Chapter 11 – A Risk Worth Taking
The night had gone quite smashingly, I'd thought. We cooked penne ala vodka and did the clean up together, all rather domestic and enough to make Mycroft ill had he seen us. Afterward, we played Cluedo, and she didn't get frustrated at me for saying the victim did it. Victoria and I had a fascinating discussion regarding the first test group of her research subjects and the generalities of their Meyers-Briggs results, though she couldn't get into specifics due to my participation. It was late, and we were lounging on the sofa enjoying tea whilst reading Pride and Prejudice together when the incident occurred.
Her phone had alerted to an email, but we'd long ignored it, unconcerned it would be anything of importance on a Friday night, but when that infernal villainous Loki began demanding, "Say my name," from her phone, I rolled my eyes at her chosen ringtone as she laughed.
"Who's calling?"
I reached to grab it from the desk, keeping Victoria trapped behind me where I'd been lying back against her as I read Jane Austen's work aloud, and checked the caller ID. "Mary. Should I answer it? She's disturbing our date night."
"Sherlock, don't be rude," she teased, pinching my cheek as I leaned back again.
"Hello, Mrs. Watson. Are you well? How can assist you in further interrupting my lovely evening with Victoria?"
That earned me a flick on the ear to which I retaliated with a tickle behind her knee, but she couldn't fight her way out from behind me, though Mary's next words sobered any humor out of me immediately, and I sat straight up. "Oh? …Oh my… Yes. We will. Thank you for phoning."
I handed Victoria her phone, keeping my expression neutral as I turned to sit beside her. "You'll want to check that email, I'm afraid."
As she did, she moved off the sofa, walking slowly toward the fireplace, and leaned against the mantelpiece. "Sherlock, I … What did Mary say?"
"With John there now, she'll be fine. And anyhow, she said her lease doesn't renew until November, so she has some months before the change will have an effect on her. Her concern was for you."
Going to stand beside her, she allowed me to read the email, quite efficiently and legally worded, a cold and informative electronic letter stating she would also receive the same in the post. New ownership of the building meant a new landlord. All rent would nearly double upon renewal of every tenant's lease. Undoubtedly, with the ever-increasing cost of living in London, there would be tenants willing to pay the ungodly new rent, but there would certainly be current tenants who could not.
"Well, I appreciate Mary's concern. It's definitely warranted." My eyes met Victoria's, hers filled with worry, and my chest tightened, perhaps in fear. "My lease renews at the end of this month, Sherlock. … And I can't afford that, not by any stretch of the imagination. Look, I wasn't going to mention this, but I was invited to take a professorship at Wellesley College this fall, and given this, I think I have to. Regents isn't going to pay me more anytime soon." She collapsed into John's old chair, face buried in her hands. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I don't have any other choice. I have to move back to America."
I knew then it was in fear, absolute fear. I'd lost John, in a sense, when I faked my death. He moved on, moved out, and had gotten married. Finally, I had seen myself ready to do something more than be smarter than everyone else. I wanted to be part of that life too, the sort of life John had, the friendship, the love, the real life. Having it so close, feeling it within grasp of my fingertips and watch it fall through my fingers had to be every bit as painful for me as it was for John to watch me fall from the rooftop of Bart's.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't let her leave me.
"You do have a choice, Victoria." It seemed so simple, so clear. "Don't go."
"Sherlock, you're not listening. I can't afford the new lease terms, and I don't have time in less than a month to search for another position that pays better or hope I can find a more affordable place to live and gamble on the position at Wellesley still being available when I don't have any luck. Those are risks I'm not willing to take."
She stood, taking her phone, and began gathering her things as if intending to leave, and I didn't have time left to waste.
"Am I a risk worth taking?"
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned, confusion written in her expression. "What?"
"I do believe you heard me."
"Oh, I heard you, but would you care to expound on that a bit?"
"Is it worth remaining in London, keeping your position at Regents, and moving into John's old room here at Baker Street if it means putting up with me on a daily basis, perhaps hours on end, dealing with my incessant and now recognizably irritating habits, which I admit will not likely change anytime soon? I will shoot the walls when I'm bored and keep inexplicably odd things such as human organs in the refrigerator. The kitchen may often be unfit for use as an actual kitchen, and I can't promise you that I'll ever remember to pick up milk or anything else we need. I'm quite honestly the worst flatmate you could ever have." Daringly, I met her eyes, finding tears in them, and worried what that could possibly mean. "Truthfully, I wouldn't want to live with me. I'm impossible at best." With a deep breath, I stepped a bit closer, though at least an arm's-length away, afraid how she would react with my next words, and kept my eyes on the floor. "But I also speak quite truthfully to say that I believe I love you, Victoria, though I hadn't intended to tell you this way, and I honestly can't bear the mere thought of you leaving. The actual event could very well be my undoing, so I ask you stay for admittedly selfish reasons in that I cannot be without you."
Her hand slipped into mine. "I think I love you too, Sherlock."
"What?" I jerked my head up, surprised to hear the words.
"I do believe you heard me."
We both smirked.
"I simply meant: would you care to expound upon that statement?"
"If Mrs. Hudson doesn't mind, yes, I'll move in here."