Here is the next chapter, finally! Enjoy! Thank you for reading!
Chapter XXXVI
It was half seven in the morning when they finally stumbled back into the flat. Everything was exactly as they had left it. Tea mugs drying on the rack, the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table, a blanket crumpled on the floor beside the sofa.
Ariel was exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep in the comfy bed upstairs. It was over. It was finally over. Ariel felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. She felt lighter and the world seemed just a little bit brighter.
Ariel helped Sherlock into his room despite his protests that he could do it himself. She made sure he was in bed and was going to stay there before leaving to go to her own bed. Ariel slowly put her pyjamas and climbed under the heavy duvet on the bed. She snuggled down, happy to finally be in bed, and fell asleep within minutes.
Sherlock, however, was having a more difficult time getting to sleep. He lie awake, analyzing the reasons for this. First was the general lack of sleep he normal had. He could go days without sleeping, given the proper stimulation.
Second was the pain he had. Though he often felt that his body was merely transport, a way for his mind to gather information, when it was in this much pain it was rather hard to ignore.
Third was this nagging feeling that something was missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He looked over the room, but everything was where it should be, more or less.
His chest of drawers had more then one drawer hanging open, and there was clothing littering the floor, but that was all normal. Sherlock reached his hand out to stroke Ariel's hair absentmindedly, but found she wasn't there.
That's it! Sherlock realized. That's what's missing! It's Ariel! The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Could he really be so attached to one person? Surely, there had to be a more reasonable explanation then that, one that involved less... feeling. Sherlock pondered this problem as he drifted into a light sleep.
XXXXXXXX
Ariel woke up first. She rolled over and checked her clock. 10:34 am. She had only bee asleep for three hours. Oh well. Time to get up so she didn't mess up her sleeping routine to much more then it already was. Rubbing her eyes, she threw on her dressing gown and made her way downstairs.
Stumbling into the kitchen, Ariel noticed how unusually quiet it was. She hadn't honestly expected Sherlock to sleep, but she had ordered him to stay in bed so she could sleep peaceful. Although, she didn't believe he would, it seemed he had actually listen to her for once. Ariel smiled to herself and got a glass of water. She went upstairs and showered, preparing for a rather relaxed day of trying to keep Sherlock from moving and tearing his stitches.
When Ariel entered the kitchen again, she noticed that his bedroom door was still soundly shut. Ariel grabbed a first aid kit so that she could treat his wounds, and quietly knocked on the door. When there was no reply, she cracked it open to peer into the darkened room. She could see the outline of his body underneath the sheets on the bed.
Smiling, Ariel quickly slipped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her. She made her way to the bed to check up on Sherlock. He was sound asleep, sprawled out on his bed. Ariel reached out and moved a wayward curl out of his eyes.
She smiled fondly at the sleeping man as she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. She bent down and gently kissed his cheek. Sherlock felt her lips and lazily opened his eyes.
"Morning." She whispered, sitting up with a smile.
"Technically, it was morning when we went to sleep." Sherlock mumbled, shifting into a more comfortable position. Ariel giggled softly.
"Let me check your stitches." She said, pulling at the edge of the covers and exposing Sherlocks injured leg. He hissed at the loss of heat. Ariel reached down and began removing his bandages.
She gently wound the wrapping around her hand before putting it in a small plastic bag. It would need to be disposed of. Carefully, she checked over his leg, making sure there were no signs of infection.
When she was satisfied that the wound was clean and on it's way to healing, she reached in the first aid kit she had brought and re-bandaged it. She sat back to admire her handy work and gave a brief smile to Sherlock.
"I'm sorry. It's my fault your laid up like this." Ariel said, shifting her gaze to her hands.
"You're right, it is your fault, however, I am choosing not to blame you because it is also partially my fault." Sherlock said, his normal cool tones sounded comforting to Ariel. She loved that sometimes, even when he would say the facts, he would try to make a comment to make her feel better. It was nice.
"Thanks." She said, a smile on her face. There was a brief moment of silence.
"Well, I should get to straighten up the place. Johns coming home tonight and it should look at least respectable." Ariel said, getting up from her spot on the bed. "If you need anything, please ask."
And with that, Ariel left the room, gently closing the door behind her. Sherlock lay back in bed. His leg throbbed dully and his various cuts and bruises ached, but he pushed the meagre pains to the back of his mind as he began to analysis their conversation. He knew John was coming home tonight, but what would the doctor say?
Sherlock chuckled inwardly at the inevitable anger and protectiveness his friend would display at seeing him in such a state. Sherlock could hear Ariel out in the flat tidying up. He really should go help her. After all, it was mostly his mess and she would probably ruin any experiments he had on the go. But he had some important thinking to do.
XXXXXXXX
Ariel puttered around the flat, washing dishes, doing laundry, straighten things up. Nothing out of the ordinary, just general housework. That was, until she came to one of Sherlocks experiments that was sitting on the kitchen table. She stared at it a moment, trying to decide what to do with it. In the end, she decided to just leave it where it was, undisturbed.
Unfortunately, she could not do the same with the index fingers in the fridge. She took them out and threw them in the bin, hoping Sherlock would forgive her. Ariel finished with the kitchen and decide Johns sheets would need washing before he got back, so she quickly went upstairs to the room she had been staying in for the past two weeks to strip the bed.
As she entered the room, memories from the last few weeks filled her mind. The memories of waking up to the sound of Sherlock banging pots and pans, of getting anonymous phone calls that demanded information, of breaking down and crying, of talking to John on the phone, of realizing she loved Sherlock.
Of all the memories this room held, that was the most important and special one. It had changed her world for the better. Smiling to herself, Ariel finished her job. As she walked down the stairs, her arms wrapped around the bundle of sheets, she heard Sherlocks bedroom door open. She dropped the washing by the door, bound for Mrs. Hudson's old washer, and went to check on Sherlock.
He was on his crutches trying to manoeuvre out of his room, but was finding that to be a bit of a challenge. Ariel rushed over to his side and helped him to the living room, never saying a word.
"Anything I can get for you?" Ariel asked once he was comfortably seated in his armchair, leg propped up on a stool.
"Tea, please. Some biscuits if we have any." Sherlock said, taking up his signature thinking position. Ariel just nodded and dashed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
She dug around in the cupboards and after finding a jar of spiders, three dismembered rats and a moulding cheese (all Sherlocks experiments), she finally found a tin of edible biscuits. She put them on a plate and made tea. Ariel carried them into the living room and placed them on the small table next to Sherlock.
He didn't even look up or acknowledge that she had done this. Instead he just sat there, thinking. Ariel for her part wasn't bothered in the slightest as she was wrapped up in her own thoughts.
Mostly they involved what still needed cleaning, what went where and that sort of thing. But whenever she had a moment to spare, she would think back to their time spent kidnapped. Her mind would wander over the events that had happened, what was said and, perhaps most importantly, what wasn't said.
Ariel hated to be the one to read into what people chose not to say, that was their own business. But back there, with Sebastian and Sherlock, she wasn't quite sure she had every piece to the puzzle. She felt there was something she had missed. She turned it over and over again in her mind, trying to figure it out. The only thing she could come up with was that she was over analyzing it and that there wasn't anything she was missing.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and read her newest text.
"Laid over in Kuala Lumpur. How's it going? - JW"
"Good. We're going to have to go for drinks so I can catch you up on everything. -AH"
"That much happen huh? Alright, we'll go for drinks. How's Sherlock? -JW"
Ariel stopped to wonder just how much John knew and how much he needed to know before he got home at six o'clock that evening.
"His doing well, I think. Like I said, a lot you need to catch up on. -AH"
"Haha. Alright then. See you soon. -JW"
Ariel tucked her phone back in her pocket and carried the laundry downstairs to be washed. When she came back upstairs, she poked her head into the living room. Sherlock was still sitting, leg resting on the stool, hands clasped in front of his face.
His eyes were in the thousand yard stare, open but not really looking at anything and glazed over. Ariel smiled. At least he wasn't trying to move around. Suddenly, Ariel remembered what it was she had been forgetting - the next bombing!
"Sherlock..." She started, trying to get him out of his trance. His eyes shifted and focused on her.
"If you are attempting to remind me of the bombing that was scheduled to happen this evening, you sorely underestimate my memory. I've already informed Lestrade and he has seen to the problem. Should any of Moran's gang still try to kidnap the Queen, he and his men will be waiting for them. Although I highly doubt they will, as Scotland Yard has already recovered the Royal Jewels and the Corgis." Sherlock informed her. Ariel just nodded.
"Good. I just didn't need you running around London with stitches in your leg." She replied before disappearing upstairs. Sherlock heard her start hoovering Johns bedroom and he relaxed into his chair. He hated being confined. With a grunt of frustration at his body, Sherlock reached over and grabbed his violin from beside his chair.
After rosining the bow and checking to make sure it was tune, Sherlock began to softly play violin. It kept his mind off the fact that he was rather incapacitated. Ariel heard the faint strains of Sherlocks violin. She stopped hoovering and heard Sherlock playing "Clair de Lune".
She smiled at the familiar tune. It brought back the memory of when he played for her. Ariel finished hoovering the bedroom and made the bed with the freshly cleaned sheets. Ariel collected her things, leaving the room as clean as possible for its owners return.
She picked up her bags and had one last look around the room. With a content sigh, she turned out the light and shut the door behind her. Ariel put her bags down by the door and went to the kitchen to make something to eat.
"Leaving already?" Sherlock led from the living room, where he was cleaning his violin. Ariel came to the kitchen doorway and smiled at him.
"Not if you don't want me too." She said slyly. Sherlock chuckled.
"Please. Stay." He asked, a sincere glint in his eyes. Ariel grabbed her food and sat down across from Sherlock, silently saying she would.
Well, what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Want to see something specific happen? Leave a review and let me know!