Rating: M
Summary: "I love you, but you don't love me. John loves me the way I wished you would. So tell me, Sherlock, why should I choose you?"
Pairings: SherlockxOCxJohn
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
-CHAPTER 2-
(Rustle .Rustle. Rustle)
"Well, that must've hurt."
"….." The boy simply stared at the newcomer blankly, not looking a bit interested in her attempt at a conversation.
"Bradley's huge. He beat you up pretty badly."
"….."
"Yes, the boy's a bad sort, though. Being the headmaster's son had really gotten to his head."
"….."
"All the more because he's got his lackeys, Schmidt and Walters. Those two bone-heads wouldn't know the difference between cranberry juice and rat poison."
(Snort)
"At least, you were able to land yourself some pretty decent punches. Bradley's going to be out of campus for a while."
"….."
"You could've been expelled."
"….."
(Sigh)
(Silence)
"You shouldn't have mentioned about his brother's drug abuse, you know?"
"Leave me alone."
"You know that was crossing the line, Sherlock."
"I said, Leave. Me. Alone."
"Your lip's bleeding."
"And the sky is blue, the sun is yellow, are we done stating the obvious? Thank you. LEAVE. ME. ALONE!"
"I've got some antiseptic spray. It would sting a little but-"
"Why don't you indulge yourself in another pint of chocolate ice cream? That's all you've been eating for the past few days, isn't it? You've got your butler all wrapped-up in your pretty little fingers. Mummy and Daddy have been neglecting you for quite a while now and you've turned to chocolate for comfort considering that your several pitiful attempts at suicide had failed miserably. Your butler's only been around for the past 2 weeks and so far, you've been blackmailing him to let you do what you want, when you please in exchange for keeping his really bad smoking habit a secret. You draw a lot as well, another avenue for your pent up frustrations; one of your talents other than gymnastics. You like to read books, spending the break time in the farthest corners of the library. It's your sanctuary, your haven. I suggest that you go back to reading those medical textbooks that you oh so loved and again, LEAVE. ME. ALONE."
"….."
"…."
(silence)
(sigh)
"You're still here."
"I thought we were done stating the obvious, Sherlock, dear?"
"You've already seen my 'magic powers' Midford, why are you still bugging me?"
"….."
"…well?"
"You don't have many friends."
"Again, stating the obvious. I thought we were past that?"
"I can be your friend."
"I don't need your sympathy."
"It's not sympathy."
"Just lea-"
"You've been all alone all your life. Nobody understands you except for your brother who left years ago for university. He was your father's favourite and that always made you feel inferior. Whatever you do, you're always just 2nd best because your older brother is perfect. This morning, you've had a small argument with your father while you were having Darjeeling tea; he's probably not satisfied with your performance in one of the sports he has enrolled you in. I'm guessing, fencing?"
Startled grey orbs stared at her sea-foam green. She tilted her little red-head, as if asking for permission to continue.
"Considering your punches earlier, you're pretty good at boxing. It's something that you're passionate about because it's the only area where your brother's not excelling at. Your father, however, disapproves of the sport as he acknowledges it as more of a brawler's gaiety rather than a gentleman's recreation. Would you like me to continue?"
The boy with the mass of curly black hair gaped at the frail red-headed girl who had read him as if he was an open book. A talent, he thought, that only he and his older brother possess. He watched her as she approached him on his spot by the maple tree. She crouched down in front of him to meet him eye-to-eye.
"It's not sympathy, Sherlock. It's empathy."
The girl with the long red hair and bright green eyes smiled at him.
And for the first time in years, he felt himself smiling too.
"Elizabeth.." he groaned amidst their lip lock. The red-headed woman deepened the contact before pulling away from their kiss and giggled girlishly.
"Oh Sherly, you know how I get when I miss you." She smiled charmingly at the towering man in front of her. Not a bit intimidated by the half-heated glare the bloke was giving her.
In the midst of the chaos, John just stood there, stunned at watching the beautiful woman kiss the daylights out of Sherlock Holmes. For a man who's esteemed to be asexual, Holmes surely knows how to pick his women. The red-headed woman barely reached Sherlock's chin. She had a toned, lithe body but was curvaceous enough to be considered sexy; her pale skin gives the impression of being illuminated by the bright sunlight.
She wore a white floral summer dress and a pair of expensive looking heels. Despite her brash actions a couple of minutes ago, her presence screamed elegance and gracefulness. The woman in question turned her attention him. Her bright green eyes stared curiously at John's dumbfounded form; her hold on Sherlock's neck still in place.
"And who might you be?" her head tilted to the side, in an attempt to emphasize her curiosity. She felt her dear Sherly sigh against her plump chest. John continued to stare. A shock blanket would definitely be nice now.
"Lizzy, meet Dr. John Watson, my current flatmate and…friend. He also assists in me in my cases" Sherlock droned, not sounding a bit interested at the new acquaintance. The man's identity dawned on the girl and she quickly detached herself from Sherlock and held Watson's hands.
"I'm sorry to have not recognized you, Dr. Watson! The excitement of seeing my dear Sherlock again had gotten the better of me" Lizzy's eyes gleamed with appreciation as she smiled heart-warmingly at the blonde man in front of her.
"My name is Elizabeth Dorothea Midford, fiancée of Sherlock Holmes. It is certainly a pleasure to be acquainted to you, Dr. Watson!" the girl chirped as if it was the most casual thing to say in the world. Sherlock looked unperturbed by the outburst and instead chose to go inside Mrs. Hudson's apartment and confront the older woman about the sudden appearance of his fiancée.
On the other hand, John was drowning in confusion. A strange (but undeniably beautiful) woman suddenly jumps unto the asexual Sherlock Holmes, latches herself onto him, kissed him and now, she introduces herself to be the said asexual man's fiancée? Suddenly, he felt his stomach lurch. Hunger and exhaustion from running around in an attempt to catch a certain Puerto Rican gardener, finally got the better of him and without warning, he felt as if the life had been sucked out of him then the world just turned black.
"Sherly, I think he's finally coming to."
"Leave the man alone, Lizzy. Let him rest. He gets cranky when he's all worn-out."
"Obviously he's been worn-out. You've been dragging the poor man into your cases. He looks as if he hasn't gotten any proper sleep for days!"
"Oh he's fine! He's used to it and besides, John loves the thrill!"
"We all know that's not true, Sherlock! You have got to give this man a break! Dr. Watson hasn't dated in weeks. Unlike you, dear, the man needs that."
John's eyes slowly opened to see the blinding sunlight that had filled his and Sherlock's shared living room. He squinted his eyes to adjust his vision to the glaring light. Slowly lifting himself up, he tried get himself seated in what appeared to be their newly vacuumed couch only to be pushed back by a pair of slim arms.
"You must lie down, Dr. Watson! You, of all people, should know that it's not healthy to skip meals." A pair of green eyes met his gaze. He was still woozy from his little black-out earlier. What was her name again? Oh yes, Elizabeth.
John stared blankly at the girl inches away from his face. Given the chance, he scrutinized her face at the closer look. Elizabeth had pale ivory skin but her cheeks seemed to have this permanent flush across her cheeks. Her emerald eyes roaming all over his features, probably to find any abnormalities in him. Her button nose scrunched up as her soft fingers thread through his blonde mane; her full, plump lips pursed in concentration.
Elizabeth was absolutely stunning. Her facial features and voluptuous figure matches those stunning girls he sees in the cover of magazines. The way she moves and speaks only accentuates her innate gracefulness. Clearly the girl had been given an aristocratic upbringing. Her voice was soft and warm, speaking to him as a mother would to her beloved child. It was soothing, easing his exhaustion. John stared at her lips and noticed that they were moving. Elizabeth had been speaking.
"Dr. Watson, are you alright?" he directed his gaze from her lips to her awaiting eyes. He spotted Sherlock standing behind Elizabeth, his eyebrow raised at former army doctor in question. His cheeks flushed; embarrassed that he was caught staring. John cleared his throat to hide his uneasiness.
"John, please. And I'm perfectly alright. Thank you." He managed to croak out. God, he felt like a five year old having a school-girl crush. At his best friend's fiancée, none the less!
The woman seemed satisfied with his answer and turned towards the kitchen. Sherlock seated himself beside his flat mate and gave him a blank stare. John simply stared in return.
"You have questions."
"Obviously, I do, Sherly. Who the hell is she?"
"I thought she made herself perfectly clear earlier, John. She's my fiancée. Do you still need me to explain the dynamics of being betrothed?"
"Oh, shut up! Like you would know any better! What I want to know is how do YOU, Sherlock Holmes, have a fiancée?" John felt himself hankering to pull his hair off from his head. For Holmes to snag himself a woman as fine as Elizabeth Midford was just absurd. The mere thought of Sherlock Holmes being in a relationship with a woman was already ridiculous!
"Come on, now, John. I find it offensive that you presuppose the whole ordeal as preposterous."
"Because you are, YOU!" he emphasize as if it answered all the detective's queries. John felt himself going hysterical. Between him and his flatmate, he'd always prided himself to be the expert in the social avenue. While Sherlock undeniably held the brains for crime-solving, John was more of the people's person; always acting as the mediator between the socially-handicapped detective and the rest of the world.
John was the one who dated and mingled with the opposite gender while the apathetic Holmes indulged himself in solving mysteries. And now, a woman who looks as if she models for Burberry struts her pretty little arse in their apartment claiming to be the asexual detective's fiancée. Where is the justice in this forsaken world?
"You said you were married to your work! You said girlfriends weren't really your area!"
"She's not my girlfriend, she's my fiancée. Do keep up, John."
"For heaven's sake, that's not the point!"
"I hope you do understand that I can't literally marry my work now, can I?"
The blonde man felt a low growl erupt from throat. He had enough from the insufferable bloke. He was about to pounce on his room mate like an angry cheetah when a tray of hot chicken soup and corn bread was shoved into his lap to keep him from moving.
"Hush, Sherlock, dear. You're stressing him out even more. I thought I told you to get some sleep as well. You've been awake for days on and haven't slept a wink. You'd be more useful to the Yard if you're not dead!" Elizabeth chastised Sherlock Holmes like a wife would to her husband. Something bubbled inside John as he watched the beautiful woman help his flat mate take off his coat and scarf while the latter sulked rather childishly from being treated like a baby.
"Now, now, dear. You need to sleep. You need to energize yourself if we want you to be at your best in your next case, don't we?" She cupped the man's face and gazed at him lovingly. Sherlock parted his mouth to speak but was shunned by her dainty finger to silence him.
"I promise to explain everything after you get a good sleep. Good night, love." She brought down his head and kissed his forehead tenderly. John waited for Sherlock's usual comebacks but it never came.
The detective stared at his fiancée, his jaw clenching then unclenching. He appeared to be having an inner turmoil in that brilliant brain of his. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then sighed. The doctor had never seen his friend so worn-out and SILENT before. The obnoxious detective never allows anyone to tell him what to do. Just who is this woman?
Sherlock brought a large hand and carefully cupped Elizabeth's right cheek; holding her as if she was a fragile porcelain doll that could break at slightest contact. He lowered his head and brought his lips to her forehead, letting it linger there for what seemed as an eternity. Elizabeth closed her eyes and savoured the feeling of the contact. She felt his lips brush the shell of her ear and heard him whisper a soft 'Good night, Lizzy' before walking to the direction of his room. The woman just stood there, rooted to her spot.
A soft 'thump' resonated inside the stilled apartment when Sherlock closed his bedroom door.
Elizabeth turned to her attention to John who had witnessed the entire encounter. The man resembled a lost child. Confusion was clearly reflected in his sapphire orbs. She gave him a small, bittersweet smile. Even when torned, the woman still managed to look absolutely heavenly.
Her gaze shifted to the open window. The light of day had long passed only to be replaced by the dim shine of the moonlight. Her, once, cheery demeanour was completely gone; leaving her a beautiful empty shell.
"So John, what would you like to know?"
