Author's Note: Merry Christmas!
It was one of those sleepless nights. Not the ones where you were too nervous of excited to settle down. Or the ones filled with chilling thoughts and cringe-worthy memories. This was a sleepless night of a different sort. One where fatigue didn't phase you. You just keep doing things and pacing about the room.
Sam walked around the room. Stretching her arms above her head, then paced back across the room stretching her neck. She picked up her book then put it down again, not in the mood. She stopped at the center of her room and turned her head to the small window above her desk. She padded over to it and leaned across the piece of furniture to look out of it. It faced the front. She had a view of a brick wall from a building behind theirs. But if you looked up there was something to see. As Sam looked up now she saw the moon, full and white in the sky and one or two dim stars. She leaned back off the desk and walked over to her floor lamp, shut it off, then returned to the window. Ah there you are, she thought as more stars began to appear as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
Sam put one foot on her chair and used it as support for jumping up to kneel on the desk. With more force than she expected to need she pushed the window open and reached out as far as she could. Her arm stretching up higher and higher, between the two buildings, past London and up to grasp the stars like coins.
"Books and stars my girl, those are your best friends." Her father had said when she was little.
"They'll always be there for you, even when you can't see them or hold them. They stick to you forever."
Sam had always liked that. In a world where it was hard to trust anyone those words gave her a sense of security. At least two things would stay the same no matter what.
She sighed and pulled her arm back down to earth, almost tripping on her nightgown as she stepped down off the desk and the chair. She fell into bed, which tonight felt like the softest thing in the world and closed her eyes and tried to dream.
In darkness she heard the hint of a noise. The quiet notes of a violin, twenty feet away. Sherlock playing out in the sitting room. The aching notes rocked her mind into slumber.
She was moving too fast again. She ate her breakfast like a flash, showered in only five minutes and threw his clothes at him at least ten minutes early.
With a quick wave goodbye and a swing around the corner and down the steps she was gone and Sherlock's curiosity arrived.
When Sam entered Foyles that morning she was greeted by Kyle and brought to a cafe that was attached to the store. There was a small table in the corner for two with a spiral notebook and two pens. Sam turned to look at him.
"I figured it'd be easier if we both communicated the same way."
She smiled a bit bigger than she'd meant to. Kyle pulled out a chair for her and she sat, resting her bag on the ground. She picked up the pen closest to her and wrote,
Thank you, this was a cool idea.
He wrote underneath it in a boyish scrawl.
No problem, it also prevents eavesdropping which is a plus!
She laughed silently.
So what do we do?
I don't know. Talk, tell me about yourself.
Sam thought a minute.
What do you want to know?
Kyle scooted a bit closer, causing the right side of Sam's body to electrify.
What do you do for a living?
I'm a freelance book reviewer. I get pretty steady work from online websites and magazines. The job doesn't require talking so it's perfect for me.
What are you reading now?
An advanced reader's copy of a new book from a young adult author. I'm not allowed to talk about it because apparently it's "widely anticipated."
She heard him laugh at the quotation marks.
Some teen series being produced into films?
My lips are sealed, she wrote miming zipping her lips.
Okay, so off the subject of books. Where are you from?
I've lived in London for most of my life. Or near it. My parents were both teachers here so they tried to stay close to their schools.
Is that why you love reading too?
Yeah, I guess so. My Dad was the one who really had me read a lot. He loves classic stuff.
You still live here now?
Yes, I just got a new flat.
Where?
Baker Street. With a flatmate.
That sounds familiar.
Just as Sam was about to write back her mobile buzzed. She checked the name on the screen. Text from Sherlock.
St. Bart's. Come at once. SH
She looked back to Kyle who had a concerned look on his face. He didn't write this time.
"Is everything alright?"
Sam nodded and scrawled across the notebook quickly as she grabbed her bag.
Everything's fine. I just have to meet someone.
"Who?"
She pointed to the word "flatmate" on the paper.
"Is she okay?"
She held up her hand to say "Don't worry about it." She didn't know how to explain physically or on paper that her flatmate wasn't a "she."
She just gave him a smile and wrote, Thank you.
As she rushed to the front of the store he tried to catch up with her.
"Hey!"
She turned.
"What are you, Clark Kent or something?" he called with an amused smirk.
Sam shrugged to say, "I might be."
When Sherlock saw Sam coming up the street toward the Hospital she looked flushed. Not from the brisk air, or the obvious fact she had run here. John never did that, he thought in passing. But Sam looked almost flushed with happiness. The way John used to when he'd come home from a date.
When she came up next to him he immediately refocused. They turned to walk into the building.
"You didn't have to sprint you know."
An embarrassed look crossed her face.
"Not that you did anything wrong. In fact it's more efficient than what John would do."
A nervous smile.
They entered the morgue again, this time greeted by a handsome middle aged man with a serious expression.
"Samantha, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, Samantha."
She held out her Call me Sam paper she now kept on her at all times.
Sherlock walked ahead, "She doesn't speak by the way."
Lestrade turned back to her and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you Sam."
She shook his hand and began to follow Sherlock but Lestrade stopped her.
"Forgive me, but I have to ask you this. What is your association with Sherlock Holmes?"
She reached for her notepad but Sherlock beat her to the punch.
"She's my new blogger Lestrade. You know, got to keep up that public image," he stated sarcastically.
"You and Dr. Watson have a row or some-?"
"No he's married. Sam's just keeping up the blog."
"What about that flatmate situation I heard about with you two? Is this because of that?"
Sherlock looked up from the body he was examining with an almost childlike grin.
"Actually it is! Meet the newest tenant of 221B Baker Street."
Lestrade turned back to a red-faced Sam with wide eyes.
"You live with him? Dr. Watson picked you?"
She shrugged. Not really knowing how to respond. She walked past Lestrade and over to Sherlock's side.
"He's a moron. Don't take to heart anyhting he says. His wife's cheated on him five times." Sherlock said under his breath.
Sam breathed out a small sigh.
"Well, are you taking notes?"
On the cab ride home Sherlock saw Sam's eyes start to droop. The lights of London passing over her face every few minutes.
When they returned to Baker Street, the temperature had dropped significantly. He noticed her let out a shiver as they walked towards the door.
"Winter's coming soon." He mused.
Upon entering the flat they were immediately accosted by a flour covered Mrs. Hudson. Who apparently been baking all afternoon.
"Oh good you two are home! I need your help with something."
She began to usher them into the small downstairs kitchen. Sherlock tried to protest.
"Mrs. Hudson we were just-"
"Oh hush now, you can spare a few minutes."
He saw Sam cover her mouth to hide a grin.
Their landlady positioned them next to each other on the counter and began to give orders.
"I have two other batches of cookies to frost and there's another batch in the oven already. I need to keep the cycle moving as quickly as possible so this will all be done by tomorrow. I need you two to start rolling this next set of dough."
"Mrs. Hudson-" he tried but she hushed him and handed him a rolling pin.
She gave Sam hers, who accepted it a little more willingly, and began rolling out the dough in front of her.
Sherlock was trying to think of a way out when he felt a nudge. He ignored it and kept thinking, rolling pin still in hand. If Sam is so willing to do this then maybe she'll kick me out after a bit if I don't do any work or- his thoughts were interrupted. By a puff of flour in his face. From Sam. Who then clapped her hands to say "Get to work."
He squinted his eyes open, "What was-?"
"Sherlock, the mess you've made." Mrs. Hudson said wiping off his face with a dish rag. Which caused Sam to let out a silent laugh.
When Mrs. Hudson had turned around again Sherlock began strategy for retaliation.
When Sam's head was down trying to smooth out the edges of the dough he took a handful of flour and turned her dark hair white.
When she turned to look at him with an open mouthed surprised smile. He immediately put on a poker face and called to Mrs. Hudson.
"Mrs. Hudson I believe another accident has occurred and shockingly, not my fault."
She turned and rolled her eyes, "Honestly you two. At least Dr. Watson kept you civil."
Sherlock stifled a laugh. Another eye-roll from Mrs. Hudson.
"Go clean yourselves up. I can finish this on my own."
They went up the stairs in small fits of giggles while they heard Mrs. Hudson muttering to herself, "If you want something done right..."
"Hey Clark!" Sam heard a voice call from the register as she entered the store.
Clark? she wrote.
"You know, you have a double life like Clark Kent and Superman!"
She grinned and handed him a book order sheet.
"New book to review?"
Another advanced reader's copy. They send them here for me to pick up.
He punched a number into the computer and then looked on the shelves behind him to find the right wrapped package.
When he handed it to her he said,
"Hey, I was thinking...would you want to go out somewhere sometime? Like a proper date."
Her eyebrows went up.
We've known each other, what, two days?
"Three if you count today."
Sam began to chew on her lower lip, which was already red and raw from the cold.
"Look, I'm clearly a nice guy and everything and you like me right?"
Can I get back to you on that?
"What about liking me?"
No, about the date.
He leaned against the counter, "How about this? It's Tuesday, how about I schedule for Friday, if you come then great, if you don't then I'll leave you alone."
Sam hesitated, fingers scratching at the label on the package.
Maybe.
"Maybe. I'll take it, come by this address on Friday if you want."
He scribbled on a piece of paper and pressed it into her palm.
Sam's stomach turned to knots.