No. I have NOT abandoned this story. I mean, how could I abandon something that I truly love? Life gets crazy sometimes. I'm currently writing my master's thesis and it's HELL. I honestly have no idea how long it's been since I've last updated this story, but please, believe me - IT IS NOT ABANDONED. It's just testing your patience :D
As always, thank you for your amazing reviews. They always put a smile on my face, and inspire me to get better and better. I'm still doing my best to keep everyone in character, even if they are exploring... well, new things :D I just want you to know that the reason I'm not giving up on writing, even if I write like five sentences a week sometimes, has a lot to do with your constant support. I cannot thank you enough. But I need you to know that it's very important for me and I love it.
And now... Enjoy!
Victoria felt weird, almost to the point, where she wanted to squirm in frustration. Things weren't supposed to be that way; she was even determined to face the past and support Sherlock in his desperate need to find a criminal. But now that she'd learned about his actions… Well, the woman couldn't help, but to feel hurt.
The conversation they had, was really enlightening in some ways. Radcliffe was really happy to know that so many things had changed since the first time she'd mentioned her father, but… Sherlock still had gone behind her back. He still had managed to find her father, before she even began to understand the reasons behind his actions.
What if she hadn't? What if she'd still consider his actions to be hurtful and selfish? Victoria had known better than to think that he would actually feel any remorse for acting on his own. He believed he was doing the right thing and he really was, to some extent.
Still, she couldn't help, but to feel a bit betrayed. It seemed funny in a way, cause Sherlock stopped being a mystery to her quite some time; there was nothing surprising about his lack of care for the consequences of his actions. It was stupid of her to expect that things would suddenly change. But even so, she was entitled to be mad, wasn't she?
"You still refuse to talk to me." The detective glanced up from the stack of files, only to find Sherlock staring at her from his chair, right across her desk. "I find it awfully disturbing."
"You know what else is disturbing?" she asked quietly and propped herself on the elbows. "The fact that you didn't feel the need to tell me about my father earlier. Before you found him."
"Would it really make such difference?"
"Of course it would," she answered and sighed deeply. "Look, I know that you didn't mean to hurt me. Not this time. But I still cannot shake the feeling that my answer wouldn't mean anything. Even if I've told you that it would make me suffer, you'd still act the same. It pisses me off."
Victoria became aware of the attention that their conversation had gained. Everyone in the office kept looking at them with interest, and it made things even worse. Having a domestic at work didn't sound particularly attractive, but having one with Sherlock Holmes, out of all people, seemed even worse.
"What's done is done, Sherlock," she said and looked down at her files. "I will get over it, eventually."
"Your anger makes me uncomfortable," he stated, much to her surprise.
His voice sounded tense, weirdly so. Radcliffe couldn't help, but to glance up once more, only to find him staring at her with an intense expression. She believed him; the glow in his eyes seemed fairly sincere, and it betrayed the sings of anxiety.
"Sherlock…" the woman started, but he looked away, frowning.
"It doesn't make any sense," he interrupted and fidgeted slightly. "I am not used to feeling this way and I obviously despise that state. However, I feel that it is absolutely necessary to make sure that our… arrangement won't suffer because of your lack of ability to separate feelings from work."
She bloody hated him sometimes. Actually, Victoria felt the urge to shoot him and watch him bleed, but after a brief moment she realised that he had actually tried to make amends; if only for the wrong reasons.
"Our arrangement, Sherlock, cannot be broken this easily," Victoria stated and frowned. "I'm pretty sure that eventually you'll cross a line, but this… This is not it. And if it would be possible for me to just start hating you after you've done something horribly insensitive, I would have done so a long time ago."
"No, you wouldn't. You like getting high off of me."
She looked at him angrily, but he only offered her a smug smile.
"You really are addictive, Sherlock," the detective stated, but her voice sounded calm. "But it doesn't mean that I couldn't have made a different choice. I would probably suffer for a while, but I would still regain my balance, even if I've decided to leave you. And you had a different choice too. You could have talked to me, and then looked for my father. It would have been better than going behind my back."
"There was a risk that you would be opposed to the idea, that you would choose to surrender to your fears," Sherlock said and frowned. "Many people do that, even if it is pathetic to the core. But…"
"But what?"
"I couldn't wait, Victoria. Not, when I can still remember Magnussen's threats. Destroying you through your father would be easy, childishly so. And I cannot allow that to happen."
Suddenly, part of her anger disappeared. Sherlock Holmes rarely felt the need to lie, and he never did so, when he didn't need to. Sure, he often used his skills in that particular area to make some things possible, but when it came to her, lying seemed like an unnecessary effort. The detective still couldn't believe it, but he cared for her, in a weird, very sherlocky way. It was not what she wanted. It was not what she believed to be a healthy base for a relationship, but, even still, her heart jumped with excitement and she smiled a bit.
"You're a prick, Holmes. I should probably throw you in jail, but you'd probably find my father anyway. Just… Just don't do things like that," she said after a moment. "I honestly start to feel like knowing things is the best way to manage living with you. Even if the truth hurts or drives me mad, it really is better than feeling betrayed and left out."
To her surprise, Sherlock stood up and went around the desk to face her. Before she could realise what was happening, he bent over and kissed her. Victoria forgot that they were still at the office, with people looking at them constantly. His lips moved slowly, almost too slow for her liking. She stopped herself from pulling him closer, knowing that it would only fuel people's interests; even still, she wanted nothing more than that. His scent, the gentle touch of his hands against her cheeks… It made her feel haunted; for his touch, for his closeness, for everything.
When he pulled away, she looked at him with awe, but he only smiled smugly.
"You've done that on purpose, haven't you?" Radcliffe asked weakly, and he rolled his eyes.
He clearly wanted to divert her attention from the remaining anger, and to remind her of all the positive feelings she had for him. Sherlock Holmes was a brilliant manipulator; he was willing to do anything to get out of an uncomfortable situation, even if it meant doing something that went against his very nature.
"I don't think you can kiss someone by accident." The man answered, making her irritated.
"That's not what I meant."
Sherlock straightened himself and forced her to look at him. He seemed unbelievably tall and lean in that moment, much to her heart's dismay; it sped up even more, making her want to push the cloak off his shoulders, and then undo every single one of his buttons, and then…
She blushed fiercely, which only widened his smile.
"I know," he answered and took out his phone. "Got to go. Come to Baker Street later, will you?"
"Maybe," she answered calmly, despite the raging war in her heart.
He left, and Victoria had the weirdest idea ever. She could have sworn that the final look he'd sent her was filled with an emotion that looked surprisingly like excitement. He may have crossed the line to manipulate her, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy doing it.
Maybe it was crazy, but for a moment, Radcliffe actually believed that Sherlock Holmes wanted her too in the most primitive sort of way.
Victoria entered the apartment, only to find Sherlock seated in front of his laptop. He didn't acknowledge her presence, but she was smarter than to think he didn't know she was there.
"Hi," she said quietly and went straight to the couch.
Radcliffe lowered herself onto it and let out a deep sigh. She was exhausted. The morning was relatively peaceful, but then Lestrade ordered her to support other detectives in their cases, which led to long hours of rummaging through dozens of files.
"I'm so bloody tired," she muttered and closed her eyes.
The typing stopped and Victoria became very aware of Sherlock's gaze on her. A part of her wanted to open the eyes and look at him – fiercely, bravely, with a hint of a challenge.. But she decided to keep still and let him examine her with cautious. There was something about this situation that made her entire body awakened.
"You should probably stop worrying over things that you cannot control," Sherlock said and she snorted.
"So, I should stop worrying about your actions, huh?"
"Among other things, yes. It was rather futile in the past."
Victoria shook her head, still not opening her eyes.
"I'll never stop worrying about you, idiot. You're extremely unpredictable and bound to do stupid things. Not to mention your tendency to break the law everywhere you go. Not worrying about you is simply impossible at this point."
"If I'm an idiot, what would you call…" he started, clearly displeased with her words. "Well, everyone else?"
"Oh, there are many ways to insult somebody. Calling you an idiot is very effective, because you just cannot stand the idea that there are certain areas in which you are…"
"Almost as brilliant as in others?" he mocked, while she smiled sweetly and opened her eyes.
"… completely dumb."
Holmes frowned angrily, but it didn't stop Victoria from grinning. He looked hilarious with that pout on his face; suddenly he started to remind her of a five year old who was about to throw a tantrum.
"I'm not going to prove you wrong yet again," he stated and she rolled her eyes, incredibly amused.
"Sure, Holmes. Why am I here then? Care to enlighten me?" Victoria stood up and walked towards the desk.
Sherlock continued typing furiously, but his gaze followed her silhouette, making her slightly unsure of herself. There was nothing wrong with the way she looked; sure, Radcliffe could use a quick shower, or change of clothes, but the mirror wouldn't break at the sight of her. Still, Holmes' gaze seemed to scrutinize her in a way that felt weirdly intimate, forcing her to summon all of the will to stop herself from fidgeting.
"You've lost weight," he muttered and averted his gaze, back to the laptop.
"So…? Are you going to feed me?" Victoria mocked and stopped next to him. She glanced at the monitor and raised her brows, when she found out that he was chatting with someone. "Who are you talking to?"
"No one. Are you not eating?"
"You are the one with eating disorder." The women rolled her eyes. "I've been through some shit lately, you know?"
"I always took you for someone who eats away their stress."
"There are different kinds of stress. I don't think anything can compare to the feeling of watching someone you…" she broke off, feeling utterly ridiculous.
The typing stopped and Sherlock tensed slightly. Victoria wanted to curse herself for nearly saying something she'd truly regret, but it was too late. She sighed and shook her head.
"I wasn't prepared for seeing you leave for good. And I sure as hell wasn't prepared for everything that came after."
"That's not what you wanted to say," he replied and turned his head to glance at her.
Victoria allowed herself to look deep into his eyes, even if it could turn out to be a bad idea. His irises seemed to hypnotise her, but that magnetic gaze couldn't change the sudden insecurity that awakened in her brain. Did she truly love him? Or was it just a simple affection that would only grow into something more powerful?
Radcliffe couldn't answer that question; she simply wasn't ready for it. Not when things were so fresh, so new and complicated. She might have fallen for him hard, but talking about this seemed like a crazy idea.
"No," she admitted and looked away. "But no matter how hard you try, I'm still not going to say it."
"I already know," he answered, forcing the woman to roll her eyes.
"Of course you do. Keep it to yourself, though, cause we're not ready to have that conversation." Despite feeling utterly stupid, she put her hand on his shoulder and leaned down, staring at the screen. "Who are you talking to?"
"We're not ready to have that conversation either."
"Is it a woman?" Victoria mocked and Sherlock snorted with displeasure.
"Appalling idea, really. I discovered that chatting with women online is a synonym for pure torture."
His words made her chuckle, but she still didn't give up on finding out the identity of his interlocutor. A mad idea popped into her head, and before she could actually think about it, she lowered herself even more and rested her chin against his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he asked instantly, but it didn't stop her from nuzzling her nose against his neck. Sherlock froze, but he didn't push her away, which was a relatively good sign, or at least she hoped so.
"Distracting you, obviously." Her whisper made him shift slightly, but she knew better than to think it was an act of contempt or disgust.
Victoria's mouth rested against his pulse, which was slightly elevated. It only confirmed her theory.
"Who are you talking to?" she asked, allowing her lips to graze the surface of his skin. Holmes moved his fingers off the keyboard, making her weirdly satisfied; he could be a walking rock sometimes, but he still reacted to her ministrations like every man would.
"I'm not telling you, Victoria. And I also find it incredibly funny that you believe such actions would make me…"
She kissed his neck gently and sucked on it; his breath hitched and the tension in his shoulders intensified. A smile appeared on her face, but the woman wouldn't dare to laugh at him in that moment.
"What were you saying?"
"Is my brain supposed to malfunction in those kind of situations? It certainly hasn't done that before," he muttered quietly, while she planted another kiss right next to the previous one.
"To be honest, I'm counting on it."
It was a weird sensation – to feel this empowered in his company. Sherlock always dominated the scene, making it his own, playing everyone around. And she was no different. Victoria allowed him to manipulate her, even if she had never believed that such thing could happen. She had let him slither into her life and turn it around completely. But right then… Radcliffe felt like she owned him, and it was a feeling so satisfying, so exciting that she didn't stop her hand that ventured into his hair, grasping at it and pulling his head to the side.
"Tell me, Sherlock," she whispered again and planted several kisses on his jawline, which was now perfectly exposed.
His breathing became shallow, even if he consciously tried to control himself.
"Do they teach you to interrogate witnesses like that?"
Victoria let out a short laugh and moved her fingers through the strands of his hair; they were soft, silky almost, and it only made her want to repeat her actions over and over.
"Come on, Sherlock. We both know that you're immune to most interrogating techniques. I had to try something… different."
"I'm still not telling you anything."
Before he could protest, she turned and swung her leg over his thighs, straddling him. She was surprised to see that weird combination of emotions in his eyes. He was puzzled, slightly anxious, but Victoria had no doubts that he would do nothing to stop her. Cause he was still curious, probably about many things. And she wanted to show him everything.
"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. It's still going to be fun, trying getting that information out of you." She smirked and put her arms around his neck.
"It's hard to talk and kiss at the same time," he answered in his calm, reasonable tone, which made her amused.
"Not necessarily," she purred and got closer. "Cause, you see… You can do the talking, while I do the kissing."
"Oh," he exhaled sharply and froze, when her lips touched his own lightly.
Victoria smiled and deepened the kiss, unable to deny herself that one second of pleasure. Just when he responded, she moved away, dragging her lips across his cheek, jaw and finally the neck.
"Isn't it called 'teasing'?" Sherlock asked quietly, while she allowed herself to undo the top buttons of his shirt.
She felt his heartbeat underneath her palms – strong, fast and quite erratic, for someone who loved feeling in control. Radcliffe started to wonder if he allowed her to do all those things, because he didn't want to hurt her feelings. She dismissed the thought, because his reactions were pretty easy to interpret. He might have been anxious and uncomfortable, but the signs of arousal were clear.
"Do you like it?" she whispered into his skin.
Sherlock turned his head slightly.
"Absolutely not, which only makes everything more confusing."
"Why?" Victoria stopped moving, a bit afraid that she had lost her mind and somehow confused his behaviour with something entirely different.
"Because I still don't want you to stop. No, actually." She could feel the tension in his facial muscles. "I want to kiss you."
"Let's strike a deal." Victoria shifted and looked into his eyes with an impish grin. "I'll let you kiss me, however you'd like, wherever you'd like… If you tell me, who you were talking to."
"Mm… No deal."
Radcliffe grabbed his neck and squealed, when she felt his hands on her bottom. He lifted himself from the chair and took her with him. Her legs wrapped themselves around his hips, and his arousal became quite obvious. She blushed slightly, only to turn crimson red, when he started to carry her to his bedroom.
"Sherlock…?"
He didn't answer. He simply entered the room and dropped her onto his bed.
"Wait until I finish working. Then… we could maybe renegotiate the terms," he stated and left her alone.
A part of her was disappointed; for a moment there, she allowed herself to think that maybe he wanted to do more than just kiss her. Or that maybe he didn't care for any pointless deals. Now she felt utterly stupid for forgetting who she was dealing with.
Still, something in his voice made her stomach clench with excitement. He probably wasn't planning on making her feel that way, but in addition to the lust in his eyes and the erection she'd felt earlier, Victoria couldn't shake off the feeling that she would, indeed, allow him to kiss her anywhere he damn pleased.
"Get a grip, you idiot," she muttered to herself and rolled over to her stomach.
The sheets smelled like him. The scent had a calming effect, even if she would never admit to lying there and inhaling it deeply, like she was some kind of an addict. Victoria smirked and closed her eyes. Well… She was an addict.
Some time ago, she would probably refuse to talk to him for days, weeks maybe. And it would take a lot more than a kiss to make her go soft. Did it mean that she became weak? Probably. But in this case, it didn't bother her that much. Sherlock had, once again, gone behind her back, making her furious and hurt, but… He did the right thing, in the eyes of most people – the society.
Her father posed a threat, if not now, then a long time ago. Even if he had managed to turn his life around, it did nothing to wipe the blood off his hands. He was still a murderer; a ruthless man, who destroyed her childhood. Victoria's fear was justified, just like her hatred and the lack of actions over the years. No one could blame her for trying to recover. No one could pin the blame on her, but now that someone had pointed out to her that there might have been other people, suffering from the same trauma, just because of her fear… She knew that arguing with Sherlock would be stupid. Actually, it was always stupid, because he couldn't be bothered with understanding other people's motives.
It was weird to realise that there might come a time, when his general reluctance to acknowledge the possibility of being wrong, would leave her hurt so badly that she would feel the same anger she'd felt, when he'd first mentioned her father. Anger that would force her to distance himself from him, to end things between them.
Her arousal was gone, replaced by sadness. Because it really was sad in a way; even with all those signs and small victories, the woman still couldn't see their relationship as something that would last and withstand all of the possible problems. Things were bound to explode, when one of them would finally fuck up monumentally. Victoria didn't want to assume that it would be Sherlock's fault; she wasn't perfect after all, and she had no clue what to do. This relationship looked nothing like any other, resembling walking on thinnest of ice, that was ready to crack any second.
It was an experiment, she realised with a gloom amusement. Months ago she decided that Sherlock would not experiment on her; yet here she was, experimenting on him. Or maybe it was mutual?
"This is all really fucked up already," Radcliffe muttered and rolled over again, this time facing the ceiling.
It truly was. But it didn't mean that she couldn't be happy, while it lasted. Victoria deserved to feel something else than stress and constant worry. And Sherlock made her mostly happy, once she learned to read between the lines. Even his ludicrous behaviour didn't change much, as she began to understand it, just as he began to understand his own feelings.
They both had much to learn. Both would end up with a brand new knowledge that, even if they decided to go separate ways, would prove useful in later stages of life. That she was sure of. And it had to be enough, for now.
Victoria woke up, feeling the mattress shift slightly. Her eyes opened, only to find Sherlock lying next to her. Her mind registered the scent of freshly washed hair and she realised that he must have just taken a shower.
"What time is it?" she muttered sleepily and he frowned.
"Time is irrelevant right now. Sleep."
She closed her eyes, tempted to actually listen to him, but a distant question kept ringing in her head, growing louder and louder, until sleep was no longer an option.
"Sherlock…" Radcliffe started. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"
There was no need to go into details, because Holmes undoubtedly understood her question, judging by the sudden tension in his body. Victoria tried to search his face for any clues, but the lack of light in the room made things difficult.
"Cause you wouldn't like the answer." His reply came as a surprise.
Sherlock Holmes never held back his tongue. He always spoke what was on his mind, which often led to hurting someone. The fact that he stopped himself from telling her something, once again, only proved that, somewhere along the way, he learned how to adapt, if only to a moderate degree. Still, he decided to keep something from her, yet again, and it made her quite irritated. That state didn't last long though, because she realised that the reason for his behaviour had something to do with her father.
"I already told you that knowing things is better than being kept in the dark. I need the answer."
Because she truly did. Now that he had set the wheels in motion, staying away and not interfering didn't seem like an option. She needed to know, to do things the right way. There would be no better chance to face her fears, to conquer demons of the past. It became clearer and clearer, the more she thought about it.
"I assumed that you would want to keep your distance, judging by your initial reaction," Sherlock answered and she sighed.
"Yeah, well… It was easier to just ignore everything, to… To consciously omit every memory I had with him. I don't know if I can do this, but it's already too late. Now I just have to force myself to be a part of this investigation."
"It is the right thing to do," he stated dryly. "I was talking to your brother."
Victoria looked at him sharply and then snorted.
"My brother is dead. I don't think you could actually…"
"I'm not talking about Aaron."
The fact that he had known that name… It made her stomach clench, making this entire situation feel more real. She almost laughed, because there should have been no mistake about it before; she bloody well knew that Sherlock had undoubtedly read every file on her family's case. It was the first thing one was supposed to do, after deciding to solve a crime that had gone cold years ago. But she hadn't heard that name in so long…
It rolled off his tongue so easily. To Victoria it seemed almost impossible to even think about that combination of letters, about their sound. Some might say that it was utterly stupid. It was only a name, just like any other. But whenever she'd heard it, she could see her brother's face, covered in blood and traces of salt – the only visible signs of the despair he'd felt in his last moments.
"Aaron is most definitely gone. Your other brother, however, is not," Sherlock continued, clearly missing out on the blank expression of her face and the meaning behind it.
His words were perfectly understandable, but at the same time, Victoria couldn't quite grasp their concept. She didn't have a different sibling. It had always just been her… and him. Surely she'd remember something this important, even if her brain was traumatised?
"Victoria?"
"I… I don't…" she stuttered and felt her heart speed up considerably.
Something stopped her from realising the obvious meaning of Sherlock's words. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of guilt that had already started to form in her mind.
"Breathe," Holmes ordered calmly, and when she still kept muttering some nonsense syllables, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her tightly; too tightly for it to have been a simple embrace. "Breathe, Victoria."
It took some time, but, finally, her muscles relaxed and she was able to inhale deeply. His scent acted like a calming factor, once again, and the barrier that prevented her from fully acknowledging the message in his words disappeared.
"Please, Sherlock… Please, tell me that he didn't hurt another child of his. My sibling," she whispered into his shirt, while his tight embrace loosened a bit.
The man kept hugging her, probably realising that she needed some form of comfort. It was a good choice on his part; physical contact helped, on the contrary to any attempts at consoling her. Sherlock Holmes was many things, but he didn't specialise in making people feel better.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't have to say more. That surprisingly genuine tone of his voice made everything quite clear; it also made her heart clench even more painfully.
"Fuck…" she cursed, feeling overwhelmed with guilt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"
"Swearing won't change anything. Meeting Luke, however, might."
So his name was Luke. It was a pretty name, she decided, even if it sounded foreign and completely unfamiliar. Victoria had a hard time processing all the new information. She couldn't understand why would meeting him change anything. Did he really want to get to know that one person who could have prevented another tragedy from happening? Or maybe he simply wanted to blame someone for what had happened to him. Either way, it sounded like something Radcliffe couldn't survive.
"He doesn't want to testify. He doesn't want to have anything to do with your father, ever again," Sherlock continued, clearly sensing her hesitation and doubt.
"You can't really blame him," the woman answered, and her voice broke.
"Yes, I can. Just as I blame you for not doing anything for so long," he answered calmly.
His words stung, but she kind of expected them. It was Sherlock, after all, and he had already expressed his displeasure with her passive behaviour. Back then it might have been the outcome of his own addiction talking; he simply wanted to crack another case open, to solve a mystery. But right now, he had other motives as well. He wanted to protect her, and that fact made being mad at him fairly difficult.
"Trust me… It's… It's not that simple. Not when you have to relive the same nightmare over and over. We only wanted to survive. To save… ourselves."
"Yes, it is understandable. Egoism is natural, even if humanity is so hell-bent on trying to overthrow that belief." Sherlock scoffed and, to her surprise, he started to trace a circle on her bare arm with his finger. "However, in the terms of what's right and wrong, allowing a criminal to walk freely, is a rather poor choice, isn't it? I believe you already have proof of that."
"Fuck, you're so insensitive sometimes," she sighed and hugged him back, nuzzling her nose against his skin, like she did hours ago. This time it wasn't sexual though; she just wanted comfort, and he seemed to get that. "But you're also right."
"Always."
Victoria snorted and closed her eyes. She saw no point in continuing this conversation, as suddenly the reason for her meeting with Luke became quite obvious. She began to understand that hiding from the past was wrong, even if Sherlock forced her to do that by leaving no other choice. Luke still wanted to do what was right for him, and someone had to convince him that there were other ways; better ways.
And who would do that better than her? The first victim of Joseph Radcliffe's madness?