Masquerade04: Thank you for the lovely review. Hope you enjoy this update.
bored411: I'm glad to be back! I'm glad that this is a distraction for you. Keep up the good work! Thank you for your sweet words.
MageVicky: Ever apologised to a mannequin before? I feel like that would be something Emily would do. So I thought, hey why not use it for that moment. Oooh, that does sound delicious! Thanks for sharing you're positive moment.
the-goblet-of-deduction: Your review brightened mine. Thank you so much.
ErikaconlaK: Stay strong! I hope you're doing ok.
Guest: Thank you so much for the review. Enjoy!
"...Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." He petulantly shoved the magazine that, moments before, he had been pretending to be interested in, across the coffee table before throwing himself around, facing away from John and curled up into a ball.
John pursed his lips. He'd only been home thirty seconds and already he was fed up with the Consulting Detective and his sour mood. He had been looking forward to getting back and chatting with Emily about her day, but had instead been greeted with the sounds of gun fire. Evidently Mrs Hudson wasn't home or Sherlock would not have been damaging the walls in such a way.
"Where's Em?" John asked now in an attempt to lighten the mood. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty that he had not asked this particular question sooner.
"Upstairs."
"Has she eaten?"
"How should I know?" Because you seem to know everything else. John thought to himself. But Sherlock hadn't finished. "She took a drink up earlier and some paracetamol. Haven't seen her since." John noted that his flat mate's tone had softened somewhat at the subject matter.
"Headache?" But his only reply was a shrug. At this, the anger he had felt moments before descended once more. "Do you mean to tell me, that you have been shooting at that bloody wall while our other flat mate has hidden herself away? Potentially with a headache?" He didn't even wait for a response and with that thought fresh in his mind, Dr John Watson had had enough. He stood from Sherlocks chair and grabbed his coat.
"Where are you going?" Sherlock turned his head to look over his shoulder and watched as john slipped his coat back on and moved to the stairs.
"Out. I need some air."
Emily, who had been sitting at the top of the stairs out of their sight, rushed to her feet and trying to be as quiet as possible moved back towards her bedroom window to watch John walking off. She wondered, briefly, where he would go and rather selfishly questioned why he didn't take her along with him.
She could hear Mrs Hudson below but paid her no mind as John's figure disappeared around the corner. She reasoned that he was probably going to Sarah's and if indeed he was going there, did she really want to be a third wheel (again)? The answer was most definitely no.
She turned away and knelt back down on the floor to tidy away her mess. She had spent the last hour or so snuggled in her pyjamas and dressing gown reading the work of Vivian Pecker. Her headache had eased off after a while though she could feel it coming back a little. She supposed that was more to do with her lack of dinner than anything else.
She had just pushed the shoebox back under her bed when a force caused her to fall forwards.
This force had not only shoved her to the floor but also blown apart her windows. She checked over her shoulder and noticed the glittering of glass shards on her floor and her bed, the air clouded.
"Emily!" She heard a faint voice call and wondered if the blast had affected her hearing.
It was lucky she hadn't landed near the door or Sherlock would have banged her head with the force with which he opened it.
"Emily." He crouched down next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist before helping her stand. "Are you hurt?" Her pyjama top had risen and she could feel the heat of his hand on her skin. She tried desperately not to focus on it as they descended down the stairs together.
She shook her head. "I don't think so. But what the hell's happened?" She noticed he had closed the door to the living room and wondered how bad it had been in there.
"Not quite sure yet. Shall we check on our landlady?" But he needn't have asked as they were already half way down the next set of stairs. "Mrs Hudson?!"
"I don't think she's too pleased with you at the moment." Emily mumbled, more to herself than the man next to her but she thought she heard him grumble in agreement.
"Mrs Hudson?!" Emily felt slightly relieved that her hearing was muffled or she might have gone deaf with his shout.
The door to Mrs Hudson's flat opened and the woman, who looked as if she could have had steam coming out of her ears, stood there with her arms folded. "What? What now young man? If you've done even more damage to that bloody wall, well I might just - what on earths happened? Was it that awful noise?" Finally she had taken a proper look at her tenants and noticed how dishevelled they were. "Emily are you alright love?" She all but yanked the blonde out of Sherlock's grasp, giving him a filthy look over her shoulder as if it was all his fault. She guided her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table before turning to put the kettle on.
Sherlock had disappeared, but came back minutes later just as the water had finished boiling.
"Called the police. Don't think I was the only one. Should be here soon. Could be a gas leak, but thought they should make sure." He knelt down in front of Emily, took her face in his hands and began to check her over. After all the injuries from his last case she really didn't need anymore.
"It's a bit messy upstairs Mrs H." Emily spoke as Sherlock's hands warmed her cheeks. The woman in question waved the statement away as she poured the steamy water into a cup. "What's happened out there?" She let out an involuntary shiver, her dressing gown wasn't exactly keeping her very warm at the moment.
"Mrs Hudson, a blanket please, if you would be so kind." The older lady released the spoon she had been using to stir the contents of the mug, the clatter rang through the kitchen as she moved to do as he had asked. "Told you. Gas leak. Bit of an explosion. Does anything hurt?" She shook her head no as their landlady came back in, purple blanket draped over her arm.
"Here we go Emily." She wrapped it around the young girls shoulders. "Nice warm drink for you in a minute."
"Thanks Mrs H." Sherlock held onto the edges of the blanket and pulled it tighter round her shoulders. "I think my ears are a bit muffled though."
"To be expected." Sherlock's voice had gone deep and the shiver Emily released was, this time, nothing to do with being cold. Judging by the smirk that appeared on his face, Sherlock noticed it too.
"What about you? Are you alright?" She asked him now in attempt to shift the focus away from herself.
"I'm fine." He stood now and released the blanket from his hold. "I'll go and find something to board the windows up with." He watched as Emily yawned. "Then to bed I think. We can clear up in the morning." He sent her a grin that he then flashed towards the landlady.
"Young man, if you think for a second I'm helping you tidy that mess, you've got another thing coming. I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper." The smile on his face was replaced with a frown as he went to reply. But as she placed a mug in front of Emily, Mrs Hudson's expression lightened. "Why don't you sleep down here with me tonight love? I don't mind taking the sofa for the night?"
"Oh Mrs Hudson, I'd love to sleep down here with you, but I couldn't let you sleep on the couch. I insist you have the bed or I go back upstairs." She blew on her drink which, to her delight, turned out to be hot chocolate and watched as their landlady rolled her eyes and tutted. Eventually nodding to herself after a moments thought.
"Probably be better for my hip." As if to persuade herself all the more, she rubbed a hand on the troublesome bone.
"She could have slept in mine." Sherlock mumbled from beside the blonde.
"I thought you'd gone to find something to cover the windows with?" Mrs Hudson, hands on hips, all but snapped.
With one last look at Emily, with an added wink to make her blush all the more, Sherlock moved past the two women towards the garden door. With any luck his search would be quick and easy.
It hadn't taken Sherlock very long at all to find the boards that had been used to cover up the windows between tenants.
It also hadn't taken Emily very long to sweep up the glass shards from the floor. She didn't, after all, want Sherlock to cut himself whilst boarding up the place. They could worry about the rest in the morning.
She didn't dare look outside so see the mess the gas leak had made of the house across the road and so had made sure to keep her gaze on the floor at all times.
Mrs Hudson had promised she would have the couch ready by the time she was done and if Emily was honest, she was glad the older woman had offered her couch. She wasn't sure, with how cold it had become with the lack of glass in the panes, if she could have slept in her own living room.
The pair upstairs had barely made a sound. Simply worked around each other in compatible silence. Though Sherlock often found his gaze wondering over to the blonde, watching her carefully as she worked.
Not once did she look up to meet his eyes, though she could feel his stare boring into the side of her face.
It wasn't until Emily was tipping the last of the shards into some newspaper before throwing it all in the bin bag, did she realise Sherlock was stood closer than he needed to. Leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her movements carefully still.
"Thanks." He mumbled as, at last, she made eye contact with him.
"Sherlock Holmes, The Consulting Detective, thanking me for something. The world's gone mad." She teased. Sherlock let out a deep chuckle. At least he seemed in a better mood than earlier. "But seriously, why are you thanking me?"
"For cleaning up the glass."
She shrugged. "Didn't want your feet bleeding. More of a mess for Mrs Hudson to moan about." Her trace of a smile she was wearing disappeared. Her face overcome with a thoughtful expression. "Should we call John?"
"Leave him be. Blast seems big enough to be on the news. He'll find out." He took a step closer to her. She didn't quite realise she was now trapped in the corner and he was blocking any chance of an exit. "You can stay up here with me if you like?" Emily had to tilt her head back to look at him properly he was so close. "You could have my bed. You've said how comfy it is."
She wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating. What on earth was going on?
"And where would you sleep?" Her mouth was dry. She attempted to swallow, but it felt more like a nervous gulp. "Not on the couch surely? It's far too cold."
"Thought we could share." His voice was a whisper now. But he didn't exactly need to be any louder as there was only the tiniest gap between them. As the blush on her cheeks bloomed, Emily was unsure if regaining her hearing was a blessing or a curse. Perhaps she had hit her head on the floor when the blast had pushed her forwards. Yes. That had to be it. She was lying unconscious on her bedroom floor, dreaming that Sherlock was inviting her to share his bed.
"Emily, are you coming down dear?" She blinked and turned away at the sound of Mrs Hudson's voice, but Sherlock continued to stare down at her face. Her breathing had become deeper at their proximity and it only worsened as he gently moved her chin back to face him with his finger. Was he doing this right? He sincerely hoped so, and judging by her increasing rosy cheeks and dilated pupils, he indeed was. He'd bet money her palms were sweating too.
"Our landlady is waiting." She finally whispered back.
"Let her." Emily's eyes widened slightly. "Stay." His eyes flicked down to her lips as she nervously worried them with her teeth.
"Emily, the sofa's all made up for you love." The pair continued to stare at one another. It wasn't until the sounds of footsteps ascending the stairs and the voice of Mrs Hudson calling once more, that Emily broke from the spell. "Your hot chocolate is getting cold."
She moved her head to face the kitchen doorway, all thoughts of Sherlock's comfy bed forgotten. "My hot chocolate." She gasped as Sherlock sighed. She pushed through Sherlock's hold and met her landlady half way down the stairs. A concerned look overtook the older woman's face.
"You look all flushed Emily. Are you sure you're all right? That man didn't make you put all those boards up yourself did he?"
"Oh no, I think it's all part of the shock of what happened is all." Mrs Hudson took Emily's hand in her own and led her back downstairs. Emily cringed and hoped she couldn't feel how sweaty her palms were.
"Well, let's get you tucked in. We can watch something if you like?"
"Oh, Mrs Hudson, I'd love to. What shall we watch?"
Sherlock leant back against the counter, listening to the voices of the women of the house, cursing his landlady's timing.
I don't really know how I feel about this chapter? Have I taken Sherlock out of character? I think that's one of my biggest fears with this story. Or any story really.
Anyway, hope you're all ok. Tell me your positive thing?
Stay safe. Stay strong. Much love.
FB