Twenty Nine
Inconvenient
"Wha… What are you doing here?"
My words cut through the new silence that had taken hold of my apartment. But despite them, no one moved. I still perched on the edge of the desk. Sherlock still leant against me, his arms constricting my waist. And in the kitchen, standing bold as brass, the most shocked expression on his face I had ever seen, was the man I had so recently turned down a proposal from.
Christ almighty I was having a bad week.
"I thought… I mean…" I stumbled out, still in a state of alarm myself. "Dan? Why are you here?"
It was as if something went off in his head. The empty surprise wiped off of his face and was replaced by anger. Pure anger.
"Who the hell is he?"
He was pointing at Sherlock. I realised just how wrong this scenario was. I wrestled my hands away from Sherlock's chest and attempted to shrug him off and stand. Apparently Sherlock wasn't very happy about this and it took a good few tries to finally get one of his hands away from me. But even then he was still gripping me a little too tightly.
"Sherlock, please!" I said in exasperation.
Sherlock grunted and glared at me. I stared right back, positive that this was not one of the times I'd be bending to his will. It seemed to work as at last he let go and slunk away, collapsing in an elegant heap on the sofa.
I noticed how he was eyeing Dan.
"Sherlock?" Dan spat out, sounding rather deranged, "Who the hell is Sherlock?"
Sherlock sighed. "I am, obviously. I can see now why Melanie never grew attached to you. Your powers of reasoning are excruciatingly poor."
"Sherlock!"
Dan looked affronted. He must have felt the need to defend himself. "What do you mean by that?"
Sherlock didn't move but I swear I saw the tiniest of flinches in the corner of his lips, which I noticed were stained vaguely red from my lip stick. If he noticed, that would not help Dan's mood. "My point proved."
"You-"
"Sherlock, would you shut up and let me think for a second?" I shouted.
"What is there to think abo-"
"I said shut up!"
For once in his life, Sherlock did as told. But I could see it there, in the way he sat and leered at Dan, that his silence was only temporary. He was only buying his time until his next attack. And I was certain it would be a nasty one. As I had pointed out only a few days ago – Sherlock didn't share his toys.
Oh, God.
"Mel," I turned and looked at Dan. His voice was soft now, and almost worried about something. I frowned as he tried to ask the question that was clearly bugging him so much. "How long… Where'd you… Is he the reason you said no?"
I blinked in surprise. "What? Of course not!"
"Well, it hasn't exactly been very long since you and I…" he trailed off. But I got what he was implying.
"And that naturally means I was cheating on you?" I could barely believe he was even suggesting that. I didn't cheat. Did he not know me at all? The answer to that, of course, was my own damn fault.
Dan seemed to become annoyed again, his voice rising. "Well, seeing as it took four months of dating before I was allowed to see the inside of your flat and it's been hardly six weeks since we broke up, it seems a bit odd to me that he can wander in so freely and-"
"That's because Sherlock-"
"Clearly fulfils Melanie's needs in ways you never did."
My head snapped around to glare icily at the calmly sitting man on my couch. What on earth did he just say?
"No, because Sherlock broke into my flat like a psychopath only a few hours after we first met!"
That wiped the smirk off of his face.
"Huh?" Dan asked confused as he glanced between me and Sherlock.
"And as for you!" I continued yelling at the detective angrily. "You could've given me a warning that he was here! I'm sure you were able to deduce it from the placement of my doormat or something ridiculous!"
Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly. "I was a little bit busy, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Oh, go and wait next door, you giant bloody genius." I barked in frustration. Sherlock didn't move. "I mean it! Now!"
For a moment I thought Sherlock was going to ignore me again, but suddenly he huffed and stood, skulking with as much dignity as he could muster across the room and into the bedroom. I noticed he didn't close the door completely behind him. Didn't anyone ever tell him that eavesdropping was naughty?
I rubbed my forehead. What in God's name had happened to my life? A few weeks ago the most dramatic moment was when a bulb blew or my laptop ran out of battery. And now… Well, things were certainly more complicated with Sherlock around.
"What do you want, Dan?" I asked, maybe sounding a little rude, but I really didn't care. I was too exhausted for that.
It took Dan a minute to reply. I could practically feel his pained expression as he thought about how quickly I had moved on. "I did try to call-"
"I've lost my phone." I interjected.
Dan raised an eyebrow. "And you haven't checked your landline messages in three days?"
"I've been busy."
Something obviously clicked in his brain. He eyed me briefly from head to toe, as if trying to work something out in his mind.
"Have you not been home?" he asked sounding genuinely surprised.
I so did not want to get into this right now. "What do you want?"
But Dan wasn't finished. He had just come to the conclusion I knew Sherlock would have spotted in under a second had the roles been reversed. "Have you been staying at his place? I thought you couldn't sleep well in a different bed!"
"Dan!" I snapped, having had enough of this conversation to last me a life time. I could already feel the beginning of a migraine in the base of my cranium. "Why are you here?"
It looked as if he was going to point something else out – like maybe how I had not once kissed him like I had been Sherlock, or perhaps how I would never have put up with him had he been saying the things Sherlock had – anything really, to make me feel more guilty about the situation. But he didn't. His words stopped before they had left his mouth, his eyes closing and his shoulders drooping miserably.
"I just came to pick up my things." He answered quietly. "I thought you'd still be at work. I didn't expect…"
I bit the inside of my cheek. I wasn't nervous about Dan, and I didn't even feel guilty about Sherlock, but there was something in me when I looked at this defeated man standing in my apartment. Pity. And I was the reason for that pity.
"Yeah," I replied in an equally sombre tone, "neither did I."
The awkwardness settled over the situation, each of us not thinking of anything remotely suitable to say in the circumstances. Finally something came to Dan.
"How long have you and him been…?" This time his quiet question was just that – a question and not an accusation.
I shrugged half-heartedly, feeling the tension in the room. "Not long."
He gave a small nod. "How did you meet?"
I let out a sad syllable of a laugh. "Long story, trust me."
He frowned slightly. "And he really broke into your apartment?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, that's Sherlock."
"And you-"
"Look," I cut his question off, trying to be as gentle as possible. I was scared if I even raised my voice a fraction he would shatter into a thousand pieces. "I know you don't really want to talk about this."
Dan didn't move. He stood and stared resolutely at the floor several feet in front of me, as if he didn't want to even look me in the eyes as he spoke.
"Yeah," he agreed in not much more than a whisper, "I guess you're right."
I kept my gaze on him, not knowing what I could do to make this any easier for either of us. And I did want to make this easier for him. No one enjoys seeing someone in pain because of what they did. I doubted even some of the most sadistic criminals around would want to be standing in my place right about now. But honestly, what was there to say? Somehow 'Hey, Dan, how's your life at the moment?' didn't just cut it.
We were both knocked out of our thoughts by a loud thud emanating from the bedroom.
"Sherlock?" I called instinctively.
There was a second's pause before I got my reply.
"Bored!"
I sighed heavily, but couldn't help the tiny trace of a smile reaching my lips. "That doesn't give you permission to dismantle my furniture!"
I didn't get a response.
Dan blinked and looked around, being brought out of his contemplations by the noise and noticing the remains of the porcelain mug by his feet.
"Oh, God, sorry." He mumbled apologetically as he reached down and picked up the larger pieces of china. "I know it was your favourite."
"Don't worry about it."
"No, I'll, err," he said in a much more normal voice as he dumped the shards into the bin. "I'll clean this up for you."
He automatically went over to and pulled open the cupboard under the sink and retrieved the dustpan and brush I kept there. I watched, uncertain of what to do, as he leant down and sweeped up any of the little flakes of white. It took a minute for him to gather them all and return the dustpan to its rightful place.
"Thanks." I managed out.
He wiped a hand through his dirty blonde hair, his eyes twitching all over the flat. "I, umm… I've already got everything I need so…"
Another heavy thud from the bedroom.
"Sherlock, what did I just tell you?" I yelled, not wanting to know what on earth he was doing in there without me there to oversee him.
Dan laughed pathetically. Something oddly maternal in me wanted to run over and hug him. I shook that thought from me.
He plucked the large duffle bag from the kitchen table and swung it over his shoulder. "I guess I'll be going, then."
"Oh, err, right." I stuttered out surprised at the brisk nature of the visit.
He finally looked up and stared at me, some expression in his hazel eyes that I hadn't seen before. He nodded once and I recognised that nod. It was the same one I had been using far too much recently. It was the nod of convincing yourself to do something you really didn't want to do, but you knew you had to.
I saw him turn away and decisively start towards the hallway. He only made it two steps before pausing and turning back to me. He dug a hand into his jeans pocket.
"Your key."
He closed the gap between us and let me take the small gold object from his grasp without complaint.
"Right." I whispered, not really noticing what it was I was agreeing to.
Dan peered at me, a morose frown taking hold over his face. "You're alright, then?"
I saw the significance of that question. It wasn't just a simple inquiry about my current mood or the state of my life. It was so much more than those trivialities.
And I didn't get why.
"I'm fine." It came out as a reassuring undertone. And for some reason, despite everything that was happing in my life at the moment and the complete mess I had landed myself in – I believed it. Dan gave me a final smile before turning and making his way out into the hall. I heard the door creak softly open, heard the change in footfall as he stepped out onto the wooden floorboards beyond, and finally heard the gentle click of the door shutting behind him.
He and his things were gone from my flat.
I stood there for a moment, trying to get my head around that idea and not coming up with any sort of logical explanation, before my ponderings were interrupted yet again by a stark thump echoing from where I assumed my bedroom used to be.
I sighed.
"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing in there?"
Originally I was going to make that more funny, but it just didn't seem right in the end to have it like that. I dunno, did you guys think it was too bland and grey?
Anyways, we're on our way to 100 faves, but we're still not there yet, so if you guys want the special request chapter get busy. If you don't and think it's an awful idea let me know and we'll scrap it. Start sending in your ideas though! I wanna read them!
