Chapter Two - Over and Done With

"What happened?! I heard a smash!" Mrs. Hudson came racing up the stairs while Caroline was storming down them.

"Nothing, Mrs. Hudson," she assured the panicked landlady.

"Oh, well then - leaving so soon, Miss Westin?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Good day, Mrs. Hudson." With that Caroline whisked down the staircase and was gone.

Once out in the street she turned to cast one last stormy glance at the house and when she did, she saw the window in Sherlock's room open, his head sticking out of it - messy hair, goggles and all - looking down upon the street. His mouth was hanging open as though he wanted to call something, but then it snapped shut and he disappeared back inside just as quickly, slamming the window shut so hard it rattled and drawing the curtains closed, sealing himself inside, cutting her off. Cutting them off from each other. For good.

"Good riddance," she muttered under her breath and continued on her now stormy way without so much as another glance back.

Mrs. Hudson watched as the young woman was out the door and gone without an an answer.

The landlady had heard shouts from upstairs, and Miss Westin's hasty and relatively quiet retreat didn't leave much to the imagination. One didn't need to be a prize-winning detective - and certainly not the likes of Sherlock Holmes (who would tell you there was only him, not the likes of him) - to tell what had happened.

"Ah, Nanny, excellent timing," the man chimed when Mrs. Hudson herself appeared in his doorway. "I need another dozen of this variety of flower-"

SLAP!

Sherlock was taken aback when the landlady's hand came up and gave him a prompt smack across the cheek.

"How dare you?! How could you?! How could you crush the heart of that poor, sweet young woman!" the landlady yelled at him fiercely. "You have lost a good thing, a very good thing, Sherlock Holmes, and I hope you come to realize that - and sooner rather than later!" With that she shoved the broom into his hands. "Now clean up the rest of your mess!" And she stormed off too, Sherlock staring shocked after her, hand holding his now red and stinging cheek.

That bastard. A few days later, Caroline was still in a foul mood. It wasn't like she had been subtle about what she wanted in the future. He had nodded and listened, had never shut her down right away, which was almost worse - he had let her continue to believe it was a possibility, a possibility for them to share together, which was what she wanted, but evidently he did not.

Quite evidently.

"Perhaps you can still work it out," Mary tried. Gladstone sat with his head in Caroline's lap, drooling all over the skirt of her dress.

"Thank you, Mary, but I don't think so, I'm afraid. He made himself very clear, as did I." As clear as hurling a vase across the room and smashing it into the wall right next to his head could be.

She was through with Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh, thank you so much for coming Doctor, I really appreciate it, and I'm sure he will as well - even though he likely won't say anything of it," Mrs. Hudson told Watson as he stepped into the house.

"Of course, Mrs. Hudson, I'll see what I can do." True to his word, Watson headed up the dirt-stained stairs and tapped lightly on his friend's door before opening it and stepping inside. "You know, I'm no expert, but I think most people know that if you're trying to grow a garden, you need some light," he observed, glancing around the dark room. His tone was joking but he knew the truth, for it was quite evident from the sight before him: Holmes locking himself away in his suite and plunging himself into darkness was never a good sign.

Holmes himself was seated - well, slumped - in a chair across the room staring unfocused at his messy 'garden'. His hair was flyaway, he was unshaven, and wore a dirty robe and nothing on his feet. "It's over."

"What's over?"

"Caroline and I."

"No."

"Yes, oh yes it is. She and I, myself and her. We, us. Us two." He heaved a sigh, his gaze never shifting. "Yes, Watson. It's over. She's gone."

"What did you do?"

Now he shifted. "What did I do?!"

"Yes."

"Why does everyone keep assuming that I am the one at fault here?" Watson gave him a pointed look. Sherlock grumbled and slumped further back into his chair. "We were just not compatible, that was all."

"Is that really all?"

"Yes, Watson. It is."

John decided not to press him any further at the moment. "Well I'm sorry old friend, I truly am."

"Me too, John. Me too."

A bit of a rough start for these two, but don't fear, I have big plans for them! ;)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)