Dylan Eiler

The World is Spinning Backwards

Chapter 32: A Sunday Stroll

Sherlock,

Stepped out this morning to get some of my college textbooks from the bookstore. I should be back before you are awake. If not, there are chocolate chip pancakes heating in the oven from yesterday morning, so help yourself. Also what did you want to do today? Only two months until I have to leave for Cambridge…

Love,

Emmaline

Sherlock smiled to himself as he read the note left on her pillow. He rolled over and got up, wrapping the sheet about him as he walked out into the kitchen. Sure enough, Emmaline was not back yet, but pancakes were where she had promised them. Sherlock turned the oven off and pulled the pancakes out, sitting down at the table with a fork.

He had just begun helping himself to them when Emmaline came in the door, laden down with bags.

"Here let me help." Sherlock got up; making sure his sheet was still wrapped, he took a few of the bags from her.

"Thanks."

Emmaline deposited her bags on the floor next to the couch and sat down at the table with a huff, stealing Sherlock's fork and taking a bite. Sherlock put the other bags down and sat down across from her.

"That's a lot of books." He commented.

"I know; some of them are for next semester, and a few are some recreational reading so I can get ahead."

"Planning on graduating Cambridge in two years?" He asked with a smile.

"Two and a half actually." She replied.

Sherlock cocked a brow before taking a bite of the pancakes.

"How do you plan on managing that?"

"Summer studies; the more I can get knocked out during the year, the sooner I graduate and can come back here."

Sherlock frowned. "I thought you were going to move back down here over the summer break."

Emma smiled and leaned across the table to kiss him. "I was." She pressed her lips against his firmly once more before sitting back in her seat. "But then I thought that it would be better to get University done with, and then I can come back here long-term and get my Masters, and then my Doctorate."

Sherlock licked his lips, which now tasted strongly of chocolate. Her plan made sense in the long-term; it meant she would get to spend more of her time with him after she graduated. However, right now, Sherlock wanted to see her as much as possible. If she were studying at Cambridge in the summer, then she could not move back down here with him.

"I know it doesn't sound like a lot of fun, but we can make it work." She assured him, taking his hand.

Sherlock gently ran his thumb across the back of her hand, gazing at her. Yes, they could make it work. Moreover, it would shorten her time away from him in the end. Then his Emmaline would be back on Montagu Street where she belonged, with him.

"Alright. We can do it." He agreed.

"Finish these pancakes big boy; I have to take a shower." Emma got up and leaned over to kiss him.

What was meant to be a short chaste kiss, ended with Emmaline in Sherlock's lap, with her arms around his neck.

"I really do have to shower." She reminded him gently as he nibbled on her shoulder.

"Alright." He lamented, pressing his mouth once more against hers.

As he did, he thought of how lucky he was to have such a creature. It was not something Sherlock had ever thought he would say: lucky to have someone. But he was lucky, and he felt it. Emmaline was everything he needed in a woman. She recognized his need for pride and accomplishments, but she never let his head get too big.

She was intelligent and funny, and could take care of him when he needed it. However, he could take care of her too. She let him hold her when he needed it; and Sherlock had never before thought he would crave someone else so close to him.

After that first night together, Sherlock had woken up to Emmaline burrowed in his arms, sleeping soundly. Feeling her sleeping next to him, and hearing her heart beat in her chest, he was truly happy for the first time he could remember. She had woken up and stared at him with those chocolate brown eyes, remembering what had occurred the night before. Those eyes had sparkled, and Sherlock remembered how clear his mind was, like never before.

His father had been like him and Mycroft: intelligent beyond the norm. He had always said that caring was a disadvantage, and that sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side. When Mycroft had asked their father if he loved their mother, their father had answered that, she was an 'acceptable match' for 'reproduction'.

Mycroft had become very much like their father, uncaring and unloving which made Sherlock sad. They used to be good friends when they were young. Mycroft being his only example, Sherlock had begun to take after him, becoming emotionless. However, after meeting Emmaline two years ago he had felt that cold shell melting. She was drawing him out slowly, and he did not mind it. He loved this woman, and he needed her to know it.

Because of her, he felt more comfortable in who he was; she had done more for him in two years than his brother had in his whole life. Just by being there and accepting him, he had found a life-long friend and partner. Their relationship turning romantic was not something he had planned on; he had been completely unaware of her feelings until she had confessed them.

Sherlock had been in other relationships, but always the girl had approached him. Rachel had been his first where he felt that he could be human, that someone could love him for who he was. Near the end however, she had begun asking him to change, and he could not. Sherlock was proud of who he was, even if he was a little odd.

After leaving University, he had resigned himself to never being able to find someone to love him. He had had every intention of growing old alone, a bachelor. Then he had been called to New York to investigate a suicide, possible murder; his flight back to London had been delayed so he had to catch one the next day. His seat number had been changed to accommodate an older flyer, and he had ended up next to Emmaline. If ever Sherlock believed in fate, he certainly believed in it now. She was meant to be his.

"Alright, I have to get cleaned up." Emma insisted.

"I could help." Sherlock spoke against her mouth, wrapping his arms tightly around her back.

"You did the other day." She reminded him, pressing her lips firmly against his once.

Sherlock smiled and kissed her back as he thought of that pleasant memory, one that he would hold forever, just like the first time they had made love. Random images flashed through his mind as she sat in his lap, giving him her affectionate attention. Her wet hair, and the way water fell down her back…their hands intertwined, pressed against the hard tile of the shower…her hand fisted in his wet hair as their lips crashed together for the nth time…Sherlock would remember it all. Every moment they had spent together was stored in his mind.

"Alright, go shower. I have to get dressed anyway." Sherlock gave in.

Emma smiled as she got up from his lap and walked off into the bathroom. Sherlock stood and walked into the bedroom, depositing the sheet on the floor and changing into his usual daily wear. The note from Emmaline still lay on her pillow.

What could they do today? He only had two months to make sure she remembered him while she was away, and that her attentions did not stray. With Emmaline, he was sure they would not, but he had also been sure with Rachel and that had ended disastrously. No, he needed to prove to her that he could be a normal boyfriend. Secretly, Sherlock was worried about being her boyfriend. He knew that, to her, he was good enough to be a friend, but was he good enough to be more than that? He was more nervous around her now than he had ever been, though he would never admit that to her.

Sherlock racked his brain for somewhere to go, somewhere she would enjoy herself that she had not been before. He sat on his bed for a few minutes, trying to come up with some place where she could have fun. Suddenly, Sherlock thought of the park. London was known for having some of the most beautiful parks in the world, and he had never taken her to one of them. Most of this was due to Sherlock not caring much for the outdoors. As far as he knew, she did not enjoy the outdoors either. Emmaline preferred to paint.

Oddly enough, that was something she had not done lately…Sherlock shook his head at the new train of thought. He was not trying to focus on her habits and what they meant; he was trying to figure out where to take her for a date. Sherlock thought through all the parks and where he thought she would like to go; eventually he decided on Hyde Park. It was nice and green, and they could have a romantic walk and a picnic.

She would think of it that way, as romantic. Even with her drawing him out, he was still having trouble understanding some of the relationship basics. He understood the physical part – as few chose to believe, he was a man, and that was instinct. The sentiment behind the actions was harder for him to grasp. Sherlock was not far enough out of his dead father's, or Mycroft's cold grasp, to understand what it truly meant when he told her he loved her. He was sure he did, Sherlock was just not absolutely sure why. Some day he would have to sit down and think it over. He owed her that much, to understand the sentiment behind his actions.

Sherlock heard the shower still running, and so wrote a quick note to Emmaline before he left; he had to get a picnic basket and lunch if he was going to take her out this afternoon.

Emmaline,

I have gone out for a bit, to the store. Do not worry I will be home soon. No you are not allowed to know where, nor are you allowed to follow. It is a surprise for today..

Love,

Sherlock

Sherlock slipped the note under the bathroom door and left, heading out to the store.

ᶓ

Emmaline flipped the note she held over, reading the back.

'Hyde Park, 3.00. If convenient, come at once. If inconvenient, come anyway..' SH.

Emma smiled softly to herself, scrunching her wet hair in the fuzzy towel. She had no idea what Sherlock was planning, but the fact that he was planning anything at all was cause for excitement. She understood that he was having difficulties getting used to their new relationship parameters. She was as well. Having to go out and buy condoms, because she was sleeping with Sherlock, had been a very strange experience.

Emma glanced at the clock; it was only two-thirty. She could get dressed quickly and dry her hair, and have just enough time to meet him. Of course, Hyde Park was huge and he had not designated a meeting place. Perhaps he would be at the entrance. She finished towel drying her hair while she picked out a white skirt and black lace top to wear that day.

Emmaline glanced at the note one more time before putting it in her filing cabinet. She saved every note Sherlock had ever written her; not only because they were sweet little messages, but also because she liked his handwriting.

With a bounce in her step, Emma bounded out of the flat to meet her boyfriend at the park.

ᶓ

'Walk thirty steps forward, and then turn left.' SH.

Emmaline followed the instructions on the fourth piece of paper she had found in the park. When she had done as instructed she had come to a small grove of bushes. Lying on top, was another piece of folded paper. Emma sighed and pocketed the one she already held.

'Look to your right.' SH.

Emma turned her head and gasped before smiling. Sherlock was seated in the grass on a large checkered blanket, a picnic basket next to him and two plates set down on the grass.

"You did this?" She asked, sitting down next to him.

"Who else would?" Sherlock asked, slightly confused by her question.

Emma giggled and kissed him, appreciating the effort he had made.

"Hungry?" He asked, pulling away and unloading the picnic basket.

"Yes please." Emma answered with a nod.

Sherlock handed her a plate of grapes, lunchmeat, a dinner roll, and a slice of raisin cake.

"Quite the spread." Emma commented, rolling up a slice of lunchmeat rotisserie chicken and biting it in half.

"I tried to grab small things that you could eat easily." Sherlock said, cheeks flushing.

"Oh, I love it. I didn't mean it like that." Emma quickly leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Really, this is nice."

"Thank you." Sherlock bristled with pride.

He had never done these things with Rachel, and she had left him for another man. He was trying to correct his mistake now, because Emmaline was much more important to him. He did not want her to forget about him when she went away.

Sherlock pulled out a bottle of champagne and showed it to her.

"Would you care for a glass?" He asked.

"Yes please." Sherlock popped the cork and poured two plastic cups of champagne for them. "Are you sure this is OK, with your addictive personality?" Emmaline inquired seriously.

"I'll be fine; it's just one glass." He replied.

"Well then, what should we toast to?" She asked, holding her glass up with a wondering look.

"A long and healthy relationship." Sherlock answered, bumping his cup against hers.

Emmaline smiled and drank, coughing a bit on the bitter taste of the alcohol. "I've never had this before." She said with a cough.

"It's awful, I don't recommend it." Sherlock told her with a smile.

Emma glared at him playfully, popping a grape into her mouth. "So, why the picnic? This is rather special…is there something about today that I'm not remembering?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You only have two months left before you go away to school, and I want to make them special."

"Sherlock you don't have to. It's just college; besides, I'll be down here almost every weekend; or you'll be up there." She told him.

"I know, but you'll be busier than you think and you won't have time for me." He said sadly, staring down at the grass.

"Sherlock, is that what this is about? You want to make sure I remember you?" She scooted closer to him, trying to make him meet her gaze.

"When you leave, you'll forget all about me and I'll be alone again; I won't have my Emmaline."

"How could you say that? Do you really think that would happen?"

Sherlock sighed and pulled on a few blades of grass. "Yes. No. I don't know. University changes people, and I don't want you to meet someone better while you're there. Somebody better than me who you'll be able to love more, and who can love you in the way you need them too."

"Sherlock." Emma took his hands and held them in her lap. "That is silly. I could never meet someone better than you – I love you. And the way you love me, that's exactly the way I need it, because you love me as yourself." Emma smiled and cupped his cheek. "I never expected you to change and become Mr. Dashing when we got together, and I still don't. You are Sherlock Holmes, the Consulting Detective. You see everything differently; if you do not quite understand love or sentiment that is fine, because you try; and you try for me. You did not just say no that night – you went home and you thought about it, about me and us."

Emma stared imploringly at him, willing him to understand why there could never be another like him. "You put me back together after my mother died, and after my grandparents died. I told you what happened to me and you did not run away; you stayed with me. I need someone who is willing to spend the time with me that I need, and you do that. You have always been there for me Sherlock, no matter what was going on."

He looked at his Emmaline sitting before him, on the verge of tears because of the emotion in her voice as she spoke to him, begging him to understand why he was important. He had never meant to make her cry by taking her out today; of course, he had never meant to mention his insecurities either. Nevertheless, he had and now Emmaline knew that he was afraid of her leaving him. Because she was too good for him, even if she did not believe it.

"Are you sure?" He asked his own voice thick.

Emma knew that he meant sure about their relationship; sure that she was making the right choice in being with him, as this was something Sherlock was always second-guessing. He needed to know that she wanted to be with him, and more than that, that she wouldn't hurt him after she went away to University.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Sherlock sighed, relieved. Leaning forward, he trapped Emmaline's mouth with his, trying to express his relief and his joy with the meeting of their lips.

"Let's finish eating, and then we can walk around." Emma promised, kissing him chastely one more time.

"Alright." Sherlock leaned back and picked up his plate. "You'll love the park – it's beautiful." He insisted.

ᶓ

That night as Sherlock and Emmaline settled down for bed, they both felt validated in one another's feelings. Sherlock knew that he had nothing to worry about with Emmaline because she would never cheat on him, as Rachel had. Emmaline knew that Sherlock was just worried about getting hurt again, something she understood.

Neither of them would ever do anything to hurt the other. Sherlock tucked Emmaline securely in his arms and set his head gently upon hers, watching closely as her eyes drooped and her breathing settled into the gentle rhythm of sleep.

He brought his lips to rest gently on the top of her head, whispering: "I love you." And he meant it, more than he ever had before. With her speech at the park earlier today, he had learned a little bit, of just how much he meant to her, and it was drawing him out more from that shell. Knowing that someone cared that much and that deeply for him, was making Sherlock into a new man.