AN: As always, ACD has claims to stuff.
Chapter 10
I wiped away the last of my tears before setting out from the bed-and- breakfast. This was getting to be too much for me to handle, and I needed a drink. I weighed my options; I could head back to LA right away, or I could wait until tomorrow, or the next day, seeing how I had enough on me to get dinner, a place to sleep, and a train ticket or rental car home. Some tiny part of me held out that Holmes might call, therefore it was prudent for me to stay around San Francisco a few days, but I knew this probably wasn't going to happen. He was a stubborn one.
A compromise was reached: I would stay tonight, but leave tomorrow if I hadn't heard from him. I trudged into the Hyatt down the street, booked myself a room, and plopped myself down at the bar, inwardly refusing to budge until I would be too drunk to remember my own name. I sat there for a long time, nursing a sour midori, glancing periodically at the basketball game on the big screen. It was Jazz/Lakers, the Stockton and Malone pick- and-roll being executed to perfection, as the Jazz led the Lakers by fifteen points, and yet it still failed to lift me out of my gloom. All you've ever done is screw over those who matter most to you.
"Laura! What are you doing here?" A sharp voice resounded over the soft jazz music from the lounge, where people were dancing.
I looked up, my face lighting up into a smile. James. "Hey."
He strolled over and sat next to me. "Just a Scotch, please," he gestured to the bartender.
"I'm sorry you couldn't make it to our lunch date on Monday, but imagine seeing you here! So, what brings you to San Francisco? And all by yourself? I'd thought Mr. Holmes would be with you."
The message- James had gotten my message I left on his voicemail. Shit. Could this day get any worse? "I was, but plans have changed," I answered as nonchalantly as I could. "What are you doing here?"
James took a sip of the Scotch the bartender left in front of him. "Business."
Time to find out if Holmes was for real. "Oh really? What kind?"
James looked mighty pleased that I had asked. "Personal. You know, the stroll down memory lane kind." He reached over and placed his hand lightly over mine, sending shivers up my arm. But something felt different.
I had had enough of arrogant men for one day. I jerked my hand away. "Don't toy with me James. Why are you really here?"
"I usually take weekend trips up here to Fisherman's Wharf to get away from LA."
Get away from LA, my ass. "Stop bullshitting me, James. I am not in the mood."
James held up both his hands in protest. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? I heard the message you left on my voicemail and I just."
He paused, considering his words, before continuing. "I followed you here, all right? But listen, life isn't the same without you Laura. I've missed you too. I've just- god, I've wanted to pick up the phone and call you for so long, but I didn't think you'd pick up."
He missed me too? "James, in case you've forgotten, you threw me out."
He shook his head. "I was wrong, Laura. I'm sorry. Seeing you on Friday night on the arm of someone else just made me realize what I threw away."
"So that's what this is about. You can't stand seeing me with anyone else." Normally, I would have jumped straight back into James' arms, but the argument with Holmes (and perhaps the alcohol as well) had left me in a horrid mood.
He chugged the remainder of his glass before turning to me again. "You can hate me all you want, Laura, but I do care about you very much."
Did he honestly think I hated him? I was speechless.
James had a worried look on his face when I didn't answer. "Laura? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," I whispered. "I don't hate you, you know. I'm just. having a bad day."
"You want to talk about it? We have all night."
I tried to study James' expression for any sign of an ulterior motive, but couldn't find anything. "I don't feel like talking about it right now."
His face fell, but he recovered quickly. "That's all right, I understand."
"But maybe later tonight," I offered. "That is, if you'd like to stay." my voice trailed off hastily.
"I'd love to," he smiled, placing his hand once again over mine. And this time, I didn't shrink away.
AN: Sorry about the delay, as school has started (get used to the 1000+ pages of reading a week in college!) James is so sly, don't you think? Ah, I've always had a thing for shady characters. Poor Watson. She really needs a reality pill. Snowwolf: thanks, I'm glad you like SF too! Glad to hear that Jake is in character, and that you enjoyed the towel scene (hah! I enjoyed writing it!) Fowl-Star: hmm, no punching between Holmes and Moriarty in sight, sorry to disappoint. And yes, I think I might be staring at Holmes. Silent Beatnik: your new chapter rocks, and thanks for the vote of confidence.
I wiped away the last of my tears before setting out from the bed-and- breakfast. This was getting to be too much for me to handle, and I needed a drink. I weighed my options; I could head back to LA right away, or I could wait until tomorrow, or the next day, seeing how I had enough on me to get dinner, a place to sleep, and a train ticket or rental car home. Some tiny part of me held out that Holmes might call, therefore it was prudent for me to stay around San Francisco a few days, but I knew this probably wasn't going to happen. He was a stubborn one.
A compromise was reached: I would stay tonight, but leave tomorrow if I hadn't heard from him. I trudged into the Hyatt down the street, booked myself a room, and plopped myself down at the bar, inwardly refusing to budge until I would be too drunk to remember my own name. I sat there for a long time, nursing a sour midori, glancing periodically at the basketball game on the big screen. It was Jazz/Lakers, the Stockton and Malone pick- and-roll being executed to perfection, as the Jazz led the Lakers by fifteen points, and yet it still failed to lift me out of my gloom. All you've ever done is screw over those who matter most to you.
"Laura! What are you doing here?" A sharp voice resounded over the soft jazz music from the lounge, where people were dancing.
I looked up, my face lighting up into a smile. James. "Hey."
He strolled over and sat next to me. "Just a Scotch, please," he gestured to the bartender.
"I'm sorry you couldn't make it to our lunch date on Monday, but imagine seeing you here! So, what brings you to San Francisco? And all by yourself? I'd thought Mr. Holmes would be with you."
The message- James had gotten my message I left on his voicemail. Shit. Could this day get any worse? "I was, but plans have changed," I answered as nonchalantly as I could. "What are you doing here?"
James took a sip of the Scotch the bartender left in front of him. "Business."
Time to find out if Holmes was for real. "Oh really? What kind?"
James looked mighty pleased that I had asked. "Personal. You know, the stroll down memory lane kind." He reached over and placed his hand lightly over mine, sending shivers up my arm. But something felt different.
I had had enough of arrogant men for one day. I jerked my hand away. "Don't toy with me James. Why are you really here?"
"I usually take weekend trips up here to Fisherman's Wharf to get away from LA."
Get away from LA, my ass. "Stop bullshitting me, James. I am not in the mood."
James held up both his hands in protest. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? I heard the message you left on my voicemail and I just."
He paused, considering his words, before continuing. "I followed you here, all right? But listen, life isn't the same without you Laura. I've missed you too. I've just- god, I've wanted to pick up the phone and call you for so long, but I didn't think you'd pick up."
He missed me too? "James, in case you've forgotten, you threw me out."
He shook his head. "I was wrong, Laura. I'm sorry. Seeing you on Friday night on the arm of someone else just made me realize what I threw away."
"So that's what this is about. You can't stand seeing me with anyone else." Normally, I would have jumped straight back into James' arms, but the argument with Holmes (and perhaps the alcohol as well) had left me in a horrid mood.
He chugged the remainder of his glass before turning to me again. "You can hate me all you want, Laura, but I do care about you very much."
Did he honestly think I hated him? I was speechless.
James had a worried look on his face when I didn't answer. "Laura? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," I whispered. "I don't hate you, you know. I'm just. having a bad day."
"You want to talk about it? We have all night."
I tried to study James' expression for any sign of an ulterior motive, but couldn't find anything. "I don't feel like talking about it right now."
His face fell, but he recovered quickly. "That's all right, I understand."
"But maybe later tonight," I offered. "That is, if you'd like to stay." my voice trailed off hastily.
"I'd love to," he smiled, placing his hand once again over mine. And this time, I didn't shrink away.
AN: Sorry about the delay, as school has started (get used to the 1000+ pages of reading a week in college!) James is so sly, don't you think? Ah, I've always had a thing for shady characters. Poor Watson. She really needs a reality pill. Snowwolf: thanks, I'm glad you like SF too! Glad to hear that Jake is in character, and that you enjoyed the towel scene (hah! I enjoyed writing it!) Fowl-Star: hmm, no punching between Holmes and Moriarty in sight, sorry to disappoint. And yes, I think I might be staring at Holmes. Silent Beatnik: your new chapter rocks, and thanks for the vote of confidence.