Chapter 21: Following the Trail

Sherlock and Emmaline were walking down the street, late on a Friday night. Their arms were intertwined as they hurried to get out of the cold. They had just finished eating pizza - it was Emmaline's Friday night - and were walking briskly back to Sherlock's flat.

They rushed up the five flights of stairs and into his apartment, shivering with the cold. Emmaline put her hands on either side of his face to warm him. Ever since Sherlock had come home, he had lost a considerable amount of weight. Emma knew that at the Centre he had gained weight, and had been looking healthier. It seemed to her that he still needed some time to adjust to the loss of his morphine. One month out of rehab and he looked unhealthy.

She had been feeding him balanced meals, and leaving notes around the house reminding him to eat throughout the day. They took long walks at least once a week, so he was getting exercise.

However, his cheekbones were sharp in his pale face, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Even after they had moved to the couch, Sherlock was still shivering. Emmaline drew him into her arms and rubbed her hands up and down his coat-covered arms, trying to warm him. Even though she was taking care of him, his body still craved the drug it had lost.

Sherlock closed his eyes as the shivering slowed; Emmaline's body heat was helping to warm him through his coat.

"Have you been taking your vitamins?" She asked, once he had become completely still.

"Every day."

"And you are eating the food I make you?"

"Breakfast, lunch, and supper." He confirmed.

"I'm going to build the fire up."

She stood from the couch and wrapped Sherlock in a blanket, before moving to the fireplace. Once a hearty blaze was roaring, she sat back down next to him. Sherlock held the fuzzy blanket around his shoulders, and nudged his way into Emma's arms.

Emma put a hand to his forehead.

"You don't have a fever." She said. "So you're not sick."

Sherlock did not answer. He knew this was the morphine's fault as well as she did. Even three months at the Centre had not cured his body of the addiction. Now that he was out, he could go get it whenever he wanted. The only thing that stopped him was the look on Emmaline's face when she had found out. The memory of that look haunted him. He never wanted her to look so disappointed in him again.

"It's late Emmaline, you should go."

"Are you sure? You don't seem well." Again, Emma placed her hand on Sherlock's forehead.

"I am going to bed โ€“ nothing exciting."

"Alright."

Emma leaned over to kiss Sherlock's forehead before standing up from the sofa. She made it to the door before she remembered.

"Oh, Sherlock, I can't hang out tomorrow."

"What, why?" He called from the couch, agitated.

"My grandparents and I are going to lunch tomorrow, and then I have a date Saturday night."

"A date?" Sherlock asked. She had not mentioned anyone new.

"I told you last week that I had gone on a date with Henry."

"Who's Henry?" Sherlock asked, standing up.

"Henry Carver โ€“ he's a boy in my year at school. I'm going to the movies with him tomorrow night."

"Oh." Sherlock said, taken aback. He had completely forgotten any mention she might have made to this Henry.

"I'll still come over in the morning to bring you breakfast."

"Thanks Emmaline." Sherlock yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

"Yeah; just remember to take your coat off before you go to bed." She said gently.

Sherlock rubbed his eyes and gave a non-committal wave in her direction.

"Goodnight Sherlock." She said, opening the front door to leave.

"'Night Emmaline." He called back, shrugging his coat off, and tossing it on the couch.

แถ“

Sherlock watched from the parked cab as a young man walked up to Emmaline's door. He looked seventeen, which was how old Emmaline had said he was. He had tight dirty blonde curls and a high forehead; Sherlock could also make out that the clothes the boy was wearing were designer, so he had wealthy parents. Judging from the flowers behind the boys back, they gave him quite an allowance.

Emmaline answered the door with a smile plastered on her face and gave a gasp of surprise when Henry offered her the flowers. He went inside and Sherlock sat in the back of the cab, waiting for them to walk back outside.

The cabbie was giving no complaint as Sherlock had paid him a handsome tip to drive him wherever he wanted, no questions asked.

She and Henry emerged a few short minutes later. Sherlock smiled when he saw Emmaline's outfit: skinny jeans, and a black jumper with a penguin on it. He had bought that for her on a trip he had taken right before his trip into rehab.

"Follow them, but not too closely. They're going to the cinema down the street." Sherlock told the driver.

The cabbie did as he was told and pulled away from the curb, when the young couple was down the street from them. Sherlock watched the two of them closely as they walked, and noticed how she did not shy away when Henry slipped his hand into hers.

Sherlock frowned at the intimate contact. It was his experience that a second date was just another test-run, and in no way allowed for physical touch between the two participants. At least, that was what girls had always told him.

When the two walked into the cinema, Sherlock paid the driver his fare and walked in after them. He noticed that they had already bought their tickets and gone inside. From what he had noticed of the boy, and the flowers, and the handholding, surely he would be taking Emmaline to see whatever sappy romance was currently playing.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he bought his ticket. Little did Henry know that Emmaline actually preferred a good sci-fi action flick, to a romantic-comedy. But Sherlock did, and he looked forward to hearing Emmaline complain about her date the next day.

Sherlock walked into the theater, and popped the collar of his coat up to hide his face from view. She would not be on the lookout for him, but Emmaline would recognize Sherlock in a heartbeat. He quickly spotted the couple and worked his way up a few rows behind them, so he still had a clear view.

The entire time in the theater, Sherlock spent watching the two of them. However, the couple was watching the movie. Aside from sharing popcorn, and occasionally holding hands, nothing happened.

After the film ended, they stayed behind to sit through the credits and talk about the movie in excited tones. Sherlock was upset to see Emmaline so happy. Henry made her laugh on more than one occasion, light pealing laughter.

Sherlock was glad that she could be happy, after what had happened to her, but he was upset that she could be happy with somebody else. It was a conflict within himself that he would have to resolve. Judging from their body language and mannerisms, it was not a relationship that would end soon.

Sherlock sighed and hailed another cab to follow the pair home. It seemed, to him, that he would have to deal with hearing a lot about the 'wonderful' Henry Carver. The cab pulled up to the curb when Sherlock directed it to, and he watched as the young pair said goodnight on her doorstep.

He watched as Henry leaned in and very quickly, kissed Emmaline. He said a hurried goodnight and left; Emma stood on the doorstep a moment longer, a smile on her face. She watched Henry walking before bringing her fingers to her lips and turning around, walking inside.

Sherlock felt as though he had intruded on a private moment. Emmaline could never know that he had done this; it was wrong of him. What had he been thinking, following her on a date? Clearly, she had had her first kiss tonight and she would want to recount it to him the next day. Sherlock shook his head, disgusted with himself.

He told the cabbie his address and paid him as he got out at his home. As soon as he stepped inside, his cell began to ring.

"Hello?" He answered, pulling off his coat.

"You will never guess what happened tonight!" Emmaline squealed over the phone.

Sherlock sighed, but made his tone interested. "What?"