Hello, all. Here's the next chapter, finally! I apologize for the wait. I don't own anything except for Zoe and the other originals characters and original storylines. No copyright infringement is intended.
The sound of three-inch heels clicking on the marble floor made the doorman look up from the newspaper he was reading. He smiled. "My daughter finally got around to reading your book, Ms. Howard. She loved it and is looking forward to the next one," he said to the woman as he opened and held the glass door liked he'd done a hundred of times that day. She was one of the more pleasant people he crossed paths with in his job.
Zoe was in the middle of turning on her phone when he spoke. She looked up and returned his smile as she tossed her phone back into her black handbag. "I'm glad to hear it, Randall. Let her know I'm working on the sequel and she may or may not get a signed copy" she said with a wink. Randall was an older gentleman with a daughter in university. He had always been pleasant to her during their brief encounters.
"She'll be thrilled! Have a good evening, Ms. Howard," he said with a brighter smile and a wave.
"You too, Randall," she said before continuing outside. As the door of the building housing the London Script offices closed behind her, her phone began to ring. She sighed in frustration and dug around in her purse for the device that seemed to already be at the bottom of the bag somehow. When she finally found it, she glanced down at the display to see her publicist's name.
"Hello, Lily," she said answering a little apprehensively. She could only hope that there weren't any last minute events tonight. It was Wednesday and all she wanted to do was get home and relax with some comfort food like some pasta or maybe something barbecue and her favorite television shows. It was only midweek but mentally she was more than ready for the weekend.
"Hey, Howard. I just wanted to give you a schedule update. Mr. Holmes called and asked me to make sure that you were free Saturday after next," the woman said.
She paused in her walk, eyebrows drawing together as she tried to think. The sound of the traffic nearby was mildly distracting. Did we make plans that I forgot about? Dinner with Natalia is this weekend, but nothing else is planned.
She focused back on her surroundings just in time to walk around a man and his small dog. She gave a smile when the dog yipped at her. "Did he say why?" she asked, starting her walk to the tube station.
"He mentioned going to see his parents. His text messages didn't sound very happy. I'm not even sure how he got my number unless you gave it to him," Lily said, huffing towards the end.
Zoe took in the fact that she was going to be meeting Mr. and Mrs. Holmes very soon before the rest of what Lily said clicked into place. "He has your number in case of emergencies and he can't reach me on my phone. Mine has been off most of the day," she explained to her longtime publicist and friend.
The senior editor of the Script kept her in staff meetings throughout the day surrounding some recent story pitches. As a freelancer, she usually missed smaller meetings, so she was required to come in for bigger ones. Today was one of those days. Zoe had left her phone off to stay focused on a particularly challenging piece afterward.
"Ah, gotcha. Well, good luck meeting his parents. I know you're probably on your way home, so I'll chat with you later," Lily said.
"Bye," Zoe said before hanging up. She made it to the station and quickly swiped her oyster card.
Once she was seated in the train carriage next to a mother and her adorable young child, she checked her phone again and saw several texts from earlier in the day.
[Sherbear]: Is your schedule clear Saturday after next? SH
? SH
I'm assuming your phone is simply off. Will text your schedule woman. SH
Considered sending Lestrade to check on you, but he's purposely ignoring my texts today. SH
She couldn't help but smile when she read that he referred to Lily as her "schedule woman". She was also glad that Lestrade wasn't an option. She could picture that scene in her head now.
"Um, Mr. Scott. There's a Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard here to see Ms. Howard, " Rebecca the Script's secretary said peeking into the room.
Zoe wanted to sink down into her chair as everyone in the meeting room turned to look at her.
"What'd you do this time, Zo? Planning a piece on someone dangerous," Emil said nudging her side.
"Excuse me for a moment," she said before jumping up and going to meet Lestrade in the lobby. When she spotted him, she pulled him away from the curious faces of her co-workers.
"What's going on? Did he get into some kind of trouble?" she said lowly.
Lestrade frowned. "No, he sent me here to check on you. Apparently, you weren't answering your phone. He said something about a co-worker possibly giving you hard time, bordering on harassment," he said, looking around for a possible offender when he mentioned the harassment.
Zoe facepalmed. "My phone is off and nobody has been harassing me. The senior editor asked me out like a year ago but that's it. Sherlock won't let it go," she told him.
Lestrade sighed deeply. "So, I rushed down her for nothing," he huffed.
"It would seem so. I'm so sorry, Greg. I owe you a drink sometime, okay?" she said.
The irritated man nodded. "We should put the tab under his name," he said.
She quickly texted Sherlock back before the train left the station, while she still had reception.
Zoe: Sorry, my phone was on silent and or powered off most of the day. Seeing your parents next weekend?
When she got service while stopping at the next station, his reply popped up.
[Sherbear]: Who told you? SH
So he's forgotten already that he contacted Lily. She quickly typed out a reply before the train pulled off again. It was frustrating trying to play hide and seek with mobile service down here.
Zoe: Lily. She called to let me know about the schedule updates. She does it all the time to make sure professional life and personal life don't get tangled up.
[Sherbear]: Right, yes. The woman you pay to tell you what you're doing for the day. SH
Zoe couldn't help but roll her eyes at his description.
Zoe: No, she keeps track of what I'm doing in order to schedule appearances and other logistical things. She's also in charge of keeping my public image nice. My PR guru essentially.
Sometimes, Zoe thought that Sherlock could use a publicist. She imagined that he'd go through several in a week with the way he bluntly spoke to the press or some of the tweets he sent out. She'd seen John or Lestrade nudging him a few times after particularly "not good" statements during a press conference. It took Sherlock two stops to reply. When she read it she could see the reason for the delay.
[Sherbear]: Mycroft informed me she kept a photo of us out of the media and offline recently. What does that say about how our relationship would impact your "image"?
She couldn't tell through text whether he was angry or hurt by Lily's interference. His words and the implication did not sit well with her. They had mutually decided when he returned to try to remain out of the public eye. He had cited that the last time he became a tabloid favorite, his enemy had used it against him. It was a place that he didn't want to revisit.
For Zoe, her recent popularity as a writer didn't change the fact that she was genuinely a private person. She thought of celebrity couples and public figures pictured stealing a kiss with their significant other and cringed at the idea of being photographed like that. She knew Sherlock was in no way a fan of PDA in the first place, so as slim as their chances were at being captured in such a moment, she knew that if it did happen he would close himself off.
Now, he was making it sound like she was the one hiding it to save herself some kind of embarrassment. If she wasn't on a crowded train and had better service, she would have called him immediately and probably said something unpleasant. Instead, she took a deep breath and tapped out a response quickly and hit send when she got mobile reception again.
Zoe: It doesn't "say" anything. I asked her to minimize media attention until we had decided we were ready to go public. I can tweet a picture now if you'd like. You in your PJs sound good?
The last bit was snarky and probably a bit petty but he was confusing and it was frustrating.
[Sherbear]: No. SH
She paused for a moment and thought of a plan. If he wanted reassurance, she would give it to him.
Zoe: Are you home?
[Sherbear]: Yes. Why? SH
She didn't respond. At the next station, she got off. On the sidewalk, waving down a taxi, she also waved at a teenager who stood with his mouth agape. He took a nervous step forward and said hi and how big of a fan he was. She thanked him with a smile and posed for a selfie, just as taxi rolled to a stop. She went to get in, but not before catching sight of a pair of men with camera equipment nearby. It wasn't rare to see them, especially when television shows and films were filming in the city or a celebrity was out and about. As a writer, she didn't count herself as a celebrity. A public figure with fans, sure? Celebrity, not quite. When her book first hit the best-seller list, she dealt with people stopping her for photos and even autographs if they had the book on them. With the big article this year and TV and radio interviews, she dealt with paparazzi trying to learn more about her as a rising media voice. She normally did a good job of dodging them.
She made eye contact with one of the men, before quickly looking away. She smoothed down her hair a bit and sent a text to Lily as the taxi pulled away just in case.
Sherlock pulled his bow across the strings of his violin, creating a slow and miserable sounding echo of his internal thoughts. He was relieved that neither John or Mrs. Hudson was around to hear the sound. John was probably finishing up at work and Mrs. Hudson was out with friends who were in the city for the week. They would surely ask him what was wrong. It was a conversation he did not want to have at the moment.
She didn't respond. He hated surprises. He was certain she knew this. He looked down at the phone that rested on the arm of his chair and waited as if a message would land in his inbox at any moment. It did not.
It wasn't until half an hour later when he had laid down his violin and began an experiment that he got any kind of answer. He heard the doorbell ring downstairs but didn't move to answer. Zoe would call ahead of time and any clients could tweet or email him. It wasn't long until Mrs. Hudson walked into the flat with Zoe behind her.
The younger woman was still dressed in work attire in a knee-length burgundy skirt and white blouse. Her curly hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and makeup was the minimum today with mascara and a berry-colored lipstick. By the way she was standing, he knew she was more than ready to take off her heels. He let his eyes scan her more closely.
Tired. Long day of having to be in the office. New photographer for the paper asked her out for drinks. Frustrated...with me.
"Sherlock, why didn't you answer the door? Zoe was lucky that I came home when I did," Mrs. Hudson scolded.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said shortly, ignoring his landlady. "Especially not with food," he continued as he caught sight of the bag in her hand. He pushed the protective goggles he wore up onto his forehead and put the beaker in his hand down, the light blue mixture slowly turning purple.
"Yes, I know," she said. She eyed his expression for a moment. "I don't have to stay if you're busy or want some quiet time this evening," she said trying to gauge his mood.
The flat had been quiet for the last two days. No John, no Lestrade, no cases. Beyond text messages and phone calls, he hadn't seen her either. "It's fine."
She nodded and stepped further into the flat.
"I stopped by Angelo's and grabbed dinner. I bought enough for you to get some too, Mrs. Hudson," she said. She eyed the experiment covered table before setting the bag down on the coffee table near the couch.
"Oh, that's nice of you dear, but I've just come from an outing with friends. I've already eaten," the landlady replied.
"How nice. I'll have to treat you another time then," Zoe said, putting a hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder.
"I'll leave you two to your evening in," Mrs. Hudson said giving Sherlock a pointed look. With a wave, she headed downstairs and the tension in the flat grew.
Zoe moved around Sherlock to grab takeaway trays, plates, and utensils while his eyes followed her. She was avoiding his gaze. She has something to say but doesn't know how yet. His brain brought up several options.
Going to break up with me.
Mycroft is up to something.
She's not ready to meet my parents.
After the food, which included lasagna, an assortment of vegetables, and garlic bread, was plated, Zoe grabbed her own tray and the bottle of wine she had bought and sat in John's chair. "Would you mind grabbing some glasses before you sit down, Sherlock? No rush though. You can finish your experiment," she said.
He could tell she was trying to sound nonchalant. He eyed the now lavender colored mixture on the table before his eyes rose to scan her. "It has to sit for a while anyway," he said. When he sat down next to her and placed the glasses on the table, he turned to her. He waited until she finished saying her grace, whispering a low "Amen" before he spoke.
"Spontaneous evenings are not our thing," he said evenly. He watched her reaction, his brain canceling out some ideas and increasing the probability of what she wanted to discuss.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I just thought that after the turn our conversation took earlier, it would be better to talk in person. We wouldn't want anything to get confusing or misconstrued. Unnecessary drama happens that way. I know how you hate unnecessary things," she finished with a tight smile.
He picked up on the pointed way she articulated her last sentence and sighed. He was well aware that his behavior was possibly creating confusion. One minute, he was fine with their relationship being secret. The next, he wondered if the secrecy was for another reason beyond their original decision. It frustrated him because he felt like a teenager all over again. Unsure of himself and his place in a situation, in this case, his place in this relationship. Fear was not something he often let seep into his behavior. He detested the emotions' ability to make one out of character or recklessly. In this case, it was out of character. He didn't often care what others thought of him. But here, his heart which that he rarely put on display, was at risk.
Sherlock was not ignorant of the fact that while people marveled at his work and technique, most who interacted with him were not a fan of what John referred to as his "people skills" or lack thereof. A relationship with him would make people look at her differently and he wondered if she had thought about it herself. He wondered if Lily had told her he was a bad choice for her and her continued success. He had been trying quite a bit to be a decent partner. He had even taken to asking his father for advice on certain matters after Mycroft told them the news. He regularly and thoroughly cleared his internet history so Mycroft wouldn't discover his search for relationship advice. While he was afraid of his heart getting broken, the thought of wasting his time with all of that was also present in his mind. To have his friends worked up only for it to end was an unpleasant thought.
"You're angry with me."
"Angry? No. A bit miffed and a little insulted? Yes," she said.
"Were you followed?" he said.
That response seemed to annoy her as she narrowed her eyes at him before focusing on her food. After she finished a bite of lasagna, she spoke.
"Maybe, maybe not. I wasn't concerned about it," she paused before continuing. "I was concerned about you and any bit of doubt you may have about us. About how I feel about you. We've kept our personal lives out of the media because we decided early on that we wanted the privacy while we could have it. Now, you talk as if I'm going at it from a different angle. That's a bit frustrating," she said looking up at him.
"I can assure you that I am not worried at all about how our relationship looks to anyone else. I would be happy to let the public know that you are my partner, boyfriend, beau. Whatever you want to call it." she said putting her plate down and grabbing one of his hands. They sat in silence for a moment as she thought about how to word her next statement.
He didn't want to interrupt her. He knew she hated that.
"You're different, but I'm not ashamed about that. I'm a little hurt that you'd think I'd be so shallow as to cut you loose when I've shown you how much I care for you, just the way you are. I can handle comments from people who don't understand you or my decision to be with you. If a picture of us or of me showing up here this evening is in the papers tomorrow or we're trending on Twitter in the morning, we'll deal with it together. That's how you handle things when you love someone" she said.
He was silent for a moment, simply staring at her. His bright eyes on her made her fidget a bit. They did not often exchange 'I love you', mostly for his benefit. But, he could always read it in her eyes. A small smile finally appeared on his face. "Are you sure you're ready for my fan club to send you messages," he said giving her hand that still held his a squeeze. He wanted to lighten the mood as the emotion in her eyes was starting to overwhelm him.
She laughed. "I'm just hoping they're sensible people and don't send me anything threatening," she replied with a grin.
"I'd have very serious words with them if they did. I'm not beyond showing up on someone's doorstep," he said seriously.
She grinned before leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "The internet would eat that up," she said.
He smiled for a moment before he began more serious.
"I apologize for my words earlier. For a moment, I let doubt cloud my judgment and what I know to be the truth. It is not an error I often make and I will admit to being a bit embarrassed because of it," he said.
Giving his hand a final reassuring squeeze, she let go and picked up her plate. "You're forgiven. Now that that's settled, I'm quite hungry and there's a Victoria marathon on tonight."
Ten minutes into the episode, Sherlock huffed. "I think you're a little too fond of Albert," he said. Zoe giggled and picked up her glass of wine.
"His hair is doing that curly thing that I really like," she said not looking away from the screen. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
An hour later, Zoe's phone chimed with a text message from Lily. It wasn't long until they both had to mute their Twitter notifications. The picture had been of her standing outside of Baker Street after she rung the doorbell. Sherlock even turned off his phone after Mycroft had tried to call twice.
"At least it's a good photo," he said.
"I may have posed a bit for it," she said breaking into giggles. His baritone laughter soon joined.
While the internet debated if she was visiting for a case or if they were friends, they'd surely have their answer when Zoe was spotted leaving in the morning.
I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out. Hopefully, I caught any spelling or grammatical errors. Being transparent, the last few months have been a bit everywhere for me between a vacation in August, some family members losing everything in Hurricane Harvey, and then being quite unwell. I've had to change my diet and recently came off of medication. Happy to get back into this especially since it's NaNoWriMo and I started working on a full-length novel. This is a nice break from that. I'm always in a better mood in November because my birthday is this month. The 16th to be exact!
So, Zoe and Sherlock have survived one of their first "arguments", although here they were both adults about it and talked it out. Also, I don't know how the subway/tube system works in the UK with technology, but in the US I've been able to text while on the train whether its when the train stops in a station or the tracks are above ground. Anyways, please review and let me know if there's anything you want to see moving forward.
-K
