Chapter 15
Is it what he thinks it is?
Is it Love?
Later that evening Sherlock and Page departed as they got out of the taxi on Baker Street, Page left in a hurry to a nearby corner shop, complaining she'd run out of coffee, so Sherlock watched her turn the corner before he sighed and made his way to 221B. Guilt- it was guilt that was running through his mind, it was guilt that was starting to torment him, he'd let her go. He'd let her go without warning her. He was doing nothing to protect her. He knew that whoever she was working for...would sometime show up...for good. And when they did...it wouldn't be for the better. Oh no, it certainly wouldn't. Moreover, Sherlock Holmes knew that- for all he knew, these people could harm her. Hang on a minute- he thought to himself as he sat down on the sofa and glanced at the clock. Why should he really care so much? Why for that matter did he care so much? For goodness sake, he told himself, stop teasing yourself, it's not going to change anything!
She hadn't returned from the shop...it'd been an hour...she'd said she'd only gone for coffee- it wouldn't in a million years take that long. Good grief it was only coffee! What was keeping her? Perhaps he'd just not noticed that she'd come back, of course that would be right, Sherlock told himself, trying to stay optimistic about the whole thing. He hadn't moved from the sofa, he'd sat waiting to hear the door open, to hear her small feet tip-toe up the stairs to her flat. He'd sat waiting for her to return...just to make sure she'd come back alright...just to make sure she was safe...just to make sure nobody had...taken her. Right, that's enough! He snapped to himself leaping from the sofa; he grabbed his coat and scarf and stormed out of 221B. Coffee or no coffee, he was going to bring her- Right. Back. Here!
Not being used to the strange surroundings of a small corner shop, Sherlock did his best to keep a low profile as he wandered around the tiny aisles searching for Page. He knew she wouldn't be here, he knew that from the moment he realised she hadn't come home. Though he still looked, was there really a shred of hope in the pit of his stomach? The great Sherlock Holmes searching a corner shop for a young woman who would have left it about an hour ago! God, what was happening to him? He'd never normally do this. Shaking his head he sighed and left the shop, picking up his speed in a hurry to return to 221B in case she'd turned up.
As soon as he'd shut the door behind him he knew she wasn't home. So he took hold of mobile and hastily dialled her number. Patience, patience, the word beat like a drum inside his head as he held onto the phone waiting for someone on the other end pick up. It was on it's fifth ring, she'd wasn't going to answer, he'd guessed that from the first ring. Sherlock hung up and stared at the mobile as if it'd done something wrong. Why had she not turned up? Something had happened, he could sense it, everything about this wasn't right. She'd gone, been taken...presumably by her boss. That was it, it had to be. Could this be murder? All those places...those great tourist attractions! Sherlock's brain was working double time as he thought about everything and everything. He thought of all the possibles and then...SNAP! One place that Page had taken photos of and where no one had been murdered- that one place...Page's favourite place...Trafalgar Square...