Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I decided to upload this chapter a bit early for you guys. I'm sure you want more, so I'm giving it to you!
Sherlock is going all out isn't he? One of the nicest restaurants in London, if my research is right.
So, how will their date go?
Sit back and find out!
Love always,
Avoline
He smiled at her as she took a bite of her cod, noticed that she was savoring the flavor. He cut off a bite of his lamb and held it towards her, the meat perched precariously on his fork.
"Would you like to try a bit off mine," he offered. Her smile appeared, that smile that he had grown fond of so quickly.
"Why, thank you," she responded, leaning forward and taking the meat off the utinsle with her teeth. He kept full control of his breathing, thankful that she couldn't see the obvious effect she was having on him.
What was it about her that made her so different? Even Irene Adler didn't strike him as suitable. So why was Annabelle so attractive to him? It wasn't her looks. Not that she wasn't beautiful, by any means. She was quite remarkable, if he was being honest. But looks were only skin deep. Could it possibly be her mind? She was reading A Tale of two Cities when they met, a novel that only the intelligent mind could follow properly.
"That is amazing," she laughed, pulling him from his thoughts. He smiled, taking a sip of the Quinta de la Rosa.
"The finest in British cuisine," he countered. "Tell me, what prompted you to move here? I thought all Americans would hate the idea of living elsewhere?" She sighed and stirred her glass of Quinta do Noval.
"My mom died when I was three," she began. "My dad raised me as best he could. About a year ago, he passed away as well. I finished college, cause I knew that's what he would want, but once that was over, there was nothing holding me to the States. My parents didn't have any siblings, and my grandparents all died long before I was born. So, I packed my bags and gave myself a fresh start." Her eyes met his.
"I am so sorry," he apologized. "I didn't know..."
"No, no, it's okay," she intoned. "I'm fine with it. All of it. I knew you'd want to know anyway. Better get it out in the open now." She took another bite of her entree, smiling at him, trying to let him know that it was fine. "What about your family?" He chuckled and took another bite.
"I've got an older brother," he started. "Our father was in politics and was away for most of our childhood. My brother went to boarding school while I spent most of my formative years with our mother. Come to think of it, I don't think my brother and I have ever really gotten along that well." She nodded.
"So I can expect an interesting debate when he's around," she inquired. He chuckled as he finished off his dish.
"Very much so," he answered.
If she ever meets Mycroft, that is.
He walked beside her, his coat draped over her shoulders. He knew she would need it, but had politely kept his mouth shut. They had both decided to walk, wanting to spend as much time getting to know each other. During their two hour walk so far, he had learned that she was schooled in business, could play the piano, and was quite the vocalist. He, in turn, had told her about John and Mrs. Hudson, divulged in the talent of violin, and his brother's education in politics.
"He sounds rather dull," she laughed. "No offense."
"None taken," he replied. "He is dull, in all honesty. He drives me mad whenever we are in the same room." He smiled as they reached her flat. "It seems our date has ended all too soon."
"And I was having so much fun," she protested. He turned around, taking her hands in his.
"I look forward to our next date," he vowed. "And there will be a next date." She smiled at him, and he felt his heart flutter.
How could she do this to him? She was an ordinary girl of twenty-eight from the United States. What was it about her that was so special that the sociopathic side of him went into hiding? Was the her bright, positive outlook on life? Or was it the hope that always lingered in her eyes? Whatever it was, he wanted more of it in his life. No, he was sure that he needed it in his life. If not with her, then with someone who offered the same thing.
Oh, how he wanted it to be her, though.
"I enjoyed myself, Sherlock," she stated. "Do call me again soon." He chuckled.
"Of course I will," he promised. He leaned towards her, his eyes sliding closed.
His body took flight as their lips pressed against each other. He wondered, through he foggy haze, if this was what he had been denying himself. He barely felt her arms circling his neck as his hands cupped her face.
He had never been more afraid of having something taken away from him.
As they broke apart, each gasping for air, he felt his smile grow.
"That was amazing," she breathed.
He couldn't have agreed more.
