I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! So, as promised, here's the second one :)
A knock on the door an hour later brought me out of my essay-induced stupor. I'd advanced by a whole page. That mail delivery really did do me some good, after all. I made myself rise off of the carpeted floor, knees cracking and all. After stretching for a hot second, I made my way over to the door, unlocked it, opened it, and found myself face to face with the man who was in Sherlock's living room.
"Hello again," I offered. I had more or less expected that he'd get my number from Sherlock and text me. With a suit like his, I could have only imagined that he was a busy man. I definitely didn't expect a house call. I was just lucky that I didn't change back into my pajamas.
"Hello again, indeed. I realized shortly after you left that I never got your name," he drawled out, waiting for my response.
"I never got yours either," I told him. It was a rule of mine to never give my name out first. I learned early on that a lot could be said—or left unsaid—with a name. Coming from a small town like I did, my peers and I learned that names held weight, reputations, rumors. It was better to assess first than to assume. I looked him over, now that he was standing up. He was a few inches taller than me, but not so tall that he could use his height to intimidate. "I may not be as smart as you or Sherlock," I confessed, "but I do know how to get a man's attention." I leaned against the doorframe, placing the ball in his court.
Raised eyebrows. A slight grin. A twinkle in his eye. "Richard Brook," he finally professed after a moment.
"Sherry. Like the drink. Sherry Thompson." I held out my hand. "Glad to officially meet you, mister."
Richard accepted my hand and shook it firmly. A businessman's handshake. His hands were neither clammy nor sweaty. They didn't tremble, either. He wasn't nervous in the slightest. "Well, Sherry-like-the-drink. Would you accompany me for a drink sometime? I must admit you intrigue me. Besides, any friend of Sherlock's is a friend of mine"
I smiled. There it was. My mother gave me two rules about men when I left home for my undergraduate studies: firstly, if a man isn't nervous about asking you out, he has ulterior motives and it'd do me best to not date him; and secondly, never go out with a man for drinks on the first rendez-vous, date, hang-out, whichever. I'd offer an alternative date, and whether he accepted or not would partially determine his integrity. "Well, mister, I hate to say it, but I'm not intriguing one bit. In fact, I'm rather boring. When I'm not working on essays, I visit the Thames, just to watch the water run by. I go to the library for fun. And I do my best to go to bed at ten o' clock each night. The most interesting thing about me is the fact that I know the Sherlock Holmes." I shrugged and gave him a funny frown.
A small chuckle. "I find that most people aren't typically what they say they are. In fact, most people tout themselves on being so interesting when they really…aren't. But you, Sherry-like-the-drink, there's something about you that stands out from the crowd."
Oh, no. Not that. I ran my tongue over my teeth and nodded my head before looking back up at him. "You know, mister, if you're trying to compliment me by insulting others, you're gonna have to try a lot harder." I stared at him. Not harshly nor too friendly. Just enough to let him know that I wasn't going to budge on my stance. Like I was eagerly awaiting his response, but wasn't going to give him enough time to think of one.
There was a small shift in his demeanor. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, but the welcoming smile remained on his face.
I wondered if that was his fool-proof technique, and that I'd caused the effectiveness rate to go down from one-hundred percent to only ninety-five. Men never really took it well when they didn't get what they want on the first try. But, he did intrigue me, so I figured that I'd give him another chance. He was a friend of Sherlock's. And while Sherlock could be a bit of a pain sometimes, he was also a good person. And if Sherlock knew Richard, then I expected that he'd be a pretty okay person, too.
Besides, regardless of how our next few interactions would be, I'd get a good story out of it. And, in all honesty, I loved stories. "But," I said immediately, not giving him any time to respond, "I could give you a few pointers over breakfast or lunch. Sorry, it's a personal rule that I don't drink alcohol on the first date." I knew I was taking a risk by mentioning that it was a date despite him not having mentioned it earlier, but I felt it was a risk I could easily recover from.
"How about The Monocle Café, ten o' clock, next Friday. Unless you have class then?"
He neither denied nor confirmed that it was a date. A date it was, then. The café sounded expensive by name. I could cut into my breakfast budget a little bit in order to satisfy this craving. "No class. That sounds good, thanks." He exuded confidence, but was willing to renegotiate plans. Interesting combination. I was looking forward to see how that played out in the future. "It's close by, though?"
"A few blocks south. Do you need a ride?"
I shook my head. "That's not necessary. I'll walk there like a boring person."
"You seem to be invested in convincing me of that," he joked. I didn't know whether I wanted to prove him right or wrong. I'd never thought of myself as an intensely intriguing person before, but I guessed I'd need a paradigm shift to keep him invested. "But, I suppose we'll see, won't we?"
"I suppose so," I agreed.
He dipped his head to signal his goodbye as he turned to the street.
"Wait," I called out to him. One thing had been bugging me since he had shown up just five minutes ago.
He paused, and turned around, waiting to see what I'd have to say next.
I stood up from my position against the doorway. "How did you know where I lived? I mean…I suppose since my mail gets mixed up with Sherlock's, you had to have known that I lived close by. And I also suppose that since over there," I pointed across Sherlock's place to Speedy's, "is a restaurant, you had to have deduced that I lived here?"
A smile crept back onto his face and appeared alongside a little laugh. It was a genuine smile—the kind with crow's feet near the eyes. "Good guess, but I'm afraid not. You were correct in that I don't take public transportation—too grimy for my taste." He paused, gauging my reaction. I tried not to give him one. "I simply just asked my driver what building you went in. Not everything is as complicated as Sherlock makes it. I can tell you've been trying to learn from him. Not a bad idea. However, I hope that in the future, you could learn something from me as well. Until Friday, Sherry-like-the-drink."
Feelings of mild amusement and embarrassment crept their way into my chest. My face rouged, and I let out a huff of laughter. "Yes, until Friday." I turned to go back inside, and shut the door behind me. My mother had told me never to go out with a man that wasn't nervous about going out with me. And he was about as nervous as the sea is dry. But, I supposed I could make an exception to the rule just this once. After all, I did like stories, and he seemed like he was full of them.
I hope you all enjoyed reading this one as much as I liked writing it! Please feel free to leave your thoughts and comments below! :)
