Hello everyone, so this is chapter two. Thanks reading! Yours, Magnolie
I had already worked on it when I uploaded the first chapter so this was really fast. I have no idea if the third chapter will be up
here THAT fast but I already know what is going to happen and I will start writing on the weekend ;)
You might also wanna know that english is not my native language, I'm german. So please excuse minor grammar and spelling mistakes~
As we say in Germany: "Wer einen Fehler findet, darf ihn behalten" (Whover finds a mistake may maintains it).
2. The Turn
Florice Walker was still half asleep when she entered her parents' small corner shop on Mill Street.
It was the first Saturday in weeks she had come home from Liverpool University to be with her parents. University was wearing her out and she was already thinking about quitting, which was not an option of course.
"Mom, are you here?" she called out before she saw her mother talking to another woman, Mrs Haywire who was just about to pay.
"Florice... have you heard of the lady that is living in Primrose Cottage?" her mother asked from afar.
"Mom, I've been here for not even half a day, how am I supposed to know?" she yelled grumpily while coming closer.
"Well she moved in more than three months ago, but no one has really seen her since then." Mrs Haywire, big lady with short, red hair from the town, said.
"Hasn't she been here? I mean she must be eating something." Florice asked her mother.
"Maybe your father served her and just didn't care."
"Where is she from?" Florice got herself a small chocolate bar, and started eating it.
"I have not the slightest idea. But she looks American."
"Mom, how does someone look 'American'?" Florice moaned.
"But her boyfriend had a British accent." Mrs Haywire now added.
"Oh, so this is about gossip." Florice moaned again "Have you two even met her?"
"No, but Fanny and I were planning to bring her some cake this afternoon, would you two like to join us?" Mrs Haywire smiled brightly.
Of course her mother wanted. Florice could think of at least 10 better ways to spend her day. Fanny Haywire was the most stupid and annoying girl she had ever met, and she knew Fanny since elementary school. She was her age, had blonde hair and was still living at home without a job. And Fanny's mother was almost as naive as her own.
But Primrose Cottage hadn't been rent since the late nineties. Although it was the most beautiful small house one could imagine, Luis, the village, was far off everything. No one ever got here if he didn't know the exact way.
And Primrose Cottage was on the cliff, at least half a mile away from the village.
One had a beautiful view over the sea but it was a lonely place to be far away from everyone you might miss.
So what kind of presumably American woman was that, living away from her presumably British 'boyfriend'?
Florice didn't have much time to wonder about that question for afternoon came quickly and her mother had have her baking some muffins for the woman of Primrose Cottage.
It was around three when the four of them were 'climbing' the cliff to Primrose Cottage. The wind was blowing and made the warm sunlight feel cold on their skin.
Florence was freezing when they finally reached Primrose Cottage.
Someone had started to lay out a garden and also painted the lanai in bright blue. The woman must have bought the house then instead of just renting it.
Fanny was closest to the door and rang the bell twice. It wasn't until then that Florice heard low instrumental music from the inside before the door was finally opened by a small, young woman in her early thirties. She had long, dark brown curls and was wearing a blue pullover and white trousers.
"Yes please?" she asked the small fellowship standing on her lanai.
"Hi, we are the Walkers and the Haywires. We have heard that you moved in here and wanted to bring some cake for you." Fanny said with her brightest smile showing her the cake she and her mother had brought.
The lady looked behind her into the house reluctantly, not opening the door any further.
Florice could feel that the dark-haired woman was not prepared for any guests and felt uncomfortable. She heard someone turning down the music inside before steps were approaching.
"I was about to leave anyway, Sarah." A male voice said from inside "I'm going upstairs to get my bags. Let your guests in." Someone then started climbing the stairs.
The woman smiled as she watched him going upstairs but then turned to the four women outside.
"Yah, please just come in. But it's kinda messy in here."
"Told you, American!" her mother whispered to Florice when they walked inside the cottage.
The stairs were directly next to the door on the left, leading to the second storey. A door made from blind glass separated the small hallway from the rest of the first floor. Bags and shoes were lying around on the ground while coats and jackets were hanging down from some hooks attached to the wall.
The separating-door was open and a small floor let into a large living and dining room that was round and had panorama windows which allowed a decent few over the sea. The kitchen was open and directly attached to the right of the room.
"Please have a seat." She offered them the chairs at a table on the left side of the room and they all sat down. Florice saw a chessboard on the table that was standing between two couches and an armchair. The white king was overturned so she guessed white had lost this game.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" the woman asked then and they all nodded.
She was already pouring the tea into cups when they heard the man coming downstairs. She brought the Tea to her guest before she excused herself for a moment to say goodbye.
Florice saw her disappearing behind the glass door and handing the man a jacket from the hooks but because of the blind glass, all she saw were silhouettes.
She could hear they were talking about something before she touched his face and he kissed her goodbye.
When the women returned as the door closed behind him. As she entered the living room again, she closed the glass door.
"Well, it's very nice to finally meet someone from the village." She said "I'm... I'm Sarah Hughes by the way."
"This is my daughter Florice and Laura's daughter Fanny, and you can call me Caroline." Florice mother introduced themselves.
"It's a pleasure." Ms Hughs said and sat down at the table.
A car, probably parked behind the house, started outside. The man was finally leaving.
"So... that was your boyfriend?" Fanny asked.
"Oh... oh well... no I guess that would be a too easy way to explain all this." Florice saw a sad glare in her eyes. "He... he somehow saved my life and we have been... very close since then. He lives in London and sometimes comes here when..." she was about to say 'bored' what would have been the truth but she went with "...he finds some time."
"Well however it is so nice to finally see the cottage occupied." Florice mother said.
"Yes, we... I bought it a while ago and I must say I enjoy living here a lot."
"Aren't you lonely?" Florice said something for the first time.
"I have been in company for quite a long period of my life. So no, it's quite pleasant to have no one around." A lie.
"And what do you work?" Fanny asked while eating one of Florice Muffins. Florice started to get embarrassed by the girl.
"I have been very blessed." was the only thing Ms Hughs answered politely. Another lie.
"We just wanted to tell you, that you are very welcome to ask for help if you need some." Mrs Haywire tried to clean up Fanny's 'mess'. "My son is a mechanic and my husband has built up quite a few wardrobes and bookshelves."
"Thank you very much. I will surely come back to that."
She didn't. Not a single time.
The small group went back home only an hour later on Florice demand. Ms Hughs was getting more and more uncomfortable with any minute they stayed and on her mind it had been rude to disturb her like that in the first place.
A woman that has been living in a house for such a long time and never made any contact to other people probably didn't want to have any visitors.
Irene was more than relieved when the four gossips had left her house.
She hated having guest and she hated that kind of women. Housewives that were not even able to open an email account without their husband's help, let alone a bookshelf. One of the daughters, the one who was studying in Liverpool, had seemed to be the only educated and modest of them.
She directly threw the cake and the rest of the muffins into her bin before she turned the music up again and sat herself down on the couch. She was getting crazy out here. No one around, no shops besides the butcher and the corner store down in Luis. Her internet connection was a question of weather and Sherlock only visited her once or twice a month.
Things had been complicated since they had returned from Yemen.
She knew he had feelings for her. Feelings he wasn't capable of yet and feelings she hadn't felt in ages. They slept with each other on a regular base. Every time he came to visit her and keep her company... it was beautiful. Sometimes rude but always pleasant.
He came to her house when he was bored and no case was keeping him entertained.
Then she put up her chessboard and they played for hours, always sleeping with each other afterwards. They never talked about it. They talked about everything: His cases, her garden (which definitely was one of her favourite topics!), Mycroft, John, TV ... but they never talked about the fact that they were having some kind of relationship.
Irene was going nuts.
What was she supposed to do up here? She had even started to put up a small potager in front of the house and painted the veranda. She had furnished the house and the garden behind it. She hadn't bought and paintings and had instead bought loads of canvas and colours. But however, they were still white. Every time she sat before her easel in that small, light room upstairs her mind went blank.
Sherlock, of course, had made fun of it. Art, her and her white canvases.
Hell, this wasn't her!
Yes, she would have changed for him. She would have stopped doing what she had done for all her life... for him. She knew she was safe up here. No one was searching for Irene Adler anymore. And Sarah Hughs was an inconspicuous, English citizen. And it was good that way. But it wasn't fine.
She started tidying the room: First the dining table, the chairs, the kitchen... and when she was done with that, she sat down in front of the chessboard.
Sherlock would always take white when they played. Well, it actually was her taking black leaving him nothing than white to play with.
He had lost their last game.
That usually meant, that he would stay another day, but something was bothering him and Irene was sure she knew what - or better whom - it was about.
They never talked about Jim (that was what she called him) or Moriarty (that was what he called him). Just like their 'relationship' it was one of the topics they never discussed. Just out of the blue, Sherlock sometimes asked if she had ever slept with this and that politician, show master or CEO. He never asked if she liked him to come more often, if she liked his caressing or waking up next to him in the morning. He never told her he did.
She looked out of the panorama window.
She would leave the game on display. Just so he would have a reminder of his debts next time he came to visit her up here.
Hopefully sooner than later.