Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it was probably created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and/or the BBC's talented Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.
Author's note: Apologies for the delay. I'd hoped to get this chapter up before Christmas, but the Silly Season lived up to its name and reputation well and truly. I'm now back from my break and hopefully ready to get back into the swing of things. That said, this chapter is a little on the short side but it was the logical place to break it off.
For possibly the first time in his life, Sherlock made the transition from sleeping to waking gradually and gently. Usually the second he was even slightly conscious saw his brain snap into overdrive. This time, however, he took a moment to savour the warmth of the body curled beside him and the pleasant heaviness of his limbs. When he finally did open his eyes, he couldn't help smiling at the tangle of hair that all but hid the woman in his arms. As he gently brushed it away, he remembered their first meeting when she had challenged him to make some deductions about her.
"I read both your sites," she explained, green eyes alight with interest. "What you do is absolutely fascinating!"
Sherlock smiled. "It's not that difficult if you just really think. It's a matter of seeing, not just looking, and knowing how to make the connections." He shot John an amused glance as the other man snorted.
Seona gave him a challenging grin. "What would you say about me then?"
He eyed her curiously. He'd already formed a few basic ideas about her, the way he did about everyone he encountered, but he'd rarely come across someone who actually invited him to analyse them. So, what did he have? She was probably younger than him, and didn't wear much in the way of cosmetics. Her face was open and expressive, much like John's - she didn't try to hide her feelings from the world to any great degree. A mass of bright copper hair fell down her back, pinned on one side with a comb, and he was almost certain that the colour was natural (a certainty reinforced by the lack of other cosmetics).
With a perfectly serious expression, he began. "You're in your early or mid twenties, friendly and popular but currently single and have been for some time. A non-smoker, you keep yourself in good shape but don't obsessively watch what you eat." He glanced down at the plate of fish and chips in front of her briefly and she grinned in acknowledgement. "Your clothing is of good quality, although not slavishly following the latest fashions. A slightly alternative flair, which suggests an artistic role. Your comments earlier suggest that you're well at home with computers and the Internet, at more than just the superficial level most people have. I'd say a graphic designer, perhaps focusing on web design. The fingers of your right hand are calloused slightly in such a way that suggests you also play a stringed instrument of some sort." He paused and frowned. "The one thing I can't work out is where you're from. Your accent is not one I'm familiar with."
She laughed and clapped her hands in delight. "Don't be too worried about not picking my accent," she replied with a shake of her head. "It's not terribly intuitive. What it comes down to is that I'm from Australia, but don't quite have an Australian accent. Mum's Irish, Dad was Maltese, and I've been living in London for almost six months so the end result is very much a bitsa." She grinned and gave him a little bow from her chair. "You got everything else spot on, though. Very impressive. Looks like I'll have to try harder to be obscure."
John laughed along with him at that, but shook his head. "Pointless effort. I don't think anyone could be obscure enough for Sherlock not to be able to figure them out."
Sherlock smiled as he acknowledged to himself that it wasn't quite true. Not in either case. John, for all that he seemed so ordinary and mundane at first glance, still had the capacity to surprise him with enjoyable regularity. It was a major factor in why he'd been willing to move their relationship beyond merely 'flatmates' into the heretofore uncharted territory of 'friends'. Now it appeared that he'd found someone else able to do the same. He wasn't sure what name to give this relationship, though. 'Friends' was likely true, but that didn't really cover all of it. Not any more. 'Lovers', perhaps, although that had such an overtone of trashy romantic novels to his mind that he inwardly winced.
Seona stirred against him and opened her eyes, giving him a sleepy smile. This gave way to puzzlement as she saw his contemplative expression. "Penny for 'em?" she murmured, her smile now uncertain.
He regarded her for a moment longer, then replied, "I'm trying to figure out where this is going. What it all means." Which wasn't exactly the whole truth, but he was curious to see how she might react. It could give him valuable clues as to how she viewed their developing relationship.
The flash of hurt in her eyes made him wonder if he'd made a mistake. Her voice, though, was steady and quiet. "It can mean whatever we decide to let it mean, Sherlock. I'm not going to demand a wedding ring from you just because we spent the night together. Last night was truly amazing, and I know we spoke about continuing to see each other, but if you've had a change of heart, if you'd rather I just left..." Now her voice did crack with emotion. He hastily pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"No, that's not what I meant," he assured her as he pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Not at all. It's just that... I told you last night I had little experience with this sort of thing. We spoke of a number of things. Continuing to see each other as friends - I like that idea. You're actually interesting to talk to." He felt her lips curve in a small smile against his chest and took that as a good sign. "Then we spoke about a different sort of relationship. A closer relationship. I like that idea too, especially after the rest of what happened last night. And after that we spoke of continuing to spend the night together. Definitely like the sound of that. But what does all this mean? I don't know how I should be thinking of it. Of us."
She raised her head and studied him for a moment, then concluded for him, "And words like 'girlfriend' and 'boyfriend' sound too frivolous and dull for you to feel comfortable with."
He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. She was right. The words hadn't even crossed his mind, but it was as if he had been avoiding them on some subconscious level, despite his knowledge that they were the most common terms. He nodded mutely, feeling both disturbed and exhilarated that she had read him so accurately.
"Partners?" she suggested. "It's a neutral enough word that covers a whole range of options. And you're right: 'girlfriend' and 'boyfriend' are too simplistic for what I suspect is going to be a very complicated relationship."
Sherlock considered it. He could work with that, he decided. He could actually picture himself introducing her to someone as "my partner, Seona" where he couldn't imagine ever saying "my girlfriend". He shifted forward slightly to press a lingering kiss against her lips, somehow relieved when she relaxed into it. "Partners," he agreed as he pulled back.
Her answering smile was worth any complications this would introduce to his life.