Waking Up

For a blissful thirty seconds, Ruby awoke and remembered nothing of last night. This was largely due to the roaring headache smashing against the inside of her skull, a distraction which did not last thanks to the circumstances surrounding its inception. Ruby bolted upright, a movement which did nothing but aggravate her outrageous hangover.

Sherlock Holmes.

She'd kissed Sherlock Holmes.

Not once.

Not twice.

Not even thrice.

Perhaps seven to eight times?

'Oh God.' She murmured, hands shielding her eyes from the harsh sun barging through the unveiled window. 'Oh God, oh God, oh God –' Her hands slid from her face and she sat straighter, remembering in full the pristine memory of what could only be described as the kiss. One which didn't belong in the drunken mistakes category as a) neither of them were drunk, by that stage it would be a push to call their condition tipsy and b) the embrace had lasted far too long to be blamed on lowered inhibitions.

Plus there was also the screaming fact that it was SHERLOCK FUCKING HOLMES and when SHERLOK FUCKING HOLMES didn't want to do something HE DIDN'T FUCKING DO IT.

Knees were pinned against her chest as her speeding thoughts seemed to increase the tempo of a certain pounding headache. This was not helped by the room not to mention the bed she found herself waking up in.

His room.
His bed.
His scent.

Some bare facts could not be ignored here. That last kiss, the one which she remembered was her fault for initiating, had surprised her on many fronts. Ruby's initial desire had been curbed to teaching Sherlock. That was fine, until that blasted final embrace where her body had informed her of something her mind had been firmly ignoring for the past… what. Weeks? Months even? Her feelings for Sherlock had always been those of wary admiration but it appeared her caution had been eroded by each encounter with the detective whose tongue was as sharp as his cheekbones.

So what, her feelings had escalated without her knowledge into territory beyond reluctant admiration? No. Don't be stupid, of course they hadn't. Sherlock was the one who was emotionally-stunted, she'd have realised before now if she in any way fancied the detective. No. She did not. Last night was helping out a friend who had asked a very challenging favour. She'd cooperated fully.

That was it.

Sighing as she finally worked up the courage to get out of bed, Ruby was suddenly struck with a whole new dilemma. What was he thinking about last night? Could he harbour feelings for her? Sherlock had kissed her back with something she hadn't suspected the detective to possess; something which if Sally Donovan heard tell of would disqualify her from calling Sherlock Holmes a freak.

Ruby stayed in the green papered room for a further minute, taking her time to pull on her shoes before pressing her ear against the door and listening intently for the other members of 221b. After hearing nothing, she gently opened the door and slipped into the kitchen.

'Morning.' Called a voice from the living room. Not Sherlock's baritone, but that of his roommate; John.

Shit!

She'd been foolishly counting on John's commitment to the clinic to provide an opportunity to sneak out of 221b. The last thing she needed was an interrogation about last night's events from Sherlock's only friend. Well, only male friend if she included herself in that count.

'Morning. Eh, want some tea?' Ruby asked; cursing herself for asking John if he wanted to extend what was to be an awkward morning chat. What about: "Sorry John, important case, need to go to the office immediately" or something of that ilk. Why did she have to ask if he wanted some bloody tea?!

'Um, yes. Tea would be lovely.' John called, seated in his favourite armchair, a newspaper holding his attention. Ruby's thoughts began whizzing again as the blue light of the kettle reflected against her restless hands. What if Sherlock had told John what happened? Would John want to know every single detail of last night? Was she in for a telling off? Oh God, John was going to think she was messing with Sherlock's heartstrings just for the fun of it and hang her out to dry.

She delicately poured the boiled water into a fine china tea pot, placed two cups on saucers, grabbed a packet of biscuits and walked with an air so solemn one might describe it as a funeral march. 'Here you go John.' Ruby said; handing him a china cup filled with a generous portion of tea.

'Ta – oh, you used the good china.'

'Sorry –'

'No, it's fine. Nice, actually. It barely gets used.' He said with a reassuring smile, his hair ruffled from an earlier shower, a towel casually slung over his shoulder. Ruby poured herself a cup of tea before casting around for some place to sit. John suppressed a chuckle and indicated she sit in the opposing armchair, one which Ruby found herself rather reluctant to take. It was his chair and if he found her lounging in his chair… but then again she'd slept in his bed. Twice now. The armchair shouldn't be such an alarming leap. Yet in some strange way, it was. If Sherlock's memories were stored in what he called his "mind palace" then he most definitely would think of his armchair where he conducted the majority of his thinking as his throne.

Sitting there would be almost treasonous.

'I'd have thought you wouldn't be so awkward in the mornings, it's not exactly the first time you've kipped here.' John remarked as Ruby sank into Sherlock's armchair, feeling wholly uncomfortable despite the plush leather. Either it was a trick of the light or there was a slight gleam of smugness framing John's eyes.

'True.' Ruby said while quashing a desperate urge to chew her lower lip. 'Where is your annoying flat mate anyway? I'd have thought he'd be flapping around, telling me off for daring to take his armchair and cursing our idiocy for failing to see the latest break he'd made in the case.'

'Don't think you've gotten away with it, he'll probably be able to see from the depression in the leather that someone who isn't a complete dick was sitting there.' Ruby managed to stifle a chuckle but didn't quite stop a dribble of tea escaping down her chin. John snorted into his china cup, doing his best to shield his amusement.

'It was damn impolite for you to be so funny when I had a mouth full of tea!' Ruby protested as she unceremoniously wiped away the tea with the back of her hand, an action which if her mother had seen would cause her to faint from this display of gross indecency.

'Mm yes, incredibly insensitive of me. I do apologise. Also you've got a little, eh, tea still –' He stroked the left side of his own chin. 'Just there. Wouldn't want you leaving the flat with your face… streaked with tea.' Ruby shook her head in John's direction while wiping away the final dribble of tea. 'Oh, I almost forgot. Sherlock –'

'What about him?' Ruby asked a little too quickly.

'Well, um. He's… gone.'

'Gone? Gone where?'

'No idea. Sent me a text this morning – hang on. I'll read it for you.' He fished in the pocket of his dressing gown and withdrew his phone. 'It says: John, gone away for a few days for the case. Don't call. Don't text. Especially if it's a case of national security. SH'

'National security…?' Ruby wondered aloud.

'Mycroft Holmes, his brother. He often calls on Sherlock for favours to do with the British government. I think the two of you have met.'

'Oh, I remember Sherlock's bombastic big brother alright.'

'Such dramatic idiots, the pair of them. You met Mycroft here didn't you? Well, that was a bit more pleasant, a nice warm room, meeting you with someone you already knew…'

'Why, how did you meet him?'

'Oh you know. Unmarked car. Driven to a deserted warehouse. Only lights were those coming from said car…'

'Jesus. Bit dramatic wouldn't you think?'

'Well I suppose he's allowed to be, seeing as he came from the same gene pool as a man who dubs his older brother as his "arch enemy" and finds no problem with taking a skull to a restaurant and conducting a conversation with it.' He sighed while folding his paper and placing it on the side of his armchair. 'Those two being brothers though… I honestly don't know how they grew up in the same house without killing one another then proving to the police that it was suicide and having forensics back up their opinion.'

'Throughout their entire conversation I wasn't quite convinced I was in reality. They're just so…'

'Pompously intelligent? Possess egos the size of the Grand Canyon? Stupendously dramatic? Childishly bitter?'

'Machine-like.'

'Hmm, that too. Though I like to think that Sherlock has a bit more heart. Such lying thoughts make it a bit easier to live with him.'

'Is he really that bad?'

'Yes. Though I wouldn't live anywhere else.'

'Not even if this place had a hot wife who cooked excellently?'

'Well… I can always make exceptions with concerns to my future hot wife who just so happens to be an excellent cook.' It was Ruby's turn to snort as John took a deep gulp of tea. 'And eh, on more awkward matters…' He began, hurriedly placing his tea cup on a table. 'Do you, um, want to tell me what's going on?'

'What do you mean?' Ruby replied quickly, her thoughts threatening to explode out of her head at this question.

'Between you and Sherlock. What's going on?'

'Well…eh apparently, as of last night, we are officially friends.' Ruby said while scratching the back of her head, trying to ignore how the wall she'd been so eagerly pressed up against last night was mere feet to her left.

'Wow. I didn't think Sherlock had it in him.' John murmured.

'To do what?' Ruby asked.

'Make another friend. That's two for him now.'

'Isn't Lestrade a friend–'

'Sherlock didn't know Lestrade's first name was Greg for the first six years he worked with him. He found out by accident when we were working a case in Dartmoor and Lestrade came to keep an eye on us and Sherlock thought he was using Greg as an alias.'

'Oh my…'

'The man sees through people in seconds, yet remains spectacularly ignorant on some matters.'

'That's almost a direct quote from "A Study In Pink" isn't it?'

'Ah. So you do read my blog.'

'Refresh it every night.' Ruby admitted with a small grin. 'So if Sherlock didn't know what Lestrade's first name was… do you perhaps think he believes Mrs Hudson's first name to be… Mrs?'

'That; is a very good question. One which we'll have to ask him on his return. Now, I know this might seem stupid, but he's my best friend and I have to keep an eye out both for his sake and for the country he inhabits.' John heaved a particularly heavy sigh. 'Don't pull a Molly.'

'Sorry?'

'I think it's fantastic that he has a friend of the fairer sex in his life, really I do, but I'm aware that he has his high cheekbones, his stupid coat and a select few are able to look past his abrasive personality and appreciate his spectacular intelligence not to mention his sharp tongue. Look… I'm just saying keep an eye out for yourself. If you emotionally invest in him by seeking more than what friendship he can offer, you will receive nothing but disappointment and it will end badly. For both of you.'

'So avoid teaching him how to kiss someone if he asks me?' Ruby asked sarcastically.

'He asked you to teach him how to kiss?' For a moment, Ruby was tempted to tell John the truth, to share the bizarre concoction of feelings eddying in the pit of her stomach created from last night.

'John, don't be absurd. Sherlock Holmes, take time out of a case to learn how to kiss someone?' The incredulous tone was slightly hysterical but John didn't seem to notice.

'Heh. Yeah, when you put it like that. It does seem wildly out of character for him.' He chuckled before draining the rest of his tea. 'Shouldn't you be at work? It is Monday after all.' Ruby glanced at her watch which confirmed she was indeed two hours late. Her phone was dead so no calls from the station to yell at her for her incompetence. Yet.

'Oh crap! I need to go, Lestrade'll kill me! Thanks for the tea. And the um, advice. But I'll just say one thing before I leg it.' She straightened her coat. 'I'm no Molly Hooper, John. You won't find Sherlock manipulating me the way he does her.'

'Glad to hear it.' He said with a firm nod. As Ruby flew down the stairs, an odd thought struck her. Had John always been this protective of her? She didn't remember him being so loyal… then again she had helped get rid of his psycho-ex a few weeks back, maybe these things helped people to bond…?

She hailed a cab some two minutes later and after closing the door and zooming away from 221b, she was able to analyse her feelings about Sherlock conveniently having to travel for a few days after their "lesson". She felt a little saddened by his quick departure and a slight fear of their next meeting which would only serve to be more awkward due to the time lapse. In the cold light of day, Ruby knew Sherlock would never, unless she somehow got him drunk again, admit to anything of a particularly sensational matter taking place in his living room last night. Upon waking, she had quickly convinced herself –and John Watson for that matter– that she harboured no feelings beyond friendship for the dark haired detective.

Apparently, this was not the case.

Ah I cannot wait to share Ruby and Sherlock's reunion, you guys are going to LOL, or at least I hope so. :/ I felt it was important for John and Ruby to have this time together to improve their own relationship. Also John might just be the greatest friend. Ever. Reviews make me spontaneously combust. But in a good way. So thank you so much for the ridiculous support, feel free to pm me with any queries concerning the direction this story is headed, I'm not promising information but I don't bite!