2 Months Later
"A little higher... no, too high... okay, a bit to the right... stop! Right there!" John exclaimed.
Sherlock glanced down at him from where he was standing on a chair. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I really don't want to do this again if you're wrong-"
"No, I'm sure," John interrupted. He passed up a hammer. "Now finish up and get down from there before Max comes back and yells at us for standing on chairs."
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock took the hammer and hit the nail into the wall at the place that John had indicated. "Don't worry, she'll be out for at least another half hour," he said as he hung up the holly garland in his hand. "You know her when it comes to food, she'll take hours in the chocolate section looking for-"
"Did someone say chocolate?"
Instantly, Sherlock was scrambling off of the chair, and John quickly stepped in front of him in an attempt to cover for him. Max walked into the flat, grocery bags in hand. She looked at them suspiciously, but they just blinked innocently at her, and she continued on, dropping the bags on the kitchen table.
It was nearly the end of December by now, and with Christmas Eve the next day, Max, Sherlock, and John were holding a party the next evening. Preparations- which had been put off for far too long- were going on in full swing, as Sherlock and John decorated the flat and Max did the food shopping.
"Good job on the decorations, by the way," Max remarked. "How did you get that holly garland all the way up there on top of the window?"
Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly as he walked over to her. "We have our ways," he said. He leaned over her shoulder, trying to see what was in the shopping bags, and Max gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "What food did you get?"
John shuddered. "Still not used to that," he grumbled.
Max rolled her eyes. "It's been two months, Johnny," she said. "Well, I mean, he wouldn't come within a foot of me for the first three weeks-"
"Nineteen days!" Sherlock protested.
"-three weeks, as I said," Max continued, "but we got there eventually!"
Sherlock scowled. "Nineteen days," he repeated. He pulled one of the grocery bags towards him and started poking through it. "Did you get the ice cream? I asked for ice cream."
Max sighed. "Yes, Sherlock, I got the ice cream," she said, pushing another bag towards him. "It's in there. I still don't know why you want it when it's in the middle of winter and literally freezing outside, but I got it." She slipped off her coat and placed it on the back of a chair. "Anyway, I got everything for the party. Beer, wine, snacks. Do you think we should get paper plates? I didn't get paper plates." She groaned. "I should've gotten paper plates."
John waved his hand dismissively. "No, we should have some laying around," he replied. "We live off of takeout and they always give extra plates."
Max snapped her fingers suddenly. "Oh, guess who I ran into at the store?!" she exclaimed. Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, but she reached out and put a hand over his mouth before he could say anything. "Dimmock."
"Knew it," Sherlock declared, his voice slightly muffled behind Max's hand.
John raised an eyebrow. "Dimmock, as in the DI in charge of the Blind Banker?" he asked.
Max nodded as she took her hand from Sherlock's mouth. "The very one," she said. "And the... what did you call it, the Murder at the Orient Express?" She grinned at Sherlock. "Remember that one?"
He smirked. "How could I not?" he asked.
John groaned. "Only you, Sherlock," he grumbled. "Only you would have your first date interrupted by a murder. You're lucky Max is still going out with you."
Max rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Sherlock," she told him. "I had fun." They glanced at each other, remembering that first lunch date two months ago.
000
"Let me get this straight... you shook her hand?" John asked incredulously.
Sherlock gave him a look. "Yes, that's what I said," he told him. "I was improvising. I thought it went well."
But John just continued to stare at him in shock. "... you shook her hand," he repeated, completely dumbstruck. "And she still wanted to go on a date with you? After that?"
Sherlock sighed. "Yes, John," he replied. "Now, enough about that. This is the issue that I wanted to ask you about." He held up two shirts; one was a jumper and the other one was.. well... another jumper. "Which one?"
It was the morning after Max and Sherlock had decided to go on a date, and Sherlock was preparing to meet her in less than an hour. He was standing in the middle of the living room, jumpers in hand, as John sat in his armchair, looking up at Sherlock like he had no clue what to do with him.
"... why are you wearing jumpers?" John demanded. "Since when do you even have jumpers? I wear jumpers, not you!"
Sherlock looked at him in confusion. "Yes, well, I was thinking that if I wanted this to be a normal date then I should dress like a normal person- like, well, like you," he answered. "So, jumpers. Which one?"
John shook his head, standing up and pushing Sherlock back into his room. "No, no, no," he said. "Go back in there and get rid of those jumpers. Max is going on a date with you, Sherlock, not me. Dress like you usually do- wear that purple shirt of yours. Yeah, the purple shirt."
Sherlock scowled. "Alright, alright, alright!" he exclaimed. "Now get out, I'm changing." He slammed the door behind him, leaving John standing outside.
John stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, then he sighed and shook his head. "He shook her hand," he muttered, turning and walking back to his armchair. "Who shakes hands with their date?"
000
At 10:59 exactly, Sherlock was standing outside the Bibliotheque offices, wearing the purple shirt. He looked at his reflection in the windows: tidy, sophisticated. Perhaps too tidy. Scowling, he ruffled up his curls so that his hair stuck out at different angles.
He glanced at his phone.
11:00.
No sign of Max.
He slipped his phone away.
It was 11:05 by the time a very flustered Max burst out of the building. She glanced around, then her eyes landed on Sherlock. She gave him an apologetic smile as she hurried up to him. "Oh God, Sherlock, sorry," she said. "The computer crashed and I had to finish something before lunch for Tony and-"
"Don't worry about it," Sherlock interrupted. "I wasn't waiting for long."
The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, then Max cleared her throat. "Um, yeah, so... do you want to head out?" she asked.
Sherlock nodded. "Lead the way," he replied.
They started walking down the street. "Nice shirt," Max remarked.
Sherlock coughed. "Yes, well, uh... I like purple," he finished lamely.
Max's eyes brightened. "Y'know, purple is really a fascinating color," she said. "I mean, it's a mix of blue and red, obviously, but there's so much range in between all of that! Traditionally it's classified as more of a cool color, but if you mix it more towards the red side it can be used as a compliment for warm colors and-" She cut herself off with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear me go on and on about that."
He blinked. "No, it was... uh... fascinating," he attempted, but it fell flat even to his ears.
She laughed. "It wasn't," she said. "But thanks for trying."
For a moment neither of them spoke, but then Sherlock cleared his throat. "So, have you been to this place before?" he asked.
Max blinked. "The restaurant?" she asked. "Yeah, the owner is a jerk, but it's a popular place for lunch since it's so close. Speaking of, we're almost there. I really like the noodles, they're hand-pulled and-"
But she stopped talking when they turned the corner, both of them staring in surprise at the police barricade... right outside the restaurant that Max had been taking them to.
As they watched, the door to the restaurant swung open, and Dimmock walked out, on the phone. "I don't bloody know, Lestrade, that's why I was calling you!" he exclaimed. "What? No, I don't need your help. I need Sherlock Holmes's number. He-"
Dimmock looked up at that moment, his gaze meeting theirs. For a second he stared at them in surprise, then he hung up the phone. "Mr. Holmes, Ms. Arthur," he said. "Perfect timing. There's been a murder."
000
"It was fairly easy," Sherlock remarked in the present day. "We knew for a fact that Terry Wong had been killed in that restaurant around midnight. All nine people in the building at the time said they hadn't heard anything. Therefore, all of them must have been lying; they were all involved in the murder."
Max frowned. "I know they all got arrested, but honestly, dont they all have a point?" she questioned. "Terry Wong was a horrible person. Attacking customers, firing people for standing up to him... They all had legitimate reasons for wanting to kill him." She shrugged. "Anyway, back to what I was saying earlier, Dimmock says hi."
John glanced up at them. "I don't think you ever told me how you salvaged your date after that," he commented.
Max shrugged. "Yeah, well, you just broke up with Sarah at the time, so I didn't want to say too much about it," she said. "But... we managed."
000
By the time Sherlock had finished solving the case, Max's lunch hour was almost up, so they ended up scarfing down a quick lunch at the burger joint across the street. Then, running down the street as fast as they could, they made it back to the office two minutes before Max had to be back.
They skidded to a stop outside the doors of the building. "Oh my God, we made it," Max said, panting as she tried to catch her breath. "I didn't think we would."
Sherlock huffed, similarly winded. "Yes, well, we wouldn't have if we had stayed to finish those fries like you wanted to-" he started.
"But they were good fries!" Max protested.
They shared a look, then suddenly they burst out laughing. "No, no, stop, I can't breathe!" Max exclaimed, but that just caused her to laugh harder.
Sherlock laughed. "Me neither!" he replied.
After a moment both of them had managed to catch their breaths, and then Max smiled at him. "Y'know, I have to say this is the first date I've been on that someone got murdered," she commented.
Sherlock smirked. "Yes, well, I like to keep things interesting," he said. He paused, the smirk sliding from his face. "Was, uh... was everything okay? It wasn't supposed to be like... that."
Max put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "No, Sherlock, it was great," she told him. "I had fun." She gave him a teasing smile. "Besides, I knew what I was signing on for, deductions and crime scenes and crazy science experiments included."
He blinked, clearly surprised by her easy acceptance of everything that made him, well, him. Then he cleared his throat, coming back to himself. "... Good," he managed to choke out.
It seemed like he was about to say something else, but suddenly Max's phone went off. She grimaced as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. "That's my alarm," she said apologetically. "I should go." She let her hand slide from his shoulder with a small smile. "Thanks for the date, Sherlock."
He nodded. "I'll, er... I'll text you later?" he asked.
Max smiled and nodded back. "Yeah," she replied.
She turned away and took a few steps towards the door- but suddenly she turned back around and walked back up to Sherlock. Quickly, she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Then she turned back and headed inside without another word.
Sherlock's gaze followed her as the door swung closed behind her, too stunned to move. Then he cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. He cast one last glance after Max, who he could see walking towards the elevators, then he turned around and stuck out his hand for a cab.
000
Suddenly John's phone went off, interrupting Max's thoughts. "Oh no," John said, sounding horrified.
Sherlock perked up. "Is it a murder?" he asked.
John groaned as he banged his head on his armchair. "It will be soon," he replied. "I was supposed to be at Jeanette's ten minutes ago. I said I'd help with her school concert and I forgot all about it."
Max's eyes widened. "Oh no," she said, in the same tone as John. "You're right, she's going to kill you."
Sherlock hmmed. "You've been going through girlfriends almost as fast as I solve mysteries lately, John," he commented. "It's getting rather hard to keep track of them. Is Jeanette the one with the nose? Or have you broken up with her already?"
John gave him a look. "No, Jeanette is a teacher, and her nose is perfectly fine," he corrected. "The one with the nose only lasted a few weeks, remember?"
Sherlock nodded sagely. "Ah, now I do," he said. "She didn't like-"
"- didn't like that one time you left in the middle of the date because-" Max continued.
"Right, that!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Because I needed you on a case."
John sighed heavily. "Oh, great, they're finishing each other's sentences now," he grumbled.
Sherlock shrugged as he flopped down on his armchair. "Don't you have to go apologize to darling Jeanette so that she'll forgive you and take you back?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
John gave him a look. "You'd think that you being in a relationship would soften you up a bit, but apparently not," he said. Sighing, he stood up. "No, you're right, I should go over there."
"Remember to grovel!" Max called over from where she was still unpacking in the kitchen. "Groveling always works!"
John nodded. "Right, right, groveling," he muttered as he shrugged on his coat. "Don't burn down the flat while I'm gone."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow as John headed out the door. "Is that a suggestion?" he yelled after him.
His only answer was an aggressive door slam as John left the building.
"Mm, poor John," Max remarked. "She's going to break up with him soon."
Sherlock nodded. "I give it a week," he said.
Max scoffed. "Two days," she countered.
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?" he asked. "No faith, I see."
She laughed. "None whatsoever," she replied.
000
A few hours later, Sherlock was seated on the couch, watching- predictably- Star Trek. Max was curled up on John's armchair, her brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on a project for work.
"Come watch with me," Sherlock said.
Max glanced up at him regretfully. "I have work, Sherlock," she replied.
Sherlock scoffed. "Work," he repeated mockingly. "You mean you'd rather be working than watching Star Trek?"
She sighed. "Well, no," she admitted.
He nodded, as if that made his point. "There you go," he said.
Shaking her head- but with an amused smile on her face- Max turned back to her work.
Sherlock sighed. "... Spock is about to sacrifice himself," he offered.
"Why didn't you say so?!" Max exclaimed, scrambling over to the couch.
She settled in next to Sherlock, their arms brushing as she curled her legs up into a ball. She hardly seemed to have noticed- her eyes were glued to the TV screen, where Kirk and Spock were separated by a pane of glass, Spock's hand pressed up against the barrier in the Vulcan salute- but Sherlock felt her warmth, close enough that he could feel it but not quite touching. He glanced over at her, a half smile on his face as he watched her following the screen with rapt attention, her gaze bright with fascination. Then, slowly- as if he wasn't quite sure of himself- he reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Max's eyes widened in surprise, a slight shock running through her at Sherlock's casual touch. They had been dating for two months, but other than a few small gestures- almost always initiated by Max- they had never done anything like... well, like this. And she was okay with that. She knew that this was all new to Sherlock, and she knew that he needed to take it slowly, to get used to it all. All she had to do was wait for him to be ready for more.
And now he had just put his arm around her.
It was a step: a small one, but a step nonetheless. So was finally asking him out, two months ago. And him saying yes. But really, wasn't that what life was made up of? The small things that, altogether, made something big?
Little victories. That was all it was. Little victories.
She looked over at Sherlock only to see that his attention was on the TV now. Smiling slightly, she leaned her head on his shoulder and turned back to the movie.
"... I stood on the chair," Sherlock admitted. "To get the holly garland up there."
Max smiled. "I know," she told him.