your loss," Sherlock, realising how tightly he was holding her wrist, set Elodie down gently. She rubbed her wrist a little, but smiled at him. "Tell me about him," he couldn't help but selfishly hope that her second husband had been worse than him.
"David was wonderful. He was a lovely, kind person, the best I've ever met, much better than you and much better than me. He deserved someone a lot better than me," her eyes were full of sadness as she said this.
"Elodie, that isn't true, you're the best person I know."
"No, that isn't true, you know John and Mary and Molly and Lestrade and Mycroft and, for goodness' sake, I think even perhaps Morairty is better than me. No, he deserved someone better, someone good and kind and sensible, someone called Rachel with glasses and brown hair."
"He had an affair!?" Sherlock was shocked, how could she say he was the best person she had ever met if there had been this Rachel?
"No, I made Rachel up. I made Rachel up the day- the day he died, when I told him that he deserved her not me... He thought I'd had an affair once, you know? He thought I'd gone to see you."
"You told him about me?"
"No, but he suspected there had been someone. I went away one weekend, I left a note and sorted all of the washing and cooking for the two days and left. He thought I'd gone to see you, although he never said until that day."
"But you didn't," Sherlock whispered.
"No, no I didn't. I went to Whitby to be by the sea, like ladies with consumption did in the Victorian era."
"Were you ill?"
Elodie smiled sadly, "Sort of." She sighed and glanced at the clock on the mantle piece, "It's getting late, I have to go. I'm sorry, but I left the kids in a café with John and Mary, so I really best be getting back."
Sherlock, despite himself, was shocked and taken aback, "You have children?"
Elodie suddenly grinned, "Yes, three: Angela, Maria and John."
"Is naming them after John and Mary purposeful," Sherlock snickered, he could tell by the look on her face that it wasn't.
"Oh! Uh, no. I've never really noticed before, I suppose it was subconscious... Sherlock I'd really like you to meet my children and I know John and Mary would love to see you again, they worry about you, Sherlock, I worry about you." He couldn't help smiling a little; she worried about him. "Will you come back with me? Just for the night, I'll run you back in the morning and we've got loads of spare rooms."
"Oh, no," he shook his head, "I couldn't."
"Please, Sherlock." How could he resist her desperate face, but no, to go would be a bad idea he just knew it. She sighed, "If you change your mind the offer still stands, I would really like you to come..." She stood there for a few minutes longer looking at him and then sighed, she'd been foolish to think he would come, to allow herself to actually feel happy for once. "I'll see myself out," she whispered and walked out of the living room door and down the short hallway to the door.
This is the comprehensive account of how one kind-hearted university student managed to capture the heart of the indifferent detective and how one reserved bee-keeper attempted to win back the harassed single mother.
Of course, I don't own any of the characters except Elodie, her children and referenced husband and 'new enemy,' along with a few minor characters near the end.
