Sherlock's head lolled lazily back. "Joooohn," He peered, opening one eye. "Jooooooooooohn!"
John sighed. "Yesssss, your majesty?"
"What time is itttttt?"
"Four-thirteen, Your Majesty." John called back sarcastically. Stupid smart-ass.
"Thank you for learning the proper title, John. Finally." Sherlock wriggled around, flipping towards his SH on the wall. "Time moves too sloooooooowly!"
John shook his head, amused. Sherlock could be like a little kid sometimes. The doorbell rung and Sherlock sprung out from the couch, ruffling his hair before opening the door.
There she stood. Smiling briefly, she waved at both of them.
"Sherlock, are you ready to go?"
John had never seen Sherlock baffled before, but hey, there's a first time for everything.
"Uh, go? I thought we were talking about the subject…?" Sherlock was one-hundred percent flustered.
"Yes, we are. But out there," she said, pointing out the window. "That doesn't bother you, does it Mr. Holmes?"
John realized the faint flowerly smell that had infiltrated the rom was coming from her slender neck, wrapped in a purple scarf.
"We're going out...there?" Sherlock's eyes were wide with what could only be described as comical, childish panic over leaving. It was all John could do to not laugh out loud.
"Unless...this is a problem? I thought it would be helpful to the case. You can't very well help me if you're a hermit, now can you?" She fluttered her dark lashes.
"Hermit!" said Sherlock indignantly. He pulled his coat on and whipped his scarf around his neck with a flourish before flouncing out the door.
"That was impressive," John said.
"Thank you, John."
Hermit. Hermit?! I'm not a hermit! Sherlock and Arcania were walking...somewhere. He didn't know. He was too busy fuming to bother to ask or deduct.
"Mr. Holmes."
It's not like I haven't been outside before, for God's sake!
"Mr. Holmes."
Just because I like my flat doesn't mean I'm a hermit!
"Mr. Holmes! You do realize I only called you a hermit so you would go outside voluntarily, right?!"
Sherlock froze.
He'd been duped.
"Aah!" He blushed bright red. I can't believe I fell for that! That's so stupid! Why did I DO that?! "Ahem," he tried to regain his composure, "Yes, I knew. Your…" hair color, eye size, shirt fabric, SOMETHING! "Shoe...leather...told...me…" He faltered as she looked down at her bubblegum pink flats.
"Mr. Holmes."
Oh god, oh god, that was such a stupid thing to say, how could I possibly say SHOE LEATHER, of all the things to say-
"We're here."
Sherlock found himself standing in front of a coffee shop. "The Steamer."
"Make a deduction, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock inhaled deeply, preparing for the long paragraph he was about to bring to life.
"Been around for three years, changed owners twice, the second most popular in the particular city, has delightful scones but awful white chocolate brownies." He turned to her. "You come here often, because, one, it is next to your favorite boutique," He pointed to a small, but roomy, store across the street, "And, two, because the man you like who we are currently trying to make marry you comes here often, and in fact, that is him in the window with a caramel coffee and blueberry scone, correct?"
She grinned at him, surprising Sherlock by not giving her trademark mysterious smile. "Very good Mr. Holmes! Yes, that is him." He was given the vague sensation of being a puppy, praised for catching a stick for the first time. He took a moment to observe the man.
He was of normal height, shorter than himself, Sherlock thought smugly, his hair was jet black and fell slightly into his eyes, due to its shagginess. Hasn't had a haircut in a year, now that he hasn't seen his mother to remind him. HIs eyes were blue, and a little larger than average eyes. He worked out. He was quite popular, especially with girls. He had siblings. He looked like his father.
Sherlock shook his head to avoid the flow of information. So this was Eric.
Why did I take this case? He wondered. It's not a murder. Homicide. Suicide. It's not even a case!
"Arcania," he said, "I'm afraid I-"
She whirled around, eyes wide. "You're quitting?" Sherlock was stuck by the full vulnerability he saw, emotions and deductions freely shown.
That personality, the cool, collected one, that was an act, he realized.
"Um," He couldn't. "I'm afraid…I can't allow you to pay for coffee and scones. Blueberry or chocolate?"
She smiled widely as Sherlock's stomach fluttered. What's that about? He thought briefly. No matter…
"Raspberry whipped cream latte and chocolate scone, please!"
Raspberry. Her favorite color is pink, he thought as he bought the scones. Chocolate scone. Likes spring. He brought the treats over to the table she had chosen. Booth. Childhood memory about her...Father.
"You're deducting me, aren't you?"
Sherlock, taken aback, nodded. "How could you tell?"
She met him with direct eye contact. "You have a look. Also, when you're trying to deduct covertly, you are quiet."
"Quiet? Why is that important?"
"Because," she smiled shyly, "Normally, you never shut up."
"Oh!" He recoiled, "I've been stabbed in the back! Arcania, how cruel! I do shut up...when I sleep. Which is hardly ever." She giggled, sipping her latte daintily.
I want to make you laugh.
"So," Sherlock folded his hands, businesslike, "What was the point of me being here? We could have used the earbuds…" She giggled again, an adorable tinkling laugh that reminded Sherlock vaguely of his past…
"Social encounters aren't really your thing, huh?"
"Well, I-!" Sherlock opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish. "It's not like I haven't gone outside!"
"Haha! Sherlock, this is fun! Humans need to have social encounters! And only two other people don't count." Her eyes were crinkled and Sherlock sighed inwardly.
Stop. Back up. Deduct. Be logical.
"So, what do we need to do here? I'd prefer things to be quick and to the point."
Her face fell slightly. "So you could observe him in person." She resumed her cool personality.
"I've observed. Go talk to him."
"O-oh. Um, ok." She looked fervently behind her. "What do I...uh, say?"
Sherlock let annoyance flow freely. "You say 'hi'," he said flatly. he seemed almost to shrink into herself. Sherlock's heart twinged. He didn't want to be mean to her.
She stepped out of the booth and went over. They were laughing. Hmph. Sherlock closed his eyes. It's not like I care. Why did I take this damn case anyways? He retreated into his own mind, blocking everything out.
Back to his mind palace.
He went up the elegantly carved stairs, passing his library, his laboratory, his post for his crazy self, into a room with double doors.
Sherlock loved the beauty of it all.
A thousand copies of himself.
One waved at him, grinning. Another talked at a million miles an hour, buzzing everything. Another moodily glared at everyone, another had no expression.
In the center of the room, guarded by his most protective selves, was a black crystal box. He nodded to the guards as they stepped aside. He peered into the obsidian box, gazing at the one thing it contained.
His heart.