AN: Usually my notes go at the end, but I just wanted to quickly thank all the people who got my HUA reference. I've been dying to write it in the moment I began this story. And let's face it, he is a cheeky dick waffle. Now, on with the plot!
Chapter 11
It was much later in the afternoon, and I had still failed to even reach the sofa, let alone move it past the wreckage Mrs. Hudson called storage. After failing with Sherlock, I realised that if I didn't do it now it would never get done. That said, even after several hours of cleaning I was still no closer to my objective then when I had started. If only he wasn't being an incorrigible ass, I might be able to get out of his way. But no, he apparently wanted to make things harder for the both of us by leaving me with no place to sleep but their place.
"Do you need some help?" a voice behind me asked.
I inhaled sharply, turning around to see no more but the man himself. "You are an evil, conniving son of a bitch. I hope you know that." He only came to tell me he was leaving. It was so clear, I mean he had his coat collar turned up and his blue scarf on for goodness sake. "Don't let me keep you from your urgent appointment."
"You're not coming with?" he says, brow furrowing in confusion. Did he honestly expect me to come with? And why would he wasn't me to come anyway?
"No Sherlock, I'm not coming with. Can't you see I'm busy?" I gestured to the messy room. "I do need a place to sleep at night, and as comfortable as your bed is I'm not keen on staying there, thank you very much." I clambered out of the mess and to the doorway where he was standing. "Now run along. I've got work to do. Not to mention after this, a job to find."
"So do it later. I don't see what the problem is." Of course he didn't. But I couldn't tell him that even in my dreams I was trying to be practical enough to get a job. Or at least in this dream, as scarily realistic as it was.
"If I do it later, I will be forced to sleep on the floor!" I argued. "It's possible that if I spend some more time on it, I can get my couch and rest easy."
He took a breath. "What if I said you could spend another night with us?"
"That completely defeats the purpose of me having my own flat!" I shouted. "What's the point of Mrs. Hudson letting me stay there if I fix it up, if I fix it up but crash with you? Free labour, free lodging and all that?"
"I don't understand why you are so averse to accepting my help," he said. "I'm offering you a more relaxed and pleasant place to sleep while you refurbish your flat. Would it not be prudent to thank me for such generosity and then travel with me to the museum?"
"Sherlock Holmes, you only offer your help whenever it suits you best," I retorted. "So you'll pardon my reluctance. Also, did you even once consider that perhaps certain aspects of my flat are entirely more pleasant then aspects of yours?"
"If you're referring to John, I assure you-"
"I am referring to you, you big git." I interrupted, staring at him pointedly after this.
There was silence while he processed that.
"I see." He tightened his scarf. "And I suppose nothing I have to say could convince you."
"Speaking in impossibilities is a dangerous thing, Mr. Holmes. I figured you above such habits." I took off my cleaning gloves. "Here's the thing. If you promise to help me move this couch and let me stay another night at your place, I'll come with. But only if you truly promise." I held out my hand expectantly.
He paused for a moment, then took it. "You have my word." We shook on it.
"I hope I do." Part of me wanted to go simply because the prospect of more cleaning made me want to wrap myself in a blanket of laziness and munch on some chocolate, but the other part was something far more serious. "Now let's go pick up John. Do you think he had a nice day flirting with the ladies at work?" I flashed him a smile.
He pursed his lips. "I would say that's an accurate deduction based upon John's reaction the other day." He was holding back a smile, it was so painfully obvious. He didn't want to admit that somebody who he held in such disdain could actually amuse him from time to time. "Shall we go?"
"Lead the way," I said. "But do try to at least act as if you enjoy my company when we meet Soo Lin Yao. If there is an air of discord between any members of our group, she might pick up on this and hold back information." He didn't respond, instead turning his back to me and leaving. I quickly grabbed my coat and followed, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. "Yeah, when I said act as if you enjoy my company, I meant, you know, the opposite of what you're doing now." He still didn't answer, hailing a cab for us. "Betcha your credit card that Soo Lin Yao has a tattoo," I said as we settled inside.
His eyes narrowed. Good, he was still listening. "And what prompted you to make this bet?"
"No particular reason. Just didn't like seeing you go all fishy face, sulky mouth on me. Pouting is not an attractive quality." I glanced out the window. "So what do you say, big boy? Gonna risk it? Take me on and prove you're the smartest guy in the room. Well," I said, noting our surroundings. "Smartest guy in the cab." My eyebrows wiggled ridiculously.
"Say I take on your bet, and this time I win," he said, turning to face me. "Would I get more then three questions? A night at our place is nothing compared to the damage you could cause with my money in your hands." He was really milking it for all its worth. "Seven questions is far more reasonable then a paltry three, and even then I may not be tempted. Ten questions however seems appropriate, don't you agree?" He smiled smugly, like I was going to immediately accept. Rotten bastard.
"Five questions," I told him.
"Ten."
"Five."
"Nine."
"Five."
"Eight."
"Five."
He looked at me with irritation. "Haven't you ever heard of compromise?"
"Haven't you ever heard of principle?" I shot back. Until he budged more, I wasn't moving. This was more then a battle of the bet, it was a battle of character. He was judging me based on my ability to stand firm on an issue, and I was judging him based on his willingness to adjust his stance on an issue. It was a cat she mouse game, except a whole lot more like a cat and cat game as we both had our claws out and unsheathed. We both stared at each other, gauging the others reaction.
He broke the silence. "Seven."
Reaching out his hand for the shake, I took it. "Six."
He tightened his hold and didn't let go. "I said seven."
"And I said six. Now take it or the deal is off." Once more, analysing the most imperceptible of changes in each other's manner as he gripped my hand ever tighter. "Now unless you want nothing,I suggest you make up your mind."
"Counter proposal," he said, not letting go of my hand. "Five questions, and if you are wrong, you have to do something for me. Within reason of course. That's a fair trade, wouldn't you think?" He was up to something. I didn't like the sound of owing Sherlock Holmes anything under any circumstance.
"And who's to judge whether or not it's within reason?" I started. "Not you, surely. I wouldn't trust you half as much as you distrust your brother." Maybe this would rile him up a bit more. Technically, I wasn't supposed to know he had a brother. At least not yet.
His fingers started to dig into my skin. "John should be suitable for the job. His morals are far less ambiguous then ours, wouldn't you agree?"
"I'll ignore the insult to the state of my morals momentarily," I said, gripping his hand just as firmly back. "Five questions, and a favour. We have a deal." Two deals with Sherlock Holmes in one day. Stranger things have in fact not happened.
"Good," he said, releasing my hand. We both drew back into our respective corners of the cab, sure the other was going to lose. I nursed my fingers back to health as they tingled from the lack of blood flow. Glancing over at Sherlock and noticed he was doing the same thing just as he noticed the same of me. I looked at him, and he at me, and simultaneously giggled.
"Better text him that we're here Sherlock, or else his morals will be corrupted by those charming ladies." The two of us had descended into a state of what, by my standards, I would consider catatonia. I'm sure to the outside it merely looked as if we were enjoying a quiet laugh.
After Sherlock texted John he was out in just a few minutes. I scooted over to let him in.
"So have you two gotten over your little tantrum?" he asked, closing the door behind him. "It looked like you were about to really get into it this morning." The taxi rolled off, and part of me tensed as I mentally prepared myself for what was to come. I hoped Sherlock wouldn't notice, but I didn't waste my breath holding out on that.
"Tantrum? Did you witness a tantrum this morning Sherlock?" I looked at him in fake puzzlement.
"No. Haven't the faintest idea what you mean. Did you witness a tantrum?" He replied innocently.
I shook my head dramatically. "Not at all. Are you sure you're alright John? If you're suffering from delusions that Sherlock and I have some sort of on going childish feud, I'm sure there are places you can go to for treatment of such a condition. Hell, there may even be an app for that sort of thing." I batted my eyes at him serenely.
John began to laugh. "Oh no, not this again. It's unfair and will not do. I can never tell when you two are either at each others throats in some sort of quasi hate/sexual tension, or acting the part of banal friends who can read each others minds." He wagged a finger disapprovingly at the two of us. "So I'm ordering you now to pick one, and kindly stick with it."
A smirk began to creep onto my face, and I did my best to hold it back. "Stick with what John? I don't see anything wrong with the state of my relationship with Sherlock. I'm merely guessing, but it makes sense that each of us possesses a certain degree of curiosity and interest in the other. Can we help it if such an emotion gets away from us, or as you suggested, unites us under a similar banner?" He tried to speak after this, but I interrupted him. "Are you asking us to be less then what we are? How incredibly selfish of you John."
He just looked at me for a moment, mouth slightly open, any protests long forgotten.
I just smiled at him sweetly. "Oh, and just so you know, Sherlock has promised to give me his credit card if I'm right that Soo Lin Yao has a tattoo. If I'm wrong, then he gets five questions and a favour. You'll be deciding on whether or not the favour is within reason. We both concurred that your morals are far less murky then our own. Also, it's significantly less likely that you have an agenda. Cool?"
He looked away from me and focused on the back of the seat in front of him. "God help me, can I win just one argument around these two?"
"Of course you can win John. You simply lack the conversational skills to do so," Sherlock interjected.
"Me, lacking in conversational skills? The pot sure is calling the kettle black now. Tell me, how many friends do you have, because last time I counted the number was quite small." The two were staring daggers at one another, with me right in between.
"Helen," he said. I turned to face Sherlock and raised up my eyes. "Would you say we were friends?"
My stomach fluttered, realising the intention of his words. "How about I answer your question with a series of questions. Do we spend time together?" I asked.
"Yes, quite a bit lately in fact," was his reply.
"Do we banter back and forth using our own brand of what others consider unusual speech patterns?" It was so obvious where I was taking this exchange.
"Yes, in fact we do this even more often."
"And when we argue, have we been able to move past it?"
"Yes, I would say so."
"There you go John," I said, turning to him. "Look, he just made a friend. And how exactly is your romantic life getting on? I suppose you're just waiting for the right time to ask her."
"You know what, I'm just going to shut up. When you're done having a laugh, wake me up." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the car door.
"John," I said quietly.
"Not yet," he said. "I'm not ready to talk to you right now. You'll just poke fun at me some more."
"No, that's not it. We're here." I nudged him lightly.
He sighed. "You have got to be kidding me."
Hehe, I love John. Also, I just made the connection that Mary Poppins is a Time Lord. I know people have seen that before, but I just had the personal epiphany the other day. I might have to make a fanfic outta that...
Anyway, this is very important so read carefully. I will not be updating as frequently as I have been. It's not that I can't, but there is something important on the horizon. March marks the month when filming for the third season of Sherlock begins. First of all, yay! Second of all, it means that the third season release will most likely air fall of this year. So I have to make all my chapters and ideas last till then. See the problem? I can update every day if I want, but I choose not to. Unless you guys leave really awesome reviews that is... YES I'M A REVIEW WHORE.
If you liked this and want to see more, drop me a review. If you do drop me a review and/or save this story to your alerts and/or favorites, that will make me even happier and more likely to write the next chapter. If you feel like I'm taking to long to update this story, then feel free to friend me on facebook and bug me about it there. The link is in my profile.