Back to Black
Elizabeth groaned, she was warm and comfortable. Except for the pain in her ribs and the slight pulling from her stitches, she sighed heavily, her eyes still closed. She was fully aware that she was not leaning on a pillow, it was too firm and moved slightly beneath her. Her eyes flicked open, taking a moment to focus before she saw laying on Sherlock, using his chest as a pillow. She smiled burying her head into his top, this made the detective stir slightly. The arm that was hooked around her waist pulled her closer to him and her body pressed against his.
A phone on the bedside table started to vibrate, causing Sherlock to shift, his body stretching out and a moan escaping his lips. Elizabeth leaned across the detective and pulled the phone to her ear.
"Sherlock's phone" she said quickly.
The voice on the other end spoke dryly "Miss Wilde I presume" the voice was posh and well spoken, quite like Sherlock.
"Yes" she snapped, not wanting to ask how he knew.
"Is there a particular reason that you are answering Sherlock's phone?" She struggled to make out any emotions across the line, the phone often muffled emotions which she hated.
"He's asleep and I didn't want the ringing to wake him" she glanced down at the detective who was rubbing his eyes groggily, still half asleep. Too late "can I ask whose calling?"
"You can ask my dear but it doesn't mean I will tell you" she noted his shadiness and obvious deduction skills, that much was clear.
"You're a relative, I would guess brother. Older" she pursed her lips. Sherlock was awake now and looking at her as she spoke into his blackberry.
"Very good Miss Wilde, I would ask how you figured it out. But none of us really have time for that, can I talk to Sherlock?" she looked at Sherlock and mouthed 'brother' he frowned and shook his head.
"He's still asleep" she lied
"No he's not" His brother's voice said in a bored tone.
"Well, he's preoccupied at the moment" she said quickly, hoping he brought it this time.
"Doing what?"
She laughed slightly "Do you really want to know?" she asked rhetorically before continuing "it's the morning, we are in bed together, what do you think we're doing?"
Sherlock stifled a laugh besides her as his brother let out a small laugh of amusement mixed with annoyance. "With your wound, I doubt that very much" he left something unspoken and she could tell.
She blurted out quickly "just because you doubt something doesn't make it any less true. Goodbye Mr Holmes" she hung up the phone and lent across Sherlock to put the phone back on the table.
She smiled at Sherlock, who returned her smile with a wide grin. "What are your plans for the day?" he asked mockingly making her giggle.
She answered just as mockingly "I was thinking about a rooftop chase across London, a boxing class and maybe a trip to the closest club…but then I realised, that I am under house arrest." She buried her face in the pillow as Sherlock sat up and stared at her.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asked, her sound muffled by the pillow. She would have expected anyone else to ask how she knew but not Sherlock, he would understand.
"You hair is very distracting" he articulated, she lifted her head up and shot him a questioning look. "the colour"
She nodded and pulled at a messy strand "I had almost forgot, if you get me some hair dye then I will dye it back to black."
He nodded and shouted into the apartment "John, we need some black hair dye."
"What?" John called from further in the flat, obviously confused.
"Black hair dye, we need some. Miss Wilde would care to dye her hair back to its original colour." Sherlock explained annoyingly, his face screw up slightly.
Elizabeth pushed back the covers and rolled out of the bed, as to avoid over stretching her stitches and the pain building up in her side. She landed on her feet gracefully and walked to the bathroom, picking up a pair of jeans as she moved. She quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face gently and pulled on the jeans. She emerged from the room and saw that Sherlock was no longer in bed. She pulled the scraggly blonde hair away from her face and secured it in a messy bun.
She had noticed while washing her face that the bruising had lightened slightly and the cut on her head was healing. She smiled as she walked into the lounge, the smell of cooked breakfast streaming from the kitchen. She rounded the corner into the kitchen, Sherlock was sat focused on the newspaper in front of him while John was standing by the cooker, making breakfast.
"Morning" she muttered, slipping into the chair adjacent to Sherlock and grinning.
"Good morning, how are you feeling?" John asked, his face still focused on what he was cooking.
"Good" she lied, there was no reason to tell John the amount of pain she was in, he would only worry.
"And the pain?" He continued, glancing over his shoulder briefly.
"Minimal" she lied again, Sherlock glanced over the paper and looked at her, with a knowing look on his face. She blushed and looked down at the table. John nodded, naively believing her lies.
"I was wondering …" she started, speaking softly "if I could go out today, just for a walk."
John placed a plate in front of her and frowned "your meant to be resting, you wouldn't want to push your body to far." He placed a plate in front of Sherlock and one at a spare seat which he settled on. She looked down at the plate, he had cooked: sausages, bacon, fried bread, mushrooms and beans.
She took a bite from the bacon and continued "I just need to exercise" John shot her a look as if to say 'really?' and she frowned "my mind. I need to exercise my mind, if I am stuck in here all day I will go crazy."
Sherlock folded the paper and placed it on the table, he shot her a sympathetic look, knowing how easily boredom could consume someone and thinking of the smiley face he had shot into the wall. John remembered the also and spoke quickly "Fine, it might actually do you some good to get some fresh air but you shouldn't go alone."
"Ok" she answered almost too quickly "I'll stop by a salon and get my hair dyed as well, saves you from picking some up." John smiled, happy at her thoughtful gesture and continued to eat.
John's phone buzzed and he picked it up from the table surface to read the message.
John, get Sherlock to answer his phone – MH
He tapped out a quick response.
Ok –JW
"Mycroft wants you to answer your phone" John directed at Sherlock who was eating small bites of his breakfast, he swallowed and glared at John.
"If it was important he would come himself instead of calling, it's not worth my time." He huffed,.
Elizabeth smiled to herself "he's obviously concerned about you, or more specifically about your relationship with me."
John looked down trying to avoid both their gazes, he knew this was all his thought but he also knew Mycroft, he would have found out eventually. "Relationship?" he asked quickly.
Elizabeth smiled and continued "He has obviously looked into me and my past, he knows a lot about me that must be why he is concerned. He must think I am a bad influence…"
Sherlock interjected "Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts…"
Elizabeth interrupted "or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to oneself. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion - "
Sherlock cleared his throat "these are the two things that govern us." He pulled his eyes from the woman adjacent to him and looked at John who looked slightly confused "Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray" he said to help john understand, knowing he wouldn't recognise the quote himself.
"Right" John muttered beneath his breath "you're perfect for each other"
"What?" Sherlock snapped "speak up John"
John was visually agitated by this "nothing" he said unconvincingly, he stood up and turned away from the pair "I just said that you too are obviously perfect for each other."
They both let out a small laugh, Sherlock asked "What makes you think that?" He was obviously intrigued by John's exclamation.
He sighed before answering "Your minds work in the same way, you observe everything and deduce people, without any concern to their feelings. In the time I have known Sherlock I have barely seen him show emotion and I have no doubt that you are the same. You similarly neglect your health, hardly ever eating because it 'slows your minds down'. You both have this weird thing against physical contact, Elizabeth more so that you" he gestured towards Sherlock "you even refuse to shake hands, yet you've let Sherlock touch you after knowing him for a mere 24 hours. And to top it all off you have no thought for your own personal safety, you would get yourself killed just to stop yourself from being bored. You make the perfect couple but refuse to admit it because you're too stubborn." John regretted speaking the moment the words left his mouth. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
Elizabeth shook her head and muttered "it is quite alright John, there is truth in your words" she bit back the urge to cry, as the tears began to form in the corners of her eyes "I am truly sorry for any pain that I may have caused you." She sprung to her feet and darted out of the room, she picked up her phone and purse from Sherlock's room and rushed down the stairs and out onto the streets.
She received some funny looks from people on the street as she rushed around without any shoes on. She appeared on a busy high street and walked into a trendy looking shop. She stopped deducing and instead just thought like a normal person, browsing through the clothes. She picked up a pair of brown boots and some thick socks as well as a matching brown jacket. After she had paid for them she put the items on and walked towards a hair salon, where she spent half an hour getting her hair back to black. She forced a smile at her reflection and dodged the hairdresser's questions about her facial injuries.
