(A/N: I'm thrilled I've been getting a few really sweet reviews on this story, and I hope to hear more from those of you reading it. Just to let you all know, I've received the edits back from my publisher on the second book in my trilogy, so my time is a bit less available for writing on my fanfic. However, I already have chapters written through 12 and am working on 13. If there's still a good deal of interest in this story (and lovely reviews) then I'll keep trying to squeeze in time for it while I'm on publication deadlines with my original fiction. Thanks for supporting me in this fun adventure of rather fluffy sweetness and romance with Sherlock and Victoria! 3 I love hearing from you guys! It makes the effort worthwhile!)

Chapter 10 – Infinite Possibilities

5:26.

If Victoria left her office on time for once, she would be due to arrive any minute. Scanning my flat, there were still far too many things to do, and I couldn't imagine what I was thinking, inviting her over as I scrambled to take down papers and photos from the wall, stacking them with the others left from the last few cases I hadn't yet lifted a finger to organize and clean out of the way.

John had always done that, clean up after me, keep the flat relatively neat.

I arranged a few things on the mantle then spun around, taking in the full view of the flat, it could have been better for her first visit, but it would have to do. The hours got away from me while solving a murder with Lestrade, and I got so caught up in examining evidence at the lab with Molly, I worked straight through to finish. But I found what I was looking for, texted Lestrade what he needed to make the arrest, and arrived home less than an hour before expecting Victoria.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, I glanced into the kitchen, wishing I'd had at least a few more minutes to make it somewhat more presentable. The door opened, and I turned, my eyes growing wide in utter shock.

"You appear more distressed than usual by my visit, brother mine."

Not Victoria.

"This isn't a good time, brother. You should have called."

"You would not have answered, and I was in the neighborhood. It seemed best to drop by instead," he replied, slowly walking around the open space in the flat, carefully examining everything, no doubt noticing I'd been cleaning.

I repositioned the skull on the mantelpiece, decided I didn't care for it any better that way, and returned it to its original position. "Oh, you never know, Mycroft. I might surprise you… Why are you here? Just get to the point, and leave."

"You've found yourself a goldfish, Sherlock, and it's simply ridiculous." He stood straight, primly holding his umbrella while eyeing me with a distasteful expression condescending, perhaps even disgusted. "Don't fool yourself, brother. You can't keep her. We aren't like them. Trying to follow John's lead is a mistake, and you know it. What will you do with her? Get married? Have a family? Live a dull, ordinary life until you're bored beyond comprehension and turn back to the drugs? I can't have that."

I heard someone at the door to 221B, and Mrs. Hudson answered it. Victoria's voice floated up through the building, happily mingled with Mrs. Hudson's in polite conversation.

"Victoria is not a goldfish, brother, and I am not planning to live an ordinary life." Unafraid, I walked right up to Mycroft, standing inches from his face, my voice low and thoroughly incensed. "Victoria is my girlfriend, and I plan to live quite an extraordinary life, one expanded far past the boundaries you led me to believe surrounded me for years. I can be me, still be brilliant and the world's only consulting detective while having a real life too. I'm not you, brother mine."

Mrs. Hudson burst through the door at that moment, Victoria in tow. "Oh, Sherlock, look who's here! You didn't mention you'd invited her over. Why didn't you tell me? I would have helped you tidy up a bit."

"Because as you keep insisting, you're not my housekeeper."

"But Sherlock, I would have helped for this." She seemed overjoyed at the thought of a me finally with someone.

In a moment, I was standing in front of Victoria, taking in the sight of her finally at Baker Street. "Hello, darling, good day at work?"

"Productive."

I took her hands in mine, leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips, unembarrassed by our audience. Mycroft coughed, sounding mildly as if he was being strangled. If he kept it up, I'd quite gladly see to it that he actually was.

"My, my, Sherlock, you two are absolutely adorable together," Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. Victoria and I exchanged a look, both grinning. "Should I make tea?" We didn't answer, not looking away from one another, the breathless, pulse-racing feeling I'd become familiar with had returned, but I was finally understanding what it really meant. "Mycroft, are you staying? Did you want tea?"

"No. No. No…" He shook his head harshly, stepping briskly toward the door. "I have to be … places … elsewhere … not here." My brother made no effort to hide the expression of horrified disgust on his face as he made a hasty retreat.

"Did you want that tea, dears?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, but that won't be necessary. I have our evening sorted, so we'll just be needing privacy."

She left without another word, just a wide grin and a few muffled girlish giggles.

"Well, she seems awfully happy to see me here."

I led her further into the flat, admiring how the sunlight filtered through the windows, nearly glowing in her ginger hair.

"No one is happier to see you here than I am."

Once she dropped her bag onto the desk chair, I pulled her hand, and she spun into my arms as if we were dancing again, so I began leading her in a dance, humming a tune I often played on my violin.

"From everything I heard about you before you turned out to still be alive, and really, a lot of what people have said about you since, I wouldn't have expected you to be so sentimental, Sherlock… definitely not such a romantic."

"Neither would I. I suppose it comes more naturally than one would think when I simply let it happen."

The smile lighting her face as she looked up to me reached her eyes, and for once, I had no difficulty reading someone's emotions. Nearly two weeks since we met, I knew I'd never felt connected to another human being in such a way, so different from my friendship with John. Never had I imagined opening myself to sentiment would lead to dancing in the living room of my flat with a woman I believed I'd fallen in love with so quickly.

Love. Could I truly feel such a strong emotion in such a short time?

"Victoria, do you believe in true love?" I shook my head and bit my lip for a moment. "I do mean to ask, how long do you believe it takes to possibly feel such a thing?"

She rested her head on my chest, continuing our dance as she spoke. "Love isn't ruled by time restraints, how long it can take or how fast it can happen. Emotions don't play by anyone's rules, Sherlock. They aren't an exact science. But I do believe in true love. I believe it's a great mystery full of infinite possibilities. I believe love at first sight is just as possible as the slow-burn, timidly-growing kind of love and all variations in between."

"Hm." No better response came to mind immediately. Instead, I retrieved my phone from my pocket and turned its camera on us. "Smile."

She did, as did I, and I set the photo as my phone's wallpaper, the photo capturing the moment I knew of all the infinite possibilities love held in the universe, I held the woman I loved in my arms.