Here's part two of the "Working It Out" series! Enjoy! Also, I just wanted to let you know that I've got a poll up and would really appreciate some votes on it. Thanks!:)


Sally Donavan still hadn't quite made her peace with the fact that she'd done it with Freak in her apartment two evenings ago, and now here she was going out on a date with him. The question of the evening was pounding loudly in her head as she waited on the sidewalk outside Tierra Brindisa for Sherlock to show up, nearly driving her crazy. Why had she agreed to do this.

Well, for one thing, Sally reasoned, she had promised herself that she wouldn't do anymore "no strings attached" relationships… but she had kind of broken that promise to herself with Sherlock Holmes - unless going on this date meant that she was adding strings? Did that mean that she hadn't broken her promise to herself? Was that what this date was about? Sally could say that if she wanted to, couldn't she?

Her thoughts whirled around her head, plaguing her with worry and destroying her nerves even more than the wind was wreaking havoc on her kinky curls.

Another thing that wouldn't leave her alone: when Sherlock had mentioned pursuing… a relationship?… between the two of them, he'd declared pointblank that he didn't want just a physical relationship. He'd talked like he wanted a… real relationship. With her? There was no way... But she had enjoyed his company after that undercover arrest she'd done - and the texting they'd done over the couple of days between then and now had been kind of nice too.

But why was she here?

Sally was already edging towards a mental panic, and so she jumped violently when a deep voice whispered near her ear, "Waiting to seduce another villain, sergeant?"

Too out of it to think before she reacted, Sally elbowed the man in the stomach in the split second before she registered who she was assaulting.

"Sherlock! You scared me!"

"So I noticed," the consulting detective said, wincing as he straightened up, arms staying wrapped around his bruised midsection. "My apologies."

"Oh, you're… I'm… Sorry," Sally stammered, the word feeling unusually thick on her tongue when it was directed towards Sherlock Holmes. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing sustained that will require medical attention, I assure you," Sherlock said, smiling lightly when Sally's eyes finally met his. "No harm done." He gestured towards the restaurant behind them, suggesting, "Shall we go in? The owner is expecting us."

"I didn't think you could make reservations here?" Sally said, noting when Sherlock held the door open for her as they entered the restaurant.

Sherlock grinned, answering proudly, "I'm a special friend of Angelo's."

"What did you do for him?" Sally asked dryly, looking around the warmly lit room before Sherlock motioned her towards a secluded table.

"Got him off of a triple murder by proving that he was a thief instead. He's overly grateful."

Sally rolled her eyes and settled into the seat across from… her date? Oh heck no, Sherlock Holmes was actually her date! The thought hit her anew and she tensed, mentally scrambling to find a reason to leave the table and flee from the entire situation. What was she doing here?

Ever so observant, Sherlock said carefully, "Don't leave yet, Sergeant Donavan." Sally pressed her lips together and stared at him across the table, trying not to let on how near she was to loosing her mind as Sherlock continued talking in a hushed tone. "You said that you didn't want just sex in another relationship, and I said the same thing, yet what happened Friday night did in fact happen. I feel rather… as if I was somehow… wrong… in that, and I want to make it up to you… with dinner. Get to know you in a way where perhaps we could be… civil to one another."

"I seem to remember 'romantic' being the word that was tossed around Friday," Sally said under her breath, just barely managing to keep her jaw unclenched.

"Yes," Sherlock acknowledged, a downright… kind… expression on his face - even in his eyes - as he cocked his head to the side and watched her. "But saying that now wouldn't be wise, considering the fact that you're currently about to have a panic attack."

"I am not!"

"You are," Sherlock argued gently.

"Okay, fine, I am, but don't tell me that this isn't weird, Freak! This is us - you and me! - on a date!"

"Then don't think of it as a date," Sherlock answered. "Think of it as a… an apology dinner between friends."

"For what? Having sex? We're two sane adults, Sherlock; it's fine."

He considered her for a second before he seemed to come to a conclusion, and a boyish smirk tilted his mouth before he joked, "And in my defense, you were dressed as a prostitute."

"For a case!" Sally argued, but it was without the usual malice in her tone, replaced by something friendlier.

The banter set them both a little bit at ease, and it was then that Angelo came over and placed a menu before each of them, swinging an arm around the consulting detective's shoulders and asking conspiratorially as if Sally couldn't hear him, "Is a candle allowed for this girl, my old friend?" Sherlock colored amusingly as Angelo cajoled softly, "More romantic…"

"I…"

Sherlock didn't want to make her uncomfortable, Sally realized, surprised by the sudden, highly unusual congeniality of her feelings for him. So she rescued him a bit, saying, "That'll be fine, Angelo."

Angelo pressed his palms together gleefully, declaring, "wonderful," and a minute later candlelight was flickering gaily onto Sherlock and Sally's expressions as they looked over their menus.

Keeping his gaze locked on the paper in front of him, Sherlock asked, "But what if what we did isn't okay?"

"What do you mean?" Sally asked, looking at him in confusion.

Sherlock took a deep breath, but absolutely refused to meet her eyes as he expounded, "What if… this… and Friday evening… doesn't work…between… us?"

Sally blinked before lowering her eyes to her own menu and sorting that out for a minute in her mind before she said anything. "Well, I suppose things would be a bit strange between us. We probably wouldn't be on the best of terms… In short, nothing would really change at all from what it was Thursday before this whole darn thing started."

Sherlock snorted, and Sally could tell that her response had granted him a measure of relief from thoughts that - the realization hit her suddenly - must be as tumultuous as her own.

Neither one of them were entirely comfortable with this - and yet they were both here anyway. Neither one of them could really see this going anywhere - and yet they wanted to see if it would. Neither one of them was really used to liking the other on any level - and yet they were intrigued by each other. They weren't used to getting along - and yet they found themselves enjoying the other's company.

Sally, for one, didn't like working with Freak, and yet, throughout the course of the evening, she found herself wanting to kiss him again.

By the time they were once again standing outside of the restaurant at the end of the night, Sally found herself smiling. When they weren't trying to verbally slaughter one another, she realized that she actually enjoyed the consulting detective's company.

The… date… had been nice. Sherlock had actually been… chivalrous. He'd been entertaining. He'd been kind. He'd been sweet. He'd paid for her dinner. Yes, he was Freak, but Sally was starting to realize that there was a nice side to Freak when he wasn't so darn focused on one case or another.

She liked that side of him - really liked it. The fact that she liked it so much - that she was starting to like him so much - terrified her - but she wanted to see it, him, again like this. Heck, she kind of wanted a corner on it.

But should she say so? How to do it?

"Sherlock?" Sally spoke up, her voice soft with what she didn't want to acknowledge was uncertainty as the door to Tierra Brindisa closed behind them for the night.

The consulting detective turned attentively towards her, eyebrows raised slightly, sharp profile gently lit by the soft light filtering through the restaurant windows. "Yes?"

"I… had a good time tonight."

He smiled, the same gentle expression he'd been employing this evening instead of a blank expression or the near-sneer that was almost his fixed expression at a crime scene - and in most of his previous dealings with her. "Good; I'm glad."

He cocked his head to the side, studying her for a second, and she lost her nerve for whatever else she was going to say. Seeing this, Sherlock turned to the street and stuck his hand out to hail a cab.

Sally was loosing her already waning window of opportunity.

Now or never; spit it out, Donavan.