A/N: Welcome to the continuing saga of Sherlock and Lilly. This story is a sequel to Coordinates, my story of an original mystery case about the abduction of Lady Lillian Fairfax, which Sherlock solves and which introduces him to Lilly. If you haven't read Coordinates, I recommend that you do so, as if not, this one may be confusing. Not to mention it's a pretty good fic, so you should read it anyway.
The plan is for Coordinated Love to be a series of stand alone chapter(s) exploring the developing courtship of Sherlock and Lilly, along with answering the burning question: What is Sherlock like in love? My goal, once again, is to keep Sherlock in character, while showing how a self proclaimed 'high functioning sociopath' reacts to finding himself in love...and liking it. Admittedly, there will no doubt be a bit more fluff (but no slash) in this story than there was in Coordinates, but I'll do my best to toss in the odd little case from time to time. Enjoy and remember: Reviews are always welcomed greatly. :)
Coordinated Love – Holmes Style # 1
~ Manners and Advice ~
In which Sherlock recalls his manners and John lends advice.
Dr. John Watson was feeling rather pleased with himself. He had completed the task assigned to him with a minimum of fuss involved. Victoria Burke had been escorted to a local hospital ward to be detained for the Section 2 assessment. Lord Henry and Lady Constance received answers to their numerous questions from the admitting physician, which forced John and Ron to cool their heels in the waiting room, but even that took much less time than expected. Then they were headed back over to Barts to drop the couple at their waiting car, leaving the two men then free to pursue their planned evening's activity.
Way before the time they had originally anticipated they were ensconced in a cozy little pub round the corner from Baker Street, and making inroads into the pub owner's supply of lager. There were even a couple of lovely looking ladies demurely making eyes at them from a booth near the door. Things were definitely looking good from where John was sitting. Ron had excused himself to make use of the pub's facilities and John was considering buying the next round for those lovely ladies, when his mobile pinged to let him know he had a text.
**Am oddly hungry. Intend to ask Lilly to dine. Lilly staying at Molly's. Must also ask Molly along? – SH
John smiled to himself. Good. Sherlock was trying to be polite and considerate. For a change. He could understand Sherlock's not wishing for Molly to tag along, but it wouldn't be nice to exclude her. Though he very much doubted that Molly would want to be a gooseberry. Before he could text an answer, his mobile pinged again.
**Clarification: don't want Molly along, but do want Lilly. – SH
"Yeah. I got that, you git," John groused to himself, as he composed a short, but to the point, response.
**Yes - u MUST ask M. M will decline. Trust me. – J
Sherlock pushed a furry paw aside to lift his mobile and looked down at John's response with mild skepticism. How could John be so confident that Molly would decline? Well, at least he had confirmation that it would be 'good' to ask. Frankly, the recollection of proper etiquette even occurring to him was quite unexpected. Alarming even. Still more remarkable was his evident willingness to concede to the extreme of extending a reluctant dinner invitation to Molly. Should it prove necessary. Which, according to John, it would be.
From amidst his utter collapse across the sofa Sherlock noted that, despite the purring mass of fur which appeared to have claimed possession of his semi reclined torso, he retained a clear view of most of the flat. Glancing over at the two women who, in the process of doing a tour of Molly's flat, were currently exploring the linen cupboard beside the guest bedroom door, Sherlock decided to heed John's advice and hope the man knew what he was about.
The decision finally having been made, suddenly time was of the essence. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a forceful desire to eat. He felt as if he was literally starving. As if in answer to that thought, his stomach put forth an angry grumble impressive enough to disturb Toby into stretching out a sleepy paw while momentarily exposing a slit of tawny colored eye. When nothing further was expressed by his human bed, he closed the eye once more, drawing his paw back to wrap around his nose and settling deeper into his chosen spot.
Sherlock found himself strangely hesitant to disturb the sleeping cat, but his gnawing hunger overrode his fellow feeling for Toby's comfort, so he set about squirming himself upright from under the surprisingly heavy feline. Once displaced, Toby was less than pleased, but his disgruntled "mowreow" performed the service of getting Sherlock the attention he desired from the other humans in the flat.
While fussing at the dratted cat hair that had attached to his suit jacket, he loudly announced, "Lilly. I need to eat. You will be coming to dinner with me."
Turning abruptly to make his way to the door, pulling on his coat as he walked, he added over his shoulder, in what seemed an afterthought, "If deemed necessary, Molly may come also."
Lilly shook her head slightly in response to Sherlock's rather boorish behaviour, and waited patiently for him to notice that she wasn't in a rush to follow him to the door. Once he realised that Lilly wasn't picking up her coat in preparation of leaving, he swung back around and quickly took in Lilly's bemused half smile and noted Molly was glancing between her upset kitty and his own cat hair covered suit jacket with barely concealed amusement. Neither of which Sherlock was finding the least entertaining at the moment. He wanted to be away already, for god's sake.
As his exasperation with what was clearly going to be a delay in leaving crept into his voice, he asked, "Problem?"
Cocking his head to one side, completely dismissing Molly from his thoughts momentarily, Sherlock focused intently on Lilly's face, noting the smile had sharpened just a tad at his question, going from bemused to coolly polite and mildly attentive. He might not understand most things about Lilly, but he had grasped enough to know this was not a good sign. No doubt he had done the incorrect thing. Again. Groaning inwardly, he wondered to himself: 'Oh bloody hell, what now?'
"No problem, Sherlock dear. None at all. Oh, please do enjoy your dinner and the remainder of your evening. Alone." Lilly's voice was polite to the point of disinterest and bordered just on the edge of brittle, pausing to apply the full effect of scorn to the last word, almost enjoying the wince it yielded from Sherlock, before finishing up very briskly. "No doubt I will see you when you next have time to fit me in?"
"Lilly…you – I, um…not good?" Sherlock stammered slightly, a flush of redness moving over his normally pale skin to settle on the tips of his ears.
A disconcerted and dismayed Sherlock was an endearingly charming Sherlock, Lilly couldn't help noticing. Still, she couldn't ignore some words of advice regarding relationships she had overheard Bess, her book shop manager, giving one of the younger shop girls once, 'start out as you mean to continue'. Lilly knew that applying this advice to her relationship with Sherlock meant basically that if she didn't lay down some clear expectations at the beginning, there would be no changing his behaviour later.
"Not so much. Would you perhaps care to try again?"
"Yes. Well. I mean to say. Fine!" Sherlock growled finally, growing frustrated with this absurd inability to ask one simple question. Not to mention the need to ask in the first place. Most annoying. Drawing in a deep calming breath, and arranging his face into the most pleasantly interested expression he could manage, he asked politely, "Lilly, would you please do me the honor of dining with me?"
Before she could open her mouth to accept or deny, Sherlock pressed on. "I am starving and if I do not eat something soon, I cannot be held accountable for expiring right here on Molly Hooper's carpet which is clearly less than six months old. An occurrence that I do not believe her landlord would thank you for. Though it would appear Toby has had an encounter with some rotted fish within the last three days, so perhaps it doesn't matter quite so much. Naturally, Molly, you are also invited to join us. However, please do not feel obliged to do so, as clearly your carpet could do with some attention."
Meeting Lilly's gaze directly, Sherlock raised one eloquent eyebrow as if to ask, will that do? Apparently it would have to, as Lilly shook her head again, this time in surrender, and with a silly grin moved to retrieve her coat, while a giggling Molly, with assurances that she "wasn't in the least hungry but thanks for asking", headed to the kitchen cupboard containing the cleaning supplies.
On the way down to the street, Sherlock realised he did not have a destination. Taking out his mobile he sent another text:
**Molly declined. Angelo's or Speedy's? – SH
The answer was slow in coming and the cab was idling at the curb when it finally did come, though it was not satisfying in the least.
**O 4 the luv of grog, S! Not Speedys! Its a café, u twit! Somewhere nice. No offence 2 Angelo, but this is ur 1st date with L… Will ? R & get back to u.- J
Whatever did John mean? First date with Lilly? This wasn't a date. It was dinner. Wasn't it? Oh, blast it. It was a date. Suddenly Sherlock had the sensation of sweat threatening to break out on the back of his neck.
"Where to Guv?" The cabbie was chewing gum with his mouth hanging open as he regarded Sherlock's indecisiveness in the rear view mirror.
Just then his mobile received another text, but he did not recognise the sender:
**Take Lilly some place nice or I'll hunt you down – Ron
This text was followed closely by another one from John:
**R not real helpful. Sorry. Something French, maybe? - J
Sherlock was aware of Lilly's gaze taking in both the mobile in his hand and the hesitation in his manner. Clearly, John and Ron had been drinking heavily, so obviously he shouldn't expect much help from that quarter and really it wasn't as if he had time to wait for John to tell him where to go. With both Lilly and the cabbie looking at him expectantly, Sherlock knew the time to make a decision had arrived.
Fortunately at just that moment, he remembered a recent client with a connection to, in the man's own words, 'a romantic and unpretentious' bistro/wine bar in Soho. Geoff Wilkes-Smyth, the client, had given him an open invitation to drop by some evening, claiming they would get him sorted with a meal he wouldn't soon forget. Clearing his throat, Sherlock directed the cabbie to head in the direction of Soho. He then sent a quick text off to Geoff, making sure there would be a table for two available, and was only able to finally relax once he received a reply in the affirmative.
Leaning forward, he gave the cabbie the address, then sat back, only to find that Lilly had slid across the seat and was now sitting quite close to him. John had called this a date. Their first date. Not something that Sherlock had a great deal of experience with, and he was quite sure that he didn't want to make another mistake.
Vaguely recalling some surveillance he had once done on a rugby player involved in a tricky drug smuggling ring whom had spent a great deal of time in cabs with assorted females, Sherlock leant back into the seat and put his arm around Lilly, pulling her closer against his side and pressing a kiss to her temple. This seemed to please her as her response was to reach up and pull his head down for a lingering kiss.
By the time the cab pulled up at the little restaurant, Lilly was looking thoroughly kissed and Sherlock was smiling quite smugly, extremely pleased with himself at having finally gotten something right. Lilly, for her part, couldn't have agreed more.
While Sherlock happily tucked into his Angus beef shepherd's pie and Lilly fed him some of her asparagus with potato gnocchi, sitting together at an intimate, candle lit table for two, several other texts were silently received, but none were noticed, let alone read.
