Chapter 9 – To Be Enough

I felt I'd been rather patient. I'd waited two hours and received no response from the fifteen texts or the three messages I'd left when I had called and her phone went directly to voicemail. Going to Victoria's flat didn't seem like an overreaction. I put a great deal of thought into it before doing so.

The typical human responds to memories with appropriate displays of emotions in accordance to the subject with which one most closely relates those memories. I dressed in the same black suit and purple shirt as I had our first date. Her reaction could tell me a great deal.

Would she reflect sentimental warmth when thinking of the events of that night, of saying she didn't want to play games, that she would only be with me, and of the kiss we shared, and of walking hand-in-hand?

Or would guilt weigh on her at those same thoughts, because she'd lied, broken my trust?

The brief cab ride over felt excruciatingly long, and I couldn't get out quickly enough, tossing the cabbie more than enough to cover the fare just to escape, though arriving at Victoria's flat wasn't necessarily a more comfortable situation, but I wanted to know. I needed to know what was happening between us.

I knocked sharply twice and waited, hands in my coat pockets to keep from fidgeting, not wanting to give the appearance of nervousness. Her boyfriend dropping by should be natural, shouldn't it? It should. I was sure it should. Certainly, I would think nothing of her showing up unannounced at 221B Baker Street.

From within the flat, Victoria called out something I found to be rather indecipherable before heavy footsteps came toward the door, along with a decidedly male voice. "Got it, Vick." The door opened, and I faced the man from Tesco, Victoria's shopping partner. "Well, you aren't the Chinese delivery guy."

"Brilliant deduction." My tone was dry and surprisingly unfettered by the sudden surge of emotions threatening to cause an explosion inside my chest.

An odd silence followed, and I assessed the situation, deducing something more than I could at Tesco.

Indeed, he was barely taller than me, but face-to-face, his physical presence felt far more intimidating than I expected, not being one easily intimidated by anyone. But this man stood in the doorway to my girlfriend's flat, appearing as though he were some muscled fitness model for protein supplement adverts.

Yet as I felt the pangs of jealousy and hurt rise within me, he seemed at ease, looking me over from head to toe as if sizing me up with little worry that what he saw should be of any concern.

"You must be Sherlock," he stated calmly, though I was slightly taken aback that he would be aware of me.

Victoria came out of a room down the hallway and began walking toward the door, not looking terribly surprised to see me, and smiled. "Hey there. I'm guessing you tried to reach me with no luck?" I nodded, still standing outside the door, blocked by the stranger in her life. "Lucas, quit being all weird, and just let him in, you prick."

Lucas stepped aside, allowing me entrance, laughing as I passed him and followed Victoria into the kitchen. She dug her phone, taken apart, out of a bowl of rice, and I examined it, finding it was quite wet, obviously not a good thing for electronics.

"It suffered a catastrophic introduction to a puddle thanks to somebody," narrowing her eyes, she pointed at Lucas accusatorily, "deciding to toss me over their shoulder like I'm a sack of potatoes. The damn thing fell out of my pocket. Now I'm hoping the rice trick works, but it's been DOA since we got back from Tesco. I was going to text and see if you wanted to join us to hang out, watch movies, and eat Chinese, but I don't have your number memorized to use Lucas' phone once mine was dead."

"I've already apologized a hundred times and promised to buy you a replacement if need be tomorrow. I certainly didn't mean for that to happen." The sound of "Claire De Lune" rang through the room, and Lucas pulled his phone from his pocket with an odd grin. "I really need to take this," he said quickly before stepping out of the kitchen.

She moved closer, taking the phone pieces from my hands and tossing them into the bowl, wrapping her arms around my neck, and looking up to meet my eyes. "I hope you didn't worry too much." She pushed up on her toes, reaching to kiss me, but I turned my head, taking a deep breath, releasing it slow and heavy. "What's wrong, Sherlock?"

"Who is he?" Perhaps my words were too sharp, I realized when her fingers tangled in my hair and roughly turned my head back to face her. "What?" I asked, much softer.

"You're jealous? You just show up here and are jealous already?"

Biting my lip for a moment, I debated not telling her, but Victoria wasn't an idiot. She would know there was more to it. "I saw you at Tesco."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, Sherlock." Reaching to kiss me again, this time I allowed it, and though brief, it was soft and heartfelt. "You have no reason to be jealous. If I didn't want you, I would tell you first. I wouldn't run around behind your back."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to feel confident that the physically perfect male specimen in her flat held no interest for her. I wanted to know that I was enough for her.

But I'd never done this before, been anything like this to anyone, and I didn't know how to know.

So I took a step backward, keeping her at arm's length, gathering my thoughts before speaking. "Then tell me who he is, Victoria. Tell me why he's here, and why you're dressed in pajamas rather than appropriate clothing given that a man other than your boyfriend is in your flat. Explain to me why he calls you 'Vick' yet I'm restricted to calling you only by your proper given name. I need to know, because all the clues I see lead to a deduction I do not want to make."

There was a knock at the door, and Lucas could be heard moving through the flat toward it. "I've got it." Neither of us said a word, still staring at each other as he finished at the door, continuing his phone conversation with a quick, "Putting this on the coffee table, Vick."

Even Anderson could have deduced the takeaway finally arrived.

"He is my best friend." She crossed her arms over her chest, and gave me quite a stern glare. "And if you were any man other than you, I'd probably be pretty pissed off with the way you're acting, but since you're you, and you know just about jack shit when it comes to relationships and all, I will give you that this could be enough to make you jump to conclusions. However, if you would have just manned up and said something at the grocery store, you wouldn't have been freaking out for no reason, would you?"

"You have a best friend?" Somehow, I felt I should have known this about my girlfriend. She knew my best friend, though she had been at his wedding, and I'd yet had any reason to socialize with her friends. "Your best friend is Lucas." I pondered this momentarily, quickly moving on. "Your best friend is a man?"

Victoria holds a hand over her mouth, her face turning redder by the moment, and I recognized the behavior from previous times she'd attempted to prevent herself from laughing at something I'd said.

"What? Am I wrong?"

For at least a full minute, she laughed. "Well, as far as I know, he is. I mean, we've never been more than friends, so I haven't actually confirmed that as absolute fact, but I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure he's not lying to me about his gender, Sherlock."

"Hey, Vick—"

"Oh, for the love of God, stop calling her that!" I'm nearly screaming as I turn around sharply, glaring at Lucas, leaning in from the hall with his head popped into the kitchen doorway.

He snorts amusedly. "Mhmm… Yeah. Not to interrupt your fascinating little domestic spat, but I'm interrupting anyway. Vick, I apologize for bailing on you, but Lizzie's on a flight back a day early, and the flat's an absolute tip. If I don't go home and tidy up, she'll know I'm a right wanker at housekeeping when she's away. Can't have that, now can I?"

"Of course not, Lucas, not with less than five weeks till you've got a ring on her finger, and she won't know what hit her."

"Of course not," he replies with a smirk and a wink. "So, I'll be off then. Oh, I doubt your phone's going to make it. I'll have one couriered over first thing tomorrow." Finally, he steps fully into the kitchen. "Sherlock, it was a pleasure to meet you." He offers his hand, and after a bit of hesitation, I shook it firmly, a smile I hoped didn't appear profoundly annoyed plastered on my face. Shaking his head with a definitively genuine smile, he pulled a small silver case from his pocket and handed me a rectangular card from it. "Please, don't hesitate to call should you wish to speak with me further. I've been a part of your new girlfriend's life for the past twelve years, and if you intend your relationship with my best friend to continue, I'd quite prefer it be with the two of us beyond the most basic level of civility."

I simply nodded and said nothing more, unsure how to respond without making matters more uncomfortable than I felt they already were. Victoria walked him to the door, and I studied the card he gave me.

S. Lucas Fielding, Vice President of Public Affairs, Fielding & Hanson Financial Counseling

Fielding & Hanson Financial? Wait. I'd heard of them. I recalled Mycroft mentioning he used them for all matters of his investments and whatnot, saying they were the best in London, the only company he'd trust with his money.

Pocketing the card, I looked up to find Victoria watching me, leaned against the doorway. "Sorry for the confusion and miscommunication, Sherlock. If I had known you were going to show up at my door looking every bit as sexy as you did on our first date, I would have had Lucas ready to leave the second he had a chance to say hi." She closed the distance between us, running her hands up my chest then gripped the open neck of my shirt. "Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you look in this purple shirt? Seeing you in it again leaves me torn between wanting you to never wear anything else and thinking I can't possibly get you out of that fast enough." Just before our lips meet, her gaze steadies on mine, and she whispers, "Don't think I'm trying to rush you, Sherlock. We can take this as fast or slow as you want."

Her lips were soft, but our kiss was passionate, and I pulled her hair from its messy bun, tangling my fingers into it, deepening the kiss as she allowed my tongue entrance. The heat and tingling rousing within me were undeniably enjoyable, exciting, enthralling, and I didn't want to stop feeling it.

Breathlessly, I looked down at her as she slowly opened her eyes again, a small smile on her lips. "I apologize for jumping to conclusions, but I couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else, Victoria. Mycroft taught me to believe sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side, and I spent most of my life trying not to feel anything for anyone only to learn that I've never felt stronger and less lost than since I've allowed myself to feel, to have friends, a best friend … and now you. I've been cold to the idea of love for too long, and it's due time to thaw the ice." I stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers, both terrified and excited by exploring the adventurous possibilities standing before me. "After all the years it's taken me to get here, you aren't rushing me. It is I who should be fearful that I may be rushing you in an effort to make up for lost time."

She searched my face for something unknown to me before responding, leaving me rather anxious that I had cocked up the entire thing by being too forthright as John often scolds me for doing. Perhaps I should learn to keep my thoughts to myself at times. I simply never know when it's appropriate to remain quiet.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. You don't scare me."

"Good."

I was scaring myself enough, taking such actions and feeling such emotions. But not so much that I wanted to stop. The thought of doing so was far more terrifying, though I couldn't begin to explain why.