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The days were flying by for Rachel. Curled into the couch, she had been scrolling through the calendar on her iPhone. It was fascinating to her how quickly the time had passed. It seemed as if it had been a few weeks since the accident that had claimed the lives of her parents, and now, Christmas was in two days. That had also meant that the knighting ceremony was in two weeks.
Her new companion, Sherlock, sat across from her, his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched her. The two had been inseparable since he had rescued her from the fire. It had been a very long time since he had felt this way for anyone. He had kept his heart guarded, but Rachel had slowly worked her way past the wall that he had put up.
They had returned from a short trip to several shops so that she could select a dress for the ceremony. She had refused him the opportunity to see her in the dress that she had selected. What normally would have been an annoyance to him was now a thrill. He would have to wait to see what she had chosen.
"Sherlock, I still don't understand why you feel you must pursue this course of action. I do not want to be a royal." She rolled her neck, letting her muscles relax.
"It's not a matter of making you a royal or not, it's a matter of getting to the truth of the matter." He ran a hand through his hair. "England needs to know the truth."
"But it's my life. Don't you think it's been upended enough?" She was nearly whining now.
"Let us get to the bottom of things before we make any decisions, shall we?" His tone had changed to one of slight annoyance.
"Very well then." She crossed her arms to show her annoyance. They sat silently for a few moments, before she got up and went into the kitchen. She had quickly adopted many of the British ways, including Sherlock's habit of making tea at the slightest sign of emotional duress. She had two cups ready, and made Sherlock a cup just the way he had always requested. Her light footsteps took her back to where he was sitting, and placed the cup on the table beside him.
"Thank you." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. "Don't worry, you will be fine, and nothing will happen to you that isn't meant to be."
She rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling her nose against his neck. He smelled so wonderful. "I trust you."
Truly, as always the case with Sherlock, he had found himself a case, and like a dog with a bone, once he had sunk his teeth into something he would refuse to let go until it was finished. He had suspected since he had first laid eyes on Rachel, that she may very well be the forgotten princess of Great Britain. What this would mean for Britain, or the world on a whole, he was quite unsure of. History would literally have to be rewritten. The lost brother to the Queen of England, the potential for a different monarch, and certainly a different life for Rachel was a bit overwhelming, even for him.
It had been no wonder that his brother had taken such an interest in her as well. Mycroft had checked in with them right after the fire, but he had remained distant since. Sherlock knew that his brother had suspected him of digging into Rachel's ancestry, but why he hadn't tried to stop him or send Rachel home was perplexing. Perhaps he too felt that the country needed the truth, but being in the position that he is in, would be unable to expose such details.
Sighing, he released his embrace. It was difficult for him to push these thoughts from his mind. His heart broke for her. The last few months were more than he could imagine anyone bearing. Yet she managed to handle all of this with stunning grace. More than anyone he knew could do.
Rachel stood and turned to kiss him gently on the forehead. Sherlock closed his eyes, relishing the kiss. She drew back and the corners of his mouth drew up into a smile.
"Thank you for everything, Sherlock. You have done more for me than I could have ever imagined. You keep me going."
He was moved by what she said, regarding the expression of her face and knowing the full truth of what she had told him. "You too have done more for me than you might have ever known, Rachel."
She felt a wave come over her. It was as if her body had been thrown into a warm ocean and she had no want to resist. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart beat quickened. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but couldn't find the words. Instead, she turned back to the couch and tossed her body onto it. She reached for the tea that had now cooled to a tolerable temperature, and sipped it quietly.