Here's the second chapter! Thanks for the reviews.
Sherlock strutted back into the room in his usual manner carrying an actual, normal platter of little cheeses and sausages and crackers. He took one look at the expression on John Watson's face and glared at his sister. Setting the tray down, he took a seat in his own armchair and began the interrogation. "What did you do to him?" He steepled his fingers under his chin as he looked back and forth between the two of them like they were co-conspirators.
Swallowing hard, John took the opportunity to stuff a cracker in his mouth. He chewed mechanically as he tried to look as innocent as he could. He hadn't done anything. It was that young woman sitting on the sofa with a smile pulling at her lips. Ilsa. What had she meant "I only waste my energy on things I like"? That wasn't just something you seductively whisper into a bloody stranger's ear!
"I don't know what you're talking about," she practically purred as she took a cracker herself. "I haven't done anything at all."
"So he's red-faced, manually controlling his breathing and glaring at you for no reason?" Sherlock rolled his eyes as he undoubtedly figured out that his sister had said something completely out of line. "Ilsa, behave yourself or I'll have Mycroft pick you up. John isn't a toy, even if he is as malleable as putty."
"Sherlock," she whined like the manipulative little sister she was. "You wouldn't kick me out for some harmless fun. God knows how long it'll be until we see each other again. Besides, if he's good enough to keep up with you, he must have something interesting about him. Why didn't you tell me about him?"
"Because I knew...THIS would happen!" Sherlock motioned between the two of them, again, like they were both involved in a scandal.
Why did they always talk about him like he wasn't even there? "Um, excuse me. I'm going to go out for a bit. You two can sort this out without me, it appears. I'll just get going..." He was almost to his coat when he was stopped by Sherlock.
"Do us a favor and pick up some things for Ilsa. What was it you forgot?" Great. Always the task monkey for Sherlock and now Ilsa. He turned around with a scowl and was surprised to see her jump up off the couch and pull her own coat and purple scarf on.
At the look her brother gave her, she responded coolly, "Oh don't worry about it. I know what I need. I'll just come with you! It would be good to get an idea of the surrounding area if I'm staying here. I don't plan on being cooped up in here all day and night."
Sherlock's narrowed eyes said he didn't fully believe her. Not at all. "I'm coming with."
"Oh no you aren't," Ilsa snapped at Sherlock, who looked extremely conflicted for once. "For God's sake, Sherlock, I'm a grown woman. You don't think I've managed to travel the globe on my own without being raped by pure luck, do you? Calm down and get supper going. I don't just live off of cheese and crackers, you know." And before he had time to respond, she was out the door and trotting down the stairs with her head held high and no doubt that Sherlock would stay put.
The two men shared an awkward look. "She's tenacious, isn't she?" John offered before he was waved off.
"Go on or you'll never keep up with her," Sherlock grumbled. "You really have no idea."
John glanced left, right, left, right. No Ilsa. Shit. Would she really just wander off into the city on her own? Yes. Muttering curses, he decided to set off towards the store anyways. If she were as similar to her brother as she appeared to be, she would just happen to know where the store's exact location was without a guide and he'd find her there already.
How did this happen? Less than 24 hours ago, things were as normal as they could possibly be living with Sherlock, and now it seemed like 221B Baker Street was turned upside down by the arrival of one Ilsa Holmes. He remembered actually wondering if she would be similar to Sherlock. Too smart? Yes. Arrogant? Seemed so. Stubborn? Absolutely. Enjoyed playing mind games? Unfortunately so. And yet, there were some striking differences. First off, she seemed to actually have a grasp on social normalities, even if she did ignore them at John's expense. Fairly friendly. Artistic. She was able to get the best of Sherlock, which was something new to see in itself and, John had to admit, frightened him a great deal. There was also that fact that he was undeniably attracted to her. The way her hips swung as she moved. The way that sweater dress hugged her curves suggestively. Her dark hair against her fair complexion. Those damn blue eyes that were so similar to his flatmate's. She was always two steps ahead of him but waiting for him to catch up. John realized this was not a new sensation, but one that suddenly compelled him in its new, feminine package.
"You really are dense, aren't you?"
John jumped as his reverie was shattered by that high, condescending voice. He spun around to see her standing there in a button up, militaristic styled jacket that he couldn't help but like. "How long have you been following me?" he snapped irritably, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"This entire time, of course," Ilsa answered, slipping an arm around his and giving him that damn innocent look.
For the life of him, he couldn't shake her off even if he wanted to. "That doesn't work on me," John responded matter-of-factually. "I still don't trust you."
"Good!" she giggled as they began walking together. "That makes this much more interesting."
"What is this? I'm not particularly fond of being involved in thises. I like to know what's going on, alright? I'm not going to be some game between you and your brother. Got it?" John might not have the willpower to get her off his arm, but he wouldn't let himself be completely used. He wasn't fond of being called malleable earlier. Is that really how they saw him?
To his surprise, Ilsa looked rather wounded by his accusation. "I told you I only waste energy on things I like," she huffed defensively.
John blinked in surprise as the meaning actually sunk in on him. Taken out of context and with the sexual intonation removed...that sounded like an actual compliment. "So...wait. Hold up a minute. You...aren't just hitting on me because I'm your brother's flatmate and it bothers the living hell out of him?"
"That's just a bonus," she insisted. "You were right when you said I was smart, you know. Although, that is pretty obvious. It doesn't take me long to figure out whether or I'm interested in something, which, I'll have you know, isn't very often. You interest me. And I'd have to be a stupid girl to not go after you. Honestly, women these days don't know the first thing about getting what they want when it comes to romance. It's rather pathetic. So, naturally I told you-"
"Do you always talk this much when you're embarrassed?" John cut her off.
Ilsa stiffened on his arm and gawked in his direction like he'd just grown a second head. With a lowered, alarmed voice, she insisted, "I. Am. Not. Embarrassed!"
"Well, sure you are," John asserted. "You're being defensive, overly honest, talking yourself up, and trying to separate yourself from other women. Not to mention you're clutching my arm just a bit too tight and the pitch of your voice has risen ever so slightly. I can even tell you're breathing harder. This isn't that difficult to figure out."
Ilsa was quite but looked at him with a new sense of appraisal. "So that's why he likes you," she muttered as she kept her focus away from John and instead slipped off his arm and in front of him into the store. John shrugged and followed after her, certainly a bit confused about what was going on, but feeling a bit better about himself. She might be light years ahead of him mentally, but when it came to romance, John was not one to be bullied. Yes, he wanted her, more than he cared to admit, but he was not just going to roll over for her. If anything was going to come out of this, it was going to be because he wanted it and not because she finagled it out of him. At at the current moment, he was deciding it may be for the best to let this one go. Nothing good could come out of relations with his flatmate's sister, let alone a Holmes.
Browsing through the aisles for supplies, Ilsa was quite settled on something else, though.
Once again, I'd love some reviews! Now things shall begin to heat up~