"Sherlock? What was today about?" Her soft voice quietly questions him in the darkly lit hallway.
She stands at the top of the stairs for a brief second before slowly taking a couple steps further down, coming toward him as he awaited her at the bottom. He momentarily stares at her as her eyes ask further interrogations with only her brown gaze.
For an instant, he absorbs the sight of her at the high capability his brilliant mind can deduce. Her fair skin and adorable ponytail only increase the natural appeal she embodies in his categorized mind palace.
He manages to gain the audacity to respond to her inquiring statement in the fraction of time within which he had listened to her asking.
"Saying thank you." He keeps his answer simple and to the point, not feeling the need to overwhelm her with a long-winded explanation of why their day together went about as it did. The small bags underneath her dark eyes and tired slouch of posture indicate the weariness he is certain she is enduring.
A significant portion of him desires to take her out for something to eat and escort her home safely…
"For what?" She asks him further, descending down to the end of the staircase to join him in the hallway before the client's front door.
"Everything you did for me." Once more, his response remains straightforward, trying to make her understand the gratitude he feels for the small woman who had practically saved him those long two years ago.
"It's okay. It's my pleasure." She comes to the bottom of the stairs at last, her tiny hand briefly cupping the round handrail, possibly for balance. Her voice is gentle and reassuring for him, and he notices a strange sensation of warmth spreading in his chest at the sound of it.
She begins to step around him toward the door, but he speaks again to gain her attention and hers alone. For a reason other than a lab experiment…
He wants to tell her as a man who genuinely cares for a person, however the sentimentality of it feels rather absurd in his mind.
Caring is not an advantage…
However, for these few moments he could care less. This woman had risked her reputation, career and personal life to aid him in a dangerous stunt that only required who he thought was the best for the task, and that person had been her.
At last, he finds the vocal strength to speak his thoughts aloud to her in a tender manner. In a tone absent of sarcasm and boasting objective…
"No. I mean it." Those simple words are enough to make her hold her feet on the ground before, chocolate brown eyes looking up at him with silent intrigue with what he means.
"I don't mean 'pleasure'. I mean that I wanted to." She placates his statement with an uncomplicated answer of her own, complimenting his current manner. He takes notice of the rasp in her voice, perhaps that of a coming cold…
A brief clench of concern surfaces within his chest before his mind encourages him to further explain what he is saying to her.
"Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake." His aquamarine eyes connect in a meaningful way with the mahogany of hers. "It was the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me, was the one person who mattered the most. You made it all possible."
To his surprise, he finds it easy to speak in a gentle tone to her, moreso than their previous years of knowing one another.
He wants to be gentle with her, to keep from hurting her any further than he already has in the past. And it frightens him as his pulse begins to quicken, only slightly so…
As of the moment, he doesn't sense his pupils dilating…
Yet…
Then, the beating of his heart returns to normal as the jewel upon her finger teases him with the silver glint of diamond, clasped around the delicate digit. The reminder that what he feels now is definitely not an advantage, but a weakness…
"But, you can't do this again, can you?" His voice lowers to confirm to her that he knows what she has neglected to inform him of. She has moved on…and its truly for the best in her interest.
"I had a lovely day." The croaky quality of her voice only heightens the indication of anxiety within her, being caught in a vital detail of deduction. "I'd love to. I just…" She doesn't continue, knowing he has noticed the traditional ring of marital intention meant for her from another man…
"Congratulations, by the way." He manages to compliment her on a certain future of bliss, something he knows she has desired for a majority of the years he has been acquainted with her presence. He hopes she doesn't notice the hint of disappointment in his tone, the rough sound of tenderness while struggling to not make her feel guilty for moving forward with her life.
"He's not from work." She tells him in a half-joking manner, where he cannot help but smile softly at her, but his eyes crinkle up with a sadness that he only meant for him to feel. If only for a split second… "We met through friends, old fashioned way."
His hands are placed behind his back as he takes in how she had met her fiancé, relieved at the prospect that the man in question concludes to be a normal human that will be beneficial to her. If this man presented her with any trouble or potential harm, then he would have very little time to escape from severe consequences.
"I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it." In his near flawless memory, it is the kindest statement he has ever given to the woman standing before him, dressed in lovely contrasting colors of pink, azure and pale yellow.
The light to his darkness…
"After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths." He says to her with real authenticity in his words, only stating what he believes to be true.
She appears to agree with him, but he detects a different meaning in her demure wording of "no". He decides to brush off the deduction pressuring his brain to analyze, storing it away in his mind palace for a more appropriate setting of consciousness.
Instead of speaking further, his heart takes control for the moment, looking tenderly down at this woman who has saved his life. He feels it begin to crack with despair that the realization of her as only become apparent in this block of time.
She is intelligent, kind, naturally lovely in a manner requiring minimal color of unnecessary cosmetics…
She is what he has wanted in a female companion to share his life with…
He is well aware of the cliché of the man giving up what he desires so his beloved can be happy, but this is real life for him. But, he has to do it for her sake.
A future for them is simply impossible. He wouldn't know how to be the man she deserves, and he only hopes that the one promised to her will give her what he cannot.
He steps closer to her until they are only inches apart, his tall form towering over her petite stature. His eyes hold the tender gaze with her to assure that he mean no intimidation or manipulation toward her, only a silent token of affection. Her breathing is hitched and he experiences the need to comfort her, to inform her that it's not an act.
His lips briefly press to her cheek, for only precisely a second. He doesn't want to use words to communicate that he indeed cares for her, but cannot show her just how much.
He wants her…
Perhaps even…loves her?
Before his heart can break even further than it already has, he pulls away from her and makes his way out the door, feeling smothered by the cramped entryway they were just in. The consulting detective has fallen in love and has only now realized it. It numbs and confuses him to no end, but he can come to no other solution to how he feels about the pathologist he owes his life to.
If he cannot give her his love, he can certainly give her his presence when she needs him. If she is in danger, he will be there to protect her with everything he has, opinions of others be damned. He only hopes she will remain safe in his circle of the people he would give his life for.
And she is certainly one of those people. He only regrets how long it has taken for him to reach the conclusion of the mystery surrounding his heart and the sensation of romantic love.
After all, once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be true.
