Hey! Sorry it took me so long to update! And don't worry, the plot will come shortly! Please please please review. It will make me happy and get me to update faster... Enjoy!
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That was how Sherlock Holmes found me at eight thirty sharp that next morning. Asleep in his chair, still in my torn, dark green dress, hair let down, no stockings or shoes on, with A Study in Scarlet resting on my lap. I was deeply absorbed in my dream, so I did not hear him enter. I was in his doorway sobbing and crying in his arms. Even I did not know why. I was just about to find out, when...
"Miss. Black? Emily?"
I jolted awake. I breathed in audibly and sharply when I saw him standing in the middle of the room, staring at me.
"Oh, Mr. Holmes! I'm so sorry, I'm not decent!" I leaped up, finding myself able to walk again, and scrambled around to the back of the chair, desperately trying to pull on my stockings as fast as I could. He chuckled.
"It is quite alright, Miss Black, I had seen women's feet before," he assured me as I came out from behind the chair, "and there's no need to call me 'Mister'. Just Holmes will do nicely." I nodded.
"Alright, Holmes. Feel free to call me just plain Emily," I responded. I looked at him, more observant then I was last night. He looked quite dishevelled. His hairs still sprang out of his head, I would say even messier after a night's sleep. His clothes were clean, but looked as though he had fought with them before he put them on. His room was a wreck. It looked like a tornado had ripped through it, scattering papers, books, and various experimental instruments. I hoped it wasn't me who put it in this state, but I had a feeling it was like this all the time.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked me, seeing me observe his living area and trying to change my subject of thought.
"Well yes, when I did actually sleep," I joked truthfully. He laughed.
"Well then, I suppose I should be getting you home," he said reaching for the doorknob. I creased my eyebrows.
"You don't have to take me, Holmes, I can figure out my way home," I said. I was inconveniencing him. He seemed to read my thoughts, and shook his head.
"I would like to come with you in case of another run-in," he said like his intentions were very obvious. I smirked.
"At eight-thirty in the morning?" I teased. He cleared his throat and looked down. One tiny little flaw in his 'flawless' logic... I held out my arm.
"Thank you, Holmes. I would love to have your protection and company," I said, smiling. He looked up, took my arm, and smiled in return.
***
Holmes really was quite handsome. He walked briskly, with his chin up and a look on his face that read, 'I dare you to try to harm us right now'. We talked lightly, about nothing in particular. He seemed to be guiding me more than me him. I told him about my older sister, Maryanne, and my day job at the Crown and Sceptre pub. I learned a whole lot of nothing in return.
Mrs. Wellington answered the door, and with a cry of relief, took me into her arms. The elderly lady was probably scared to death by my absence.
"Oh, my dear! We were worried sick! A little longer and we would have notified the police! Don't ever do that to us again!" she scolded me, but with happiness and relief in her voice. I smiled and pulled out of what seemed like the never-ending embrace.
"I'm fine. And I was with the police. Sort of." She looked at me, puzzled. I stepped back and grabbed the coat of a retreating Holmes.
"Mrs. Dorothy Wellington, this is detective Sherlock Holmes. The one you read about in the newspapers," I explained. Holmes took off his hat and bowed.
"Please to meet you, Madam," he said politely. Mrs. Wellington smiled, charmed.
"Thank you very much for returning Emily to us. We will hear more of you in the future, I presume?" I shot her a glare. She smiled mischievously back at me.
"Maybe. Good day, Miss Black," he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. He stepped down from the doorway and started his walk back to Baker Street. Mrs. Wellington closed the door and raised her eyebrows.
"I've got many questions for you, young lady," she told me.
"Start with one," I responded.
"What did you get into that brought you into the company of Detective Holmes, hmm?" she quizzed. I was reluctant to tell her. I tried to explain in as little detail as possible. By the end, Mrs. Wellington was creasing her eyebrows in sympathy.
"Oh, honey! That must have been so terrible... Wait, if he took you home, where did you sleep?" I looked down sheepishly.
"Okay, don't take this the wrong way: At his apartment. He went and slept at a friend's house. I slept in his chair."
"Ah."
"I've got a question for you, now," I changed the subject, "Where's Mr. Wellington?"
"Arthur? He is actually out looking for you! Ironic, isn't it? That you should come home while he's out looking for you..." she trailed off, and gave me one of her 'all-knowing' looks.
"That detective...He was quite handsome, was he not?" she said, holding back laughter. I shot her another glare, but then smiled, as in agreement. The door suddenly opened and I looked back. Arthur Wellington stepped through the doorway, looking distraught.
"I'm sorry, Dorothy, I can't find her! I have no idea where she could be-" He stopped when he saw me, smiling at him on the sofa. A large grin spread across his face.
"Emily! No wonder I couldn't find you! When did you get home? How long have you been here? Where were you? What happened?" I laughed as he bombarded me with questions.
"It's a long story. Dorothy will tell you. For now, I've got to get to work. They'll understand if I explain my situation," I said, standing up. Dorothy tutted at me.
"Maybe you should stay home today, honey. You've had a long night," she suggested. I smiled.
"I've got to pay the rent. You're rent, I might add," I said, and went upstairs to change my torn dress to a new, pastel orange one. I wore long sleeves, to hide my bruises. I tied my hair up in a bun on top of my head, cleaned my face, and put on my shoes. I raced down the stairs, grabbed a coat, and scrambled out the door with, "Goodbye, Dorothy! Bye, Arthur!" called over my shoulder. The entire way to the Crown and Sceptre, I found myself thinking about Holmes.