Hey guys! So here are a couple of things for y'all to know before reading this. Now I know that I still have another story that needs my attention but that story is much more personal so it is really hard for me to write. It isn't abandoned though! I promise! I am working on it. I just have to stop a lot... As for this story, the chapters aren't going to be long but there are going to be many of them. The chapters will probably get longer the more Victoria and Sherlock's relationship grows.
The purpose of this story for me as a writer is to be as in character as possible with Sherlock while putting a girl, not yet woman in his life. And I say girl now because he only sees her as a girl now but he will mostlikely see her as a woman later.
I would love love love feedback. I mean, if you guys have suggestions, ideas, recommendations, anything, just review and I will totally take it all into consideration.
ManEatingButterflies
Victoria tiredly took her hair down from the bun she had put it in for work, moving one of her small hands through the champagne blonde waves as the other worked her key into the door to her flat.
She froze, her hand falling from her hair.
Her door was unlocked.
Did she leave her door unlocked? Did someone break in? There didn't seem to be any signs of forced entry, did there? Did Mrs. Hudson need something and forget to lock it?
She carefully opened the door, the pink container of mace she had on her key chain held up in front of her.
"Why are you here?" A low voice asked and her eyes darted to the direction it was coming from, spying a familiar head of curly dark hair and broad shoulders on her couch.
She walked around the couch to see his face. "Sherlock, I live here."
"Don't you work?" He asked, his eyes staring blankly at her wall as he rested his chin on his fingers.
"I've been to work already." Victoria sighed, placing her hands on her hips. She could tell that he was on a case.
"You just left."
"Nine hours ago." She corrected him.
"Has it been? Interesting."
Silence.
Victoria watched him for a while more before speaking again. "Why are you in my flat?" She asked, raising an eyebrow when his blue eyes spared a glance at her before going back to focusing on the wall.
"I needed to think and, since this is the quietest location that I could get to without making an effort, I decided to think here." He stood up and fixed his jacket before crossing to the window. "Despite your constant assurance that your flat is, indeed, secure, I got in here without any trouble."
Victoria gave him a look before going to her kitchen. "Will you be here long?"
A soft hum was her only response and she knew that he was done talking with her.
She put the kettle on the stove and went back to her living room, settling on the couch and glancing at Sherlock before picking up the book she had been reading.
Silence.
Eventually the kettle whistled and she made two cups of tea, placing one cup on the table beside Sherlock where is sat untouched and growing cold.
Silence.
The only noises made were the turning of a page in Victoria's book and her quiet sips of tea.
Victoria had been renting the flat in 221C for a while now-four months was it?-and had the pleasure of meeting Sherlock Holmes because of it. Their meeting was unimportant. He had no interest in her and she was intimidated by him. They bumped into each other occasionally and sometimes shared a cab if they happened to leave at the same time but they were just neighbors, hardly acquaintances. Soon, though, he began to take advantage of her nearness and would find her if he needed something from her. She would even receive a text from him every once in a while. She was no John Watson but she was convenient.
They had a mutual understanding, a silent agreement. She would not pester him. He would try not to be a total arsehole to her. She would help him. He would not talk down to her.
The moment that they shared in her flat, silent but comfortable, was a moment they knew. They didn't know it well but it was becoming more and more familiar as the weeks passed.
"Yes or no?"
The question startled her, braking the silence. She looked up to see Sherlock's eyes on her.
"Why?" She asked, not understanding his question.
"It doesn't matter why. I have no need of your curiosity. Yes or no?" Sherlock sighed impatiently.
"No?" She answered, her tone questioning and unsure.
His hands broke apart from their position on his chin and his eyes brightened, because of a discovery or an idea she did not know.
"Then why did she say yes?" He asked himself and strode out her front door without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.
She gazed at the spot he had just stood at for a while before shrugging and looking back down at the page she had been reading.