Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Yep, I've been Sherlocked. I'm watching both season over again as I type this, actually. My two-year-old seems to enjoy it as well. Just like her mummy.
So, this one is set around the time of TRF. Only difference, Sherlock doesn't fall, Moriarty is caught, and everything is good. Or is it?
I'm not really sure where this story will go, so I'm just gonna wing it.
Sit back and enjoy!
Love always,
Avoline
Sherlock rode in the cab, glad to have Moriarty behind bars, where he would never cause havoc again. The case had not really been difficult until the police began to doubt him, but that was quickly sorted out. Everyone he knew, everyone he cared about, was safe now. He could sleep easily tonight.
If he could fall asleep.
The case had done a number on him, hence why he was taking a cab to Russel Square. He needed to clear his mind. He had never been so afraid for John's life, aside from the incident with Irene Adler. Had John not found a way to make sure everyone was safe, who knows what the raven-headed man would have had to do to ensure that everyone made it out alive.
By the time Lestrade told him that all the assassins had been taken into custody, Holmes was visibly trembling.
He paid the cabbie his fare, then shook his head. The only way he would get any rest tonight would be to clear his mind of the case entirely. Lock it away in his memory, never to haunt him at night. He had not had a nightmare since he was about five. He refused to start having them again.
A body bumped into him, and he heard books hit the ground.
"Oh, my God," a voice, clearly feminine, stated. "I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry!" Without looking at who was apologizing to him, he dropped down and began picking up the books, about five to be exact.
"No, it's my fault," he countered, feeling that, after this god-given second chance, he should start being a bit nicer. "I wasn't pay attention. No need to apologize." He reached for one paperback book at the same time as it's owner, their hands touching for only a moment. He lifted his eyes...
And saw, what he thought, was the most beautiful person in the world.
She was young, probably mid-twenties, with deep blue eyes that border-lined black. Her copper-colored hair was pulled away from her face, which was roundish with a pointed nose. Her Cupid's-bow lips were tinted red, either from a light application of lip tinter or from the cold.
In his hard-to-impress opinion, she was about as close to perfect as it got.
"Here," he stammered stupidly, handing her the three books he had managed to pick up. "My mind was elsewhere. I apologize."
"No, don't," she breathed as they both stood. "I had my nose stuck in A Tale Of Two Cities. I probably should have sat down to read it instead of trying to walk and read." He chuckled.
"Sounds like something my good friend would say," he mused. She smiled at him, and he figured he could give himself this one moment to just be the average person.
"My name is Sherlock, by the way. Sherlock Holmes." He extended his hand, and she grasped it in hers.
"Annabelle King," she replied. "I had heard this was the best park around." He bit back the laugh.
"I take it you're not from around here," he inquired. She shook her head.
"No, actually," she answered. "I just move here not three months ago from America. You're the first person I've met aside from my land lord, my boss, and three of my coworkers." He took a place beside her and offered his arm.
"Shall I show you around the garden," he proposed. She placed a hand on the inside of his elbow, and he couldn't stop the giddiness from showing.
He pointed out the different bushes, telling her about the flowers that were produced by them and the various colors each one came in. She was hanging on to every word, he could tell, and he let his guard slowly lower. This only happened with John, and on the rare occasion with Molly. This Annabelle King would probably be the one person that he could truly be him with. She didn't seem put-off by his intelligence, and he relaxed in her presence. Before long, they sat on a bench, both smiling from ear to ear.
"Thank you so much," she laughed. "I would have never been able to tell the difference in the bushes had you not told me." He cocked his head to one side, unable to wipe the smile from his face.
"You aren't offended by my demeanor," he questioned before he could stop himself.
"Lord, no," she responded. "It's actually nice to know that there's someone who can help me learn as much as humanly possible." He raised an eyebrow at her words. "I'm guessing everyone else isn't very impressed by you."
"Not exactly," he answered softly.
"Then they're idiots," she stated simply. "That or they wish they were as intelligent." She glanced at her watch. "Oh, God, it's getting late. I really should be getting home." He stood and offered his hand once again.
"Let me escort you home," he insisted. "It's the least I can do after so rudely bumping into you." She gave him an astonished look before placing her hand in his.
He made sure to get her cell phone number before making his way back to 221B Baker Street.
