Rose grinned evilly, her smile never fading as he stood in front of her. She took another sip of her coffee; looking up at him as though she was surprised by his angered presence.
"Problem, Mr. Holmes?" she held back a chuckle. The feeling was definitely not reciprocated. Sherlock sneered at the blond in his treasured seat and scoffed at her seemingly immovable presence. First she moves in downstairs, then she worms her way in here, now she is in my bloody seat...
"Evening, Ms. Tyler." he tapped his foot impatiently against the carpet. Still, she smiled wider; almost...amused at his displeasure. Suddenly, she patted the bit of his chair next to her, beckoning him to join her.
Yet again, he scoffed at her offer. "I don't share my chair Ms. Tyler."
"And I don't care." she rolled her eyes. And with a quick motion, whisked him down beside her. His cheeks flushing pink as her head resting on his chest, digging her nose into his favorite blue scarf. He felt his face burn harder.
Body betrayed him once more.
She knew it bugged him. She'd never lead him on; she didn't want a relationship. Neither of them did. Of that she was sure.
Her arm reached across his frame, snagging the telly remote in a fair swoop. The closeness of her small frame overwhelmed him again, forcing him to push the notion aside once more.
After a few hours of mind-numbing television, he found Rose pleasantly asleep on his lap. His arms, against his better wishes, had wrapped themselves around the woman; almost cradling her. Why? He had no idea. He didn't know.
So, after a few moments of pondering his humanity, he tossed her onto John's chair rather unceremoniously. She hardly stirred, and he suppressed a chuckle.
"Told you I don't share my chair..."
He was almost faintly aware of the smile on the sleeping girl's face.