I wake with the sun shining on my face. After yawning and stretching, I walk down the stairs and into the lounge. Books are stacked on every surface, and Sherlock is ruffling his curls.
"You been up all night?" I ask, heading into the kitchen to make tea.
"Of course," he replies.
"You know that's not good for you, it damages your memory." He doesn't respond. "I'm going out today, do you need anything?" Once again, silence. I walk out of the kitchen to see Sherlock hunched over a book, his eyes closed. "Sherlock." He snaps to attention, looking at me.
"What?" He asks in return, trying to regain his bearings.
"Get some rest," I smile, handing him his tea. He takes it and sets it down, digging in the bins again. I walk out of the flat, hailing a cab. I direct him towards my favourite park, thanking him profusely as I get out. I take a deep breath of the clean air, and head to a park bench to sit down. I close my eyes and enjoy my surroundings as I hear someone walk by. I open my eyes as I hear them come back, and I'm face-to-face with Sarah, the woman I met at the bank.
"This must be fate," she smiles, and I smile in return. "Can I sit?"
"Sure," I respond, scooting over a little. She sits, and smiles at me.
"I was worried you lost my number."
"I would never lose your number. My flatmate and I have been really busy lately, that's all."
"Oh, your flatmate." She sounds dejected. "Does he take you out to dates often?"
"We're not dating, I have never been on a date with him." A look of relief spreads across her face. "And I don't have one tonight." I smile as she does, happy to be normal for once.
I walk out of the kitchen as Sherlock ruffles his curls, sighing in defeat.
"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight," he calls, clearing some books from the table.
"Actually, I have a date," I correct. He looks up at me.
"What?"
"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun?"
"That's what I was suggesting."
"I don't think so. If it were a date, it would be mutual. And you would have asked first."
"Yes, but I thought-"
"Thought what?" He glares for a moment, then turns away.
"Where are you taking him?" He asks bitterly, looking towards the window.
"I'm taking her to the cinema," I respond, smiling. He turns to look at me again.
"Cinema is dull, boring, predictable."
"That's the point, I'm trying to be normal."
"Try this." He ignores my comment, handing me a flyer for the circus. "One night only."
"I don't remember asking for dating advice," I muse quietly. "Sherlock-" My objection gets cut off with his violin, the minor melody creating a barrier between us. Fine, I think, I'll take her to the bloody circus. He plays for another minute before finishing with a flourish, setting his instrument of the table and heading towards the kitchen.
"You can be so... infuriating sometimes, Sherlock," I call. "You know that?"
"Of course," he calls back, stepping into view. "Shall I buy the tickets?"
"Since you insisted," I grumble, setting back down in my armchair.
"Tell me more about your childhood," Sherlock calls suddenly.
"Uh, why?"
"I want to know."
"I don't feel comfortable doing that, Sherlock."
"Why not?" I hear him step back into the room.
"It's my business, not yours." I turn my head to see the riding crop hanging from his hand. I stand and turn quickly, subconsciously believing that he's going to hurt me. "Sherlock, put that down."
"I just want to know more about you." He steps forward, and I take a step back.
"Sherlock, I'm serious. Please."
"It's an inanimate object! Your father's in prison, he cannot harm you anymore."
"Yes, but you could. I'm begging you, please!"
"You're going to have to face your fears some day, Jane!" I back up farther, falling into Sherlock's chair. He takes a final step, quickly advancing on me. I flinch, hard.
"Please don't, Papa, I'll be good!" I cry, squeezing my eyes shut as memories come flooding back. I hug my knees to make myself smaller. "I promise, Papa, I promise." I feel a large, warm hand on my shoulder, and pull away from it as fast as possible. "I didn't do it, it was Jammy, I swear! Papa, please don't hurt me today. I'm sorry."
"Did you have a bit of a row, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson's voice calls, which brings me back to reality. "Sherlock..."
"I'll be going out, Mrs. Hudson," he says, placing the riding crop softly on the table. "I'll be back in precisely two hours. Goodbye." He heads to the stairs and descends, closing the door tightly behind himself.
"Oh, come on, dear. Come down to mine and I'll make you some tea," Mrs. Hudson states, holding out her hand for me. I grab it, standing carefully. I follow her down the stairs and to her flat, sitting down at her kitchen table. "Will you be alright? What happened?"
"Sherlock got angry," I mumble, staring at the clean tablecloth. "I'll be fine."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. He just brought back some bad memories. I just need to take a break."
"You poor thing," she whispers after a moment. "Sherlock will be back in about two hours, you can stay here or go somewhere. I suggest the former."
"I think I'll take a short trip, after tea of course."
"Where will you go?"
"I'll find out when I get there, I guess."
Sorry if things don't make sense. Sometimes I have an idea of what I want, and do whatever I need to in order to make it happen. Oops.
