Deep breath. Deep breath. I could do this, this dating thing. It couldn't be that difficult. Plenty of men had done it before me and survived.

"You alright, mate? This is the address, yeah?" the cabbie asked.

"Yes."

"Big date?"

Yes," I answered with far more emphasis and a hint of the anxiety I'd been working to tame. A glance at my watch didn't help. 5:54. Time to make a good impression, the best impression possible.

I climbed out, straightening my jacket, feeling somewhat disarmed without my coat, bare and vulnerable. But this was a date, not a case, as Lestrade so helpfully pointed out, and I felt it best to impose a relative differentiation of my own. Being May 22nd, leaving my coat and scarf behind seemed seasonally appropriate as well. In a way, I wish I hadn't. They felt safe.

"Wait here. We'll be out shortly."

Onward into battle. … No. I shouldn't think that way. The whole point was to stop thinking that way, stop trying to be that way.

Victoria answered the door of her second-floor flat on the first knock, opening to reveal how stunning she appeared, though dressed simply in a sleeveless, silky cream top with a flowy neckline complimenting her body, wide black ribbon cinching her narrow waist, the soft fabric flaring gently to her hips, meeting the fitted black pants she wore. Minimal makeup and jewelry, nothing flashy, hair down and natural, nails in a neat French manicure freshly done, she indicated no outward appearance of unusual effort put forth in her preparations for our date, and I had no idea how to interpret that.

Loss of initial interest expressed?

"Come on in. I just need to get my shoes and purse then I'm ready to go." Her tone was calm, casual, yet entirely welcoming.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and pulled out the bouquet of flowers I'd been holding behind my back. "These are for you."

"Oh, Sherlock, they're beautiful! Thank you." Her smile and surprise seemed genuine, pleasing me that I had properly accomplished Step 1: Flower delivery. "I should put these in water." She headed down the short hall and disappeared into a room to the right. "Are you familiar with floral symbolism, the various meanings behind giving different flowers?"

Following, I stood in the doorway of her kitchen, watching as she found a vase. "Actually, yes." Victoria paused as she was arranging the bouquet but didn't look at me. "I read up on the topic this afternoon before choosing those."

"Oh. So you know lavender roses mean—"

"They express enchantment, adoration, fascination, and some even say 'love at first sight'… Yes. And violet tulips convey faithfulness," I added quietly. "I'm well aware the message within them. I am not experienced in love or romance, know nothing in regards to how best to go about this, Victoria, but I do know I felt quite 'enchanted,' as one might say, from the evening we met." She finally turned to me, her eyes meeting mine, and I daringly stepped further into the kitchen. "And if I'm going to do this, take the effort of dating seriously then I wish to do so with one person and see it through to whatever conclusion it may have, as I do not believe I have the capacity for, nor the interest in juggling multiple dating partners simultaneously. Therefore, conveying faithfulness seemed apropos of my intent. During the agreed upon duration of our relationship, I offer it to you and ask it of you in return."

Coming nearer, she grinned, an expression of what appeared to be awe on her face. "Sherlock, that… that was probably the sweetest and most romantic thing any man has ever said to me before. For being new at this, you're not doing too bad." As she lightly grazed her fingers along my cheek, the same elevated heart rate from Saturday night plagued me. "Yes."

Yes. Yes! Yes? Yes to what? I couldn't ask before Victoria's lips gently brushed the corner of my mouth, pressing into my cheek softly, and I froze. If I'd just slightly turned my head, my lips would have met hers full on. Should I have? Did I do that wrong? Was it a missed opportunity given? Would she be disappointed in my lack of action? Had I failed on the first date in less than ten minutes?

"Don't be so tense," she whispered. "You did great."

Relaxing at her words, I smiled down at her as she dropped flat on her feet again, and I stood towering over her. Victoria was certainly petite in comparison to myself, but in no way was she misleadingly weak, not in appearance, personality or intelligence, intriguingly attractive as my first romantic interest.

"Yes to what?"

She laughed and shook her head. "To dating you, exclusively." Internally, I sighed in relief, successful in Step 2: Secure relationship status. "I haven't actually dated anyone since I've moved to London, so why not? I'm not big on playing games while dating anyway, so that works fine for me. You mind finishing with the flowers while I grab my shoes then we can get going?"

"For my girlfriend?" I carefully tested the word in such an unfamiliar usage. "Of course I don't mind."

Once she left the kitchen, I made quick work of arranging the roses and tulips in the vase, carrying them into the living area across the hall, nearly tripping over a streak of black bolting through the room. "For the love of… What the…" I muttered and set the vase in the center of her coffee table.

"Loki startle you?" Victoria questioned from behind me. "He's a mischievous feline like that, hence the name. Give him time, and he'll warm up to you. You do like cats, don't you? We could have a real problem, a very quickly failed relationship if you don't."

"Yes, actually, I do. They are quite discerning creatures with high intelligence and keen senses. To be fair though, I'd already deduced you owned a cat by the black hair on your dress at the wedding, so if this were a problem, I wouldn't be here."

"Yeah, well, love the cat, love the cat hair," she shrugged, resigned to the indisputable fact of cat ownership. "I'm ready if you are."

"Our carriage awaits, milady." Offering my arm, she took it with a laugh, and we were off on what I hoped would be a successful first date.