Hey kind readers! These are the final two chapters (well one and a half) written before I watched Details, so please forgive the bit of double action towards the end. Thanks so much, guys, for reading, following or adding to favourites. You made posting and writing such a happy experience. My special thanks to the guests I couldn't thank by PM, as well as Ms. Jynesis, ImagineThis22, Serenity I. Noir, redpony, Dina C, hophophop, darkeyesgirl, and halAa for their support- it means a lot! :) And now for what happens when two people, broken in different ways, find that the edges of their missing pieces fit together in sort of a strangely beautiful kismet. Really hope you enjoy…Be warned that I'm a shameless romantic and clearly can't help myself. ;)
One panicked call to Alistair in the morning preceded a knock at the door half an hour later. Sherlock was waiting and opened the door. He was out of breath and shirtless, obviously having worked himself into a frenzy. He hadn't even put on socks.
"Alistair! Good. Now. You said you would bring something useful."
Sherlock held out an impatient hand, opening and closing his fingers. Alistair ran a hand through his hair, prolonging Sherlock's visible discomfort. He grinned with more than a hint of wickedness. Sherlock bristled.
"I'm sure I can't imagine what you're smiling about."
Alistair gave a mock sigh, straightened and pulled a small yellow book out of his pocket.
"You're no fun. Here you are. Dr. Alistair says take this and then get thee to a florist."
He poked the book for emphasis.
"Florist?"
"Yes Sherlock, a florist."
He patted him on the shoulder.
"I know you'll choose wisely. But for now I need breakfast. I'll remind you that you woke me before dawn. I shall leave you to it."
Sherlock gave a yelp of protest. Alistair turned to go but paused, eyes warm.
"Congrats, old friend."
He started back down the steps and stood next to the cab, which had been waiting. He shouted back up at Sherlock, arm held aloft for dramatic effect.
"A heart to love, and in that heart, Courage, to make 's love known."
He winked, got back into the idling cab and drove off into the new morning light, back towards the heart of a city just waking up.
Sherlock sighed.
"Bloody Shakespeare."
He examined the small book in his hand.