Exploring Sexuality

A/N: To the guest who reviewed about Anthea: awwwww! That is a totally cute idea, but I'm not sure where I'm quite going with Liz yet, so you may have to wait a while longer for an end of sorts like that. Because I seriously have no end in mind for this story yet. Oops.

Anyways, back on an almost normal schedule- yay! Enjoy! xxx

Also, P.S.: I did super thoughtful font changes for the shopping list for each of their different handwritings, but it didn't transfer over the format, so I'm sad. I'll just have to leave it up to your guys' wonderful imaginations.

Ch. 25

They did general shopping first. They bought food John didn't think they'd have room for in the flat. But he got to watch Liz go from very uncomfortable around so many people to almost relaxed, and he counted that as a small win. They had yet to discuss any of the hundreds of things they needed to, but they could take it slow. Liz had to get used to having a life again.

Which is a change John watched her accept with open arms.

She talked easily to him even when she was uncomfortable, asking questions and listening raptly to John's answers. He told her about Irene, and more about Mycroft, and about himself, and himself and Sherlock together. Plus the large number of random things she asked, many of them seemingly random, and others that filled her in on current affairs. She asked personal questions about Sherlock's war, and the one John had fought in physically. She told him she wanted to read his blog when she got a chance, so he told her about Sherlock's too, just to be fair. She said she'd look at his too.

They took two trips, because there was no way they could carry all the groceries and anything they were going to buy for Liz. So they stopped back at Baker Street and rearranged the kitchen a bit so that everything fit in the fridge while still being sanitary and not moving any (most) of Sherlock's stuff.

And they went back out. They started simple.

"I want to cut it all off," Liz told the woman behind her, eyes flickering briefly to John in the mirror. "New beginnings and all that."

The hairstylist nodded. "Bad break-up?" she asked sympathetically.

Liz tensed and a bit of the color left her cheeks, her smile falling completely for the first time since they left this morning. "Something like that," she managed.

The hairstylist didn't press further.

John listened and watched as they worked out styling and framing and other things John usually just left up to whoever was cutting his hair. A little over half an hour later though, Liz had short layers and side-swept bangs, having cut off practically a foot of her hair. It just barely covered her ears now. And by the huge smile on her face as she looked in the mirror when it was finished, John thought she rather liked it.

"It's perfect," she announced to the mirror before looking to the hairstylist and John respectively. "Thank you."

"Well, it is my job," the woman laughed. "But I'm glad you like it so much."

Liz didn't stop smiling, and she kept running her fingers through her hair. She was still doing it after John paid for the cut and they hailed another cab to go 'Liz shopping,' and John chuckled.

"Let me take a picture; I'll send it to Sherlock," he said, to which she readily agreed. John added a short message to the picture:

She's ecstatic. Hair cut was a good call. JW

He got a reply while Liz was in the changing room.

Of course it was. Tell her it suits her. SH

"Sherlock likes your hair," John called to the door Liz was behind, and he could hear the smile in her reply.

"So do I."

She thinks so too. JW

John realized he hadn't really thought of being a father in a long time as he watched Liz try on outfit after outfit, talking to the sales people and asking his opinion occasionally. He briefly wondered when Liz last thought of herself as someone's daughter. He didn't know how old she had been when her parents had passed, of how long she had been trafficked. He wondered if she would become part of their family.

If he wanted her to.

If she wanted to.

Around half past noon they stopped for lunch, and John got another text.

Where are you? SH

Need you. SH

The second one came right after the first, and John quickly typed out his reply, telling him where they were. Then he immediately sent another.

What's wrong? JW

The reply was instantaneous.

Emotions. SH

"What is it?" Liz asked over her chips.

"Sherlock's going to come find us," he said. "He's having a hard time."

We'll be here. JW

Liz nodded and didn't say anything else, finishing her lunch in silence. John did too, one hand on his phone, just in case.

How Sherlock managed to find them under twenty minutes, John thought he'd never know, but about fifteen minutes later, Liz said a quiet "John," nodding behind him and John looked up, standing as Sherlock walked effortlessly through the crowd and into his arms.

"Hey," John whispered, holding him in a tight hug. "What's the matter? Are you alright?"

"My tests came back, obviously, so I went to the Yard to talk to Lestrade about yesterday and they said they weren't any closer to finding Eric, so he asked if I'd talk with Tom, and I said sure, I didn't know him, it was fine, screw what Mycroft said, but he knew me, and then you weren't there, and I just needed this," Sherlock explained very quickly, not letting go of John.

"Alright," John said quietly, pressing a kiss to the crook of Sherlock's neck and holding him close. He was aware that people were staring, and Liz was trying hard not to, but they stayed like that for probably a good couple of minutes. Then Sherlock sighed softly, and the tension left his body as he pressed a kiss of his own to John's forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Of course," John whispered back as they pulled apart, and then Sherlock was his self again.

"It really does suit you, the short hair. It looks good," he told Liz.

She smiled brightly. "Thanks," she said. "You alright?"

Sherlock looked at her with a small smile, a curious expression on his face. "I am, thank you," he said, pulling up a chair to their little table, staying close to John. "How is your new wardrobe coming along?"

"Brilliantly," Liz said with a small giggle and a faint blush. "I dropped about two sizes, so my old clothes wouldn't have fit anyway," she added, her voice a bit quieter. "And John's wonderful, but he has no fashion sense."

That made Sherlock chuckle, and John tried to look appalled. "I take offense to that," he said.

"But she's right, and you know it, so don't be too offended," Sherlock said, squeezing his hand. "How much left do you have on the list?"

"Jacket, shoes, journal, and a bag," Liz listed off.

"And a third chair," John added.

Sherlock took a pause, looking at the various bags at their feet. "And a mobile."

"John had the list, I mentally crossed that out," Liz said.

"Why? We don't have a landline, you need one."

"I really don't," she protested.

"But-"

"Do you know how much a week's worth of girl's clothes costs?"

"It doesn't ma-"

"To me it does."

Sherlock's hesitance left John enough time to cut in, and he nodded. "Right, no mobile."

Sherlock didn't argue. "Mycroft can pick up the chair for us when we pick one out," he said instead, tactfully dropping the cell phone subject.

"That would be helpful, yes," John agreed with another nod.

"Are you staying for a while?" Liz asked him, having somewhat expected him to go back to the Yard or something.

"I think so, yes," Sherlock affirmed. "Where are we headed next?"

John looked to Liz, leaving it up to her. "Sneakers first," she decided.

Sherlock nodded, and seeing as they had already finished eating, the three of them went off to get Liz some new sneakers. She got a pair of boots too, and a jacket that Sherlock approved of, making her smile ridiculously. She deliberately picked a bag that went over her shoulder so that she could use it casually, but also for school once they decided what they were going to do about that. Sherlock put a sketch book and a box of pencils in the basket later, which Liz didn't notice until they were checking out.

"How did you know?" she asked sort of quietly, brows furrowed as she looked between it and Sherlock.

"You kept looking at them while getting a journal and pens," Sherlock said with a shrug, like it was obvious and no big deal.

"I haven't drawn in years," she murmured, mostly to herself.

"Now you can pick it back up again."

Liz smiled. There was a lot she could do again now, and both Sherlock and John watched as that registered in her head. And she planned to make the most of it.