Prompt from Wordwielder: Cozy

Cozy

"Well, this was cozy," Elvira Peterson said, rising and smiling out the window as the train came slowly to a stop at the station. "You will love Louisville, Sherlock. Positively love it! I have a cozy room reserved at a very cozy hotel and we shall have a cozy dinner together. What do you think?"

"I think, Miss Peterson," Holmes said stiffly returning her indulgent smile with a cool expression, "that I am supposed to be your butler. It is a mistake to be so informal."

"Sherlock, please call me Vi," she said, her smile transforming to her usual amused smirk. "No one that knows me will believe you are my butler. By now, word has got around that I picked you up in Paris. Everyone will make assumptions."

"I understand that," he said, also rising and joining her at the window. Outside, the porters were moving to assist passengers with luggage and escort various people to various locations. The station was not dissimilar to those of Europe or Britain. The styles these Americans wore would not have particularly stood out in a London crowd. It all felt familiar, yet Holmes was on foreign ground and he was all too aware of how vulnerable he was and did not at all care for his dependency on Miss Peterson. He readily admitted, though, that she had proven herself a capable companion thus far. "Miss Peterson, I believe you do not yet appreciate the danger we are in."

"Do I not?" she purred, cocking her wrist to allow a compact two-barreled derringer to slip from her sleeve into her palm. She slipped it back in place and met his eyes. "I tell you what. Let's compromise. In public, you call me Miss Elvira. In private, call me Vi. How's that?"

Holmes sighed.

"Very well, Vi, I believe you view our situation as a game rather than the deadly circumstance it truly is."

"Of course it's a game, Sherlock." She stepped back from the window and picked up her purple velvet clutch that matched her purple velvet dress. "I am enjoying it, too. And, don't tell me you aren't."

"I am not," he insisted. "I would much rather be in my old rooms at Baker Street. They were, to use your word, cozy. Especially so on a winter evening beside the fire."

"I've read most of Dr. Watson's accounts of your adventures," she said. "Where is that Bohemian soul of yours? I know you loved running around, chasing down ne'er-do-wells. Bringing the wicked to justice! Setting your great mind against the criminal elements. Even serving your country was fun for you, even if it was your duty."

Holmes clamped his mouth shut and returned his gaze to the scene outside.

"Oh… I see," she said, smiling once again.

He turned a questioning gaze upon her.

"When you did those things, you didn't have a woman along," she said and her smile was kind rather than sharp or amused. "You feel responsible for me. For protecting me."

"I do," said Holmes. "While I am grateful for all you have done, sheltering me for two weeks, providing money and these new clothes, I cannot help but be aware of the danger to your life. Danger you would not be in if I had not accepted your aid."

"Thought so," she said. "Come on, butler boy, get my bags. We need to get off this train and find a cab. Our cozy dinner is at six and I am hungry."

AN: I like Miss Elvira Peterson. For those wondering, she is inspired by Casandra Peterson and her immortal horror queen character Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Given the chance, I will be adding to the adventures she and Holmes share on their journey to New Orleans. She wicked and fun, so why not?