"What...what happened to the house?" I raised a brow as I realised there were only remains left behind. Firefighters were still putting out the smoke forcing ash up into the air. I went to step out of the car quickly but I found I was stopped by Mycroft's umbrella.
"Fire. Struck up sometime this morning." Mycroft's tone was...distant. He was trying to hide something as I looked back at him.
"And William?" I raised a brow as I took in his brows and wrinkled face. He looked tired. Like he was carrying the weight of the world. His eyes reminded me of a wiser, fatigued, Sherlock. Sometimes I felt like Sherlock had the eyes of a little boy and other's I felt like he knew just exactly what he looked like and how to use it against me.
"Mr Barsworth is surprisingly, alive...An unknown spectator happened to walk by and pull him out sometime last night." Mycroft replied slowly, easing his umbrella up as I rolled my eyes at his vague response and opened the door. It seemed William was still here which surprised me but it was still early morning.
"What happened to him?" I asked as an officer tried to push me back. I just continued to stalk forwards, undeterred by the men, women, and chaos surrounding me.
"Bit of a beam or something fell on him when he tried to run. Sounds like he was a little gassed up to me." I pursed my lips as I took in his face. It looked more like he'd been smacked in the side of his face with a beam than that one had fallen on him.
"What makes you say that?" I looked back to the male who was slowly stitching his cheek up. His eyebrow already had a line of butterfly stitches going across it but his eyes were closed, he was still mumbling something under his breath as he leaned back onto the side of the truck.
"Kept yelling about a ghost with black hair runnin' about, settin' the place on fire. Truth of the matter is there was just a gas leak and he thought to have a fag in bed." He nodded back towards William whose's eyelids weren't moving. He was asleep then. I felt my face tighten as it occured to me what had happened. I have an odd feeling that the divorce papers were now drifting with the wind with the rest of the bloody ashes.
"I see." I mumbled, taking a step back to look at the remains ofa house I once enjoyed living in. It was gone now. It was all gone. What do I do now? Insurance would come around, we'd have to get new papers drawn up, and I'd have to find the cash to actually stay somewhere until the insurance went through. He'd causd so many more problems than he'd solved. Good god. I never thought he'd burn the bloody house down and I wanted to know why.
"Miss Grey." Mycroft called my name, drawing my attention as he motioned to the car. William would have to ring me when he got up, I guess. We sat in the car for maybe another five minutes before Mycroft finally spoke what had been on his mind.
"Under the flag of good faith in your...promise that it was indeed a one time mistake..." He held my eyes with a look of warning in them.
"I have decided to lend you a rent-free space in my home for the time being should you accept the house rules." Mycroft's voice was hesitant but also a bit vulnerable. His eyes were analysing as he took the risk, a minor tightening in his shoulders from stress. He cared. That was his own downfall and I would ride it to the ground.
I turned my head to the side, looking at him and his odd little umbrella. He was always carrying it, I felt he'd hidden something inside of it. "...I would like to hear the rules, Mr Holmes." I stated softly. His lips quirked at the formalities, which was understandable.
"Other people, including men, are not allowed when I am not home unless I have condoned it. You're not to go into my office unless I am in the office with you and you will check in with me before disappearing for several days in a row. " He stated them like he'd just been reading the list over in his head until I opened my mouth to disagree with the last rule.
"I realise that my warnings surrounding my brother will not deter you, however I cannot have an occupant of my home disappear without my knowledge." He shushed me with the sentnce.
"Hm." I closed my mouth in a thoughtful expression as I took him in. Was this something I wanted to do? Would it make things easier? Most definitely. I could slid him into drawing up the papers, having his people fight the companies, and have a roof over my head. It'd give me more of a reason to avoid Sherlock Holmes and the messes he brought with him.
"I agree to follow your rules, Mr Holmes." I declared, sticking my hand out to shake his.
"Mycroft." He corrected as he took my hand and gave it a good shake before retracting his own.
"Mycroft then." I aquiesced with a bow of my head to him. I needed to play nice until certain things were all over with and we both knew it.
I fell into Mycroft's lifestyle easily after the stitches dissolved and my hair grew back in. It was natural for me to play the part of a docile lover, holding on the arm of a man in power. I'd played it so many times, I could mimick it all in my sleep. Greet with a soft voice, shoulders relaxed but leveled, speak only when spoken too, take small sips, no rough hand gestures in conversation...it was so dull. I knew Mycroft was bored most of the time, sometimes he'd let me play with the higher officals whose wives had elected that night to fall down ill.
They were simple most of the time, a prolonged touch on the wrist, a little giggle and blush when they complimented my figure. Mycroft didn't allow much more past that and a longer glance between them. I'd found he was stiffling at night but allowed me to wander when it was daylight out. I'd thought about taking a few classes at the university close by but of late, I'd been feeling eyes on me. Always on my back.
"Just a chai tea, please. No milk, only water." I ordered, the barista nodded at me, writing a few squiggles on the paper cup.
"Name?" She looked expectantly.
"Grey." I smiled as she nodded and wrote it all down. I handed her the 3 quid and went on my way to wait for the the drink. I tried to subtly glance over my shoulder to see that nothing was amiss. The cafe's persons were entirely normal looking, drinking various coffees and teas, some chatting, others on laptops. Wait.
"Rose." A deep voice bounced in my ear making me jump a little. I gasped and spun my head back around to see pale eyes and skin.
"Jaysus. Why?" I excalimed incredulously as I put a hand over my heart.
"I find myself in need of your eyes." He spoke seriously but his eyes were running through a list of new facts about me. I could see him logging it all in his head as he looked at my cheek, hair, arm, legs, chest, stomach...
"I'm sort of using them right now." I smirked as I looked back at the counter, my tea had arrived surprisingly quickly and I hadn't even heard them call my name. Great.
"Apparently not. I've been standing behind you for a good 30 seconds." He retorted smugly. I raised a brow at that and looked around, wanting to wipe the smug look off of his face. Where was John?
I took a step forward, pressed up against his front. "And wheres your lover then?" I quiered with a smirk forming again when I reached around him for the tea. I went to take a step back when his hands slid under my jacket, squeezing my hips. Damn it.
"Hiding away at my brothers, ignoring my calls and being a general pest." He retorted quickly, looking the slightest bit annoyed as he pulled his hands back to lay at his sides. His eunication of the p in pest had me smiling though. I loved the funny way he talked sometimes. Eugh. Rose, why?
"I'm not sure of why just yet. Point is, I need you for a case." He raised a brow as I forcefully pulled away from him.
"Right right. Lead the way Obi-wan." I motioned with my cup as he looked a little befuddled, not moving.
"...Let me guess. You know what what an Obi-wan is." I sighed dramatically, looking put out with him.
"Its obviously not nessesary information. I've most likely deleted it." He replied slowly, not seeming to want to say 'I don't know'. Arrogant sod that he is, I got that much.
"Whatever." I rolled my eyes as I followed him out to the curb and sipped tea while he flagged down a cab. I didn't want to know how he even found me here or if he'd been the eyes I'd felt for weeks now. I'd asked Mycroft if he'd been keeping up with me daily and he said he'd stopped after the second week of me ignoring Sherlock.
"Do you read John's blog?" Sherlock interrupted the silence in the cab with his question, he looked a bit urgent and even annoyed as he asked.
"John has a blog?" I raised a brow, looking to him. I knew he had one but I wanted to see what he'd do if I acted totally innocent.
"Good. You don't need to read that dull dribble." He seemed even more bothered as he huffed, nodding.
"Right." I mumbled warily as I took him in. He looked a little insecure but distracted for the most part. His mind was racing now that the question had been answered.
"You." I was greeted by an irate John Watson when we came through the swinging doors.
"...You?" I replied warily, not entirely sure what I'd done to deserve the finger pointing that he was doing right now.
"I've got a bone to pick with you and your bloody-" I raised a brow as John began to rant. "John. Now isn't the time, I'll deal with it." Sherlock's voice drifted across, I started to smirk at that. I wouldn't get a scolding by John.
"Rose. Take a look." I looked back to see Sherlock sitting down at a microscope, pressing something between two glass slides. I nodded, taking a step to go around John with a bit of victory in my prance as I came to stand on the other side. I'd been wearing heels which had dramatically slow my gait when we were coming it. It was a bit annoying to say the least. Especially when he kept yelling "Keep up" at me every few meters.
I picked up the shoes, turning them over in my hands. Clean, recently washed, faded marker on the inside, soles worn down, and laces changed over a period of times. I'd recognised this brand of shoes from a kid that'd loved them in highschool. The white had been yellowed, this was one of the original pairs then. Not a reproduction.
"Loved them, large foot size, weak arches. They were owned by either a gargantuan lady or a teenage boy. They've been handled well, cleaned and marked but it's been faded so he's washed them quite a bit. But...that was a while ago. Maybe 10 or 20 years." I called, looking back towards Sherlock.
"Twenty years?" John straightened up, looking surprised.
"Yes good job. And the laces?" Sherlock nodded quickly with the tiniest of smiles, it bewildered me at times that he seemed to be proud of my observational skills.
"She get's a 'good job'?" John scoffed, coming around to stand across the table from us.
"Feeling jealous, Mr Watson?" I turned, leaning on the desk as I smirked across at him.
"Of course not! I'm just annoyed. A bloke can be annoyed with another bloke without it meaning anything!" He blusterd as my smirk deepened, enjoying the look of discomfort on his face. They must have gotten word of the gossip going around about them being a couple then. I'd heard about it over the internet newspapers when I wandered around the web for things to do.
"I can rectify that in just one night." I winked and felt a sharp sting on my arse. I looked back with confusion as Sherlock's hand drew away, I was being given a dark look. I'd realised a little after that I'd just been scolded for playing with John with a slap to the arse. Who did that? Well I knew who else but he wasn't around anymore.
John however, seemed to not notice as he only speed up in his rant. "...said all the same bits but instead he just uses me to show how much cleverer he is. Why do you get the nice treatment? I-" I started to snicker at his rambling.
"Because I've staked a claim on her, John." Sherlock deadpanned as the room went an odd round of silence that was broken by my snicker's becoming a choking noise. Holy fuck what do I even say to that?
"Now, Rose. What. About. The. Laces." Sherlock was bothered now, tapping the shoe in my hands with each word. I could tell from the tense shoulders, drawn brows, and narrowed eyes. Sometimes I wonder if he knew the expressions he made.
"Not the originals. Changed maybe four times considering the gouges on the holes." I took in a breath and motioned to the little stretches in the loops.
He nodded quickly. "Well done for the most part. He did wash them, religiously. Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made." Sherlock cited, pulling out his phone and typed.
"Hold on, they're twenty years old?" John asked again, coming closer.
"The white's yellowed just a bit." I motioned to the side where I'd seen the yellow. John still looked taken aback as he leaned closer, looking at them now. I think we were all pretending that bit didn't just happen. I personally, was fine with that.
"They're not retro – they're original. Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine. " Sherlock called, holding up his phone.
"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John was surprised still.
"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis will shows where it's from." Sherlock sighed as he looked back into the microscope. I put the shoe down as I took a seat next to him, I was far enough to not have to feel his body heat but I could still see the computer screen. I took out my mobile and began to play games on it until the scan was complete. It didn't take long for John to break the silence though.
"So, who d'you suppose it was? The woman on the phone from the bomber." John clariified as he paced. I raised a brow at that.
"You're dealing with a bomber now?" I leaned on my elbows as I looked across the table at John.
"He's got this woman strapped up, waiting for Sherlock to solve whatever the hell it is." John sounded like he was in distress, motioning to Sherlock. I nodded as a second passed and we heard the trill of a text message alert.
"Sherlock. The phone call woman?" John was getting testy as he was ignored by the detective. It looked like there was about to be a lover's tiff. I was more curious about the phone, and stood, getting closer to the scanner and Sherlock to see where it was coming from out of boredom.
"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there." Sherlock shrugged, still looking into the microscope.
"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." John was trying to have a break through but I'm not sure he was going about it the right way. Sherlock worked differently than most. Its what was so damn interesting about the man.
"You're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock sighed, leaning back and glancing across to the screen. There was still no match.
"Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?" John tried again, stopping across the counter from us. He looked a bit like he couldn't believe the machine that Sherlock was which was amusing. Sherlock was a machine most of the time but I was starting to fear he'd grown a bit of a heart in the mean time. That meant awful things for both of us.
"The bomber's too smart for that." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he leaned back to look into the telescope. The same trill started, this time it sounded like it was coming from his jacket.
"Pass me my phone." Sherlock ordered. I rolled my eyes and moved towards him, draping my body over his back but not moving.
"Where is it?" I muttered into his ear. Right under the collar of his button-up I could see the remains of my little bite. The bruise had faded and so had the lovebite for the most part. I almost wanted to do it again, darken the mark even more.
Instead I just leaned over and pulled lightly at the exposed skin on his neck. "Jacket." His voice was husky as I smiled into his neck, placing another kiss on it and slid my hand down his front. I was riffling through the pockets of his jacket, roughly.
"Careful." He bite out the words sounding strained as while I teased him. I knew he had a weak spot on his neck. Right below his ear lobe and hair line. It was a favourite of mine.
"For goodness sake, I'm still in the room!" John called out, embarassed sounding from the other side. We both looked up with equal faces of confusion as John looked away from us. I let out a little chuckle as I pulled the mobile out of Sherlock's jacket and unlocked it easily. John would have been adorable to mess with but as far as I knew, he still had a girlfriend.