Ch. 42
"You're late," Norah teased Sherlock as he came in the door of the Watsons' town home. She was over making dinner for John and Mary, since they were exhausted with a new baby and all.
"I took the tube. I wasn't aware that I had to be here at a specific time." He wiped his shoes off on the entrance mat, approached Mary who was sitting with her head in her hand on the couch, and kissed her on the cheek. She looked weary, from a week of sleepless nights. John stood by the kitchen with Norah, rocking the tiny human in his arms. The doctor looked equally as tired as his wife.
Sherlock went over to observe the tiny human. It was sleeping.
"You love my kid, admit it." He whispered. Sherlock smiled at his friend.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Do I get a hello?" Norah asked, waving her stew ladle in his direction. He came into the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek, as was appropriate. He was still getting used to the whole boyfriend thing.
"You're a doll for cooking for us," Mary said. She sounded drained.
"It's really no trouble," Norah assured her, serving up stew into a few bowls. "I'll babysit too if you'd like!"
"Good, because I won't be doing any of that." Sherlock took one of the bowls off the counter and started without them.
"Yes you will. I need a picture of you with a baby harness strapped to you for the blog."
Norah spit out her water. In the sink, luckily. "I would pay money to see that."
"Not gonna happen."
John put the Ava upstairs in her crib (with the monitor on) and they sat down to eat. Sherlock's phone went off a few minutes into the meal.
"…I need to go back to Baker street." He got up and swung his coat around himself.
"What? We've just started eating!" Mary protested.
"Got a client?" John asked.
"Of sorts. I'll leave the door unlocked," he said to Norah, before strutting out the front door.
John furrowed his brow. "Odd. He hasn't taken a client in a while." He took a bite of stew.
"No, he hasn't," Norah said, squinting. Sherlock had looked at his text message under the table rather than bringing the phone up to his face like he normally. He was up to something.
…
The ticking of the clock on his mantle piece seemed to smash against his eardrum. Sherlock sat in his chair, hands placed under his chin, awaiting the arrival of his "client".
Twenty minutes passed. Twenty-two. The flat was silent aside from the clock and Sherlock's pounding heart.
Thirty eight minutes.
Norah came home and found him like this in his chair. "Where's your client?" She asked as she removed her coat.
"On their way."
"They aren't here yet?"
"Obviously not." He stared straight ahead at the doorway.
"…Alright then, I'm going to put on some sweats." Feeling like her presence was unwelcome, Norah walked sassily to Sherlock's bedroom. He heard the door open, the sound of Norah's satchel dropping on the floor, the door slam shut, and her feet shuffling back to the living room.
"Un-FUCKING-believable." She crossed her arms and rested all of her weight on one leg. Oh no. The stance. She burned his skin with her glare.
He wrinkled his brow. "Sorry, what have I done this time?"
"You know Sherlock you're REALLY something. You tell me all your lovey-dovey bollox just for me to find a naked woman on your bed!"
Sherlock chuckled and stood up. Typical. "That would be my client."
"Oh, so you've resorted to prostitution now, is that it?"
"Use your deduction. Does it look like I knew she was there before you just told me?" He held his hands up defensively.
"I-…well…," Norah furiously looked him over. He was right, his body language and tone suggested no guilt.
"I'll explain, come with me." He headed for the bedroom.
"Sherlock Holmes If you're cheating on me-,"
"Oh please, this is me we're talking about. One relationship is plenty for me to handle."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Did it work?"
"NO."
Sherlock smirked and opened the door. "You're late."
(***I have a new one shot if you're interested in reading! s/10581840/1/Lady-Hooper-s-Dress)
