Hello Everyone! My name is Marissa. This isn't my first try an Fanfiction, but this is my very first Sherlock story. I love the show, so I'm excited to share this with you all!
It will be full of suspense, adventure, and romance. Hope you all enjoy it!
Chapter 1
Sherlock held the door open to 221 B, allowing her to enter first. She walked in slowly, her bare feet still numb from the cold. For some reason, the state of the apartment took her by surprise. It wasn't as if she had expected to see a big change. Everything was in its proper place, and while most of the items were improper in themselves, they still had a home there.
After everything that had happened that night, she simply expected the apartment to be in disarray. Everything else was.
The door slammed behind her. She stood there, taking in her quiet surroundings. When she opened her eyes, she watched as Sherlock rummaged through his bookcase. After a few seconds, Sherlock emerged with a single cigarette and lighter. He lit it quickly, took a deep drag, and sat in the armchair closest to the window. After only one more puff he dropped the cigarette in the empty mug next to him, the hissing sound of the cigarette making a low, harsh noise.
"Sherlock."
He remained silent. Staring down at his hands, he continued to replay the events of the night. He never expected that things would go this far. That everything could fall out of place so quickly.
"Thank you."
She stood there, waiting for his response. If he had looked at her, he would have seen it in her eyes; pain, embarrassment, and desperation. She needed him to acknowledge her. No, not only acknowledge her. Let her know that all this hadn't been for nothing.
"Sherlock?" She repeated, wrapping his coat closely around her body.
He finally turned his head upward, not looking her in the eyes. He remained stoic, as if allowing her the smallest part of his attention.
"Thank you," she said again.
"I heard you the first time," Sherlock snapped, avoiding her gaze.
It was too late for pleasantries. She had nearly gotten them both killed.
1 Week Earlier
While it was morning, the world outside of the windows seemed far too gray, even for London's standards. A light rain had started, causing long streaks to appear on the glass. Sherlock Holmes brought his hand to the window, feeling the cold transfer from the glass to his fingertips.
It had been weeks since he had solved his last case. For whatever reason, London and its citizens had remained somewhat silent. There wan no new serial killer, all of the priceless works of art remained safely in their museums, and there hadn't been a peep out of Moriarty for months.
Without having to look, he could sense his friend, John Watson, sitting in the armchair behind him. John had been favoring his "good" leg lately, and had been taking more time going up the stairs to his bedroom at the end of the day. As John unconsciously rubbed his knee, Sherlock grew even more pessimistic. If John's pains were coming back, it meant that he was just as restless as Sherlock.
Sherlock heard the doorbell ring, causing him to simultaneously grab the newspaper near him and sit in the chair across from John. A short exchange could be heard from the front door. Soon enough, he heard the all too familiar sound of small feet bounding up the stairs.
"Sherlock! John!"
Mrs. Hudson entered the room, and was met with waving a gold envelope into the air. "We have…an invitation!"
"We, Mrs. Hudson?" John asked, barely looking up from his book.
"Yes!" She said excitedly, waving the envelope in the air.
Before either John or Mrs. Watson could get in another word, Sherlock instantly rose from his seat, walked into his bedroom, and slammed the door shut.
Startled, Mrs. Hudson stared at John for an explanation.
"Mrs. Hudson…who exactly is the invitation from?"
"Well, a lovely man came to the door and delivered it, saying that our presence has been requested! He is in a car waiting out front. Apparently, he thought it best
that I show Sherlock the letter, instead of telling him outright where we are going."
"And where would that be?"
"I haven't a clue, dear. Mycroft, I guess? But obviously Sherlock has that figured out already, if you choose to take that from his reaction."
Mrs. Hudson handed the envelope over to John, who opened it carefully. Reading its contents, he sighed and stuffed the invitation back into the envelope.
"Mrs. Hudson, go ahead and get yourself ready. We've been summoned to Buckingham Palace."
Hope you enjoyed it! More to come very soon. Review if you can!
