Two days had passed with Scarlett being unemployed and she was going mad. Sherlock had been on a case but it had taken him the maximum of twelve hours, if not even that. When he had decided to waltz back into 221B Baker Street he began to declare how he felt that the case had been beneath him, earning a snort from Scarlett who had been sat in an armchair, watching the TV which was showing the ten o'clock news.
"I don't know why you watch that," he informed her, taking the other armchair and settling down into it, his legs crossed beneath him as he laced his fingers together and simply looked at her as she averted her gaze from the TV and onto his cool eyes.
"Because it is topical and about the things which go on in the world around us?" Scarlett rhetorically said and Sherlock rolled his eyes;
"But it doesn't particularly matter," he responded. "Which country is in debt...who is fighting to be PM...it's all irrelevant at the end of the day."
"Are you serious?" Scarlett raised a brow. It is hardly irrelevant."
"But it is-" Sherlock began to explain his theory but Scarlett raised her hand, begging for him to stop, which he did so promptly after she began to speak;
"It doesn't matter Sherlock," she told him. "I've come to learn you have your opinions and I have mine...and...I've had a buyer for my house."
"Excellent," Sherlock said. "How much?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand," she said. "I should be able to clear my mortgage off and manage to get by for a few months here..."
"You know that London is the most expensive place to buy a home?" Sherlock told her and she yawned, standing up as she did so and switching the TV off.
"Is it really?" she asked as she walked past him;
"Hm," he agreed "where are you off?"
"For a shower and then I'm off to bed," she said and Sherlock grumbled, actively jumping from his seat and following her down the hallway;
"I hope you plan to blow dry your hair before you go to sleep," he scowled as she stood in the bathroom doorway and Sherlock remained stood in his bedroom doorway, watching her.
"I was going to put into a bun," she said. "I can't be bothered to blow dry it. And anyway, why is it your concern?"
"Because you've taken to the habit of intruding on my personal space when asleep, which means your wet hair ends up making my pillow wet and that is something which I am not too fond of," he informed her and she simply smirked, shaking her head, slowly becoming accustomed to Sherlock.
"Fine," she said. "I'll blow dry it."
"Thank you," Sherlock said. "And besides, it does smell much better when you've just blow dried it"
And with that, Sherlock turned and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door as he went, leaving Scarlett stood in the hallway, wondering what sometimes did go through his head.
...
"Thank God for that," Sherlock drawled when the noise of the hairdryer had stopped and Scarlett set it on top of his wooden drawers and looked at him;
"So you complain when I don't blow dry it and then when I do, you still complain," she said, looking at him as he flipped idly through a magazine, laid in his bed.
"One has a right to be annoyed at many things," he replied to her. "And I do apologise," Sherlock said. "I would have taken you on the case today but you were still sleeping peacefully."
"No," Scarlett said. "It was fine...I needed to start looking for another job anyway."
"Any luck?" he asked and she set her brush down on his drawers before simply shaking her head;
"You'll find something," he assured her. "There are many mundane jobs out there which are simply begging for you to do."
"My job was not mundane," Scarlett informed him. "Just because someone doesn't get shot at, doesn't mean they have a boring job."
"I'd care to disagree," Sherlock peered over the top of his magazine as he watched her settle herself at the other end of his bed, looking over at him and thinking about speaking, but she closed her mouth before she did.
"What was it?" he asked her. "And don't even bother to tell me it was nothing because you know I am not likely to fall for that."
"Do you think...that...there's any chance...if I go back to my old job...they may offer me it back?" she wondered. "I mean if I explained the circumstances as to why I didn't go in then maybe they will let me back."
"You mean, if you explain to them that some crazy consulting criminal was trying to kill you because you went on a date with a man who couldn't keep his nose out of the criminal's business and so he wants revenge on that man via you?" Sherlock asked her and she laid on her side, facing away from Sherlock and switching her light off.
"You're right," she simply said. "It sounds crazy."
"I never said not to try it," Sherlock said with a small grin.
...
"Mr High!" Scarlett called out as she rushed through the multi storey car park after being dropped off by a black cab to her old work. The middle aged man turned to look at Scarlett, briefcase in one hand and his hip on his other.
"I was just about to call you," he informed her and she sighed loudly;
"Yes Mr High," she said. "I will clear my desk...but before I do can I please tell you what happened before you make a final decision."
"Scarlett-" he tried to interject but the girl continued rambling;
"I know what I am about to say may sound completely crazy and there is even some part of me which thinks that it is mad and it hasn't completely sunk in yet, but it will do...I hope...eventually, anyway," Scarlett blathered.
"Scarlett...would you-" she interrupted him again;
"And I know I may have let you down but I promise it won't happen again. I'll be here early from now on and stay late if needs be, anything to keep my job because I do truly love it...well...everything apart from Mary because she can be a complete cow sometimes but that's not the point because I don't really speak to her and I do my work and-"
"Scarlett!" he snapped at her. "It's okay. You can have your job back."
"And I promise I will make the coffees all the time and..." She trailed off, taking in what he had said. "What?"
"I said, you can have your job back," he told her. "I know all about what happened."
"You...you do?" she blathered and he nodded;
"A Mr Holmes called me late last night...telling me off the burglary and about how you just broke down after it for a while," Mr High informed her and her eyes went wide. Sherlock? Break Down?
"Oh," Scarlett said.
"It did take a bit of persuading but I have to say your Mr Holmes is a very persuasive man," he said and she shook her head;
"He's not my Mr Holmes," she replied. "What...so that's what he told you?"
"Yes," Mr High said. "Is there something else I should know?"
"No," Scarlett said. "Nothing at all"
"Good," he said. "You start tomorrow, be here half past eight in the morning and prompt. We need you to take notes on the Corn case."
"Got it," she said. "Thank you Mr High."
"And Scarlett," he said, walking away from her. "I take a regular coffee with one sugar when you ever decide to be able to flip the switch on the kettle."
Scarlett chuckled slightly and turned to walk back out of the car park which was almost full, when she saw a man stood at the other end of the signed pavement. His hands stuffed into his grey pockets and his scarf resting against his chest. Scarlett walked over to him slowly, looking into his eyes as she did so.
"A nervous breakdown?" she asked him with a raised brow and he shrugged;
"I didn't think the entire truth would be necessary in this point of law," Sherlock smirked at her and she chuckled once at him.
"And you did this for me?" she asked him. "You got my job back?"
"Anyone could see you were unhappy without it Scarlett," he replied to her as she stood a few paces away from him. "I did what I had to."
"You didn't have to," she said and Sherlock looked away for a moment;
"But I wanted to," he said. "Your boss did take some persuading...in the end I threatened him with removing his greatest client."
"Who?" Scarlett asked and then she felt the penny drop. "Of course...your brother...his stamps are always coming into the office."
"It was an empty threat," Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and shrugged. "But he wasn't to know that."
"Thank you," Scarlett said again.
"Don't mention it," he assured her. "Now," he clapped his leather gloved hands, "seeing as how it looks like you're going to be the main worker and keeper of the flat...how about we go and attempt to have a normal...day, I should suppose."
"What do you have in mind?" she wondered.
"Well," he offered her his arm. "I thought it was customary that a second date came after a first date?"
"That is the normal thing," she said. "But being with you has never been normal," she placed her hand into his arm and they began walking down the car park and out onto the streets of London.
"I can't say it will ever be normal," he said to her. "But for this one day, I should imagine we could give it a go if that is satisfactory with you?"
"That would be more than satisfactory," the blonde smiled up to him and he too, allowed a smile to escape his lips.
...
This is by far, nowhere near the end of the story because I am enjoying writing it too much to give it up and I do hope that people are enjoying reading it, so if you could, leave me a review to let me know what you think of it so far!