Fully Alive
Chapter Three
The salty ocean air was cold against Vivienne's skin. In hindsight, her crocheted bikini top and wrap skirt probably weren't a good idea. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to picture Sherlock standing in front of her. His jacket was gone, forgotten on the sand. His bow tie was hanging limply around his neck from where he had hastily untied it. Vivienne had undone the top three buttons on his dress shirt before he had stopped her to drop a bombshell on her and she had struggled to stand up away from him.
She tried to imagine his face. His striking cheekbones. His sharp jawline. The salt in the air curling his hair even more than usual. She imagined that he was pursing his lips.
The image in her head was damn near perfect.
"Say something." Vivienne swallowed back tears.
"I'm leaving." Sherlock's voice seemed oddly placed in the somber setting. Too deep. Almost full of emotion. Yet, it was wrong. "What else am I supposed to say?"
"That you're joking. That you picked a terrible moment to play a joke on me. Anything."
"You knew I would have to go back at some point. Your grandfather got the death penalty. My work here is done." Sherlock took a step towards Vivienne and she flinched backwards. "I don't understand why you are getting so emotional."
Vivienne closed her eyes and finally let the tears fall. "I didn't think-"
"Yes, obviously, you didn't think." Sherlock sighed.
"I didn't think I'd fall in love with you, you ass!" Vivienne stomped her foot, with little effect. She clenched her hands into fists, pressing her nails into her palm.
"Love is-"
"Shut up."
"Vivienne..."
"I said shut the fuck up, Holmes."
Without warning, Sherlock stepped forward and grabbed Vivienne around the waist. He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers, digging his fingers into her hips. Vivienne could feel a wetness on Sherlock's cheek when she raised her hand to it and her stomach clenched. She wiped the tear streak away with her thumb.
"Love, Vivienne, is a serious disadvantage." Sherlock stated when he pulled away, keeping his hands on her hips.
"I know." Vivienne replied. "Don't cry..." She whispered.
"You are." Sherlock pressed his lips to Vivienne's forehead. "My plane leaves day after tomorrow."
Vivienne nodded. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Do you love me?" Vivienne wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist and buried her head in his chest.
"Vivienne, I-"
"Just answer the question, Holmes."
Sherlock hesitated, looking for the right way to phrase his answer. But nothing sounded good enough. "You know I do."
"Okay. Then, I guess this is goodbye. I don't think we should see each other tomorrow." Vivienne started to let go, but Sherlock wouldn't let her. He wasn't going to leave her standing alone on a beach. How cliché.
"Come back to my hotel room tonight. We can say goodbye in the morning."
Vivienne furrowed her brow. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
"I think it's one of the best ideas I've ever had."
xxxxx
A door slammed open and shook Vivienne from her flashback of a dream. She sat up quickly and rubbed her eyes, as her nostrils were invaded with the smell of Old Spice.
"What the hell is your problem?" Vivienne fixed the strap on her tank top and shook her head.
"I have a case and John is busy- You still don't have a bed? It's been over a week."
"Don't remind me. But thank god my piano arrived. Maybe I'll start sleeping on my piano bench." Vivienne yawned. "Why do you need me if you have a case?"
"Well, more specifically, I need your nose. I've just came from the crime scene and there's something I can't quite put my finger on. And seeing as your nose is attached to you, I need you to come. With me. To the crime scene." Sherlock cleared his throat. Vivienne assumed he was also blushing slightly.
"Are you saying you left a crime scene to come get me? They let you do that?"
"I don't technically work for the Yard. They don't tell me what I can and can't do. Well, Lestrade tries. Hurry up. I have a taxi waiting."
" Fine. Five minutes." Vivienne stood up from her spot on the couch and stretched.
"You aren't wearing Pajama bottoms. Again."
Vivienne shrugged and smiled. "Oops." She walked towards her bedroom. "Stop showing up uninvited and it wouldn't be a problem."
Seven minutes later, Vivienne walked out of her room in jeans, a simple violet t-shirt that matched her hair, ballet flats, and her want hair pulled into an almost-expert top knot.
"You're slow. You said five minutes."
"I'm terribly sorry. My hair wouldn't cooperate." Vivienne rolled her eyes. She stuck out her elbow, waiting for Sherlock to take it and lead her to the cab. "Our chariot awaits us, sir."
Sherlock helped Vivienne into the backseat and climbed in next to her. The ride to the crime scene was relatively quiet until Sherlock spoke a few minutes later. "Is your piano tuned?" He asked, curiously.
"Is that a metaphor?" Vivienne raised an eyebrow.
"What? No. Absolutely not." Sherlock scoffed.
"Oh. Then, yes, my piano is tuned. Why do you ask?"
"Never mind that. We're here." The cab came to a stop and Sherlock leapt out of the seat.
Vivienne waited for a moment before realizing what had happened. "Sherlock Holmes! Get back here! I have no idea where we are!"
Sherlock appeared back at the door. "My apologies." He took Vivienne by the hand and helped her out of the cab. She straightened her clothes out and he offered his elbow for her to take hold of.
"No visitors at the crime scene, freak. This isn't a museum." Said a voice that Vivienne didn't recognize.
"Who is that? And why is she calling you a freak?" Whether or not Sherlock had decided to forget her, Vivienne was still fiercely loyal and protective of him. "Is that that a woman? Because she kind of smells like a man." Vivienne quipped as they walked past.
"That's Donovan. Don't worry about her. Her deodorant is worse than her bite." Sherlock chuckled at his own joke. "We're at some stairs. Watch your step. I already cleared it with Lestrade that you're here. Just don't touch anything."
"I'm going to touch everything in sight." Vivienne deadpanned, hanging on to Sherlock and the handrail.
"Ah, Vivienne. Sherlock said he was going to get you." Lestrade interrupted before Sherlock had time to process the joke. "Come on, then. Sherlock, you know where the body is."
The three walked down a long hallway before Sherlock redirected Vivienne to the left. As they came through a doorway, she was hit with the overwhelming smell of copper. She released Sherlock's arm and bit her lip. "What am I needed here for? My nose is going to be useless with all of this blood."
"No, it won't be. You can do it. Just separate everything apart. All the different smells."
"Who all is in this room?" Vivienne asked, closing her eyes.
"Just us, Lestrade, and the body."
Vivienne nodded and breathed in deeply.
Copper. Body.
Old Spice. Sherlock.
Drakkar Noir. Lestrade.
Sherlock and Lestrade stated in wonder at Vivienne in her trance-like state.
Honey.
Lavender. The body was a woman, wearing a quite expensive lotion.
A perfume she couldn't quite place...
Then, it hit her.
"Is that Chanel No.5?" Vivienne asked, opening her eyes. "And the lotion she's wearing. I can't think of the name, but it's expensive. Like, $300-for-an-ounce expensive."
"Of course! Oh, you're brilliant. See, Lestrade. I told you I needed her." Sherlock grabbed Vivienne by the arm and began to drag her out of the room. "Come on. We have a crime to solve."
Vivienne began to protest, but Sherlock shushed her. "Sorry. I'll be quiet. You're being clever. I'll leave you to it. Just don't leave me stranded anywhere."
xxxxx
Vivienne and Sherlock made their way through the door of 221, after a day of running around London to solve a murder.
"Bring your violin down later. We'll play together."
Sherlock smiled a bit. "Alright."
He walked up the stairs to his flat and she went down the stairs to hers. Sherlock sighed as he walked through his door and noticed John in his chair.
"Oh. John. You're home." Sherlock slipped his coat off and hung it up.
"Was that Vivienne you were talking to? Are you smiling?" John furrowed his brow.
"She helped me solve a case. You were busy." Sherlock shrugged as he began pulling open random cabinets.
"Sherlock. Stop!" John shouted.
"WHAT?!" Sherlock yelled back. "I'm sorry. Yes, John?"
"You remember her, don't you?"
"Of course I do, John. Do you think I'm a idiot?" Sherlock sat down in his chair across from John.
"Then, why did you tell her you didn't? She was devastated."
"What? No, she wasn't." Sherlock paused. "Was she really?" The look on John's face told Sherlock that he wasn't lying. "Well, she should have expected it."
"Sherlock."
"You really want to know?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
John just raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"Fine. She's... She's the reason I'm married to my job. We had a- a thing... While I was working her grandfather's case." Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "I made a mistake, John."
"What would that be?" John was beginning to feel bad for Sherlock.
"I left her. I shouldn't have. I loved her and I left her."
"How long has it been?" John sat his laptop down.
"Eight years. I can't take it back now. It's too late. And it's just easier this way."
"Easier for who? You? Or her?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"I'll tell you who, Sherlock. Neither of you."
Sherlock scoffed and pulled out a cigarette. He stared at it for a minute before standing up. "What do you know?"
"Well, I think I know a bit more about relationships than you do." John mumbled as Sherlock slammed the door leading outside.
xxxxx
A/N: Thanks everyone for reading! I'm trying to keep in character as much as I can, but let me know if I go too far off the road. And don't forget to review, follow, and favorite! Also, I think Sherlock in the show is supposed to be around 35? But fuor the sake of my time line and Vivienne's age (28), I'm making him only 30. :)
And Penelope Zozes, thank you for my first review! I also hope this helps with why he said he didn't remember her. Honestly, I was struggling a bit about where to put this in and you kind of inspired me!