A/N Yes I know it's been forever since I've uploaded a new chapter and I'm sure that annoying. Sorry loves! I just started college this past year and I hit a big creative block writing this one. But enough excuses. Here's Chapter Nine! Enjoy!
Evelyn arrived at Baker Street cold and happy from the walk back after meeting Molly. She took off her coat and hung it up on the coat rack next to the door. Evelyn rubbed her arms to fend off the chill and was ready to relax by the fire with a cup of tea. She was about to jog up the stairs when she heard voices. Sherlock's voice she recognized easily, but there was another man's voice that she couldn't quite recognize. A thought ran through her mind that the other man's identity could be Cromwell.
Panic surged through her bloodstream and she raced up the stairs as fast as she could, and burst through Sherlock's door. There was definitely another man there, but it wasn't Cromwell. Evelyn had no clue who it was.
Sherlock, who was sitting in his usual chair by the fire, stood up and came towards her. "Ah, Evelyn. You arrived two minutes earlier than I presumed. It's no matter. I'd like you to meet Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, this is Evelyn. She's been helping me on my cases."
A man who looked a few years older than Sherlock offered her his hand to shake and a smile. He had a tan complexion and graying hair that suited him well. His dark eyes crinkled when he smiled at Evelyn, and he wore a suit and a long overcoat.
"Hello, Evelyn. It's very nice to meet you." He lingered a little too long on the handshake, but Evelyn reasoned that if Sherlock approved of him, then there was a good reason for that. She simply decided to take it as a compliment.
"It's nice to meet you, too. I've heard a bit about you."
Lestrade gave her a half smile. "Really? Like what?" He seemed interested and flattered about something Evelyn hadn't even said yet.
Sherlock stepped in looking annoyed. "Anyway Evelyn, I visited Lestrade today about our case."
Evelyn was confused. Sherlock just told Lestrade everything without talking with her first? She was doubtful so instead she played it cool. "Really? Our current case?" She tried to not be too obvious, at which Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Evie. The one with the kidnapped husband." He raised an eyebrow at her. She opened her eyes wide at the realization that Sherlock must have overheard her and Molly's entire conversation. He must have had someone follow them. She made a mental note to have a talk with him about that later.
He continued. "I had Lestrade get me some records about the identity of Thomas Oliver, to give us an idea of where he might have been taken." His jaw clenched involuntarily, as did Evelyn's at the mention of that cretin's name.
She managed to maintain her friendly face towards her new acquaintance. "That's very good news. What did you find, Detective Inspector?"
"Greg is fine." Sherlock scoffed behind her, and she shot him a glare.
Lestrade continued. "So, I found out that he's a very wealthy man that currently works at the Ministry of Defense building-"
"Yes, Lestrade, we are already aware of his present activities. We need past information." Sherlock interrupted rudely.
Lestrade rolled his eyes like he was used to the idea of Sherlock being rude and went on. "Yeah, well, that information was a bit harder to find. After letting our guys run the database for about an hour or so on this guy, all they pulled up was a previous job history at a corporation at Nettle Inc., some bland grocery receipts, and the basics of his childhood. I have it all here." He reached for a file sitting on the small table next to Sherlock's chair, and waved it. Sherlock immediately snatched it from his grasp, opening it and flipping through the papers quickly.
"That will be all, Lestrade." He dismissed the detective without so much as a wave of his hand. Evelyn glared at the back of his head and smiled at Lestrade.
"Thank you so much for your help." She smiled and shook his hand, before leading him to the door. He returned the smile.
"Your welcome. Maybe we'll get to work together again sometime?" He sounded hopeful.
"Goodbye, Gordon." Sherlock spoke sharply.
Lestrade seemed surprised, and left quickly. Evelyn closed the door after him and turned to Sherlock. "Gordon?"
"Do catch up. I mistake his name to annoy him."
"I mean, I figured." She giggled. He smiled at her, then became serious, looking down at the file in his hands.
Evie took a step towards him. "Is it-?" She didn't really know what she started to ask.
Sherlock looked into her eyes a few moments. "Thomas Oliver did indeed work for Nettle Incorporated. He… was the Vice President of the company, one head below the President and Owner, Benedict Nettle. I looked through the files from his computer as well. Your… mother was his secretary, and your father was the head scientist working directly with him."
"Oh." She exhaled, and suddenly the room began to sway a little. She didn't notice that Sherlock had approached her until she felt his hard grip on her arms, keeping her from falling. She shook away the feeling and regained the ability to stand.
"I'm alright, Sherlock." He released her, but didn't step away. "My father… and mother… were working for him."
"The research of the company was almost entirely military-based and experimental, working directly with trying to discover and invent new ways of wiping out the nations of the United States' enemies. Although this was their main focus, their work was only funded on the small section of production making weapons the military actually used. It was their sole source of profit, yet they continued to put time and money into experimental designs. Nothing was seeming to work."
Evelyn bit her lip. "Except one man invented something that did work. My father. But it was too risky. He didn't want to put millions of innocent people's lives on the line, so he hid it away. My mother was the only person he trusted to tell about it."
"But Oliver found out about it, somehow. Perhaps a colleague ratted him out, or Oliver had hired someone to keep a close eye on your father. Either way, he most likely just wanted to sell the blueprints to the highest bidder. There's dozens of files about his clients and 'under-the-table' dealings. Your father would never had gone along with his plans."
"So he murdered them." The dizziness was returning, and before she could do anything, she was on the floor, and could barely make out Sherlock's face above her. The ringing in her ears was unbearable. The room faded to black.
She awoke in bed, but at once she noticed it was unfamiliar. The sheets beneath her hand was not a bright white, but a light blue-beige color. The duvet was also not thick and white, but striped. She sat up quickly. She was definitely not in her room. On one wall was a normal-looking dresser with a round mirror resting on top of it. There was also a framed, black and white photo of a man she didn't recognize. There was also a wardrobe, a few lamps, and a rather large periodic table hanging on the wall next to the door. Evelyn realized she was in Sherlock's bedroom.
Part of her wanted to scurry out of there as fast as she could, but another part of her wanted to snuggle up back in the sheets that smelled like him forever. She glanced outside and noticed it was dark out, and glancing at the alarm clock to her left informed her that it was eleven at night. For now, she chose the latter option, and with a flop laid back down, staring up at the ceiling.
Evelyn thought about what had occurred earlier that day, and what she and Sherlock had discovered. Knowing Oliver had caused this injustice that had thrown her life into chaos made something burn deep inside her. She was no longer afraid of what he could do to her, and just wanted to end his manic obsession with her once and for all. She was just glad Sherlock was there with her every step of the way.
As she thought this through she suddenly noticed she was not in the clothes she had been wearing earlier. Instead she was in her pajamas: a large t-shirt and no bottoms. Sherlock must have put them on her. Her face flushed at the thought of Sherlock undressing her, but knew to him it was just anatomy. She didn't think he could feel that way about her anyway.
As if on cue, Sherlock entered the bedroom. Evelyn covered her bottom half with the blanket quickly, then blushed and looked away from his gaze.
He sighed. "Yes, I dressed you in proper sleep attire so you wouldn't be uncomfortable as you slept. I have told you before it is simple anatomy. There's nothing to hide."
"Why… did you put me in your bed?" She asked timidly.
"I didn't want to have to keep going upstairs to check on your state of health, and it was more convenient to put you in here. Problem?"
"No! I just… you probably want to go to sleep. I'll give you your bed back." Evie threw off the covers and made like she was going to get up, but a wave of dizziness hit her like a brick and she sat back down involuntarily.
Sherlock closed the door and walked around the bed to his wardrobe. "Nonsense. You're obviously still feeling the effects of today, so you may sleep here while you recover."
He began to change, and although they were technically dating, Evie still turned her head to give him privacy. "But I don't want to make you sleep on the couch."
He snorted and she glanced over at him to see him in nothing but boxers. He was looking at her. "I will do no such thing." He walked over to the other side of the bed and got settled beneath the covers.
Evelyn was stunned. She didn't think Sherlock would try anything, so she didn't protest. Instead, she laid down and turned off the lamp next to her, scooting as far away from Sherlock as possible. He groaned in the darkness.
"Honestly, Evie. I'm not going to bite. Isn't this what people who… date do anyway?" He said the word like it was a disgusting insect.
"Well, mostly but… I didn't think… you wanted this." She laid on her back and could see in her peripherals he was doing the same. Evie stammered as she felt his warmth so close to her.
"Sleeping in the same bed is hardly intimate, Evelyn."
Evie rolled her eyes. Apparently to him it wasn't. She didn't feel uncomfortable, but she knew she wasn't going to get much sleep that night. She decided to fill the silence instead.
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, what?"
She fidgeted. "What… are we going to do now? Now that we know about Oliver, I mean."
He was silent for a few minutes. "I think our next move should be to make sure the blueprints are in safe hands." He shifted, and Evelyn looked over to see he had turned his head towards her. "You know where they are."
She glanced away. "Yes, I do. You remember my friend Adam I told you about?"
"He's the one who's been sending you money."
She looked into Sherlock's blue eyes. "Yeah. After I was sure he was alright and the suspicion was long gone from him, I mailed him the blueprints for safe keeping. He was the only person I trusted."
Sherlock nodded. "Can you ask him to come here? It's absolutely vital we have the blueprints. And it is very possible Oliver might already know of your past with him."
This truth made ice surge in her veins, and she shivered. "Alright."
Sherlock raised his head off the pillow slightly. "Are you cold?"
"N-no." Evelyn stammered, and this only lessened the effect of her denial. He rolled his eyes and lifted his arm: an invitation.
"I said I'm fine." She winced.
"Oh please." With one swift move he grabbed her shoulder and pulled, rolling her until her back was pressed against his chest. Her heart was beating loudly, as Evie recognized every part of his body that was making contact with hers. It was very warm, and she found her eyes closing of their own accord.
His voice was soft yet so low she could feel the rumbling vibration in his chest. "Now get some sleep."
She adjusted into a more comfortable position and quickly grabbed his arm that was resting on his side, throwing it over her body. He stilled, surprised at the contact, but soon relaxed. In a few moments, they were both sound asleep.
Evelyn woke once again in Sherlock's bed. This time, however, she was not alone. Beneath her was something firm, a little hairy, and warm. She looked down beneath where her head was currently resting. Sherlock's chest was incredibly toned for someone so slim. Evie glanced up at Sherlock's face to see if he was asleep, which he was. She noticed one arm languidly wrapped around her, and felt its warmth on her shoulder blades. She by no means wanted to move from her spot, and blushed as she realized she felt happier than she had in a very long time. She absentmindedly traced a finger over the muscles of Sherlock's chest and bicep, smiling.
"Amusing yourself?" A deep voice jolted her from her daze, and her cheeks flared up again. How long he had been awake she had no clue.
"Sorry." She made to move off him, but his arm held her firmly in place. She looked up at him to see his eyes twinkling.
"I didn't say I wanted you to move. And stop apologizing. It's very annoying." He was smiling, so Evie didn't take offense.
Evelyn scooted upward, and lightly kissed him. He didn't push her away, so she deepened it, moving her mouth to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She shifted again, and doing so brushed her thigh against something hard. Evie immediately froze, unsure of what to do. She pulled away from Sherlock and stared at him.
"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." She winced. He didn't seem to show any emotion at all, just looking rather confused at the tent forming beneath the sheets.
"It's not your doing. I believe I woke up to this problem. Something I haven't done since I was twelve years old." He cleared his throat. "You should… get ready for today. We have a lot to do." He didn't make eye contact with her, nor her with him.
"Y-yeah, sure." She got up quickly and left his room.
She took the stairs two at a time to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Evie exhaled, her heart thumping wildly at the awkwardness of what just occurred. She shook her head away from the thoughts and began stripping. She looked through what little clothes she possessed. Her mind was giddy with excitement at the thought of seeing Adam again. It's been a year and a half since she left the States, and she wondered about what life Adam had been leading while she was gone. She wondered if he had ever asked out that girl in the Narcotics department he thought was pretty. If they were engaged… Evelyn laughed at the strange tightening in her chest as she thought about it. She hadn't seen him for so long and yet still felt a twinge of jealousy thinking about him with another woman.
During their long friendship at the agency, they had never been more than best friends. They had flirted with one another occasionally, but neither had made a move or expressed their feelings. Evelyn had always wondered if there might have been something more if she had only had the courage to ask him out for a drink. While thinking, she decided on a large beige sweater and skinny jeans, along with some fuzzy socks to keep warm. She quickly combed through her curly locks with her fingers and went back downstairs.
She walked back into Sherlock's flat to see him sitting in his usual spot, wearing a suit. His dark hair was dampened from just coming out of the shower.
"Do you have any paper, Sherlock? So I can write to Adam?" She asked excitedly.
He looked at her and squinted, studying her. "Yes. In the drawer. Second from the right."
She had to restrain herself from running to the kitchen. She got some paper and a pencil, sat down at the table, and began writing. There was a lot of erasing involved, and thinking about what she was going to say. She began by asking how he was and, after much deliberation on the wording, if he was seeing anyone. Evelyn then got straight to the point, asking him if he was able to visit. She hesitated when she began to describe Sherlock and everything that's happened to her since she met him. Evie left most of the details out, including her new relationship with Sherlock. She decided it was a conversation best left to have in person, if at all. After signing the letter, she placed and sealed it in an envelope, writing out the correct address on the back. Evie also wrote a word right above the fold of the seal in small lettering so only someone who was looking for it would notice: lock. It was a code that he would recognize, letting him know the letter was from her and to only open it in a secure location.
She threw on her coat and put the letter in her pocket, turning to Sherlock.
"I'll just be a moment." He nodded and continued thinking.
She swept down the stairs and out the door, appreciating the biting nip of cold air on her nose. Evie walked along the busy street, knowing a post box was nearby. She was on high alter, however, and didn't take lightly the danger she might face while out in the open. She made sure to be almost invisible, walking closely to large groups of people and keeping her hood up. Finally, she saw a red post box on a busy corner, and casually slipped the letter in the slot. Then a few blocks away, she made a sharp turn down an alley and took the long way around to throw off any potential followers.
Evelyn was anxious to hear back from her long-time friend, and knowing she could keep an eye on his safety while he was close by decreased her stress. She knew they would face Oliver together, all of them, and she wasn't sure she was ready. Not to have her life back. All this time, she's been living alone, cut off from the world. Evie didn't know if how she would feel if she gained it all back in one go. She shivered from the cold winter air, and wrapped the coat tighter around herself, her worries blowing away in the light flurry that had begun to fall.
