This is called a relationship
Part 4/4
As a just reward Lisbeth stood in the queue, her head in the clouds, her favourite coat on her. Fidgeting, as adrenaline still didn't run out of her, she was waiting for coffee: white chocolate mocha for her and a black coffee with two sugars for the detective. With a victorious smile on her face, her eyes glowing with happiness, drunk by the scent of the coat she ordered. Humming happily she paid for the coffee.
'Names?' asked a tired barista who must have been on his last shift, not mirroring the customer's enthusiasm.
'Lisbeth for the mocha and Sherlock for the other,' he raised an eyebrow.
'Again, a fangirl? Everyone just seems to have a boyfriend named Sherlock,' Lisbeth was taken aback and at once returned to Earth. The barista started something in her mind and managed to transform her joy into fury.
'Excuse me? It's not in your job description to choose my name. If I say Darth Vader you have to write that down without raising an eyebrow. Now, my partner SHERLOCK,' she emphasised the name clearly, 'whose coat I'm wearing is waiting for me so give me the damn coffee before I call the D.I. to shut this place down, because don't think for one second that I don't who's meeting place this is,' Besides the angelic look Lisbeth could be a complete brat. The barista's face fell and the pen stopped in his hands. The girl grabbed the coffees and left in a quick fury, the door closing behind her with a loud bang.
As she stepped distractedly out of the café she could probably never visit again, just like in a film she bumped into someone. Her coffee slipped out of her hand and the white crème spread across the street.
'I'm terribly sorry miss, it's entirely my fault. Let me buy you another,' offered a deep voice, just as creamy as her coffee was and strong arms stopped her from tripping over. Lisbeth looked up and her eyes found an extremely handsome face. The man standing in front of her was a head taller than her, piercing light blue icy eyes in contrast with a thick mouth forming a friendly smile. His features were hard, masculine, with high cheekbones and scars on his face. His blonde hair was cut in a simple style. Lisbeth recognised at once that he used to be a soldier. He was now in his late 30s, probably retired. There was something odd, yet compelling about him. She shook her head to clear it and looked at the man's arms still holding her.
'I'm sorry,' he let go of her as followed the girl's eyes smiling apologetically, not even raising an eyebrow because of her outfit. 'What kind of coffee was that, Beth?'
The girl was taken back for a second then she realised that he her name was on the cup lying on the street.
'It's Lisbeth.'
'Hi there Lisbeth. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ian. Why don't we go in and I can buy you a drink?' He offered his hand and shook Lisbeth's firmly.
'Thank you, but you don't have to buy another. I am the one to blame, I was running like a maniac.'
'Yeah, I could see you were quite upset. Is everything okay? Do you need help?' His concerned eyes met with the girl's and she suddenly had a strange feeling that Gatsby himself was standing in front of her, with the endlessly reassuring smile on his face.
'No, I'm fine, thank you. Just the barista took a rise out of me.'
'Oh, if you want, I can punch him in the face for you,' he offered sounding almost serious, but his eyes revealed that he was flirting.
'Thank you, but it won't be necessary,' she put her hair behind her ears subconsciously.
'What did he do? Did he ask your number?'
'No, he didn't. On the contrary, I think I frightened him.'
'Don't get me wrong, but I can't imagine how can someone this beautiful be frightening?'
'You should see me in the mornings before coffee.'
'Well, I would like to. If you give me your number, I know a place where coffee is excellent and we can frighten baristas together.'
'Oh,' Lisbeth was caught by surprise. She enjoyed flirting, but never imagined that the man would ask her out. Although he was extremely charming, still he was way too old for her. 'I have a…. I don't know. I'm very flattered and you are really charming, but I'm in a… relationship or …something like that.' she muttered, not knowing what to say to him, or to herself.
'You don't seem so sure about him.' he raised an eyebrow, his smile widening.
'Yeah, he's strange, but still…'Lisbeth bit her lips as she couldn't decide what was she feeling.
'Well, if you ever need help intimidating baristas, or have trouble with your boyfriend, I give you my number and don't hesitate to call me.' He wrote down his number on a piece of paper and gave it to Lisbeth. Who was carrying paper and pen except lawyers nowadays?
'Thank you. I… might as well do,' smiled the girl, the man with a wide smirk on his face gallantly bowed his head and disappeared in the café.
Lisbeth stepped quite disturbed into flat. She was convinced that she only had eyes for Sherlock, and she knew deep down that she was in love with her. And yet… meeting with Ian mad her realise that never had Sherlock made any move. She was tired of living in doubt. The navy blue coat on her shoulders suddenly was weighting down heavily upon her. Having put down the coffee on the table next to the tall figure lying on the couch she sulked into the armchair. Absent-mindedly she was blankly looking at the piece of paper given by Ian, wondering about the man, but especially about her relationship status. She decided that going mad would be the perfect expression.
'What's that?' inquired a deep voice.
'A phone number. I've bumped into a man and he gave it to me.' she answered bluntly.
'I know.'
'Wha-at? How?'
'You've been fidgeting for 5 minutes, you are clearly upset. You brought me coffee, but not to yourself. You could have drunk it, but you usually buy a big mocha, although you drink too quickly, it lasts for approximately 5 minutes, but the café is 3 minutes away, drinking while walking makes the journey even longer, therefore you would still have coffee left. Obviously you could have lost your drink somewhere considering that you are clumsy enough, it could have been your fault, however I can smell a faint scent of cologne on you which means you ran into a man. If he's not an idiot, he would offer you to buy another coffee, which you would kindly, well depends on your mood, refuse, then he would ask your number and since you wouldn't give it to him, he would give his. Simple. I don't even need to open my eyes.
'Are you jealous?' smiled the girl roguishly. Trying her best to sound as if she was joking, she was quite curious about the answer.
'Why would I?' frowned the detective, opened his eyes and looked at her like the supposition was totally nonsense. 'We're not in a relationship.'
Lisbeth felt her world fall apart.
'Oh, that's not true,' she refuted him. She was still smiling, in spite of the fact that she was on the edge of a cliff from where she never dared to jump off. 'We live together, we solve crimes together, we make a good team, we annoy and criticise people together, we-
'Well, that's what we did with John in nutshell,' she was interrupted by Sherlock. He was still lying, looking at the ceiling. Lisbeth felt fury rising in her as he didn't even bother to look at her.
'Yes! But he's married know.'
'Will you stop implying that we were a couple?' she managed to get his attention as the pale blue eyes landed on her reproachfully.
'You were a couple that's obvious. And you have never denied that. That's why I don't get it. Why are you constantly refusing that there's something between us?' She pressed closer to him, the paper crumpling in her fist.
'Friendship. Respect. Trust. Infatuation. Team work. Same purpose. Similar sociopath tendency. These are what we got.'
'Exactly!' She extended her arms victoriously. 'These are the basics. Roughly. And there's much more. Our moments. As we look at each other secretly, and know what the other thinks. As we are close to each other the air is sparkling between us. We know the darkest side of the other, furthermore we can understand and accept it. As we bring out the good and well the bad side of each other. When you are at a loss for word due to me, and when I lose my cool because of you. When we know the truth but everybody around us is an idiot.' confessing her feelings, the girl can't help letting her tears out. There was an unmistakable beauty in her genuine tears. 'When we arguing like an old, married couple. When we kiss, and forgot everything around us just for that moment. This is, Sherlock, this is called a relationship.'
All the time she was speaking Sherlock stared at her, stone cold, without emotion on his face. Lisbeth couldn't decide whether it was a defensive reaction to hide his feelings, or she did indeed mean nothing to him. The heavy coat of silence fell onto them. The girl was leaning against her knees, waiting for something to happen, for Sherlock to say something, for Mrs. Hudson to burst in, for the flat to collapse, anything. Finally, the detective frowned and winked confusingly. Lisbeth took a deep breath and tried it last:
'I don't want you to be my boyfriend like the society expects. That's so stupid. I don't want a normal relationship. I don't expect you to hold my hand, to buy me roses, to pay me compliments, to show any feeling in public. I don't want to change you, I don't want you to do anything for me, or sacrifice something for me. I just want you to be yourself, and admit that I mean something to you. Please, Sherlock, just once, forget the deduction, the showing off, the emotionless mask you put on and say that I'm more than a friend,' glassy tears fell onto the ground glistening in the sunshine. She got fed up with being in doubt.
Sherlock just laid there, scanning the ceiling. As he opened his mouth to say something, looking very lost Lisbeth's eyes kindled. But in the end no sound came out of his mouth.
'That's it. I'm done,' pinned the girl down, stood up, took off the coat, turned tail and walked out of the room. The door stood wide open.
Sherlock slowly walked into his flat and found John sitting in his chair drinking tea. As he noticed his coffee, untouched, gone cold next to a plate of cookies he felt as he was punched in his stomach.
'Hello. Mrs Hudson let me in. I heard you're currently working on a case. How's it going?' He inquired cheerfully. The tall man did not reply just put down his coat, picked up his violin and started to play. He stood by the window, stared out of it blankly while his face was emotionless, depressing music filling the room. John realised at once that something was wrong.
'Sherlock, what happened?' He asked, but no reply came as the music rhythm of the music became more aggressive.
John put away the tea and cleared his throat. 'Where's Lisbeth?' He looked around. The fiddle-bow stopped in Sherlock's hand.
'What happened to her?' John raised his voice as he started to lose his patience. He was standing now, eyeing the back of his friend.
'She's gone,' stated Sherlock in a dry voice.
'You mean she's dead?' John bellowed, taking a threatening step towards him.
'She's alive John,' he turned abruptly around, 'don't be so overreacting. We had a fight and she decided that she no longer wanted to work with me anymore,' Sherlock snapped.
'What did you say to her?' furiously the doctor took a deep breath and tried not to punch his friend in the face.
'John, do we really have to do this?' complained Sherlock irately, placing the violin back on his shoulders.
'Yes, Sherlock, we have to,' John tightened his jaw. 'Because you must have done something really awful if she got fed up.'
'I've done nothing, 'he extended his hands in surrender. 'And that was exactly her problem. She wanted me to confess that she is more than a friend.'
'And why the bloody hell didn't you do it?!' yelled the doctor in disbelief.
'Ah, John, calm down. Don't be so sentimental.'
'For God's sakes, Sherlock! You're a bloody idiot.' he shook his head violently as the detective was staring at his questioningly.
'Sherlock, listen to me! You are never gonna have an opportunity like this again! You've found a girl, who's able to put up with you. And believe me when I say that it is extremely difficult. Furthermore she's intelligent and tries to keep step with you. She learns psychology at the university and reads a lot in order to improve her observational skills. She tolerates all of your idiotic and insane things, respects you and stands by your side. She risks her life without hesitation if you tell her to do it. She's your perfect companion, not just in crime Sherlock, even in life. You will never meet another woman who would do all of this for you and even love you. She tries to do every time her best to impress you and she never expects a thank you or praise. In exchange for this she only wants you to show some emotion.'
Sherlock blinked a few times and looked confusedly to the ground. He didn't know that Lisbeth made such efforts to be in step with him. He took it for granted that the girl interviewed clients with him and they solved cases together. She tended to be cheeky and sometimes complained, but eventually she always did what he asked.
'She loves me?' was the only thing the detective questioned.
John chuckled angrily in disbelief.
'Of course she does! How could you be so blind not to notice it? She was flirting with you all the time.'
John could hear the penny drop. Thus the detective finally understood. He was indeed blind. All the comments, all the reactions, she even blushed, her pupil expanded. He even remembered her perfume. She really thought that they were dating, that's why she was so anxious and worked-up.
'And let me tell you something that you probably haven't realised. You, Sherlock Holmes, are in love with her, too. Maybe not in the way normal people fall in love, but you love her in your odd own way.'
The detective opened his mouth to deny him, but then he went quiet, cogs mashing in his head. He thought about the strange, unknown feeling when they were close… and the kiss. Something happened during that kiss, Sherlock he never expected he would feel. Was that love?
'I don't know John,' he even astonished himself admitting not being aware of something.
'You're working on case, aren't you? And you've forgotten it because you were so cross with her. She made you furious. You are constantly arguing with people, but you pay no attention to them, it doesn't matter to you what they think. But you care about this girl. Lisbeth Lestrade managed to make herself important to you. To make herself worthy for your attention.'
Sherlock was at a loss for words. John was right. How could he possibly forget about his case? Nothing could be more significant than a case, except…the girl.
'Furthermore your body wants her too. I've seen you, you bastard. I've seen your moments when you were confused. Nevertheless, I know that you don't appreciate beauty, but this girl is gorgeous. In and out. Just try to look at her once as a woman. So lift your moron ass and go apologise!'
'How? I have no idea how a relationship works.'
'You should remember this; they are always right. No matter what. Just apologise and admit you were wrong. Wait, there's no bloody way you could do that. At least, try not to be a complete dick.'
'I have a case to solve,' Sherlock turned to the door, but then stopped.
'You have a life to live. And a girl to earn,' John passed on his coat to him and kicked him out of the flat.
Sherlock waved to a cabbie, but before getting in he looked at John and frowned.
'Thank you,' he murmured unsteadily.
'Anytime. It was just about time to return to reason, you idiot, 'he embraced him. 'Don't come back without her.'
The detective nodded awkwardly then sat in the cab.
Sherlock stepped in the café and felt a great relief as he immediately noticed the girl sitting next to the window. For a minute, he just stood helplessly, having no idea how he should approach her. Then he knuckled, took a deep breath and started off before he could chicken out. It was funny to watch the man who's always calm and self-confident, nervously wobbling, having not known what to do, or say. He just stopped in front of the girl watched her as she was staring of the window blankly. Her eyes were slightly red, from which Sherlock deducted she'd been crying. She took notice of the man in front of her, but she didn't move, didn't say a word, didn't show any sign of it. Lisbeth knew that he was waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to talk to her, otherwise he would stand there for eternity.
'Did you solve the case?' inquired the girl breaking the silence, passing cars mirrored in her navy blue eyes.
'Yes, I did,' replied the detective in a low voice and sat down slowly. He examined the girl as John told him and he had to admit that she was gorgeous. Even when she was disillusioned and exhausted. Under the surface she had an innocent and vulnerable side. And he hurt that side of her.
'You know, I never had a relationship. Never, 'confessed the detective, clearing his throat. The girl didn't even bring John up which was a bad sign. 'Yes, I know what you're going to say, John,' She smiled bleakly. 'But I never had a… girlfriend. Admittedly, I rarely have friends. I've found a handful of people who are able to put up with me. More or less… And only one person came across who would understand and accept me. Until now.'
Lisbeth lifted up her eyes and navy merged into pale blue. She could see that the detective wore his heart on his sleeve. At last he was speaking frankly. She turned towards him.
'You know, I'm not the man of words,' she cleared her throat, 'if I have to talk about my feelings, I mean. Because it doesn't matter how hard I am trying, unfortunately I have feelings.'
Sherlock stopped for a moment, stopped examining the table and his eyes landed on her face. The girl gave up, because she realised that something big was going on.
'I've never expected to be interesting for someone, I mean, I never thought that someone would want to be in a relationship with me. And you're right. It's hard to admit, but I lost in that kiss. I've never felt like that before. It scared me, so I denied and hid it. But that was not your fault, it was mine.'
As he was speaking frankly, showing his soul to her, a tear rolled down her face.
'I'd never be a normal man you deserve. I can't change, I can't offer you anything, but there's one thing that I could promise. I don't think that I'm capable of a feeling what society call love, but as much as I do, you'll be the one that I'll love.'
Lisbeth felt her stomach draw a summersault. Once again, she was completely at a loss for words. Now it was his time to wait for her to say something. As she was staring at her, confusion all over her face, Sherlock got fed up, leaped up started off.
As the girl fall on his neck, he turned tail and held her in a tight embrace. Suddenly he felt as if something broken was repaired inside him.
'You have spoken to John, haven't you?' she inquired quietly, her face buried in the coal black curls.
'Indeed I have' – he confirmed, drunk by the scent of blonde beauty.
'You are a lucky bastard having him.'
'He said the same thing about you.'
'Could you do something for me?'
'Name it.'
'Buy coffee with me.'
The barista couldn't mutter up a single word when next to a familiar girl, his hands on her hips indeed stood the one and only Sherlock Holmes. Smiling from ear to ear, Lisbeth slipped her coffee. Sherlock didn't even ask, but put his coat on her, this time in the romantic way.
After they have arrived in the flat and Sherlock sent a text message to John saying 'Everything's ok. She's back. SH' while Lisbeth replied to the same number as 'Don't worry Hedgehog, everything is fine, you don't need to kill him. He apologised. Yes, he the mighty Sherlock Holmes admitted that he has feeling for me. Thanks for everything. I owe you. xxx LL' They felt awkward. It was the first time they were alone after having admitted that they are in love.
Are we together now?-Lisbeth wondered. We always have been. We just didn't say out loud. Does it change everything? Does it change anything? Do we continue where it ended? Are we not gonna talk about it? Are we a couple now? Uncle's gonna lock me up, and kill him. And my father?
'Lisbeth, calm down. You are extremely irritating with your fidgeting. I can hear you screaming in your head.'
'Are we dating now?' it slipped out of Lisbeth's lips, she even put her hand on her mouth. To her utter astonishment Sherlock didn't seem to be disturbed by the question and looked up from his experiment replying without hesitation.
'No.'
'Oh,' the girl's heart sunk and she was extremely confused. She couldn't decide whether she should start yelling, crying, swearing or just saying okay, maybe running away or all of them, but the detective didn't let her time to commit any of them. He rose from his seat and stood in front of the girl.
'We've been living together for months, getting on each other's nerves, solving cases together and I know you better than you know yourself. This, dear blonde girl, is called a relationship,' Sherlock stated it as a fact, but as sparkling joy filled the girl's face his expression softened. He smiled awkwardly and was about to go back to his experiment, but Lisbeth grabbed his shirt and kissed him passionately. It caught Sherlock by surprise, and he felt electricity running through him as their lips danced heatedly and his hands found their places on the girl's hips. Much to Lisbeth's surprise Sherlock was indeed a great kisser.
'It told you, you idiot,' she stated and walked away without looking back, leaving there the confused detective with a smile on his face.
