I don't really do a lot of author's notes but I had to say thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites and everything because I just really appreciate it. It really is amazing to know you're reading and (for some reason) actually sticking around and liking it! I'm very grateful for you taking the time and reading/reviewing.
Also, this story is about to tread into some real murky waters for a while. Just a head's up, and a reminder that it's always darkest before dawn!
After their agreement at Bart's, Sherlock and Posy worked out the details of their arrangement. They would spend the week in a rented flat outside the city and neither one of them was to leave at any time. No one could know of this arrangement for both Posy's safety as well as interference from anyone else-specifically-John.
The idea was that if Posy was found mid-experiment and taken to a hospital, her chances of survival would be slashed since they were dealing with a new and unfamiliar substance. Sherlock convinced her that the fail safe was indeed real, showing her the science behind the development. She didn't understand any of it, but his effort helped soothe her anxiety.
Sherlock escorted Posy to her house to collect any other things she may need for the week, as well as to lock it up for the extended stay. The last time she did this, she thought to herself, was when she was vacationing in Spain. What a crap holiday this was about to be.
They didn't lose any time, Posy texted John, saying she heard from family up north and was headed to spend the week with them until she felt better. She assured him that if he needed to get in touch to text, Sherlock was in charge of her phone if she was unfit to do so. He complained about how difficult it would be to communicate in such a primitive way in order to convince John it was really her.
When they finally reached the flat it was in a shoddy building in a shoddy neighborhood. They were on the top floor in a corner unit that was very small and did not possess any of the character of Baker Street. There were two tiny bedrooms that were side to side, a small bathroom that was stripped to the basics, and a common area that was more like an extension of the galley kitchen. A dodgy couch that was not made for comfort took up the feeble space and an old tube television sat across from it.
"Way to make it nice for a girl, eh?" Posy said as she carried her bags into the living room, regret blooming in her stomach at the sight of the place.
"It's only a week." Sherlock did not lose any time in setting up his equipment and settling in.
"You're not really like, a serial killer, right?" Posy called while inspecting the bathroom.
"No. Limited to Consulting Detective."
"OK, great." Her voice was a bit shaky and Sherlock looked over at her. "Just remembering all that advice my mom gave me. You know, don't get in cars with boys. Don't stay in dodgy flats with Consulting Detectives and experiment with unknown drugs for weeks at a time."
Sherlock walked towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. She was surprised at how far his fingers stretched onto her back and stirred at the contact. She then remembered his gorgeous sheets and inhaled deeply. Yes, she thought, he really does smell like that.
"If you have any second thoughts or regrets you're free to leave." He said slowly, in what Persephone thought was the most comforting voice he could muster. "But if you're going to leave, do it now. Once we get started we have to finish. It's only a week and I need you to trust me."
She had no idea what this week had in store for her, but she was sure of one thing. Far beyond her control or reason, she did trust him. She nodded slowly and he released her shoulders to continue with his work.
Later that night Sherlock ordered takeaway and had the landlord bring it up to their flat. They dished the food out and sat across from each other, on the floor, neither one of them speaking or eating.
"You haven't touched the food." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.
"Kind of nervous," was the reply. "When do we get started?"
"Tomorrow. No use beginning today, I want to record all the immediate reactions."
Posy nodded and picked at her food. "There isn't anything to drink around here, is there?"
Sherlock rose and went to one of the cabinets where had unpacked his materials. He slipped out a bottle and brought it to the table. It was amaretto.
"We can't afford a hangover," he advised as he poured out two glasses.
"Thank you." Posy took the glass from him and sipped on the amber liquid. It was smooth and sweet and as it went down it left a trail of warmth. He remembered she liked this.
"I don't know anything about you." Posy let the statement float between them. It was true and yet it didn't really matter. She expected him to be his usual self and let it fade away, responding only with another question or a change of topic.
"What were you hoping to know?" Her eyes fluttered up in surprise at his response.
"I don't know. I just find it strange that you know everything about me with your deductions. Tomorrow I'll be completely vulnerable in your care. And yet I don't know a thing about you. Well," she drawled out with a smile, "I know you have excellent taste in bedsheets."
"Mrs. Hudson picked them for me." Sherlock answered flatly.
"Oh."
A few moments passed as they sipped on the amaretto. Sherlock was the first to break their silence. "I have a brother."
"Is he like you?"
"He is nothing like me." His response was laced with resentment and Posy decided to leave the thread untouched.
"You ended your relationship with John." Posy found it unexpected that he kept the conversation going. She thought he would prefer the silence but she welcomed the opportunity at casual conversation.
"I didn't end anything, we never had a relationship." She smiled at her own response.
"You both went out on a date, that's social convention for a relationship isn't it?"
"It wasn't a date, it was two friends going out for drinks. If you must know, I was John's wingman and he may actually get a real date because of me."
It was Sherlock's turn to smile. It was both charming and odd to see his face smile. "And what is a wingman exactly?"
"What!?" Posy found it incredulous for him to ask such a question. He looked almost slightly embarrassed. "Boy, you seriously need to get out more, Mr. Holmes. A wingman helps his guy friend get the girl. Sometimes if the girl is with a friend the wingman distracts her so his friend has a chance. That's what I did, and I was pretty fantastic at it."
"Well congratulations Persephone, yet another talent I was not aware you possessed." His tone was light and playful. She wondered if he was relaxed or if it was just an effect of the liquor.
"Why do you call me that?" The warmth of the drink was helping her feel brave.
"What do I call you?"
"Persephone. No one-ever-calls me by my full name."
"Well, that's a shame. It's your name isn't it?" Sherlock refilled both glasses.
"Yes, but it's also very long and complicated to say."
"It's lovely." Sherlock answered. Posy thought he was being sarcastic.
"It's kind of obnoxious, I think." When she was unsure of how to deal with compliments, she easily deflected them with self-deprecation.
"It's 'kind of' appropriate, then." Sherlock answered, a slight chuckle escaping from him.
She gasped in mock outrage, "Sherlock Holmes! Are you insinuating that I'm obnoxious?"
"I don't have to insinuate. I've deduced it." Sherlock and Posy found themselves laughing heartily. She hadn't spent much time with him but she was noticing how dynamic his personality could be. He changed from ice cold logic to sarcastic wit to an almost silly humor all in the same breath. She once believed he was always hard, cold, and arrogant, too. She was beginning to see depth within his personality and for the first time considered the capacity of his emotions.
"And you?" She asked suddenly, "Have you ever been in a relationship? Has a lovely lady stolen the heart of the world's only Consulting Detective?"
His smile was sly, but his eyes held just a bit of edge to them. "Miss Taylor, that would be impossible. I'd have to possess a heart in order to have it stolen. You should know, better than most, that men made of metal have no hearts."
Her guilt at the words she spoke to him tugged at her, but she decided to challenge his statement with logic.
"Men made of metal don't have brains, either, Mr. Holmes. And since you clearly have one, I'd have to come to the conclusion that you have the other."
He didn't answer right away, and for a moment she thought she had almost had the last word. He shook his head, took the bottle off the table and walked it back to the cabinet. "You are a very ridiculous girl, Perseph-ah, I guess I should stop calling you by that obnoxious name?"
She cleared off the table and followed him into the kitchen.
"I have a secret." She sashayed after him and handed him the containers as he slipped them in the refrigerator.
"I have a feeling you're about to reveal it to me." He closed the door to the refrigerator and rested his eyes on hers.
"I really don't mind when you say it."
