"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked, pacing in front of them as Sherlock and Lydia watched each other.
"Of course, I'm bloody sure. Why wouldn't I recognise myself?" She barked. Lestrade winced and Sherlock continued to watch her. A man who she didn't even know existed had been watching her, taking photos of her and presenting presents to her in his own shrine. That didn't just creep Sherlock out, it also made his blood boil. The thing that made it was worse was the fact she hadn't know who he was. Of course, now he's dead. Upstairs in the bedroom to be precise. "There's more though…" Lydia whispered. She turned and grabbed a letter. She cleared her throat. "There's a letter addressed to me." She opened it up and began to read aloud.
"Dearest Lydia,
You are reading this right now on the occasion of my death. Or what appears to be my death. I can see you. Right now. There are cameras in the room, untraceable and undetectable. State of the art technology, just as you are state of the art beauty. Now, I'm sure that you're curious about me. Good. Curiosity means interest. Interest means possibilities. I'm sure you can imagine the possibilities. I have been following you since you joined forces with Mr Holmes seven years ago. You have grown into such a beautiful woman that it would be such a shame for you to go to waste on such a man as Mr Holmes. Therefore, I give you a choice. Come away with me, the mysterious man who instantly fell for you the moment he saw you, or stay with your precious detective and suffer the consequences. And now, I speak directly to Mr Holmes who is no doubt here with you. Mr Holmes, I am aware that you care deeply for Lydia. Have you ever considered that this isn't the life for her? That she shouldn't have come into this world of crime? I can't make you decide anything but I'll tell you now: The moment your eye wanders from her, I'll pounce. I'll be there as soon as she gets out of sight, even for one second. I'll easily be able to contact you to bargain when this happens. Don't try to find me. Believe me when I say that you won't. Lydia, my beautiful flower, I can only hope that you will choose me. But remember this: I can influence any decision you or Sherlock make with three simple words. I leave you to do what you do best: Flirt and deduce.
Karlson
Silence… "Oh my god…" Lydia whispered, terrified to look around for the cameras. Sherlock immediately threw his arms around Lydia and glared everywhere. Lestrade ran a hand through his hair. "So we have a false murder, a stalker and a promise to kidnap." He said wearily. Lydia looked to be on the verge of tears. "You two should go." Lestrade said, feeling awful for the girl who was so close to weeping. Sherlock nodded and guided Lydia out, the rose he had given her from the collection thankfully forgotten.
Lydia sat down on the sofa, her arms wrapped around herself. Sherlock walked in from the kitchen quietly and set a mug of coffee down in front of her. She looked at it and then looked away again. Sherlock sighed and slumped next to her, pulling her back to lean on him. She nuzzled into his neck and held onto him tightly. She felt violated at the very least. A man has been watching her for seven years and she hadn't even realized it. So much for being smart. All of her privacy… gone, just like that. "He's ruined everything." She whispered. Sherlock embraced her even tighter and shook his head.
"Not everything." He reassured her.
"Yes everything." She countered childishly.
"How has he ruined everything?" He asked her curiously. He could see how this man had made her upset, there being no privacy but why had he ruined things in the present? How so? "I was… nearly ready to settle down. Don't get me wrong, I love working on cases, especially with you," Sherlock's heart skipped a beat when she stressed 'especially', "but I just… I'm 30 now. I want to keep doing this but if the perfect guy waltz's along right now, I'll be prepared to stop and stay with him." She muttered. She realized that that must have sounded as if she didn't care. She went to take it back but Sherlock sighed. "You don't want to stay here with me." She looked up at him.
"No… That's now that I meant…"
"Then what did you mean?" He asked, a little nastily. Lydia regretted saying about the perfect guy thing. "We're a team, Lydia. We were a team, at least. What does any of this have to do with anything? Did it take a stalker to make you realize that this was just too much for you?" Sherlock was standing now, his voice still controlled but she could feel his anger and sorrow rolling off of his body in waves that could drown a person. "No… I…"
"Do what you think is best." He snarled lowly and walked upstairs. He didn't slam his door, he kept it open. Sherlock sat on his bed and sighed heavily. Everything was a lie. This bloody bastard has ruined everything. Now I've blown it all. Sherlock gripped his hair silently and wished to God that she would forgive him.
Lydia sat on the sofa, transfixed by what had just occurred. He had said such hurtful things… Fat tears began rolling down her face and she quickly hid her face in her hands. John was out on another date with Sarah, thank God. She shouldn't have mentioned anything. Why did she have to say anything? I'm so bloody stupid! I've just ruined everything! Now I've blown it all. Lydia let the tears run down her face and wished to God that he would forgive her.
Sherlock returned from the shop in a daze. He had walked downstairs to find Lydia asleep on the sofa. He decided he might as well buy some milk since they were particularly low. He had been thinking and he figured that his was fault. His own fault, entirely. He had even bought her a bar of chocolate and had a small cherry blossom tucked away in his pocket for her. She had always loved cherry blossoms… He opened the door into 221 B and peered onto the sofa. She wasn't there. Sherlock frowned and glanced in the kitchen. No sign of her still. He head something stir upstairs and realized she must have gone into his room to apologize to him. He quickly put the milk away and climbed the stairs quietly. Sherlock stepped into his room and found Lydia sitting on his bed with her back to the door.
He sighed softly and she tensed for a moment before relaxing. He eventually moved over to the bed and lay down in the middle. Normal way, of course. He gently pulled her back so that her head was on his chest and he watched her as she watched him. Her eyes were red and a little puffy, she had obviously been crying because of their argument. Sherlock put him hand in his pocket and pulled out the only slightly ruffled cherry blossom. He then tucked it behind her ear and picked up the chocolate from the side. He slid it down the top of his chest to her. She smiled at the apology and pushed the chocolate off of him. He frowned for a moment but his mind was at ease when she merely readjusted herself so that was just lying on the man rather than across. "I'm sorry." She whispered into his shirt. He hugged her tight. "No need. I'm sorry." He murmured back. She shivered delightfully and gazed into his eyes. He looked right back into hers and they lay like that for what felt like days but was only an hour.
"What do you both say to dinner tonight? A welcoming present to Lydia." John asked, still reading his newspaper. Sherlock and Lydia looked at each other and smirked.
"Sure, why not?" Lydia answered with a normal smile. John nodded and walked upstairs to change his shirt or something. As soon as he was out of earshot, Lydia turned to Sherlock. She had nabbed the sofa this time and he had to make do with the second armchair. "He is still going out with Sarah, right?" She asked doubtfully. John had seemed a lot more withdrawn the past few days and Lydia wished to know why. "No. She left him last night but she broke it off officially today. Sarah thinks that John is having a homosexual relationship with me. She obviously doesn't know you exist." She cocked an eyebrow.
"What does my existence have to do with this?"
"Ah, but your existence is the very bane of my own." She froze, staring at him. Sherlock in his black shirt, black tie, black trousers… He truly was the sweetest sin. The devil himself smirked. "Yes, you heard correctly. I think if you died… I would too. Emotionally first and then either I would grow weary of life and end it all myself or I would lose focus in an attempt to apprehend a criminal and die that way. Either way suits me fine as long as it has the same results; me finally being with you again." Her lips were stuck together, her eyes were wide and her face had paled drastically. Sherlock frowned at her. "You alright? You're looking a little peaky." He said with a small smirk. Only just realized how much I love smirks. To be honest, its Sherlock smirks that are to die for though… "You… really mean… that?" She squeaked. Sherlock's eyebrows shot upwards. He hadn't expected this much of a reaction. Does this mean…? Shit… Thank God for that. "Of course I do, Lydia. I do not lie to someone I care about unless it absolutely necessary." He explained. He analysed her entire appearance. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and she had no makeup whatsoever on. She doesn't need it. She was wearing a blood red shirt with a black waistcoat on. Her trousers were of the darkest material and her boots were the same boots she always wore. She looked like a siren. Temptation in its true form. "I feel awful about the sex toy number 2 trick now." She replied with eyes cast downwards. He smirked at her.
"Oh you do? Good. Wondering when you would begin to feel guilty for making me say all of those things."
"Say all of what things?"
"I'm not walking into that one."
"Of course not. You're too bloody clever."
"Swearing isn't attractive."
"To others. To you it is. I bet you swear anyway. And believe me, I'd love to hear you swear right now. It'd be downright sexy, I'm sure of it."
"You want me to swear… because it would be sexy? You must have lost your brain a while ago."
"I resent that. Anyway, go on. Swear."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Anything. Maybe something like 'fuck' or just 'bloody hell' would suffice."
"How's this? You have no bloody idea how much I want to fuck you now."
"…"
"In 4 seconds, I'm going to walk over and drape myself all over you and I expect you to fulfil my requirements."
"… Not all of them, surely?"
"Yes. All of them. I've waited long enough."
"I've yet to have a kiss."
"I've yet to have sex."
"You have had sex before."
"You have ki… Wait, you're Sherlock, no you haven't. Anyway, not with you!"
"I would say you sound childish but on account that you wish to have sex with me, it's not really that childish is it?"
"I don't care. I want you and I want you right now. I would have you begging for mercy, I swear."
"… I've never begged for mercy before."
"I could make you. Four times at least. Easily."
"Now try and keep that promise."
"Okay." Lydia leaped out of her seat and pretty much sprang on Sherlock as he stood up. The force knocked him backward and they were on the floor. Lydia straddling Sherlock, of course.
"Give me what I want now?"
"You're awfully good at this aren't you?"
"I should think so but I'm going to have to get you to elaborate."
"You're very good at this seducing lark and getting me pinned. I can't even begin to tell you much I want to take you."
"Then do it."
"All in due time, cherry blossom. All in due time."
"God damn you."
"I know but I am the devil in its true form."
"Strange. I was just describing you that way not 3 minutes ago."
"Well, isn't that reassuring of how you think of me?"
"Yep. Now, about that sex…"
"… I suppose."
"Wow, really?"
"Yes, fine. Better early I suppose."
"YES! VICTORY IS MINE!"
"You'll have to kiss me though."
"That seems a fair deal." Lydia scrambled off of Sherlock and pulled him up into a sitting position. He stood up and was immediately attacked with wandering hands and a mouth to his neck. He groaned and began pushing her to the stairs. "Hurry… the fuck up." She mumbled into his collar bone. He growled like a predator and pushed her into the door jamb. "Why not right here?" She asked breathlessly.
"John didn't leave the flat, he went to his room." Sherlock replied, panting.
"So what? Let him hear. I don't particularly care at this point." She demanded, writhing in his grasp. She must have touched a sensitive spot somewhere because his tongue assaulted her neck. "Fucking hell…" She gasped and began pulling Sherlock to the stairs once more. They got up three stairs before the sound of someone clearing their throat met their ears. They stopped almost immediately and looked up to see John in a different shirt and disapproving look on his face. "We're supposed to be going out for dinner." He reminded them.
"Whoops." They both said simultaneously. John shook his head.
"You'll both be needing to change your underwear, at least. Go on, up." He ordered. They sighed, as though being sent to their rooms by their parents and went upstairs. "Separately!" John shouted. More groans sounded from upstairs. "My clothes are in his drawers, John!" John rolled his eyes.
"Fine!" He could swear he heard a small hiss of a yes but he couldn't be sure.
"Right, I'll change my shirt. I don't need to change my underwear. I'm fine. You?" Lydia asked Sherlock. He nodded.
"I'm fine too. I'll change my shirt as-."
"No, you won't. You look unbelievably sexy in black and you shall remain in black until I say you may change. Understand?"
"… Fine." He grumbled and kept his shirt on. Instead, he sat on his bed with his back on the head board and put his hands behind his head, watching Lydia. She held up two tops. "Purple or teal?" She asked with a slight bite to the lip. We had been so close yet so far. I could nearly taste those lips already. Now she's biting her lip, I'm in for it now. "Teal. Blue looks especially nice with your hair colour and skin tone." She nodded and blushed lightly. It's great knowing why she's blushing now. She removed her black waistcoat and red shirt and placed the clothes on a basket by the drawers, Sherlock's eyes following her the whole way. She looked at Sherlock and then put her hands on her hips, biting her lip again. Oh, hell. "I really should have told you to remove that shirt." She murmured, beginning to nibble her finger. Avoid eye contact, Sherlock. Avoid eye contact. She's trying it again within a week of the last attempt. Bloody hell. "Sherlock! Lydia! I don't care if you're doing something obscene, we need to go!" They both rolled their eyes and Lydia quickly slipped her shirt on. Buttoning up her waistcoat, she grabbed Sherlock's hand and they walked out of his room, heading downstairs to the waiting John.
Woot! Chapter 4! Well, to be fair, it's more like chapter 3 because of the prologue but oh well! This is the fastest story I've ever done! I started it properly yesterday. Huzzah! So, like or hate? I figured I would put in a dinner and have John interested in her since Sarah split with him. But don't worry, all will be fine. I'm sure you've all seen Mary in Sherlock Holmes the movie (Starring Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law). Well, let's just say she'll make an appearance to save any uncomfortable moments. Cheers folks.
Luna