A/N: Well, I was going to post earlier, but I didn't have Wi-Fi all weekend, thanks to my cousin who was over from Friday to Sunday, and we just fixed it a few hours ago. So I finally have WiFi and the ability to publish/upload, thank Loki. Welp, here you go. Not exactly fluffy, 'crept for one part, not much angst... Mostly filler until the middle-wish/end.
Please let me know what you think!
The Day After
Isabel knocked on Sherlock's door. When it opened, Sherlock was standing there, the first few buttons of his purple shirt undone. She tried not to stare, but she couldn't help it.
"My eyes are up here, Isabel." He muttered, drawing her attention.
"Oh, sorry. I'd expect that I'd have to tell you that." She said, chuckling awkwardly. "May I..?"
"Oh, right, yes, of course." Sherlock said, stepping out of the way to let her in. He closed the door and walked past Isabel to sit in his chair. She sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. "Did you need something?"
"I just wanted to talk to you about... Last night..." She said quietly, glancing at Sherlock. His expression changed; it went from emotionless to slightly confused.
"May I ask why?"
"It was uncalled for."
"Are you sure that's just you saying that?" Sherlock asked, making Isabel giggle a little bit out of disbelief.
"I'm positive that we both think it's true."
"How do you know?"
"Are you trying to hint at something?" Isabel asked, smiling.
"I believe so."
"Well, whether you are or not, I'm apologizing. That was... Not the smartest thing to do, considering the situation and conditions at the moment."
"Don't apologize."
"Why?" Sherlock thought for moment.
"Never mind." He said, turning his view towards the wall. He didn't want to see her. More, he didn't want her to see him.
"Um... Okay." Isabel said, sighing and standing up to walk out. "Bye, Sherlock."
"Goodbye, Isabel." He never looked at her, even as she walked out.
Sherlock stared through the microscope, glaring at the samples in the slides. He tried to think straight, though for some reason, he couldn't.
Stop it. Get it out of your head. She's just playing you like The Woman. She'll wrap you around her finger and then she'll hurt you like everyone else has at some point and-
"Stop!" He shouted. He fisted his hair, shutting his eyes tight. He stood up quickly, kicking the chair away from him. John walked over from his spot on the couch, glancing at the chair on the floor then on Sherlock, who was now breathing heavily, his arms at his sides.
"Should I ask?" John questioned, crossing his arms across his chest. Sherlock glared at him.
"I'd rather you not." He said. He didn't know what was happening, and he wanted to. His tone was completely unconvincing. John sighed, motioning for Sherlock to sit in his chair.
"Yes you would. Now sit, what's going on? Don't lie to me, Sherlock, because I'm able to tell by now." He ordered, sitting across from Sherlock. "Tell me what's going on with your head right now."
"I don't know what's going on. That's the problem. I don't know."
"Okay... That doesn't help. I can't help you if you don't know."
"Isabel's brother is Moriarty. He'll be able to get to the both of us." Sherlock murmured, too quiet for John to hear.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. I think it's Isabel." He answered. He glanced at John, with a look of animation John's never seen.
"What about her?"
"There's something about her, and I don't know what it is. She's interesting, of course, but she's also... Very..."
"Very what?"
"No, that's not good enough." Sherlock told himself, steeping his hands under his chin as he always did when he was thinking. "What's the word?"
"I don't know, you tell me." Isabel said, her voice coming from the open doorway. She stood there, looking like she was about to go somewhere that wasn't her job, and glanced at John. "You ready?"
"Where are you two going?" Sherlock asked, curiosity laced in his voice.
"Lunch. I made a bet with her and I won, so she's taking' me to lunch." John grinned, standing up to walk out. He brushed past Isabel, who stayed in the doorway, staring into Sherlock's eyes. "You coming, Isabel?"
"Yeah, yeah... I'll be down in a minute." She said, not bothering to look at John. She walked slowly over to Sherlock, who glared at her.
"How long had you been standing there?" He demanded.
"I was walking up as I heard you say I'm interesting. Apparently I'm very..." She recited, waiting for Sherlock to finish the incomplete statement.
"Very... Smart..." He cleared his throat. "If that works for you."
"Of course it does. Sherlock Holmes has just given me a 'compliment'. Well, anyways, I have to go. I'll see you in a few hours. Unless... You want to come with us?" Isabel suggested, walking closer so there was only a foot of space between them. "I'll still pay."
Sherlock gulped, and his pupils dilated, making Isabel smile. She bit her bottom lip lightly, looking at Sherlock's lips. He looked at hers only for a moment, but he craved them.
He remembered the sensation of the kisses, the feeling of her lips against his. He resisted the urge to kiss her then, but knew she had to get out of the flat and away from her before he did.
"Do I have to eat?" GOD DAMN IT SHERLOCK YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY AWAY FROM HER!
"At least get something to drink." SAY NO, SHERLOCK, YOU NEED TO SAY NO!
"Fine, I'll come." He huffed a sigh. Sherlock you bastard.
They walked down, finding that John was still waiting.
"He's coming too?" John asked, nodding his head towards the detective.
"Of course I'm coming." Sherlock retorted, seemingly offended. He hailed a taxi, climbing it when it pulled over. Isabel and John slid in as well after him. Isabel gave the address.
John heard his phone go off as soon as the door closed.
I'm assuming you want to talk to me? -SH
Yeah, actually, I do. Why are you coming along with us? -JW
Was this supposed to be a date? -SH
No, Sherlock. I have a girlfriend and you know that! It wasn't going to be a date. -JW
His phone didn't go off for a few minutes. When they reached the restaurant, John glared at Sherlock, who seemed innocently confused.
Then why would it bother you? -SH
John didn't answer.
The three of them walked inside, and sat in a booth in the corner by a window. Isabel and Sherlock sat across from John. They eventually got some food, but Sherlock didn't, of course. The three of them were silent for quite a while.
"Are you two going out yet?" John asked, taking a sip of his tea and looking at Isabel.
"Excuse me?" She asked, glancing at Sherlock then back at John. "No, we aren't. What makes you say that?"
"Nothing."
The rest of the time they spent in the little café was quiet.
"'Ay, Isabel!" Anderson yelled, running over to the irritated secretary.
"What the hell do you want, Anderson?"
"Well, sorry, for wanting to let you know Sherlock's here." He said defensively.
"He's here almost every other day."
"But he's here for you."
Isabel froze. She dropped the thick stack of papers she was fixing, sending them all over the desk and floor. She ran all over to find him, thanking God that she hadn't lost her breath quite yet.
"Hello, Isabel." Sherlock said, his voice slightly deeper than usual. He slipped his coat and scarf off, laying them on the chair a few feet away.
"Sherlock."
"You're wondering why I'm here." He stated, walking towards her.
"For me." She hadn't lost her breath from running. But she was breathing shallowly as he walked towards her,
"I need to tell you something."
Her heart raced, pounding against her chest. Her breathing picked up, making her require more oxygen than she had before.
"What do you... Need to tell me?" She stammered, trying to process the fact that Sherlock was merely two feet away, and was still walking closer to her.
"It's about Moriarty." He was standing about 2 inches away from her, his lips leaning towards her ear.
Jesus, Iz, breath. Relax. He didn't escape, he's not a free man, he's not alive, he's not-
"He escaped." He whispered, his hand slipping around her waist to the small of her back so she wouldn't fall. She gripped his shirt, feeling dizzy.
"H-how?" She gasped, leaning against the wall for support. Sherlock still held onto her, pressing his free hand on the wall next to her.
"This is Moriarty. He broke onto the Bank of England, the Crown Jewels, and Pentonville Prison from one location and was found not guilty. He's a criminal mastermind." He whispered into her ear. Her body shivered, chills descending her spine. She felt her knees buckle but made sure she could still stand. She wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck, trying to regain her balance so she could stand properly on her own.
"Nothing makes sense." She murmured, her voice wispy with the shallow breaths she still took.
She could feel him barely shaking since there was probably a few centimeters of space between them. She suddenly had impulses and urges she had to force herself to resist.
She wanted to kiss him; to hug him; to touch him; to hold him. She wanted to sleep; to relax; to smile. She wanted to fall to the ground; to cry; to scream; to kill the man that intended on doing the same to her and everyone she loves. She wanted to leave the country; to see her mum; to see her father one more time before something happened. She wanted to be with her family and friends, but she wanted to be alone. She didn't want to be completely alone, though. She wanted just one person with her.
As if reading her mind, Sherlock lightly kissed Isabel, and she kissed him back. Her fingertips brushed against the hairs at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. Both her hands threaded into his hair, locking his dark curls into her fists, her upper arms resting on his shoulders. His hand moved from the wall to her waist, and the kiss wasn't as gentle anymore. He pulled her against him, his hands now on the small of her back.
"Sherlock! Not the right time." Lestrade shouted, making the pair reluctantly pull away from each other. "Isabel, I need you to type something up for me." He handed her a small notepad. She took it and looked through the pages briefly.
"Um, Greg. This is the report I wrote right before I went on leave." She said, handing the DI the notepad. "But thanks for reminding me I'm at work. Or reminding him. Either one works."
He grimaced. "Might as well send ya home then. I've got nothing else for you to do."
Isabel smiled, letting Sherlock know she would grab her stuff and they could leave. As soon as she was out of the room, Sherlock glared at Greg.
"Why the hell did you do that?" He demanded.
"What're you talking about!" Greg replied.
"Never mind! Your tiny little brains are unable to comprehend what just happened, aren't they?" Sherlock said, walking out when Isabel returned.
"What just happened?" Greg yelled, knowing no one would know what he was talking about.
Isabel was unusually quiet on the ride home. She tried to wrap her head around what had happened just 10 minutes ago.
"What the hell was that?" She randomly asked, her voice quiet, eyes focused on the road. Sherlock looked at her, confused, and then looked back at the road.
"What do you mean?" He asked innocently. He grinned, knowing she'd be annoyed.
"You know damn well what I mean, Sherlock. I was at work and suddenly, right after you told me my brother escaped prison you decided to make out with me. Why?" Her hand gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly.
"You wanted me to."
"Other than that." She whispered.
"When you kiss someone, your body releases dopamine. I'm guessing you know what dopamine is." He told her, making her sigh.
"Let me get this straight. You kissed me because it releases dopamine. You kissed me so I'd feel 'happier'. Are you sure there isn't another reason? Because you seemed, um, quite… Passionate. Though, I'm not quite sure that's the right term." She said, smiling. She looked at him, smirking. When he didn't return the smile, she looked back at the road.
"No, there wasn't another reason as to why I had done that." He said nonchalantly. He took his phone out and started texting someone, though she couldn't tell who.
"Can you tell me what time it is?" She asked.
"1:45. Why?" He replied.
"I was just wondering."
He didn't say anything; he just sat there, still typing away on his phone.
"Just tell me the real reason though." Isabel murmured, so quite, Sherlock could barely hear her.
"What did you say?" He asked, looking at her.
"Dis-moi pourquoi tu m'as embrassé." She whispered, her voice tense. (Translation: Tell me why you kissed me) Sherlock looked at her, curious as to what she just said. She looked at him, just for a moment, then back at the road.
"Can you please speak so I can understand?" He murmured, knowing she wouldn't.
"Dimmi solo perché mi hai baciato." She spoke, her voice softer than before. (Translation: Just tell me why you kissed me.)
"In English." He demanded.
"I'm not going to tell you." She said, her eyes looking glazed over. Her grip on the steering wheel loosening slightly.
"You should." He whispered, barely audible.
"Give me a legitimate reason why." She ordered. She looked at him, her face holding an expression of frustration.
"Because I…" He trailed off, not sure what to say. She looked back at the road, nodding microscopically.
"Exactly. " She muttered, parking in front of the flat. She got out of the car, and was inside before Sherlock could step out of the vehicle.
"I don't want you to go out in public by yourself. With Moriarty free... He could basically stalk you, kidnap you when you're alone. I can't let that happen. He could have people keep tabs on you." Sherlock told Isabel. She sat down on the couch next to him, subtly laying her hand near his, her pinkie lightly tapping his. He stared at her finger, linking his in hers. She looked up at him, her aqua eyes meeting his now silver ones. He looked away, slightly blushing.
"But I don't get it." She murmured, her voice wispy. "How would Moriarty be my brother?"
"Pretending... Double identity... Multiple different ways. Don't be daft." He criticized. She looked at him, glaring, and fought the urge to hit him.
"But he was in the-" She yelled, cutting off before she realized she was about to reveal too much. Sherlock looked at her, suspicious. She looked down, nervous.
"What was he in?" Sherlock asked, leaning towards her subconsciously. She turned to him, her face somber.
"I'm not going to talk about it right now." She said, making it clear she wouldn't keep talking about the current topic.
"Tell me." He growled. He grabbed her wrists, pulling her towards him. She looked at his hands gripping beer thin wrists tightly.
"Io non ho intenzione di, Sherlock! Ora lasciatemi andare!" She yelled, pulling her arms away from him. He looked at her, confused. (Translation: I'm not going to, Sherlock! Now let me go!)
He let her go, even though he had no clue as to what she was saying.
"I didn't know you speak Italian and French as well." He drawled. She looked at him, an odd mix of emotions playing on her face.
"I always speak Russian. I speak the four languages: French, Italian, Russian, and English fluently. French and English I know for obvious reasons. And I decided to take Italian and Latin in high school and University. " She added, not wanting to explain how she knew Russian.
"So what about Russian? Where'd you learn it and why?" He interrogated, his voice demanding. She shook her head, indicating she didn't want to tell him just yet.
"Not yet. Soon, though. I'll tell you soon." She promised, not knowing when 'soon' was.
"I should, um, go and, uh, change since I'm out for the, uh, day." She stuttered, her voice making her appear uncomfortable. Sherlock nodded, walking over to his microscope. "Bye, Sherlock."
"Goodbye, Isabel." He called out to her, as she was already descending the stairs to her flat, even though the door was closed.
He didn't move for the rest of the night.
A/N: There was the not so fluffy-filler chapter. Any predictions as to why Isabel knows Russian, how Moriarty acted as Isabel's brother (it wasn't like he did with Richard Brook), or what secrets she's hiding?
Let me know in the reviews/comments. If you need anything translated, or if I translated something wrong, please let me know so I know for future references. Thanks, Darlings!
Also, Because it's been God-Knows-How-Long since I've posted, I'll update ASAP now that I have my WiFi up.