Part Ten.
Thea was panicking. She would rather be chasing down a serial killer than getting ready for this date. She didn't know why she was flustered over it – she'd been on dates before – but this felt different. This felt important.
She turned up the volume on her music, an eclectic mix of a little bit of everything, and continued to unpin her hair from the pin curls she'd learned from a friend proficient in hairstyling that kept her hair mostly tame. Her makeup was half-done, but luckily all she had to do was apply a light coat of shimmery eyeshadow, get her eyeliner perfect, and brush on a little mascara. Her top three outfits of choice were sitting on her bed, waiting for the indecisive moment where she would inevitably panic about what she would finally choose.
And Matthew would be there in half an hour.
God help her.
As she was finishing her makeup, her father appeared in her doorway, scrutinizing her thoroughly. When the silence lasted more than either of them was comfortable with, she asked, "Would you like to help me pick an outfit?"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her, but when she threw him her most innocent smile, he nodded slowly. "Since I'm not allowed to meet the boy…"
"Yet," Thea corrected, ushering him out of the bathroom while she scooped up the clothes. She changed quickly into her first outfit, a blue flowery dress with a jean jacket and ankle boots paired with minimalistic jewellery. She stepped out of the bathroom, and he looked her up and down.
"One word," she reminded him, as was the tradition with his opinions. He used to go into large discussions about what the dates' intentions may be, which always made her late in the end. Now, he was only allowed to use one word to sum up her fashion choices.
"Innocent."
She groaned, "Not entirely what I was going for." She motioned for him to help her unzip the dress then rushed back into the bathroom, changing instead into a neon V-neck shirt, skinny black leather pants, a grey blazer, and black pointy heels.
She appeared and her father immediately said, "Business."
Thea placed a hand on her hip. "I only have one outfit left. If it's not the one, I'm going nude."
"The hell you are," he said through the door as she whisked back into the bathroom.
She finally changed into her black peplum dress with a high neck, paired with bright blue statement jewellery and floral-printed strappy heels. She emerged from the bathroom, and Sherlock's eyes rested on her. He didn't say anything for a moment, and his features softened.
"Papa?"
"Audrey Hepburn."
Her eyebrows pulled together. "What? I'm surprised you even know who that is."
He gave her a look, but he replied, "It's classic."
She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek before picking up her phone from her charging dock and grabbing her lipstick for touch-ups.
Sherlock followed her as she made her way down to the living room, double-checking her clutch for her essentials (and not-so essentials that her father didn't want to think about). In the living room, John sat with his laptop in his chair, updating his resume. He looked over at her as she emerged and smiled fondly. "You look lovely."
"Thank you, Dr Watson," she smiled as she grabbed her cream pea coat from the hook on the door. Mrs Hudson called up from the doorway downstairs.
"Thea dear! There's a charming young man here for you!"
Sherlock's body tensed, but he moved from the doorway and sat in his armchair obediently. Thea checked her hair in the fireplace mirror one last time before moving to the door. "I'll be back in a few hours, ciao!"
She tried not to run too hurriedly down the stairs, pecking Mrs Hudson on the cheek and bidding her goodnight as she approached the door. He must have insisted on waiting outside. Her hand closed around the door handle and she took a deep breath before opening it. Standing on the sidewalk was Matthew, his curly dark hair sleekly combed back and in a grey suit with a white dress shirt and aqua-striped skinny tie. As he saw her, a large smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes spread across his lips. In his hands he held a bouquet with an eclectic mix of both bright and pale-coloured assorted flowers.
"Wow, you're…spectacular."
A blush burned her cheeks as she ducked her eyes. "You're quite handsome yourself, sir."
He approached her slowly, nervously turning the bouquet in his hands. "I, uh, couldn't decide which bouquet you'd like more, so I took a gamble and asked the florist if he could combine the two." He motioned to her jewellery and shoes, "I see now that the bright ones would have suited you." He offered her the bouquet as she blushed harder.
"I think they're absolutely lovely." After a small pause, she said, "Shall we?"
Matthew offered his arm and she took it, feeling like she was radiant next to him. As he hailed them a taxi, she looked up at the flat windows to see her father peering curiously at them. She gave him a comforting smile before she let Matthew help her into the taxi.
They arrived at Angelo's only moments later, and Thea felt an immense amount of appreciation for the man who had always been so kind to her and her father. Angelo had closed the restaurant early for them and had gone to great lengths to make it more intimate. At a table in the centre of the room, he had set the table with nicer plates and cutlery than he put out for his normal business hours. Three small candles burned in the middle of the table, each one at a different height as they sat on their assorted stands. A bucket filled with ice sat next to the table. Fairy lights were strung up across the walls, and candles burned throughout the room. Thea felt like she had been transported to another place entirely.
Matthew rested a hand on her hip and looked around the room, "Couldn't have picked a better place myself."
Thea smiled, letting Matthew lead her to her chair by the hand, only letting go to pull her chair out for her. He helped her out of her coat, then sat in his own chair, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. Angelo appeared from the kitchens, looking more professional in his white chef's coat and hat, and handed them menus. He winked at Thea before disappearing to the kitchens, only to reappear with a bottle of wine.
"Sir, is this chardonnay alright for this evening?" he asked Matthew, holding it out to see. Matthew looked to Thea and she nodded. He gave his approval to Angelo, who poured it for the two of them and rested it in the bucket before he took his leave again.
A little more than twenty minutes later, they had ordered and toasted to their date, each hoping for the best.
After they sipped their drinks, Thea rested her elbows on the table, leaning closer to Matthew.
"You've already brought me the cliché flowers, which are lovely, so let's ask the cliché questions." Matthew nodded, a gleam in his eyes. She could get lost in them very easily, "Tell me about yourself."
Matthew gave a small laugh and ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass. "Well, I'm an art critic of sorts. I work for a magazine based out of Switzerland that elevates up-and-coming artists around the world. I focus on British, Irish, Welsh, and Scottish talents. It pays well, and I get to travel a lot to different parts of the continent. It's sort of a dream job."
Thea smiled. "I write as well. Claude thinks I'm brilliant, but I think she's a bit biased. I'm sure I'm no better than the next amateur."
"You should let me read some of your work. I'm curious now."
Thea looked down and blushed furiously. "No, I'm quite private about my writing, except to my father. Maybe one day when I'm a best-selling author or a world-renowned journalist."
"I bet that day's not far off."
"I guess we'll see about that," she looked round the restaurant before her eyes rested on a scar on his hand that stretched from the end of his forefinger diagonally across his hand to his wrist. "Okay, tell me the story behind the scar."
He glanced at it quickly (or was it panic? she noted, but it faded and the thought was pushed from her mind) and cleared his throat, "Oh, umm. Not much of a story really. I was helping my father on our land when I was younger and managed to cut my hand open on a stray piece of metal in the yard. Near a hundred stitches."
"Poor thing."
"What about you?" he asked, pouring himself more wine and offering her some, to which she agreed, "Any scars? Piercings? Tattoos?"
Thea laughed a little and pulled her hair to one side of her neck. "Yeah, actually. But if you tell my father, I'll have to kill you. I don't think he knows about them."
A grin slowly spread over Matthew's face and he nodded, "Alright then. Let's hear it."
She gathered her hair up in her hands and turned a little in her seat so she could show him the small sun and moon hidden behind her left ear, "This one was super spontaneous. Claude and I got matching ones as soon as we were both sixteen." She let her hair drop and turned back to her handsome date. "I have two more – one being a white-ink tattoo on my hip that reads 'sic itur ad astra', which means 'thus you shall go to the stars' in Latin." She ducked her head a little sheepishly as she said, "I learned that in school and felt a deep connection to it."
Matthew gave her a warm smile and took a sip of his wine as he said, "And the last one?"
She gave him one of her wicked, sensual smiles. "That one's a secret."
"A secret?"
"It's not a tattoo that people normally get, and no one can see it unless in a very intimate situation."
Desire lit a fire in his eyes, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss him. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip and leaned on the table, his hands folding together. "Well I hope one day I might have that privilege."
She picked up her wine glass and raised an eyebrow. "I hope so, too."
There was a quiet lull in the conversation, but Matthew picked it up before it got too awkward.
"So there's the matter of how I found your number."
Thea nodded and clicked her tongue as the wine warmed her skin. "Ah, yes. I was wondering."
"You see, there's this thing called the Internet, a wonderful tool really, and I typed in your last name and 'London', and up pops this website."
"Would it happen to be named, 'The Science of Deduction'?"
"As it happens, it would be."
"Charming. Then you know my father."
"Not as well as I would like to," he commented, and Thea's mouth nearly hung open.
"You want to meet my father?" she asked, surprised.
Matthew's eyes went wide and he shook his head, "Not – not right now, no! I mean, not that I wouldn't want to. Not that I think we should be meeting the parents! I just meant –"
Thea shook her head vigorously, "No, of course not. I just mean… Well, no one really wants to meet my father. They just kind of happen across him and immediately wish they hadn't."
His eyebrows furrowed, "But he sounds brilliant?"
Thea laughed, nodding a little, "Oh he is. Masterful, a wonderful detective. He's got the mind of a genius. He's just a little troubled in the human empathy and compassion department. Not that it's awful, he just takes some getting used to. What he lacks, I make up for, I assure you."
"He sounds fun," Matthew admitted, smiling widely. "Whenever you think it appropriate, I would most definitely love to meet him. That is, if you would like to do this again?"
Thea feigned scandal. "My dear, we haven't even eaten yet!"
Matthew laughed, like the sound of a bubbling brook. "Right. Well after the no-doubt delicious meal is delivered and we have indulged ourselves to burst, then we can discuss further encounters."
I don't think that will be necessary, she thought, but instead, she just nodded.
"What about your mother?" Matthew suddenly asked, and Thea's throat closed, "You didn't mention her anywhere in the conversation. How is she used to your father's brilliance?"
Thea looked down at her hands, resting in her lap, "I, uh, don't know much of anything about her. She died before I could know her. They were young, my parents, when I came about. I don't think she knew the Sherlock Holmes that exists today."
Matthew swallowed and shook his head, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"No," she said, shaking her head and giving him a reassuring half-smile, "It's alright. You would've found out eventually. Better now than later. But for future reference, the general rule amongst everyone, friends and family, is that we don't talk about her. Too painful, I guess."
Their conversation was interrupted by Angelo's entrance with their dinner, and they thanked him freely before digging in to their delectable dishes. They talked a little more of their interests as they finished off the bottle of wine and every little bite available on their plates. Matthew was a sculptor in his free time, working mostly with metal, but enjoyed football with his mates from uni on the weekends. He had lived in the Mayfair area with a couple of his mates for a little over half a year, though he was hoping to move out on his own once the holidays came around, as he was expecting a promotion. His parents lived in the countryside, but he went there every month or so to check up on them and update them on his life in the big city.
Angelo served them a decadent chocolate cheesecake for dessert, and after insisting they needn't pay (and them thanking him profusely for everything), Matthew helped her into her coat and they strolled out of the restaurant, arm in arm. They walked a little ways to talk more intimately before they grew tired of the chill in the air and resolved to get a cab. In the back of the cab, Matthew's hand rested on top of hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand the entire way back to her flat.
It was late when they arrived back, and Thea noticed that the only light that peered out of the windows of their flat was the one in her bedroom. They approached the door but stopped just short of it, Matthew's fingers interlaced with hers as he slowly pulled her closer to him.
"I had a fantastic night," she said quietly, forcing him to lean his head down to hear her, "Better than any I've had before."
"Even when solving crimes with your father?" Matthew laughed quietly, a husky tone that made her knees go weak.
"So much better. You didn't make me examine anything involving blood."
They were quiet for another second, their foreheads nearly touching before he finally pressed his lips softly to hers. She could've sworn that the heavens sung as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer still as she rested her hand on the back of his neck. His lips were as soft as the rose petals in her bouquet, and he smelled of a forest during a rainstorm that she swore was the stuff of novels. He smiled against her lips and broke away, his eyes devouring her like a wolf during a full moon. She hoped she looked as sensual as she felt.
"My room is on the top floor, away from everything, and my father slips into his own world in the evening…" she purred slowly, her voice svelte and low, "You could stay the night, if you'd like."
Matthew bit his lip slightly and the hand that rested along her waist seemed to tighten around her. "That sounds incredibly lovely…" but he loosened his grip, leaning back to take in every detail of her. "But I want to enjoy this moment as it is. I really do like you, Miss Thea Holmes, more than I think I admit even to myself. I don't want to rush a good thing and ruin it."
Thea nodded, placing a hand on his arm as she turned her eyes up at him, "I respect that. But should you ever change your mind, I won't mind. You know where to find me." She kissed his cheek and smiled fondly at him, "Goodnight, Mr Hemingway. Call me soon." And she walked through the door to 221B and immediately felt like the universe had aligned, her heart light and her head fluttering like a thousand butterflies had infiltrated every membrane of her body.
There was something about that boy…
