Sherlock paused at the outside door. Rose waited, wondering what he was doing and running through her list of things she could and couldn't tell him if he started questioning her, but he surprised her.
"Remove your coat," he instructed, not ordered, but it was fairly close. She raised her brow. "You were injured."
"'S nothing," she dismissed, although she knew that wasn't entirely true because she could feel the wound in her arm throbbing, but she ignored it.
"I'll be the judge."
Most people would think he was being demanding, but she could hear the concern in his voice. She'd always been able to judge his feelings, which were there whether he denied them or not. She sighed, removing her coat. The sleeve of her purple jumper was damp with her blood that had soaked through the material. She pulled the sleeve back, wincing as it grazed the wound.
He took her arm and turned it over. Blood seeped out of the wound, not too deep, probably due to her thick coat, but it was three inches below her wrist in the underside of her lower arm, plenty of veins for a thrown scalpel to strike. It missed the artery, luckily.
"I told you 's not bad," she said.
He glanced at her, which seemed to silence her, as if she knew arguing with him was a futile endeavor. A slight smile ghosted over his lips, pleased with that idea. Then he pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol that he pocketed from the crime scene. He pulled off the cap and glanced at her.
"This is going to hurt."
Then he poured enough over her wound to be sure it was clean. She hissed, but she didn't pull away from him. He replaced the cap and pulled out the gauze, also taken from the crime scene, and wrapped her wound.
He was being careful. It wasn't the same care he would show later, being married to him for nearly twelve years she could tell the difference, but this was the beginning. She could see that. Feel it in his touch and it brought out a smile. Even twelve years earlier he was still him, still the same man.
"Thank you," she said when he finished up and slowly pulled her sleeve down.
He caught her gaze, noting the smile she wore, but stopping himself from returning it. She would be gone soon, but he had questions. Questions he knew she wouldn't answer if he asked so he tried the other way.
"Can't have my wife wondering around London with an undressed injury," he replied.
Her eyes widened, just for a moment, but it was enough for him to know. Know the truth of his theory.
"I…I should go," she said, shrugging into her coat and wincing as she slid her injured arm into the sleeve.
"Back to your husband." He watched her carefully, but she didn't betray any emotions. Pressing on then. "And your child."
He paused, that being one more deduction than he anticipated. A child? Their child? A host of emotions swept over him in the blink of an eye. Fear, confusion, surprise and something else…something akin to what he felt when he found out he was John's best friend, but in the next moment he swept the feelings aside.
Her eyes snapped to his and, again, he was nearly overwhelmed by the emotions that lay behind them, but he ignored that as well.
"Or should I say our child," he continued, trying to throw her off, get her to reveal the answers he sought.
Instead she surprised him by taking his hands and grinning.
"Too brilliant for your own good. You know that, yeah?" she asked, giving his hands a squeeze.
He glanced at their hands in surprise before turning his gaze to her. The emotions she elicited in him were there again, bleeding through the door.
"Where did you come from?" he asked, unable to stop himself from voicing the question that had been plaguing him since she died saving his life.
"Somewhere…different," she said, which wasn't an answer.
"Was it Mycroft? Did he do this?"
She laughed and the sound made him want to smile, but he resisted the urge.
"Everything doesn't revolve around you and your brother. But, no, Mike didn't have anything to do with my arrival or our accidental meetings or the way I can travel in time. He doesn't know how I can do what I do. He'd like to know, I'm sure, but he stopped asking about it a long time ago. Almost twelve years."
He took in her words. Twelve years, there seemed to be something significant about the number, something important to her, but he couldn't deduce what it was. So Mycroft didn't have anything to do with this. My arrival. What did that mean? The word arrival and the way she used it seemed strange.
He turned her hand over in his. The ring was there on her finger. The one he'd taken off her body. As impossible as it may be his theory was correct. This woman who saved his life would one day be his wife. For a brief moment he felt compelled to tell her, even if she ran because maybe if she knew he could stop it, save her, but in that moment his mind ran through all the ends that revelation could bring. His death, which meant they'd never meet and for some reason that thought paused him. Why would that matter? He hardly knew her and he'd never been one for sentiment. Then there was John's death after his. That stilled the words. He couldn't let John die. He made a vow, one he never intended to break.
Sirens in the distance invaded his thoughts. She smiled, giving his hands another squeeze before releasing them.
"That's me then," she said. She lifted her other arm and pulled back the sleeve. There was some sort of leather device with a computer screen strapped to her arm. She punched in a series of numbers and then glanced at him, smiling.
"When will I see you again?" he asked, knowing this was far from the last time he would see her.
"When London goes dark," she replied, but before he could question her she pressed a button on that device and with an electrical zapping noise she was gone.
He stared at the spot she occupied not even a moment ago. The only trace of her was the scent of strawberry and jasmine that still hung in the air. She was gone. He grinned as he reached for the door. Rose Tyler. The most impossible woman he'd ever met. A woman who traveled in time. A woman he married. He shoved that thought aside, not entire sure how he felt about it and settled on the phrase she gave him. His impossible girl.
Standard Disclaimer.
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