Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital which belongs to ABC and it's respective owners. I do not own Sherlock BBC, which belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and it's respective owners. I don't own "Guard Me, Sherlock". That belongs to it's respective owners. Hercule Poirot is a creation of Agatha Christy, and not mine! This is only for pure amusement and imagination, and to hone my writing skills.
Summary: Elizabeth Webber broke the shackles of her past with true grit and a steel spine. She had stopped being what people expected of her, and lived by her own rules, and picked up a paint brush, never setting it down. But now the past comes back to threaten all she holds dear and the only man who can find and stop this mysterious stalker is none other than Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective and recently exiled from London.
Pairings: Mycroft/Elizabeth, mentions of Liason and Lucky/Liz
AU History: In a world where the reins of Deception were in Brenda Barrett's and Jasper Jax's hands, Elizabeth Webber was given a choice. A life free of those that would mold her into a fragile doll, and where she was able to flourish and grow into someone she wanted to be. She left Port Charles, and never looked back, until the end of her contract nears and Brenda wants her to do once last event. Old faces, old problems threaten to tear Elizabeth down from the life that she has built, but it is the surprising offer from Mycroft Holmes that could be her salvation or damnation.
Inspired by the "Guard Me, Sherlock" Game. It is an app available on all Andriod devices. Great game, I love it though waiting for tickets and such is a bit of a pain. Some dialogue and a little bit of the story plots from the game will be worked into the fanfiction, but have a GH twist and spin on certain things.
I decided to start this story after I wrapped another story "Branded" on AO3, and given that this follows the basic plot of the game with my twists added, it is easy to write it all out since I know where the plot is going.
I want to thank CandyHearts22, Meghie03, Twisted Musalih, babeboo1968, trini12180, for the favs! You all lovely!
I want to thank KristinaDEllis, Wonderwomom, babeboo1968, liasonlover14, trini12180, bjq, ciocad, for the follows! You are wonderful! Thank you!
I want to thank, notenoughlove, trini12180, Twisted Musalih, Guest 1, Guest 2, CandyHearts22, arcoiris0502, leasmom, Elizabeth Fan, babeboo1968, bjq, kcke2pen, chicki'62, Pamela, for all the lovely reviews. Thank you all so much!
Guest Reviews:
Guest 1: Thank you! And you're welcome. I figured since I had wrapped a few stories on here and Ao3 that I could afford to start a new story. Also this is easier since I have the game as a basic guideline, with me adding GH bits here and there. Those four (Liz, Bren, Piph and Jax could have been an awesome group of friends, lol) will be fun to write for. I love that, too. I think Elizabeth embracing it as a means of freedom instead of seeing it as being trapped is 180 from the way the show had written her modeling career. It also speaks volumes how different Brenda and Jax approached Elizabeth as opposed to Laura and Carly, too. Yes, Jason and Liz will get a nice send off so to speak and I do plan to have a good friendship between them. The person who was at the docks will shock you, I guarantee. ;)
Guest 2: Epiphany always gives sound advice, and Elizabeth just might. Nope, no Liason or Lucky/Liz. While I love Liason (not so much Lucky), I just want to write Elizabeth getting a happy ending with someone else. While it's not a GH character, hopefully it will still be enjoyable.
Leasmom: Thank you! I hope that you continue to enjoy the story!
Elizabeth Fan: Thanks. I miss them, too. Brenda and Jax would be a welcomed sight given how the show is now. Yes, and Elizabeth isn't going to let them reel her back in at all.
Chicki'62: Thank you! :D
Pamela: Thanks! ;)
Chapter Two
"The Meeting"
Dear God, Elizabeth stared at the flower arrangements brought in by the hotel employee only ten minutes earlier in horror. The poor boy, Damien, if she read his nametag right looked ready to pee himself at the furious glare that Elizabeth had given the flowers, which unfortunately for him had been in his arms at the time. She gave him a fifty dollar tip, hoping to make up for that, but she digressed.
White roses.
White fucking roses.
And who was the only person who would send her white roses? Only one guess needed to get it right.
The little card said: Second chances are rare. We should take them when gifted them. Thinking of you, Lucky Spencer. And with a hot feeling of anger boiling in her gut, she crushed the card in the palm of her hand and dropped the roses straight into the garbage. She really couldn't believe his nerve. Did he really think that their less than lackluster meeting last night was the beginning of some grand revival of their frankly toxic past relationship? And she turned to eyeball the red lilies—a smaller arrangement—that had been sent by Luke and Laura with a card that had simply said: Welcome home.
Oh, but she could read between the lines well enough. Lucky had seen her—all shiny and sparkling like a new toy that he had never really gotten to play with like he wanted—and now that he decided he wanted her back, the Spencers intended to help him. She wondered how long it would take them to muster up the nerve to confront her. She wondered if they would play the part of a friend, or would just they just dive straight in with their expectations of her now that Lucky had deemed her worth of notice? Damn it, she hadn't even been in Port Charles for two days and she was already being reeled into the drama like a helpless fish on the hook, but she wouldn't be played.
The Spencers had their chance. They had their chance to prove that she really was family and that her value to them was more than what she could do for Lucky, and they blew it big time. Elizabeth might have let go of her anger, but she still had the memories. She wasn't going to place nice with people who intended to use her. She had let herself be walked on before, and she hadn't liked it. Never fucking again, she declared to herself, tossing the lilies right in along with the roses. She winced at wasting such pretty flowers, but she couldn't give them off to someone else. They were manipulation flowers, and had bad juju all over them now.
She drew in a deep breath, and made her way to the bathroom. She twisted the handle, and the cold water came rushing out of the faucet. She cupped her hands beneath it, and leaned over the sink to splash it across her face. It was jolt to her body, driving away the heat of anger that flushed her cheeks and needled away at the bit of lethargy that clung to her after a restless night sleep. Alright, she admitted that maybe she hadn't let her anger entirely go. There was a bit of bitterness in her heart reserved for all of those that turned their backs on her, but she had no intention of using it. She wouldn't go seeking them. She didn't need to. That chapter on her life was closed.
She just wished they had gotten the memo.
It was around nine-thirty after Elizabeth finally managed to get herself dressed, and get up for the day. She didn't have to meet Mr. Holmes until later in the afternoon around five, so there was some time to kill. And she wasn't going to hide in her hotel room all day. She wasn't going to stop living her life because she was afraid of a little confrontation. Hell, a lot of confrontation, but she had honed her spine into razor sharp steel over the years, and her tongue could slash people into ribbons if she so felt inclined. She just hoped that she didn't have to. She wasn't cruel just to be cruel. It just wasn't in her nature, but she would defend herself. Anyone that talked to her, she would give them an inch, but she would not let them take a mile.
Kelly's seemed like the natural first place to go. The bar Jake's, it was far too early to go to there and anyone that was drinking at breakfast time wasn't anyone she wanted to spend time with. She stepped through those doors, smiling slightly at the same green curtains that seemed to have been there forever, and the familiarity of the place washed over her like a warm hug from a mother figure. There were a few people sitting down eating, and when she realized no one recognized her, she felt a smile stretch across her face. Anonymity…how I have missed thee, she laughed to herself, and made her way to the counter.
"Hi, what can I get you?" The cashier named, Amy, asked, brightly. She was a beautiful, curvy girl who looked fresh out of high school. She seemed like a nice kid, if a bit too bubbly for Elizabeth's taste because the bubbliest people either were manipulative or utterly naïve—both recipes for disaster.
"Hot chocolate, please," Elizabeth said, politely.
The girl went about making it, her eyes flickering towards Elizabeth every so often. Elizabeth felt her eyebrow twitch, and she kept her expression perfectly still. Great. Not as anonymous as I had hoped, she recognized the spark of recognition in the young woman's eyes. She could practically see Amy debating with whether or not to say something. Elizabeth was kind of hoping for the not. She opened her purse up, and already had money waiting in hand to get this transaction over with as possible. Taking the styrofoam cup, she handed the girl the five dollar bill and told her to keep the change with a bright smile before turning on heel to cut off any possible conversation.
But instead, she was faced with a face she hadn't seen in forever, and likely the only face she would be happy to see in Port Charles. "Jason Morgan," Elizabeth said, with a smile. Unlike the encounter on the docks with Lucky, there was no false politeness, but genuine happiness. "Long time no see, stranger."
Jason's lips twitched into a smile. "I thought it might be you. I wasn't sure. Carly said you were back, but I had to see for myself." He gave a light shrug of his shoulder, the closest thing to sheepish that the reserved man would ever get passing over his face. "You look good. Happy."
"I am," Elizabeth replied, honestly.
"That's good," Jason nodded, his smile growing slightly. "You deserve to have a happy life. I always thought you did, but I have to say, I never thought I'd see you back in Port Charles after…everything that happened before you left."
"You mean the super huge dramatic blow out via the Spencers?" Elizabeth asked. It had been the finally straw that broke the camel's back, and Elizabeth had to face the harsh fact that Port Charles wasn't home anymore.
"Yeah, that one," he said, with an amused chuckle.
"I wouldn't be back in Port Charles if it weren't for the arm twisting Brenda gave me. There is a charity event that's happening in the next couple of weeks. A big gala that Lucy Coe swears she'll make rival the Nurses Ball, and I have to attend and help host and stuff," Elizabeth said, wrinkling her nose up in distaste. "At least, there will be good booze out of it. Hopefully. Brenda's having this weird phase about ordering overly fruity drinks with no kick. Brenda also told me that if I saw you to send you her love, and that she hoped that room was still as pink as ever," Elizabeth added, biting back a laugh when he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose at the mere mention of the pink room.
"I hate that room," Jason admitted, with a shake of his head. Brenda had come to him around 2002 to be guarded from Luis Alcazar who had convinced her that she was mentally ill. He honestly hated the time period—not because of the danger, that he could handle—but he had Brenda painting one of his rooms pink, and Jax always sneaking in and out to see her. And Sonny always throwing a tantrum about it. He was glad the danger was short-lived and Lorenzo had killed his brother when Luis threatened his wife, Skye. Brenda and Jax packed up, never to step foot in the penthouse again, but Brenda told him not to change the room or she'd haunt him. He wasn't sure why she felt the need to make the threat. Probably just to annoy him.
Elizabeth laughed. "I imagine so. Is it true that it's hot pink?"
"I don't even know where she found the shade of pink," he chuckled, running his hand down his jaw. "I was actually thinking of letting Nadine repaint it since she's the one subjected to it every day."
"Nadine?" Elizabeth perked up, interested. She had seen the way Jason's face softened ever so slightly when the name passed through his lips. There were only a handful of individuals that could cause his stoic façade to do that. Elizabeth had once been one of them.
Jason shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "She's a doctor who works for Sonny and I."
"Oh, so you all finally wised up to the fact that the coffee business is very cutthroat and having medical personal on hand is a smart thing?" Elizabeth teased him, recalling the time that she played nurse when he had been shot. That winter, he had helped her understand that it was alright to not be okay and feel nothing after Lucky "died". And she had picked him up out of the snow, and urged him to live when he felt that he had little to live for.
"I guess we did," Jason said, lightly. "Though when we get hurt, she doesn't force feed us a tub of broccoli cheese soup every day."
"It helped heal you, and that's all I'm going to say on the matter, mister," Elizabeth told him, with a mock glare before her lips pulled into a wicked smile. "I'd be happy to talk to this Nadine, you know. Let her know how much you love broccoli cheese soup, and how it helps your recovery time."
"Ah, no. That's not necessary."
Was that a flash of fear that passed over Jason's face? Elizabeth snickered internally. The big bad mobster was afraid of broccoli cheese soup. Heaven help him, if his enemies ever found out about it. She had an imagine of Jason dangling above a huge vat of bubbling soup come to mind before she could help herself, and she bit her lower lip harshly to fight off laughing.
"You're laughing at me," Jason accused.
"Kind of," Elizabeth said, with a guilty smile. She brushed her hair out of her face, and looked up for at him when a suddenly thought occurred to her. "You said Carly told you I was back. How did she know? I haven't run into her yet."
"Gia is a friend of Carly and Courtney's. As for Carly telling me…it was more that I overheard her telling Sonny," Jason explained, with a light sigh. "She ran her mouth for a bit, going on and on, and you know how Carly is. She isn't going to be quiet, and Sonny isn't going to be the last person she tells."
"That does sounds like Carly," Elizabeth commented, with a tight expression. "That didn't take long. I don't know why I had hoped it would."
"Did Lucky really hit on you in front Gia?" Jason had to ask. He wasn't exactly the best in the romance department, but even he knew that wasn't something a man did.
"Yeah," she nodded. "It was horrible and awkward. I kind of fled when him and Gia started arguing. That's not something I want to get mixed up in." Elizabeth sipped gingerly on the hot liquid. She nearly moaned at the silky smooth chocolate, and was glad that while many things had changed that Kelly's hot chocolate hadn't. "How about you? Last I heard you were engaged to marry Courtney."
"Married…and divorced," Jason sighed, heavily.
Elizabeth winced, seeing by the way the lines around his eyes tensed that it hadn't been an amicable split. "I'm sorry to hear that," she told him, gently. Out of everyone in Port Charles, she had really hoped that things had worked out for Jason. With people always relying on him and often pulling him in all kinds of directions, he deserved a bit of happiness and solace for himself even if that happiness meant being married to Carly Junior. She studied him for a long moment, and felt a sense of sadness swell up inside of her. There had once been something more between them—something undefined—and she realized in that moment that whatever that was, just wasn't the same anymore. Not that she expected it to be after seven years, but it was a sad moment where a person had to acknowledge the end of something that could have been. "I know that must have been difficult considering Courtney was Sonny's sister and Carly's friend. They must have been caught in the middle of that."
Jason's jaw clenched. "Not as much as you'd think."
Elizabeth felt her stomach clench at the pained tone in his voice. "Well…if you ever need a friend that has an ear, I have a couple to spare. I know that it's been a long time since we last seen each other, and everything, but…you were one person who listened to me unconditionally when I needed it. It's only fair I finally pay that forward," she offered, reaching out to give his arm a quick, comforting squeeze. "And I'm not just saying that to be nice, and all. I really truly mean that. Our friendship is one thing that I missed most of all."
The fact that he looked slightly stunned by the offer made Elizabeth's heart hurt, and she felt anger towards Carly and Sonny who were supposed to know him the best and have his back. They had failed him. Elizabeth acknowledged that she had failed him, too. And if she was going to be stuck here for the next few weeks, then she was going to make sure she made up for that failure. Starting with this Nadine girl who Jason hadn't realized that he had feelings for, and she was going to see if Nadine returned Jason's feelings. If so then she was going to do some matchmaking because Jason deserved to be loved by someone who loved him for who he was, not what he could give them. Stealing a napkin, Elizabeth pulled a pen out of her purse and scribbled down her number. "Here. This is my cellphone number. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything. I mean it."
Jason took the napkin, a hesitant and thankful smile pulled his lips up. "My number is still the same, and the same goes for me. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. I know…I know there's a lot of people that would like to cause you trouble just because they can," he told her, his blue eyes were serious. She had one of the most genuine hearts he had ever known, and this town nearly crushed it out last time. He wouldn't let them get close enough to hurt her again like that if he could help it. "Do you remember it?"
"I never forgot it, and I promise to call if I need help if you'll make the same promise?" She bargained, with a clever smile.
"I promise," Jason nodded, meaning it.
"Then I promise, too. Good-bye, Jason," Elizabeth said, lightly.
Jason stood there for a long moment, registering the words she used, and he gave her a long look before a bittersweet kind of smile settled on the curve of his mouth. It made her believe that he, too, acknowledged in his own way their missed chance, and the fact that their connection had settled into the zone of acquaintance/friendship area now. "Good-bye, Elizabeth."
She gave him one last smile before she walked out of Kelly's. It was a bit bittersweet, but also releasing in a way that she hadn't thought possible. Jason would always have a place in her life, she knew this instinctively, but now she knew exactly where that was unlike last time. In another world, in another life, maybe an Elizabeth and Jason there could have their shot. But this one was a far different story.
There was a lightness to her step that hadn't been there, but it seemed like it was not meant to be. As soon as Elizabeth was in walking distance of the shops a familiar head of red hair appeared, and before she could even duck into a store to avoid it, Bobbie Spencer stood before her. How did a nurse afford plastic surgery? Elizabeth wondered, staring at Bobbie's face. It wasn't bad surgery per say, but it obvious the botox affected her facial expression. Her painted lips pulled into a smile, but nothing else on her face moved. The price of youth and beauty was a hefty one, it seemed.
"Elizabeth Webber as I live and breathe," Bobbie said, with a cheerful note in her voice. "Lucky told us that you were back in town. He said you looked like you hadn't aged a day, and he was right. Looking at you, it's hard to tell that seven years has passed. For a second when you stepped off the curb, I felt like it was 2001 all over again."
Thank God that's not the case. "Bobbie, it's good to see you. How are the grandchildren?" She asked, avoiding the subject of Lucky all together.
"Michael is good. Morgan's a bit of a handful," Bobbie replied, with a laugh. "You know, that I think about it…I think Lucky was hoping to invite you over for dinner tonight. Luke and Laura aren't going to be there. Off saving the world, or something like that. Did you get the flowers they sent? When Lucky told them that you were back, they said they ordered some to be sent to your hotel room."
Elizabeth fought to keep her expression calm. It was typical Spencer style manipulation. Be friendly, reel them, and they'll never see the hook until it's too late. But Elizabeth could see it now, and she didn't find what was dangling there on said hook all that appealing as it once had been. "I got the flowers. The lilies were lovely." And now they are lovely in the bottom of the trash along with Lucky's roses. "I'm not sure I can do dinner, Bobbie. I have business meetings I have to attend, and I can't squeeze out of them."
"Brenda and Jax keeping you on a tight leash until the bitter end, huh?" Bobbie commented, dryly.
An instinctual need to defend Brenda and Jax rose up within her, but she bit it back because it would only fall on deaf ears. "Something like that," she chose the vague reply, with a saccharine smile. "Look, Bobbie, I feel I need to be up front here. I had a brief run in with him and Gia at the docks, and it wasn't so pleasant. I don't think I feel comfortable with dinner or anything like that when there is obvious tension still there."
Bobbie seemed flummoxed for all of a moment. "Well, that's probably because Gia was there. The girl thinks she is seriously in love with Lucky, but he just doesn't feel that way about her. He has tried, you know, for the last year to make something out of a one night stand for the sake of their child—"
"Child?" Elizabeth's eyes widened.
The nurse's eyes went wide to when she realized that she may have made an error. "Lucky nor Gia mentioned little Lisa?" She asked, her tone careful.
"No. Funny enough a child was never mentioned at any point during the conversation, but I wish them well. With all the drama that comes with being a Spencer, that child is going to need it," Elizabeth said, with a smile fixated on her face. God, she wasn't joking.
Bobbie chuckled, missing the fact that it hadn't been a joke. "Yes. Well, what can you do? The Spencer blood does run hot."
"Just like their tempers," Elizabeth added, with a feigned gasp of shock when she glanced down at her wristwatch. "Dear me, is that the time already? I really have to go Bobbie. I have an appointment that I can't afford to be late for. It was nice seeing you though. I hope that we get time to chat again." Just as soon as hell freezes over, she added, internally.
A few more words were exchanged, and Elizabeth had walked away before Bobbie could ask for a phone number. Bobbie was one of the sore spots that still hurt the worst. The woman had been a big part of pulling herself up and rebuilding herself after her rape. She had idolized Bobbie, and it had been crushing when the person on that tall pedestal fell down. The rejection from one of the few people she thought she'd always be able to count on had hit her self-esteem harshly. While at her job, Elizabeth was cool and confident, in her private life she was far more reserved now. She chose her friends wisely, and her enemies even more wisely if she could.
The rest of the day went without incident. She had shopped, buying some paints and new brushes, and a few little essentials here and there. She went about and window shopped at several stories before finding a blue pair of high heels that just spoke her name. (She was secretly a shoe whore, don't tell anyone.) Until the little hands of the clock grew closer and closer to five, and the nerves that she had been holding at bay were eating her from the inside out. Sherlock Holmes, famed consulting detective, she mused inside her head. She had looked up all about him last night because while Elizabeth knew his name, she hadn't known about the cases he solved himself.
Sherlock Holmes was working with the FBI and local police to catch the perpetrators behind a black market organ ring that was primarily working out of Port Charles and New York City. Normally, it would have been handled from within the country, but it seemed that this particular ring had ties not only in America, but in London and Japan as well. It was alarming that this was happening on such a large scale, but hardly the only kind of crime ring of its kind out there. Where there was a market, there was a supplier and those willing to be a go between for the right kind of money. She didn't know how Brenda knew about Sherlock, or had managed to get her a meeting with him. Her friend had been deliberately vague, and just stated that he helped get her and her twin out of a bad living situation. It obviously was a sore subject, and so Elizabeth hadn't pressed any further.
She reached the restaurant, a swanky little place that had an old 1940s air to it, and was ushered by a friendly waiter to a private dining room. In the center of the room was a table where three men were already seated. The waiter led her to her seat, and gave a small bow before he exited the room, shutting the door behind him. All the men rose to attention—as was polite when the lady approached—and now that Elizabeth was closer to them, she inspected them with a critical gaze. Her eyes were firstly drawn to Mister Sherlock Holmes, and her first thought was that he was very tall. He was six foot to her five three so that had her head craned back just a bit to be able to stare into the icy blue gaze that held a knowledge and intelligence that she had never encountered before. Accessing, calculating, and filled to the brim with thoughts, those eyes held so much. His dark curly hair was adorable, and she was slight envious of that. No one had the right to look good with curls, and the planes of his face were intriguing. The second man with sandy colored hair had a boyish grin on his face, and greenish hazel eyes held a twinkle. He was stocky build like a soldier, and the more Elizabeth looked him over, she noticed that it wasn't just his stature that gave her that impression, but also the way he held himself. This was John Waston, she recognized him from the photos she had found on the internet. And the third man without a doubt was Detective Inspector Greg Lestarde. He was an older man in his earlier forties, a bit of silver haired fox with light brown eyes. He had a man next door kind of feel to him because he was certainly no boy, and he had a charming smile on his face as she approached.
"I'm—" John tried to start the introductions, but he didn't far into them before Sherlock cut him off rudely.
"She already knows who we are," Sherlock gave a put up sigh, "so introductions are a bit redundant."
John and Lestrade blinked, and looked at her.
"I may have used google last night, and seen some photographs that were up on John's blog," Elizabeth confirmed Sherlock's deduction with a sheepish little smile, and a shrug of her shoulders. "And you all probably know me as well, unless that's too much to presume?"
"Elizabeth Webber," Sherlock answered, her name rolling off of his tongue. "The Face of Deception."
The way he said it made her sound like she was some evil James Bond villainous rather than a model, and she felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly. "Well, not for much longer," Elizabeth said, lightly. "I'm afraid it's about time for the final curtain on my time in the fashion world."
"Really?" John looked stunned. "I haven't heard anything about it."
"You wouldn't," Elizabeth shook her head. "Brenda, one of my bosses, is formally announcing it at a charity event. She is also announcing a contest for the next Face of Deception to quell any upset."
"You don't seem very upset about it," Lestrade commented, curiously.
"I'm not. Modeling was never a forever deal for me," Elizabeth replied, with a roll of her shoulders. "It just gave me the freedom I needed at a crucial time of my life, and now it's time to leave so I'm able to pursue my real passion."
"And what would that be?" Sherlock asked, his words were always spoken so fast. Like there was no filter to process them, and that whatever was on his mind came out. It was almost refreshing to find someone so blunt and honest. It gave Elizabeth a bit of hope to his character, even if Brenda said he could be a bit of a git sometimes.
"Painting," Elizabeth smiled, wistfully. "There is no better feeling in the world than me lost in my own world, with a paint brush in my hand and an empty canvas ready to be filled with wherever my imagination leads me. On top of running an art gallery, that is. I want to work with young minds, helping them get the footing that I never got to and also to view masterpieces of maestros of old."
"That sounds lovely," John commented, after the tea was served. "You sound like you everything figured out in your life."
Elizabeth chuckled. "I'd said it's about time. Took me a few years. I may be a slow learner, but I learn."
"Somehow, I do not think you are a slow learner at all," Sherlock countered, smoothly. "I think that you've let your emotions keep you from putting into practice the lessons that you have learned in order to spare the feelings of others. Or at least, they used to."
"Sherlock," John admonished him.
"No, that's actually very true," Elizabeth said, not ashamed of her past. Everyone did things for their loved ones in hopes of recognition or praise. Eventually people are supposed to grow, and realize that while that praise was good, one had to be fulfilled for themselves not for others. "It's why I chose to stay on at Deception. The modeling contract gave me the money and aid to break such nasty habits of sacrificing myself for people who only used me."
Lestrade's eyes flickered with disquiet. "I'm sorry that you've had to go through that. No one deserves to be used by the people that they love," he said, his tone very soft. He empathized with her on a level she didn't realize. He had been used by his ex-wife who had cheated on him behind his back for years, and had promised to work on their marriage only to get more money out of him. The second she got what she wanted, she was already back to her cheating ways and leaving him in the dust.
"Now that the social etiquette of small talk has been reached," Sherlock said, with haughty sniff. He sat straighter in his chair, and regarded her over the table with an intense gaze. "Why have you sought out my services?"
"I know that this is going to sound silly," Elizabeth started, feeling embarrassed for taking such a man's time. "And I honestly feel stupid for coming to you when you are working on the black market case that the media has been all over—"
"He hasn't," John said, biting back a grin.
Sherlock shot him a petulant look.
"He got kicked off the case until he can behave and play well with others," Lestrade said, coating his cone with blueberry jam. "Which means he'll just sit here, making us miserable until the FBI and local police realize that they aren't getting anywhere without him and bring him back on."
"Oh." Elizabeth blinked.
"Your case," Sherlock reminded, sharply. He seemed slightly embarrassed to be reminded that his bad behavior had put him on the outs of the case.
"Of course. I have someone…I'd like to have investigated," Elizabeth said, fiddling with the cuff on her wrist. It was ornate and had flowers on it, she traced the pattern with her thumb nervously. "In my line of work I can't be too careful whom I meet."
"You want someone investigated? Like a background check?" John frowned.
"Yeah, I suppose you could call it that."
She looked at the dark haired, blue eyed man. He was the world's greatest detective, many would say, and she knew that there was a chance he could laugh off her request. Still she had to try regardless. She hadn't been joking about the fear of letting the wrong person in her life. She had done that before, and no, it happened after she left Port Charles. It was unpleasant and something she wished she could erase from history all together. She had to be certain that this person was a decent human being, to feel safe and secure in meeting him even if nothing came out of the blind date.
"…Boring." Was the detective's reply.
Ouch. Elizabeth thought, struggling to hold back the wave of frustration that pooled inside her gut. She knew that her request was strange. She knew it was paranoid. She knew that her anxiety and fear ruled that part of her life—the fear of intimacy, the fear of touch, and how it started and how it festered like an untreated wound. She could pick out the moments in her life that had made her cautious and had hardened her. Part of her considered telling him this—if only in the vaguest sense—of why she was the way she was, but her throat immediately closed. Dark memories were meant to stay locked away, and she didn't have the heart to give them life and face them today.
Lestrade gave Sherlock a sharp look. "So you are going to dismiss her out of hand like that? She is here with a serious request you know, no matter how boring it may seem to you," the Detective Inspector told Sherlock, with his arms folded over his chest.
"Come on, Sherlock," John said, with clear disapproval on his face. "At least, hear what she has to say before making a decision. You haven't even given her a chance to disclose the details."
"Details? There is no need."
Elizabeth cocked her head to the side and regarded Sherlock with a shrewd gaze. "Do you mean to say that you are such a good detective that something like a background check isn't worthy of your time, and therefore boring or…?" She honestly couldn't blame him, if he thought so. Background checks vs. black market organ and criminal masterminds? She knew which sounded more exciting, and it certainly wasn't her case.
His eyes shot upward, and met hers. "I didn't say that."
"Oh?" Elizabeth asked, her expression inscrutable. Carefully closed off, not only hope to grow so it could die a swift death again. "But you just said my case was boring. That you didn't need the details."
"'Boring.' That's right, I said it was 'boring'. But that's nothing more than my personal feelings on the subject, and as such, you should feel free to ignore it. And the reason I told you I didn't need the details of you case is because I have a rough idea of what it this is about," Sherlock replied, with a slight quirk of his lips.
"Wha…" Elizabeth was stunned. A mixture of relief and disbelief coursed through her veins, and she sat there staring at the man in front of her. Honestly, his expression gave nothing away. He had a hell of a poker face—better than hers—and she had a feeling that only a select few in the world would ever come to know his tell.
"When trying to persuade someone of something, most people become rather talkative. They're trying to attract the other person's interest by telling them, whatever they know," Sherlock informed her, picking up the honey off the table. He popped the cap open, and then proceeded to pour some into Elizabeth's tea.
"Sherlock, she didn't say…" John protested.
"Because she didn't want to be a bother," Sherlock replied, cutting him off. He sealed the lid back on the honey, and returned it to its place on the table. "Cut from a different cloth than most that would seek stardom, and allow it to go to their head. Now back to what I was saying, while you wanted me to take your case you didn't present me with any information of the person. Instead, you waited for me to answer. Now why is that? Because you almost have no information of this person, at all."
Elizabeth felt her jaw go slack slightly. She was surprised by how accurately he was. She shouldn't be, but it was one thing to hear of it, and another to have a firsthand experience of just how Sherlock Holmes worked.
"You don't even have a name, do you?" Sherlock asked, lightly. He ran the pad of his thumb across the bottom of his chin, and tilted his head to the left ever so slightly. "You are a model and actress that has come to me to formally request my services. When we take that into account that leaves us with two possibilities."
John's brow furrowed into a knot. "Reasons a young actress might come to Sherlock asking him to investigate someone's background? Maybe there's an overeager fan that has been harassing her or something?" He guessed, looking at Elizabeth with concern in his eyes.
"Yeah, that kind of stuff happens sometimes. Fans can get too enamored with someone, and end up turning into malicious stalkers," Lestrade commented, grimly. He had seen too many stalkers in his time at Scotland Yard, and the laws were often so vague when it came to stalking that it made it hard to protect and get justice for the victims.
"If that were the case, then it wouldn't be a background check she'd want. And she'd be taking this up with the local police rather than me," Sherlock dismissed their observations, with a light huff. It was clear that he thought their suggestions were silly though neither seemed to take offense so it must be something they were quite used to.
"Ah, I guess you have a point," Lestrade conceded, rather gracefully.
"That means that either she fell in love with a man she passed on the street at first sight, someone she knows nothing about, not even his name…" Sherlock started, slowly and thoughtfully. If one listened, they could practically hear the gears of his mind working.
"She doesn't seem like the type to do that," John said.
"I'm not," Elizabeth confirmed, almost laughing at the notion.
"…or she's been set up on a blind date by a meddlesome friend, or perhaps her parents, and she wants to know about the person she's going to be meeting," Sherlock concluded, a smile stretched upon his face. He knew the second the shock flashed through her eyes that he had figured it out, and looked quite pleased with himself.
"That's…that's amazing," Elizabeth said, astounded.
"I see. So it is the latter, then," Sherlock nodded, slightly.
"Yes. I got a phone call out of the blue from my friend, Epiphany, who said she wanted to set me up with an acquaintance of hers, but she will not disclose just who this person is much to my frustration," Elizabeth replied, looking at him with slight awe. "The fact that you knew that before I even told you about any of it is amazing, Mr. Holmes. You're even more perceptive and better at deduction than I'd heard."
"Why thank you."
"Now you've done it. He'll be unbearable to live with now," John sighed, heavily.
"Unbearable? He is already unbearable," Lestrade scoffed. "He'll be a downright nightmare. So… a blind date, huh? I see. That's why Sherlock felt that it was so 'boring', then."
Elizabeth smiled, sheepishly. "While I'd love to bring you something more scandalous or thrilling, I have always endeavored to stay away from that kind of thing. I had enough of that in my life when I was a teenager and right when I started modeling. It wasn't a pattern I felt keeping in my life," she chuckled, with a helpless shrug. "But yep, this is just about a blind date."
Sherlock hummed. "When is this date scheduled to take place?"
"This Sunday. We're supposed to meet in the open air café seating at Lucci & Mason at 2 PM," Elizabeth said, clasping her hands together in front of her. The tea she had drank slowly through the talk now settled in her stomach sourly. She was nervous about this all, but figured if she tried one blind date then Epiphany and Brenda couldn't say she didn't make an effort. "It's just so sudden that I don't know what to do…"
"You don't need to do anything. Just meet this person, and if he isn't to your liking, just reject him. That's the way those sort of things work," Sherlock told her, nose wrinkled. "Simple and straightforward really."
"I mean…yeah, that's true, but…" Elizabeth hesitated.
John gave Sherlock a look out of the corner of his eye while an amused smirk crossed his face. "'Just reject him,' huh? I noticed you didn't day that if she likes him, she should continue dating him, now did you?" The doctor said, with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"John, what are you trying to at? From the way you're talking, it sounds like you're trying to suggest something," Lestrade narrowed his eyes, curiously at John. "Is something going on here I'm not aware of?"
"Oh, yeah, something's going on. After all, Sherlock is one of her…" John started.
Sherlock exploded, talking very fast and vehemently and pointing a finger straight at his friend. "That's enough! No more talking. Shut that mouth of yours this instant. Better yet, get out. Out of this room, now!" The consulting detective demanded, in a childish burst of emotions and a dash of pink upon his high swept cheeks. His blue eyes spat daggers at John, and if looks could kill then the good doctor would have been turned to ashes.
Elizabeth saw the conversation was in danger of going off the rails completely, so she hastily brought the subject back to her face even if she was a little curious as to what John was getting at. "I think I know how a blind dates works," she said, lightly. "But I'm just not interested in going on a date with someone I don't know. I thought about saying no, but Epiphany has already told him yes. Given my job, I cannot afford to be too careful with things like blind dates."
"Even so, the fact that you want to investigate the person you're meeting means that you're not very fond of this idea," said Sherlock, firmly.
"That's right. Which is why…" She began, softly.
"If you'd like me to learn more about this person that you will be having a blind date with, then I'm willing to do that," Sherlock offered, immediately.
Elizabeth blinked. "Really? You'd really be willing to do that?"
"I would have not offered if otherwise," said the consulting detective, with a light snort. His eyes were closed, and shoved away his cup of tea. He pulled his scarf out of his jacket, and with an elegant flourish wrapped it around his neck.
Lestarde gaped at Sherlock. "What has come over him? I can't believe Sherlock is going to accept a case like this without any kind of persuading," the Scotland Yard man said, in a conspiratorial whisper—that wasn't really a whisper at all—to John.
"It's like I was trying to say, Greg," said John, with a smirk. "You see…"
Sherlock interrupted, talking loud so that whatever John said was lost underneath the power of his voice. "If you don't like the idea of me investigating him prior to your date, I can do it during the date. I'll look into what kind of person he, and he won't even notice me," Sherlock reassured her, his jaw clenched tightly. "I am excellent at disguising myself."
Relief rushed through her, and the tension that had been plaguing her all day eased ever so slightly. "Uh, during the date would be fine. I can't tell you how much I appreciate having a great detective like you personally look into him for me. Thank you," Elizabeth said, genuine in her gratitude.
Sherlock opened his eyes, and gave her a long look. "That's right. Also I feel that it bears mentioning that I have figured out something else about you," he stated, his tone careful and methodically. "A moment ago when Lestrade and John brought up the subject of stalkers, you looked away, and your eyes darted about, and you heart rate elevated due to stress. You don't consider whomever is bothering you a 'stalker', but it is a similar situation, yes?"
Elizabeth felt her heart drop.
"You have a stalker?" Lestarde asked.
"Pay attention for once, Lestrade. I said whoever is bothering couldn't quite be considered a stalker," Sherlock said, with little patience. The consulting detective was abrasive and abrupt and prickly in way that reminded Elizabeth a bit like a cactus.
"It's true then?" John looked at Elizabeth.
Lucky's behavior put her on edge, and she wished he'd just get the hint that she wasn't interested. "But it's really not a big deal. There's no need for any of you to worry about that."
Sherlock was not so easily deterred. "I have a right to request that my clients provide me with information, and my clients have an obligation to provide said information when I request it," his tone was clipped, and his eyes bored into her.
Elizabeth fidgeted, slightly. "It doesn't have anything to do with my blind date. Honestly, I can't see how it will affect anything."
"Allow me to be the one decide whether it's related or not. If you don't provide me with the information I request, then I won't be taking your case," Sherlock told her, sternly.
"Ah, everything is right with the world once more," Lestrade said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. "Back to being the dictatorial man we all know, and have to put up with."
"Whatever it is, you can tell us. Greg and I will be mum about your business and despite how he comes across, Sherlock is basically a professional and he won't divulge any information you share here," John told her, with a small and genially smile.
"'Despite how I come across?'" Sherlock mocked, haughtily. "Basically a professional? What a stellar review, John, but I do believe you could have left those two qualifiers out."
Realizing that there was no way around it, Elizabeth rather reluctantly caved. What could it hurt really? Lucky was a minor annoyance, and it wasn't exactly a secret. "My ex-fiancé…I ran into at the docks after I had come back to Port Charles, and he sent me flowers," Elizabeth explained, wringing her hands together in her lap. "And his parents did, too, after years of silence after they felt I betrayed them by leaving Port Charles."
"I see. So it's someone you're not interested in," Sherlock said, with a light frown gracing his features. "And they clearly cannot get the hint."
"Yes. I haven't gotten a chance to really make it clear to him personally that I don't want to 'pick up where things left off.' That's not why I came back to Port Charles, no matter how much Lucky convinces himself otherwise," Elizabeth stated, the frustration she had been keeping at bay leaking out. She knew how this song and dance would go. She wondered if Lucky had ever saw her as a person, rather than an object to be whatever he desired. "He already wants more than I am willing to give; I know it because he has already told his family about me. I've already been stopped, and invited for dinner. All I can think is that he has given them this impression that we are on the road to renewing our relationship, and…" She cut off with a heavy sigh, and clenched her eyes closed. She hated the fact tears were so close to burning in her eyes, and they were tears of pure anger. How dare all those people who turned their back on her way back when, who didn't even know her as a person anymore, come up to her and try to tell her how to live her life? Just because Lucky Spencer decided he liked what he saw, and wanted her. Damn what she wanted apparently. "I have a bad feeling that no matter how clear I get with my rejections, that'll he not even realize that I'm rejecting him and completely miss the fact that I'm not interested."
"He is the persistent type?" John asked.
"Painfully persistent when he wants to be."
John used a napkin to brush away the crumbs from the scones he ate off his jacket. "If I am right about the kind of person he is, then it might not be that he won't understand that you are rejecting him. Rather it could be that he will just pretending not to understand," the doctor suggested, with a disgruntled tone. "It's likely that he knows what he is doing, and he knows that it's wrong to keep pressuring you despite you shutting him down. But he thinks he'll be able to wear you down, eventually get you to concede and go out with him."
"I agree with John," Sherlock inclined his head. "It is clear that he is well aware of what he is doing. He knows that you are likely against any involvement with him, which is why he has roped his family into doing his dirty work. He believes that they may have a chance to manipulate you whereas he cannot. And taken in the fact you are unsurprised this isn't the first time he has done this."
"No, it isn't," Elizabeth said, looking down. "But we are all young and stupid once. I'm just fortunate that I woke up to the nightmare that became my life when I did. Anyways, I intend to deal with that on my own. What I'm more concerned about is the unknown person I am to be going on date with."
"Do not be," Sherlock told her. "I'll be there on the day of your date, and you'll have an extra pair of eyes watching out for you. You should meet with this person and go about your date just as you would normally. Any other questions?" He inquired,
"Nothing that comes to mind," Elizabeth replied.
"In that case, we're done here. I've got other matters to attend to," Sherlock said, and rose out of his chair. He slid on his long blue trench coat, and his long fingers make quick work of the buttons. "Lestrade, let's go see how the imbeciles at the police station are doing even if we aren't supposed to be there. John, I believe you can escort the lady out."
And like that—abrupt and sudden—Sherlock Holmes left the private dining room, with Lestrade sending her a quick apologetic look before he rushed after the consulting detective in order not to be left behind.
There was a couple of seconds of complete silence ticked by before she turned, and looked at John with a curious expression on her face. "…is he always so…" Elizabeth couldn't think of a word to properly describe Sherlock Holmes.
"Sherlock is always like this, so don't take it personally," John said, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Alrighty then."
END OF CHAPTER!
Please, don't expect updates every day. I am trying to stay a few chapters ahead, and have been doing really well writing this given that I'm following the "Guard Me Sherlock" game, and adding my own GH twist on it and bits. But I can't promise everyday updates. I want to make sure every chapter is good quality before I post it. :D
Why put Jason with Nadine? I always liked the character Nadine and often when I have Elizabeth paired with someone else, Jason is alone in the background. I wanted to write a story where he had a bit of happiness, too. AND DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO WRITE LIASON AS FRIENDS ONLY? To write where they acknowledged their missed chance? UGH. MY FEELINGS, WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF? I literally kept imagining if this was a Liason story how that scene would be so different and had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't a Liason story and not to fall for it while I am writing this. My heart…it hurts…so badly.
Honey Tea—I honestly loved the appeal of Ewen and Elizabeth, and how he seemed to see the insecurities and worries that Elizabeth had of being a burden. The scene where he adds honey to her tea, and he tells her that she just didn't say anything because she didn't want to be a bother is a scene I loved. (Of course, the writers ruined that, too.) But I imagine that Sherlock is the kind of man who picks up on that kind of thing, so it worked its way into the fic. I think I have added it to other Elizabeth's stories, too, so it might be cliché by this point, but what the hell? If I am going to be cliché, best do it right.
RRs are appreciated.
