"It's raining," Scarlett commented that evening as she sprawled herself out on Sherlock's sofa, resting her head on the arm, looking at the ceiling, but if she rolled her eyes far enough back she could see the window and the rain pounding against it. She had calmed down since earlier but she was still annoyed with Sherlock. Clearly he was a stubborn sort. She did kind of understand where he was coming from with keeping her with him. That way he could protect her but who was to say his protection was enough? But if she left then the only person Moriarty was likely to hurt would be her. Staying with Sherlock also meant he was in some kind of danger and Scarlett didn't like the thought of that. Of course, if she could just fancy a normal man then she may not have been in trouble.
"So it is," Sherlock drawled, slightly annoyed she was on his sofa and he had to make do with crossing his legs and sitting on the armchair whilst John went out with Sarah. He held a book to his face, peering into it as he heard Scarlett sigh loudly and then make a 'pop' noise with her lips. At first, Sherlock simply gritted his teeth, his neck tightening but she persisted on making the noise.
"Do you mind?" he snapped curtly, dropping his book onto his lap as Scarlett placed her tied hands onto her waist, rolling her head to the side and looking at him, cocking a brow;
"No," she said. "I don't mind."
"Well I do," Sherlock retorted quickly and she grinned smugly;
"Shame," she said and made the noise again, causing Sherlock to stand up and begin searching the drawers in his desk;
"I think I have some tape in here..." he muttered and Scarlett simply sat up quickly, falling slightly off the sofa;
"I'll stop," she said and he smiled smugly this time.
"As I thought," he droned.
"So if I promise to behave, will you untie me?" Scarlett asked. "Because you took it too far."
"If you admit that you were wrong and I was right to keep you here then I may consider removing the ropes," Sherlock bargained, standing in front of her, folding his arms over his chest and raising a brow at her as she rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Fine," she snapped. "You were right...I can see your point...slightly...although me being here could apparently get you hurt."
"Oh don't worry," Sherlock shrugged. "The more I think about, the less I believe Moriarty would actually kill me...he has no one to be equal with then."
"Brilliant," Scarlett complained. "So it's just me he wants dead. So why can't I go then? If he's so determined in finishing me off then he'll do it eventually," she said and Sherlock shook his head;
"He shall not as long as I'm here," he said determinedly and Scarlett simply just shook her head;
"Okay," she said, against her better judgement. "I'll stay put...I promise."
"Good," Sherlock said and sat besides her, undoing the ropes from her wrists, as soon as the rope had fallen onto the fabric, Scarlett grabbed her wrists and rubbed them before feeling Sherlock pick up one of her hands, gently examining her wrist.
"How did you manage to get a bruise?" he asked her softly, looking at her pale skin as she did the same;
"I think I banged it whilst I was rushing around after being shot at..." she said quietly and Sherlock simply nodded, feeling her gaze on his face before he also looked up, feeling her silently edging closer to him, the feel of her knees resting against his as he looked into her blue eyes simply.
"I am sorry," he told her. "But...I knew that if you left then he may get to you...and I can't handle the not knowing."
"It's okay," she replied after a moment. "I kind of...well...get it."
"None of this is okay," Sherlock replied. "I never thought Moriarty would show up. It was bad enough you had to meet Mycroft."
"Well," Scarlett mused, "if it makes you feel any better...I think you're the better sibling."
"Oh I already knew that," Sherlock assured her cockily and then sighed, noting she had something in her hair, he quickly raised his hand, feeling her soft golden curls against his fingers as he pulled the small piece of fluff from it. He saw her simply just look up to see his raised hand and his fingertips produced the fluff, settling it in the middle of them.
"Thanks," Scarlett said in a small voice.
"It is no problem," Sherlock replied. Slowly, he saw her look away for a moment and then back to him;
"You're the strangest man I have ever met Sherlock," she whispered and then just chuckled quietly. "You have an archenemy just like someone in a comic book...you have a job no one else has...you have an extremely scary IQ and not to mention the fact you keep severed heads in your fridge. You also hold people hostage and drag them from the streets when they don't agree with you."
"And you're telling me all that I know, why?" he wondered with a raised brow and Scarlett just simply looked onto the sofa;
"Because...you were right...I...do like you...regardless of your odd faults," she said and Sherlock remained silent. What did he tell her? Was he supposed to tell her that he also like her? Did he like her? Clearly he did...he had held her hostage for her own good...surely that must show that he cared?
"And I get it...if you don't like me...you're someone who is so extraordinary I suppose...and I'm just some dumb blonde who really does have bad habits," she said and Sherlock still remained silent before he picked up the courage to speak, his voice low and deep as he did so;
"You're not just some dumb blonde Scarlett," he said. "Yes, you do have issues with alcohol when you go out and with your alarm in the morning...but you tend to find that most people have issues...and you're not dumb. I saw the photo of you with your first in your Law degree on the walls."
"And yet I'm not a barrister or solicitor," she said. "I must be dumb, I wasn't cut out for it."
"You're not dumb," he said. "It just wasn't for you. People tend to find that out when they leave university with a degree that they do not gain a profession in that field."
"Anyway," Scarlett waved a hand. "I'd get it."
"But I wouldn't," Sherlock said. "No woman has ever captured my eye before...and if they did then I couldn't stand conversation with them for longer than three minutes forty seconds I would say."
"What are you saying Sherlock?" she asked him.
"I'm not sure," he said and stood up suddenly, leaving Scarlett on the edge of the sofa, watching him move into the kitchen;
"Tea?" he called out and she sighed loudly.
"Just water please," she responded, wondering what Sherlock Holmes was thinking. But the problem was, she couldn't tell. At all.
...
Please Review!