I was sitting in a children's park, just...watching. I'd gotten one or two looks but many quickly looked away after I smiled back at them. It wasn't nearly as odd for a woman to be here as it would have been for a man. I was really just waiting for a message from John or Sherlock to let me know they were done chasing fictional superheros acting as real life vigilantes.
A week or two ago, three boys had come into the apartment to discuss how their superheros had come to life. While John and Sherlock spent their time running around for these heroes, I was looking at homes. Sherlock was too distracted with the chase to realise what I was really doing while he was away. John, however, knew. He'd even asked me what I was going to do when Sherlock realised, I simply said I'd be gone by then.
"Fancy seeing you here." A wry Irish accent giggled as he sat down next to me. I should have guessed that after a good month, he would have shown up again.
"Hello, James. " I greeted him without taking my eyes off of the children playing in front of us. Surprisingly, I only felt an angry numbing coming over me.
"You're taking quite a long time to move, Rosie." He sighed, making my eyes slant sideways at him with curiosity before I continued to stare forwards. I was curious. Curious what would happen.
"Am I?" I smirked, looking forwards still. I took humour in the smaller moments with James though it seemed like I was tempting Jim out into view.
"Daddy's getting tired now." He sang wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and squeezing lightly. He wanted me out, but why? What was he planning that required me out of the house? I felt him lean closer as though he was going to kiss my cheek when his lips paused, turning towards my ear instead.
"Get out by Christmas or I'll have to get nasty." He warned me in a low whisper before pecking my cheek and standing. He stood there for a second giving me just enough time to scrap my foot down his shin.
"What do you think you're doing?" He snatched my wrist roughly, letting me know Jim was out as I smirked back into angry eyes.
"Shouldn't have changed the plan, Jim." I raised a brow, daring him to say that he hadn't deserved it. His anger melted away into an amused smile.
"Always one to hold grudges, Rose." He chuckled. I watched him bend at the waist to to my face. "Thats all fine and good as long as you know, I hold grudges too." His reptilian eyes didn't dart like usual, instead they remained steady on my own. He was searching for a reaction.
I moved closer to him, close enough that I could tell each individual hair on his brows and know that he'd eaten an orange for lunch. "You were always such a child." I leaned up and turned my head, pausing for a second before I kissed his cheek. His hand wrapped itself around my jaw, keeping my head still as he pulled back and ran a thumb over my cheek.
"If I am, then so are you." He smirked, squeezing my neck for a moment longer before he released me entirely. I laid back into the bench like I had before, keeping my words to myself.
I didn't watch him walk away and sat there for a moment or two longer. I was thinking. Hard. What could he have planned that would need me to be forced out? Was the next game a woman? I'd heard of a women in James's service before but that was after I'd run from him with William. She wasn't treated like me, instead he'd been rather aggressive from what I remembered.
"Rosalyn." Sherlock's voice startled me as my head swiveled to the side to search for him. He was standing next to me with muted happiness across his features. They were lighter but more unfocused, he wasn't happy about a case then. He was happy about something else as he took me in.
"Someone's happy." I commented as I stood. I was testing the waters, seeing what he was like today as though he was a replica of Jim and James. Perhaps he was...it would explain why I hadn't left yet. Things had to get bad before I seemed to be able to truly run from men like him and James.
"We solved the case but I actually came here to ask if you'd like to grab a bite." He shrugged as I watched him. He was honest, felt comfortable enough around me to be such a thing as honest. He wasn't at all like Jim or James then, but similar in his methodology.
"How sweet." I snorted as I looped my elbow around his with him leading the way. This was a moment of normality that I allowed myself to cherish for once in my world. A moment that I'd seen in movies and books, walking in the park with a partner to do nothing more than talk. A rare moment in the chaos that fueled my world forwards, hurtling into the next destructive force.
"Oh come now, don't mention the unsolved ones!" Sherlock stood with a beaker in his hand and a blow torch in the other, that wasn't all that new here. It was his tone that forced me to look away from my book. He sounded annoyed and indignant that John would ever give away a flaw of his.
"People want to know you're human." John sighed, looking away from the laptop. I had to assume they were bickering over John's blog again, Sherlock had been increasingly annoyed about people reading John's blog while not reading his own. I'd taken a glance over to discuss his 240 tobacco ashes with him to calm his cries of frustration that I didn't read them, like a bloody child in need of attention.
"Why?" Sherlock looked just as indignant as before, changing which leg he stood on. At least he'd gotten dressed today, though I could still see the bruise I'd left on his forearm maybe two days ago.
"'Cause they're interested." John's smirk made me want to smile. The good doctor had finally figured out something he was better at Sherlock than, it was yet another rare occurrence.
"No, they're not. Why are they, Rose?" Sherlock's demand for an explanation was really what made me smile at that point. He looked at me as a connection, a negotiator to bridge the gap between broken people like us and those who adapted to society. He'd been born this way while I'd been forced into it, unable to adapt any longer.
"People need reassurance that you're like them, love." I explained patiently, looking back down to my book to flip the page. It was a classic romance novel, a guilty pleasure of my own. Sherlock had hidden the last one some where in the apartment after I ignored him telling me to come to bed to finish another chapter.
"Oh its not just me then, you're in this one as well. In fact..." I looked back up as Sherlock leaned closer to read the blog post. "It goes Even the lovely and alarmingly perceptive, Rosalyn Grey was unsure as to how this fellow found his way into the back of this car." He recounted the line in a high pitched voice, mocking the description of me.
"You don't think I'm lovely?" I titled my head, pushing a look of sadness and betrayal onto my face. I already knew I had become a bit of a staple in John's blogs and Sherlock's life...well enough that when I arrived at a particularly gruesome crime scene with Sherlock, many simply stood and asked if he'd paid me to shag him. I was caught between flattery and unappreciative distaste for idiots. My company is costly. Far more costly than what Sherlock could afford if he were to pay me.
"You're enthralling for many more interesting and intellectual reasons than your figure, to think otherwise would be idiotic." He didn't falter in his underhanded compliment, making me smile but frown at the same time. I'd yet to figure out how else to stump the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. He was attached to me, this much I knew for sure but for what purpose? That I had yet to disclose.
"Look at that." John mumbled to himself in awe, drawing both Sherlock and I's attention back to him. "One thousand, eight hundred and ninety-five." He still sounded impressed but happy. Sherlock looked back at me in confusion as I shrugged, I had no clue what he was going on about.
"Sorry, what?" Sherlock's gaze centered back onto John's head with innocence.
"I re-set that counter last night. This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock – not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash." John admonished with victory as he began typing again.
"Congrats, John." I rolled my eyes as Sherlock fired up the blow torch again, sliding his safety glasses back onto his nose.
"Two hundred and forty-three." Sherlock skulked, turning back to go into the kitchen again.
"You're sure you won't come? We're just inside the doorway and you know it's prudent to sharpen your skills, Rose." Sherlock's voice came across through the cell phone in a sigh of exasperation. I was watching the masses of press outside the door way while I lingered in the shadows across the street. "Without practice, you'll dull them." He was frustrated after I didn't respond as quickly as he'd like.
"Oh I'm incredibly sure. You've got quite the frothy crowd outside." He was forever trying to include me in his investigations under the guise of needing to keep my deductive skills sharpened. Sometimes I felt like the adult between the two of us and other times I felt like a stubborn child with Sherlock as my guide...I didn't like the latter of the times.
"She's refusing, John. I suppose you'll just have to do for now." Sherlock sounded inconvenienced that he wouldn't have me observing the body and dressing room of a theatrically inclined, Sidney Paget. I snorted and ended the call, patient enough to wait for them to emerge.
From what I understood, there had been a play in which Paget's character, a detective named Matthew Michael,was murdered with an Aluminum crutch...but in this case it happened to be very much real. It was a live performance of a murder taking place, dozens of people left the theater actively yelling in confusion and disbelief leading to the hordes of media in front of me now.
I hadn't been home when the pair had been called out to the scene, instead I was wandering the market, wondering if I really wanted my milk next to a severed head in the fridge. My thought had been that if it was in a plastic container, I'd be safe. This was also when I left the market to find an irrational man waiting for me.
"Rosalyn Grey." I barely paused in my steps as two dirty shoes joined my own. His voice was strained, emotional. I didn't respond, hoping to simply ignore him and sped up in my heels. I hadn't quite transitioned to the casual level of John's numerous and hideous jumpers so I elected to simply keep the style I had.
"Rosalyn. Grey." He was growling my name, wrapping a hand around one arm and yanking me to face him. It took me a second but I recognized the face of the man that had come into the apartment a few weeks ago. He'd been there under the suspicion of his wife's infidelity.
"Can I help you?" I raised a brow, snatching my arm back out of his grasp. He seemed speechless by my casual question. I suppose when I popped his bubble, I sent his world sprawling. He looked just as defeated as before but dirtier than then. The milk, bread, and vegetables were quite heavy so I switched arms, electing to prop a hand up on my hip.
"You know...whatever." He pursed his lips in an oddly serene smile. "You're going to get what you deserve." I turned my head, puzzled with his reaction. Normal people couldn't switch that quickly between a calamitous anger to serenity. My eyes were drawn to the silver pistol he simply leveled at with my nose. I looked back into his eyes and swung my arm up, the bag full of my groceries tumbled into his hand. Milk splattered across the pavement as I stepped to the side in an attempt to dodge a possible bullet.
I heard a BANG and immediately figured I'd been shot as something wet splattered across my face. I blinked maybe twice before I realised the man in front of me had been shot. I took a step back, staring at his crimson wound. It was a single shot. Mid range but they were trained. I jerked my head up, looking around at the buildings for my savior of a sniper. My feet took a single step before a woman screamed, a man yelled for someone to call the police and I was suddenly swallowed up by the swarm of concern.
"You're still around then?" I glanced back at the wry voice of Sally Donovan. One of the stronger believers that I couldn't possibly be intimate with a man like Sherlock without being paid for it. Oh how wrong she was.
"In a manner of speaking, yes." I commented, looking away from her as she came to stand next to me. I might not be for very much longer at this rate but it seemed I had an odd sort of guardian angel.
"Can't listen to sound advice then, can you sweetheart?" She seemed to almost stamp her foot. I had to really force myself to not smile at that. "Look, however much he's payin' ya to be his girlfriend...its not worth it." She was honest though bitter and jaded when it came to Sherlock's sharp deductions concerning her and another member of her team's sexual relations. Now whether or not she wanted me gone for my sake or her own vendetta was to be seen.
"I'm a lot of things, Miss Donovan..." I shrugged, not meeting her eyes as the paparazzi began to jumped and yell signalling Sherlock and John were done with their investigation. I looked back at her, meeting her eyes in a knowing smirk. "Being Sherlock's girlfriend is not one of them."
"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go." I sighed, starting to jog towards the two men who were desperately trying to evade photographs being taken of them.
"So what happened?" I reached Sherlock's side as he sighed.
"It wasn't all that interesting. Paget switched out the prop for a real one hoping to get his killer fired, turns out he just killed himself." Sherlock looked put out with the outcome, another case solved in under a week. We sat inside the taxi in silence as Sherlock began to stare out the window, dismally.
"We need to establish a system, a system for how serious the crime is so I don't have to be rushed out in the middle of the night for some idiot's ruse." Sherlock grounded it out with distaste as we nodded to his request.
"Then we can establish as system, 1-10 good for you?" John was placating him patiently.
"Yes, I think that'd do me well." Sherlock nodded, sitting back into the taxi idly.
"You're not carrying any bags." His eyes were drawn to my hair making me nervous that I hadn't gotten all of the late irate man's blood off of me.
"I'm glad to see your deductions are ever obvious." I snorted dryly, looking across the cabin at John. John chuckled lightly before shaking his head and looking back out the window. He would have never noticed such a thing.
"Wheres the shopping?" Sherlock's lips and eyes narrowed in annoyance as I shrugged at his question. "Rosalyn." His tone was one of warning. A warning I would ignore.
"Sherlock." I raised a brow as John seemed to sigh and mumble to himself about us starting again in the corner.