Hello.
How are you all? I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! This is the big chapter I promised, though I don't think it will be as long as some of the others, so…
But there is a contest at the end. The winner get to pick the prize (there will be choices, of course), but there is more about that in the ending author's note.
Sherlock had already left early this morning. When I woke, he was already gone, the bed cold, so he had been gone for a while, I guessed.
When I got up, I asked John if he had seen him, but he shook his head.
"He's not asleep?"
"Nope." I said, plopping down into Sherlock's chair.
"Lab?" John guessed. I shrugged, picking up my phone, sending Sherlock a text.
"Maybe."
I simply asked where he was and when he thought he was going to be home. Mrs. Hudson had decided to help me make dinner and teach me more about cooking, and Sherlock always gave his honest opinion, without being too harsh which I appreciated.
I never got a text back, and Sherlock walked in a few hours later.
"Hey." I greeted him, turning a page of my book. He only grunted in response, going back to the bedroom. His mood hadn't changed since last night, apparently.
"Everything okay?" I asked. He nodded.
John walked in from his room, greeting Sherlock just as I did, actually getting a response, and starting a conversation.
Every time I tried, he would dismiss me; ignore me, or just grunt. John had noticed it to.
"What's going on between you two? I thought everything was going great, you know, happy, engaged, what's wrong?" he asked a few days later. We had taken a walk through the park, the one John had met his friend in when he first came to London, and we sat on the bench.
"I don't know. I would try to ask him and talk to him about it, but he'd just ignore me, as always." I mumbled.
"It started after the whole Irene ordeal." John suggested.
"Maybe her being alive affected him differently than I thought it would."
"Maybe." John agreed.
We walked back to the flat, and John went straight to his room, sending me a smile.
"Hi." I said. I felt as if these past few days I had been walking on eggshells around him, and I hated it. I hated how these past few days we could be in the same room, and where it used to be comfortable, it was one of the most exhausting things in the world, and I couldn't stand it any longer.
"Hmm." He hummed. I sat in John's chair across from him, crossing my legs in front of me.
"What's wrong?" I asked, but he didn't answer. "Sherlock, please, talk to me."
"Why?" he asked, simply, never looking at me.
"Because I think we have a lot to talk about. Gosh, Sherlock, you're acting like a pouty toddler." I sighed, angrily. He looked at me now, his brows furrowed, confused, but also upset, angry.
"What do we have to talk about?" He asked.
"Seriously?" I asked. "Genius, consulting detective, the only one in the world, and yet you can't figure it out?" I sighed, trying not to get too upset. "Why won't you talk to me?" I asked. "Every time I try to have a conversation with you, you ignore me. What's going on?" I asked, honestly wanting to help. He sighed this time. "Is it about Irene?" I asked. I took him not answering as a 'yes'. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." he answered, quickly.
"Okay." I said with a nod.
When he remained silent for a few minutes, I left, going up to John's room instead of my own.
"Nothing." I said, plopping down on his bed, frustrated.
"Did I have to come with you?" Sherlock asked a month later, John handing him a shopping bag while I scanned the last item.
"Yes." John answered when I didn't. I decided to give Sherlock the silent treatment just like he was giving me, though I don't think he had really noticed. "We could use some help."
We carried the bags into the flat. Sherlock didn't take any, leaving John and I to do all of the work.
"Sherlock?" John asked, looking down the hallway. He was standing in front of the bedroom door, staring into the room. John and I went back there as well, following his gaze.
"We have a client." Sherlock said. I got there before John did, and what I saw made my heart pound.
"What, in your bedroom?"
"Yes. I wonder how they got there." I said, sarcastically, sending a glare to Sherlock, before looking back at Irene, who was lying in Sherlock's bed, and though she was fully clothed, it made no difference to me. She was here.
"Ooh." John said, placing a hand on my shoulder, leading me into the living room.
Some time later, Irene had showered and walked into the living room, wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns.
"So, who's after you?" Sherlock asked.
"People who want to kill me." Irene answered, sitting in Sherlock's chair in the living room, while Sherlock and John sat in the dining chairs. I was in John's.
"Who's that?"
"Killers." She answered.
"It would help if you were more specific." John said.
"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them." Sherlock guessed.
"It worked for a while."
"Except you let Elizabeth know that you were alive, and therefore me."
"I knew you'd keep my secret."
"You couldn't." Sherlock said.
"But you did, didn't you. Where's my camera phone?"
"It's not here." John answered. "We're not stupid."
"Then what have you done with it?" She asked. "If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."
"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."
"I need it."
"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" I asked.
"Molly Hooper could go and get it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it at a café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it back up." John said to Sherlock, who smiled.
"Very good, John. Excellent plan with intelligent precautions." He complimented.
"Thank you." He picked up his phone. "So why don't…oh, for…"He stopped as Sherlock pulled the phone from his pocket. Irene jumped from her chair when Sherlock held the phone up in the air.
"So what do you keep on here, in general, I mean?" Sherlock asked.
"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."
"What, for blackmail?"
"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." She answered.
"So how do you aquire this information?"
"I told you, I misbehave."
"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" He asked.
"Yes, but I don't understand it."
"I assumed. Show me." Sherlock demanded, and Irene took the phone, punching in the code.
"It's not working." She said, as the phone beeped in a warning.
"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight." He walked to his chair, and retrieved the real phone from underneath the cushion. "I assumed you would choose something more specific, than that, but, um, thanks anyway." He said, punching the code in just as Irene had done. When he did so, it beeped aswell.
"I told you that camera phone is my life. I know when it's in my hand."
"Oh you're rather good." Sherlock said.
"You're not so bad." She smiled at him. I looked away, looking at John, who was frowning at them. Maybe I would take Mrs. Hudson up on her offer.
"Elizabeth Jane, and John Hamish Watson. Just if you were looking for baby names." I told them sourly. Sherlock frowned at me.
"There was a man-an MOD official. I knew what he liked." She walked away from us, typing on the camera phone, the real one. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She handed the phone to Sherlock. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?" Sherlock sat at the other side of the table, and John narrowed his eyes at the photo. I didn't bother.
"Yes." Sherlock answered.
"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it-though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out. What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" She asked, leaning over his shoulder. "Go on, impress a girl." Sherlock seemed oblivious to her approach, as Irene leaned forward some more and placed a kiss on his cheek. I bit the inside of my cheek.
"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." He said rapidly. We all stared at him. "Oh come on, it's not a code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look…" He turned the phone to John. "There's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." he stood up this time, lowering the phone. "Please don't feel obligated to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language." He said.
"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." Irene said, intensely, making me bite my cheek harder.
"John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?" Sherlock asked, his eyes never leaving Irene's.
"Uh, yeah, I'm on it." He cleared his throat and began to type.
"I've never begged for mercy in my life." Sherlock said.
"Twice."
"Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven."
"What did you say?" Sherlock turned to John.
"You're right."
"No, no, no, after that. What did you say after that?"
"Flight double oh seven." Sherlock began to repeat the numbers to himself, and I saw Irene put a hand behind her back. I looked at, and he eyes were on me. I didn't say anything, though.
Sherlock had moved to the fireplace, standing in front of it, muttering to himself.
I heard Sherlock plucking the strings of his violin, as I grabbed my bag, and headed down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat.
She opened the door with a smile on her face, but when she saw my bag, her smile turned to a sad one, as she ushered me inside.
"I don't want to be a burden." I began.
"Nonsense. I invited you to stay with me if you needed to." She placed the mug in front of me, and I took a sip. "Plus, I could use some help around here. I was wanting to repaint the living room."
"I would be happy to help." I said with a sad excuse for a smile. Mrs. Hudson sat beside me on her couch, wrapping a tiny arm around my shoulders. I sunk into the couch, bringing my legs up so that I could rest my head on her shoulder, as I would have done my grandmother.
"I never had a daughter. I always wanted one." She said. "I think of you as a daughter."
"Really?" I asked, looking up at her. She giggled.
"Of course." She said, grabbing a knitted blanket and draping it over me. We sat there for a few minutes, saying nothing, and the more I thought, the more I wanted to cry. I had no idea what was going on with Sherlock and Irene, and, to be honest, I think that what was scared me the most, was that I didn't know. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but, I didn't want to ignore it, either. And it made sense. Sherlock hadn't been talking to me, ignoring me, and had been disappearing every now and then, before I woke up, and got back later that evening.
There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Hudson went to answer it, but came back quickly.
I told Mrs. Hudson everything that had happened, and she listened intently.
"That sounded like my husband." She said. "He cheated on me with so many other women." She said, waving a hand in the air, her comment made me tear up even more, and a tear slid down my cheek. When she turned and saw, her face fell.
"Oh, I'm sorry." She whispered. I didn't say anything.
We talked for a few more hours, before Mrs. Hudson went to the store to pick up some groceries. I decided to stay, since I really wasn't looking my best.
A few minutes after she had left, there was a knock on Mrs. Hudson's door, and I went to answer it, surprised when Irene smiled at me.
"What?" I asked. Her smiled turned into a frown.
"Can we talk?" She asked.
"I don't think I like you enough to a bride's maid at your wedding, I'm sorry." I said.
"Huh, that's exactly what I was going to say."
"There is no wedding. Not mine anyway."
"Oh?" She asked. "So he's free, yes?" I sighed.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want to talk, I already told you." She shrugged. "May I come in. Please. I think we have a lot to discuss."
I waiting for a minute, waiting to a catch, but she said nothing else. She was still wrapped in Sherlock's dressing gown, her hair , though, was already dry and curled slightly.
I moved out of the way to let her come in, and we sat on the couch in silence at first, awkwardly.
"I wanted to tell you that there is absolutely nothing going on between Sherlock and I." She said finally, sincerely. "I know, and I understand if you may not trust me, but it was all my fault. I snuck into the flat, and I flirted with him, and, like I told you a while back, he never flirted back. Still doesn't." She shrugged a shoulder.
"Thank you." I said. "You're right, I didn't really trust you-still don't entirely, but thank you." She nodded.
"You're welcome. I felt bad."
"You felt bad?" I asked, confused. She nodded.
"A little." We stayed silent for a few more moments. "We got off to a bad start, didn't we?" She asked. I nodded.
"We did."
"Restart?" She whispered.
"Maybe." I nodded, causing a smile to ghost her face.
"Thank you." She stood. "Now, I need some help." I scoffed. "I need clothes."
"Oh." I said kind of ashamed in myself. Here she is, apologizing, and asking for something as simple as clothes, and I thought the worst of it. "I'm sure I could lend you some. We are about the same size." I said, standing up.
"Sherlock and John are already gone, in case you were wondering." She said. I remembered hearing the door shut before Mrs. Hudson left, but I didn't think much about it at the time.
"Alright." I said, going out of Mrs. Hudson's flat and up the stairs, going back to the bedroom to the wardrobe. "Anything specific?" I asked, looking through the clothes.
"Something fancy, preferably. Nothing like what you're wearing now." she said, looking at me, eyes scanning my outfit.
"Wow. Thanks." I said sarcastically, tugging at my plain gray shirt and my dark jeans.
"No problem."
I found a dress that would do perfectly. I had been saving it for a while, in case Sherlock and I ever went on a date in the future, which we did occasionally, but…well….now? It wouldn't do much good. It would just sit in the closet and pick up dust. Plus, it was the only thing I had that I think would suit her very well, not just in size, but colors as well, and I wasn't an expert, but I knew it would look nice.
"Also, could I borrow some make up? Nothing big, just a few things."
"Of course." I nodded. "As long as you don't have diseases." I joked and I heard her chuckle as she moved to the bathroom.
I still wasn't a fan of Irene's. But I could tell she was being honest, and really didn't intend on ruining our relationship. I don't know if I could be friends with her, but if I were to see her out in public, I wouldn't ignore her.
I set the dress on the bed, and moved back to the living room, sitting on the couch to wait.
She came out a few minutes later, in the dress; her hair pinned up in an elegant bun, her make up done, much better than I could do, and the dress and heals fit perfectly.
"Looks nice." I nodded. She spun around.
"Do you think? I like it." She nodded. I nodded again.
"Nice." I repeated.
"I'll make sure you get it back." She offered, but I shook my head.
"Keep it." I said. She sent me a look. "I'm positive."
"Well, thank you. That's very kind." She smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way." She began to walk out of the door. "Oh, and dry your eyes, and get some ice cream. You definitely look like you need to make a date with Ben and Jerry." She winked, and walked out of the door. I looked in the mirror, and saw what she saw, which made my cringe. There were circles under my eyes, and my cheeks were red and puffy, as were my eyes. I blew out a breath, and went down to Mrs. Hudson's. Maybe she had some ice cream, because that would hit the spot….
John had relayed everything that happened, going off of what Sherlock had told him earlier that week, when this all happened-the plane had been full of dead people, put there by Mycroft and the men working for him (though, they did all of the work.). The plane was going to blow up due to terrorists, so they designed the flight of the dead to prevent casualties. Clever, but the project was canceled.
"Why?" I asked him as soon as he said it.
"Because your fiancé was desperate to show off, and deciphered the email for Irene, you remember that, yes?" He asked. I nodded.
"She passed on the information off to someone else. They knew that we knew, and everything was ruined."
"That sounds like him- a show off." I mumbled, looking down at my fingers.
"Are you still upset with him?" John asked. I thought before shrugging.
"I don't know. I don't know why he was ignoring me, or if he'll even still talk to me."
"Never know unless you try." John suggested.
"Yeah, I guess." I said with a shrug of a shoulder.
"Let's do something today." John said.
"I thought you had to work."
"I'm taking the day off." He said. "Go get washed up, you stink."
I laughed, and headed for Mrs. Hudson's bathroom, taking my bag of clothes with me to change. I had gone up and got some more, and Mrs. Hudson had put the others in a drawer in her room, which I was allowed to go and get anytime I needed to, but it would be quicker to take the bag instead.
"Oops."
"Seriously when was the last time you showered?" He asked, jokingly.
"Ha, ha." I closed the door.
I took a shower and brushed my teeth quickly, got dressed, and met John back in the living room in less than an hour, not bothering to do anything to my hair.
"Ready?" John asked, and I nodded grabbing some extra cash, and my phone, following him out of the door.
We went to the London Dungeon first, and I clung to John's arm the whole way. It was scarier than I imagined, but John and I had fun throughout the whole thing, laughing at ourselves once we were out.
Next we went to The National Gallery, which I enjoyed immensely. John and I stopped to look at everything, marveling at the paintings that adorned the gallery walls. It would take a life time to count how many paintings were in here.
We stopped for lunch afterwards, a small café, nothing special. I had ordered a veggie wrap, while John got a salad, eating slowly.
"So, Mrs. Hudson hasn't driven you crazy yet?" John guessed. I shook my head.
"She's not home a lot, actually. She's either cleaning your flat, or she's playing bridge with some of her friends, or she's shopping." I explained.
"She said you were going to do some painting." He took another bite of his salad as I put my drink down on the table.
"Yeah, she's repainting her living room, and I offered to help." He nodded, slowly, as he chewed. "Thank you for taking me out today, Johnny." I said. He smiled.
"It's no problem. I was wanting to go sightseeing for a while, and you seemed a bit down, thought today would be perfect. Might help lift your spirits a little."
"Thanks."
"You both look horrible, you know." He commented.
"Probably because Irene is gone again. Did she say where she was going?" I asked. John rolled his eyes.
"I don't think it's Irene. Remember what she said-nothing was going on between them." He reminded. "You need to at least try to talk to him."
"Is this why you took me out today?" I asked, my voice raising slightly. "So you could try and fix things?"
"No." John said, seriously. "Not at all, Elizabeth, not at all. Of course, as much as I hated it at first, you both seemed happy, and I have to say, I do think you guys are great together, and I don't want to see either one of you unhappy, especially you. But that is not why I brought you out here. Not to fix your relationship with Sherlock, if there even is a relationship there anymore, but to spend a day with my little sister, and try to make her smile." John explained. I immediately felt awful, and tore my eyes from his, staring at the table.
"Sorry." I whispered.
"S'okay." He replied. "You're upset, and don't try to tell me that you're not, because I know you. You not happy Elizabeth. The happy Elizabeth would have been singing Disney princess songs all the way through the London Dungeons because she was scared." I laughed at him. "Or would have stopped to pet the stray cat, instead of stare at it, because you're a weirdo like that. Seriously, cats can get rabies too, did you know that?" I giggled even more, but John didn't even crack a smile. "It could bite you and you could die. You could die, but you don't care because the cat's 'adorable, and deserves to be pet' and deserves your precious time. I'm serious it could have cat cancer and mange, that's gross." I had to hold back a snort as he imitated my voice, his going higher that I thought possible to do so. "And when mom called, like she did earlier this morning, she wouldn't have said 'Hi mom', you would have said 'Hi mommy' because you're a child." He still wasn't laughing at himself, but I was laughing harder than I had in weeks. "Talk to him." John said finally, after my laughter had died down, and we had stayed silent.
"I don't know what to say."
"Something. Anything." John shrugged. "Just let him know how you feel."
Easier said than done.
The rest of the day was spent just like it began-John and I having fun seeing London. I tried to be a little happier, and it seemed to be working-John made a comment about my happier mood, and I smiled wider, though it hurt my face.
We got home around dark, with bags hanging from our arms. We got something from every place we had gone if we could, and we were loaded with souvenirs.
John dropped me off at Mrs. Hudson's flat (even though the stairs were literally a couple of steps away), before climbing the stairs.
"Did you have fun?" Mrs. Hudson asked. She was washing some dishes in the sink. I tried to tell her that they made dishwashers, which would be easier, but she refused to buy one.
"Yeah, John and I had a great time." I smiled, putting the bags on the kitchen table.
"Oh, something was left for you here. Said to keep in the freezer?" She opened the freezer and pulled out a cardboard box, handing it to me. I stared at it, confused, before turning it over.
Thought you might need some, dear, so I sent some your way.
Enjoy!
-Love, Irene XX
P.S. I didn't touch it…
Well, that's...reassuring.
I did smile, though, when I read the note. Sadly, there was no return address, so I couldn't thank you
Sherlock may still have her number….
I opened the box with a kitchen knife, being careful not to cut too deep into the box, and pulled out a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, chuckling to myself.
"It should be done when you get back." I announced to Mrs. Hudson, who was fretting around the flat, nervously, her home phone stuck underneath her arm, and her purse slung over her shoulders.
"Alright." She said. "If you don't get it all done today, it's fine. Are you sure you can manage on your own? Why not get Sherlock-"
"I can do it alright." I nodded, not wanting help from anyone, especially him. I wasn't mad at him, I just knew it would be awkward.
"I know he would help you."
"I'll be fine, really Mrs. H. Don't worry." I said with a smile.
"Alright." She said, grabbing the last of her things, and left. She got a phone call a few minutes ago, and had a small emergency, something concerning one of her friends, I didn't catch all of the details, she was talking too fast, but she had to leave quickly. We had planned on painting today, but I told her I would do it, at least three of the walls.
"Oh, I made some tea, would you mind taking some up to John and Sherlock, please." She asked.
"Sure thing." wasn't getting out of this one.
I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the tray, my fingers shaking, as I took it upstairs.
I could hear Sherlock's violin, playing the same melody it had been for the past couple of days. I didn't recognize it, neither did Mrs. Hudson when I asked her, but then again, we didn't know every piece of classical music ever made. This could be a conversation starter, if I wanted to initiate a conversation.
The door was closed, which I thought was odd-usually when Sherlock's awake, he keeps it open.
I knocked before opening it, not really waiting for a reply. It felt odd having to.
Sherlock stopped playing and turned back around, rolling his eyes as he did so, and sighing, his shoulders sagging, expecting Mrs. Hudson no doubt, but when he saw me, he straightened, putting his violin on the table, clearing his throat.
"Elizabeth." He greeted.
"Sherlock." I replied. "Mrs. Hudson asked me to bring your tea up to you." I explained, motioning to the tray in my hands.
"I see." He said. Neither one of us said anything else, we just stood there, awkwardly, in the middle of the flat. I cleared my throat this time.
"Um, where do you want this?" I asked.
"Oh, um," he glanced around the flat. He cleared away a spot on the dining table. "Here is fine."
"Alright." I said, putting it where he wanted me to.
I stayed for a moment, before sighing.
"Right, well, I'll go back down." I explained, though I felt like an idiot for doing so. Where else would I go?
"Thank you." he said as I was leaving. I turned around, surprised.
"You're welcome." I sent him a tiny smile, before taking a deep breath, and heading for the stairs again.
"Elizabeth." I heard him call, and I turned again.
"Yes?"
"Can we talk?" He asked. My tiny smile widened.
"Of course." I turned completely this time, and Sherlock walked towards me.
We didn't say anything for a long time, both of us just looking around the flat, waiting for the other one to break. Sherlock spoke first.
"You thought I was cheating on you." He said.
"There was a lot of evidence supporting that assumption, yeah." I nodded.
"How so?"
"You were gone most of the day at least once a week, leaving before I woke up, and then getting home late that evening. You ignored me, only having full conversations with John, and then Irene…." I didn't finish. He knew what I was talking about.
"We're going back to Irene?" He asked.
"She's the whole reason this is going on." I said, looking at him now. "So, yes, this goes back to Irene."
"Nothing was going on, Elizabeth."
"I know, she told me."
"She told you?"
"After you left, she came down to Mrs. Hudson's and explained everything, saying she never meant to do any damage to our relationship, and wanted things to be right again."
"And you believed her?"
"Not really."
"Do you believe me?" He asked. I stayed silent for a moment, thinking, before I answered.
"Yes." I said. "Though you never explained where you were."
"Here and there. Somedays I was at the lab, scanning the phone, others I was trying to find ways to bypass the security code. Took some interviewing and some professionals. Sadly none of them were good enough."
"And why you wouldn't talk to me?" I wondered. He thought for a moment.
"Elizabeth, you are important to me." He said, looking me in the eyes this time. "You are. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." he paused before continuing. "I was tricked. She fooled me. I should have figured it out, somehow known it wasn't her. I should have been clever enough to figure it out, yet I didn't. When I found out she was alive, I felt stupid. I felt dumb. I was worried you would think the same." He admitted, looking to the floor.
"Sherlock, I could never think you were dumb." I said. "People get tricked, they slip up, they make mistakes. That doesn't make you dumb, or an idiot. it makes you human. My feelings never changed for you just because you missed something that may or may not have even been there at all. And while I love your intelligence, that's not why I love you." I explained.
He stayed silent, his eyes scanning my face. "Why do you love me?" He asked with a sigh.
I shrugged with a smile. "I don't know. That's the beauty in it, I suppose." I said, with a tiny smile, the statement a lie. I knew exactly why I loved him.
He scoffed. "There is no beauty in not knowing."
"Maybe not to you." I said.
We stood there longer before I became bold, and reached out to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze, which he returned.
"Would you consider coming back up?" He asked. "To live here? Whenever you're ready, of course. I understand if you don't completely forgive me, or…" He trailed off.
"Of course I'll come back up here." I said with a small laugh.
we were silent again, longer this time, playing with each other's fingers, his seeming massive compared to my tiny ones.
"Oh, god." He groaned. "I can't believe I said all of that. It sounded so…"
"Romantic?"
"I was going to go for crummy." I laughed. "But I guess it was romantic. To you anyway."
"It was very romantic to me."
"Good." He said. "I still can't believe I said it."
"Love makes people do strange things." I said, looking up at him as he rolled his eyes.
"Maybe you do need to live with Mrs. Hudson." I laughed again. "You both use sayings that everyone knows."
"Sorry." I said. "It's all I know."
"You need to get out more." He commented.
"Yes, I do."
He smiled down at me, and I grinned up at him, as he closed the gap between us, pressing his lips to mine.
I woke up, expecting to see the bright walls of Mrs. Hudson's flat, but what I saw instead made me smile.
Sherlock was still asleep, the blankets wrapped around his shoulder, his face smushed into the pillow, causing me to giggle, quietly so he wouldn't wake up.
We had painted a little, only getting a couple of walls done before Mrs. Hudson was home. Afterwards, we brought all of my clothes and toiletries I had packed to Mrs. Hudson's during my stay back up to the flat, putting them back in their place, before going to bed.
I closed my eyes again, trying to go back to sleep, but to no avail.
When I opened my eyes again, Sherlock's were just opening as well, looking at me.
"Good morning." He said groggily.
"'Mornin'." I yawned, stretching my legs underneath the blankets.
"Sleep well?"
"Mmhmm. You?" I asked him, relaxing back into the bed.
"Fine."
"That's good." I said, closing my eyes. I heard the front door open and shut again, and I looked to Sherlock. "Someone's here." I announced.
"You don't say."
He rose from the bed, changing from his pajamas and putting on some regular clothes. I followed him into the living room, not bothering to change, knowing those footsteps anywhere.
"Morning Sherlock." I heard John say. I came into view as John was putting some bags on the table-groceries.
"Morning Elizabeth." He said, going about his business at first, then stopping and turning back around. "Elizabeth?" He said, surprised. "Did you guys get everything worked out?" John asked.
"Yup." Sherlock answered. "We had a little chat yesterday afternoon while you were out."
John nodded, slowly at first. "Alright." he smiled. "Alright." he repeated. "Good, so, you're moving back in, right?" He asked me.
"Yup."
"Great." he beamed.
I didn't know where to end this, so it's stopping here.
So I watched the whole first season of Game of Thrones, and need a little rant….
(spoilers ahead!)
What...the...actual heck! Does he end up killing everyone I love?
I only like a few characters: Dany, Khal Drogo, Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, and Tyrion Lannister. All died in the first season, or will die in later seasons (i looked ahead. Hate myself for it…) except for two….. Why?
Just…..why?
I don't know what to feel now. I'm angry, and sad, but happy that at least two of them live, and I just can't…
So that's why it's taken me so long to update this chapter, because I was curled up underneath my blankets, crying for Khal Drogo, because that was the one that got me the most…
I'm angry.
So, I promised a contest.
And I shall deliver!
I might actually end up doing little things like this randomly, instead of adding it onto the birthday stuff. Tell me what you guys think.
Here it is:
".25 - 25.15.21 - .12.4 - 19.5.5 - 13.5 - 9.14 - 1 - .14."
The first person who breaks the code gets to either:
1-give the main plot for the next chapter, or give another side story to add
2-gets a sneak peak into the next chapter
or
3-gets to write a scene for the next chapter, or the whole next chapter (which has actually been done before, and was really cool.)
The winner gets to pick from those three, or they can come up with one of their own if they want.
Hint: Don't make it harder than it has to be-this one is very simple, and is one of my favorite lines from Moriarty :) Think numbers and letters.
Also, the - between numbers is just a space between words.
Anyway, reviews!
Great chapter, can't wait for your next update.
~wolviegurl
Thank you, dear. I hope you like this chapter as well!
I think that's it…
I'll catch you later (hopefully there will be a quicker update than last time!)
My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, from this day, until my last day
-Theon Greyjoy
~Eruaphadriel