Ch. 4
On this day, January 12th at 9:18 pm, Norah Sinclair traipsed the streets of London in a long red overcoat, trying not to panic.
At 8:47 pm, She was sitting in her lab watching the clock hand tick to the right at a painfully slow speed.
What seemed like hours later, at 9 pm She jumped out of her seat and ran to drop off her lab coat and scrubs in her locker. She was thankful that she kept a spare powder concealer compact and mascara tube in her purse, to use on the days when her ex's magically re-appeared in her life.
Yes, technically Sherlock was her "ex."
At 9:07 She left St. Bart's headed towards a café on Foster. While she looked put together, her mind was a mess. What were they even going to talk about ten years later? Furthermore, why was she so concerned with things that happened ten years ago? She had been with other people after Sherlock. The biology portion of her brain answered the question for her: "you become permanently emotionally attached to your first love because of a hormone that is released when you-," She silenced the thought before it could continue.
She wondered if she still had the ability to block Sherlock from deducing things about her. If not, this was going to be an interesting night.
At 9:25 when she reached the café, "Stella's" as it's gaudy neon sign read, Norah peered in the window. Sure enough, Holmes was sitting in the corner table of the otherwise empty establishment. He seemed to be staring off into space, but Norah knew that wasn't the case. Sherlock was never just zoning out. She could practically see the cogs turning through his thick skull, as he sat in thoughtful silence.
At 9:26 she mustered up enough courage to go inside and sit down.
"You're late," he said very matter-of-fact-ly from the corner. Typical.
"Sorry. I suppose I underestimated the amount of time that it would take to walk here." She turned around to set her bag down, but before she could protest, Sherlock had stood up to remove her coat for her. She mumbled a "thank you" as he set it on her chair.
They sat.
Sherlock pushed a red porcelain cup towards her. Black coffee. "One sugar," he said. He remembered?
Well, of course he did.
"So," he said.
"So…" she said.
Silence.
"…How have you been?"
"…Well, fine I suppose. Still unpacking my flat." Norah said, sipping her lukewarm coffee. She looked down at her lap.
"Why the move all of the sudden?" He asked.
She shrugged. "Job opened up. I needed a change."
"…You needed a change so you moved to London."
"Yep."
They sipped their coffee.
"Wait a second," she said, coming to a sudden realization.
Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "Hmm?"
"I see what you're doing."
"…What am I doing?"
"You think I have some ulterior motive for moving." Typical. She should have seen this coming. This wasn't a date, it was an interrogation.
"I was just inquiring. You didn't exactly come at the most opportune time for this city."
"Right, your big case with the twins."
"Yes. That. That's why I asked you to coffee."
"…I don't understand."
"This is my way of saying thank you." He struggled to get the words out. He did not say "thank you" often. "You probably singlehandedly just solved my case for me."
"Oh." Norah was taken aback by his profession of gratitude. "It was nothing. You would have figured it out eventually."
"That's true, but you made the process go a little faster." He cracked a smile. "It's uh," he cleared his throat. "It's nice to see you again."
"Yeah, you too," she said, hesitantly.
They sipped their coffee.