Chapter 3

"I am intrigued by the smile upon your face, and the sadness within your eyes."

-Jeremy Aldana

Darkness had fallen over London as Everleigh pulled her keys from her bag and unlocked her front door. Her flat was quaint and homey, the perfect size for one person to live comfortably. She set her belongings on a small table in her entrance hallway before turning to her kitchen. The kitchen was large, light oak cabinets lined the eggshell walls and a small two-person bar table was pushed against the far wall with two stools tucked neatly underneath it. Everleigh walked to the white countertops and hung her head in defeat. Set before her was her white porcelain teapot and a box of her favorite evening tea, hibiscus. In the cabinets above her were her wine glasses, given to her by her grandmother, the half full wine rack just inches to her right.

The events of the day flew past her in a blur; her head was heavy on her shoulders from the weight of the past 12 hours and thanks to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the grey clouds of her past were now setting in for the evening. Haunting, sinister and insidious these memories were, throwing more dynamite onto her already crumbling inner foundations. With a sigh she opened the cabinet and grabbed one of the large wine glasses, running her finger over the rim before sliding a bottle of pinot noir carefully out of the wooden wine rack. She was more than apt at removing the cork from the bottle, a skill mastered over the past few darkened years and nothing she was proud of. Her phone rang suddenly, breaking her from her trance. She pulled the small black piece from her pocket and looked at the caller ID. Blocked. Running through every possibility of who would be calling her from a blocked number, she cast the vibrating nuisance off onto her counter, unable to think of one person in the world she would want to talk to right now, whether she knew them or not.

She retreated slowly to the living area, taking the entire bottle of wine and her glass with her. The living area was rather small; a three seating dark blue couch faced a small TV atop a cherry wood stand. Scattered paintings and black and white photographs decorated the walls and a few bookshelves filled out the room, lined with Everleigh's schoolbooks, poetry and other novels. The focal point of the room was a black baby grand piano in the right corner. Ev sighed sadly as she took in it's dusty appearance. It had been close to a year since she'd even sat down to play, the thought of playing alone and for herself brought her more sadness than the joy of playing could bring. She'd been a skilled pianist since she had started playing at the age of six, her grandmother refused to let her give it up as she grew after recognizing her granddaughter's amazing prowess at the keyed instrument. She had participated in many piano recitals, even earning a scholarship to a very prestigious art academy. At times Ev regretted not accepting it, choosing instead to go to medical school. Her grandmother had tried to persuade Ev to take the scholarship, become a great concert pianist and maybe even write a song or two, but Everleigh's inherent longing to finally make a difference had won over. Ev looked at the music stand and saw her scribbled piles of manuscript paper containing a piece she had been working on before everything had fallen apart. Every evening she would tell herself she would work on it, even for an hour, but everyday came another excuse. Defeated, Ev left the room and headed to her bedroom.

Her bedroom was neatly decorated in white furniture and random knickknacks from her travels. Her bed was made with a quilt, made by her grandmother, that she'd had for as long as she could remember. Never in her heart would she find the courage to get rid of it. She set her bottle of wine down on the night table beside her favorite lamp. The turquoise shade was decorated with simple images of a peacock feather and set atop a base of a bronze peacock perched near the trunk of tree. She had received it as a gift from her father when she was eleven, just two years before he'd walked out on her forever, leaving a gaping hole in his place. She went quickly into the bathroom and turned her shower to as hot as she could bear to wash the troubles of the day down the drain. The hot water soothed her aching muscles as the methodical pattering of the water hitting the tub quieted her mind, giving her the greatest sense of peace she had experienced all day. With the droplets fell her sorrows, troubles and failures, leaving her a clean slate for at least a little while.

Finally, at 10:45 Everleigh laid down into bed, pouring her first of many glasses of wine and turned on her television, falling asleep hours later to the murmur of black and white reruns.

Everleigh awoke in the early hours of the gasping for air and sweat pouring from her body. The same nightmare plagued her night after night, always the emptiness, always the endless longing. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she looked around her room, ensuring she was finally awake, no longer in the infinite darkness. Feeling her heart pounding in her chest told her what she was experiencing was real, the search was over, at least for now.

She looked over at the clock, 6:20 AM, which counted out to, just less than four hours of sleep. 'You have dark circles under your eyes, you don't sleep', the words of the "worlds of the world's only consulting detective" sounded through her mind. She didn't sleep, never for more than four hours, except the exceptionally rare occasion she got five. No medications, alcohol or meditative activities were ever able to provide her relief from her debilitating ailment, making each day harder then the last. 'Haunted by the ghosts of the past' Sherlock's voice echoed again, she wasn't sure these could be considered ghosts anymore, demons was more like it. Keeping her from sleep, from the activities she loved, from making friends, yes, these were much more injurious than ghosts. The things she kept hidden from the world were enough to write a book, not that anyone would read it. Angry from her inability to sleep any longer, she threw herself out of bed and readied for the day ahead. Go get tea, maybe some breakfast, go to the market, then come home and sit on her couch and watch television, maybe read a little of her book, sleep, wake up then repeat.

She'd made her way to the kitchen to put a pot of tea on and saw her cast off phone lying skewed on the counter. She checked and saw she had eleven missed calls, all from a blocked number. No voicemails or text messages. Each call was spaced exactly 13 minutes apart before they had finally given up. She cleared the history quickly from her phone, feeling an awful unease creep its way into her psyche.

Everleigh remembered a small little café she'd passed on her way into work and decided to make that her destination for breakfast that morning. She stepped inside, the bell on the door chiming happily as the door swung open, the smiles of the small staff greeting her with enthusiasm. Being around large groups of strangers always set a small restlessness into the pit of Everleigh's stomach. She knew she shouldn't, but she consistently concerned herself with what everyone was thinking about her. Not out of vanity, but out of embarrassment. Would they see the circles under her eyes, her nails bitten down to the quick, what would they assume about her from the way she talked, the way her voice tended to crack in nervousness? Even ordering a tea and muffin at the counter set the butterflies in her stomach to go off, it truly was a terrible way to live.

She found a small table in a far corner of the room to enjoy her breakfast, pulling her book of John Keats' poems out of her bag. Turning through the well-worn pages she came to one of her favorites in the book 'La Belle Dame sans Merci'.

I met a lady on the meads,

Full beautiful-a faery's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light

And her eyes were wild.

"Keats. Interesting choice," a deep voice sounded from beside her, "In here John!"

Everleigh looked up fearfully from the tattered pages and saw the one person in the world she never wanted to see again, yet at the same time yearned for any moment spent in his mesmerizing presence. Sherlock Holmes stood beside her table, removing his gloves from his long, slender fingers carefully. She hadn't even remembered hearing him walk up, and there he was no more than a foot away from her. The awful frog leapt back into her throat as his grey eyes turned to her, staring straight to her broken core.

"Ode to a Grecian Urn," he said, slightly enjoying watching the waves of emotions dance across her features.

"Wh-what?" Everleigh stammered, snapping the book closed.

"It's one of your favorites."

"How-"

"You've rabbit eared the page repeatedly, the corner sticks out awkwardly against the others."

She looked at him, speechless and shocked. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a small smirk at her slack jawed look, it never got old, seeing the awe people felt when he only pointed out the obvious. He studied her closely again, catching the nervousness in her jolted movements, the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced, the corners of her eyes turned down in sadness. There was an air of mystery about her still; he couldn't place his finger on what it was. The question itched at one of the walls in his mind, what was this woman hiding?

"Oh, hello, who's this?" John Watson chimed in cheerily, breaking Sherlock of his concentration.

"I'm Everleigh," Ev greeted with a small smile, standing to shake the smaller mans hand.

He was shorter than Sherlock, with blond hair and a welcoming face. He shook her hand lightly and Ev couldn't help but feel slightly more at ease in his presence. Sherlock seemed to back off when his friend had come to join them, giving Ev a slightly larger peace of mind.

"Ah hello, I'm John. Do you two, uh, know each other?" he asked skeptically, pointing his finger between the two of them.

"We met yesterday, at St Bart's."

"Ah, are you a doctor there?"

"Yes, just started on Monday."

"Fantastic! I trained at St. Bart's, was an Army doctor for awhile."

Everleigh fell into easy conversation with John, they talked about work, different things they'd seen and treated, and all while Sherlock looked on quite unhappily, and bored. The tea came and went, numerous cups of it, and Sherlock wasn't sure how much more of this nonsensical prattling he could take. There was a case to be investigating, granted he had next to no evidence to go on, but there was more, he just had to find it, and sitting here listening to John talking aimlessly with a rambling blonde woman wasn't getting him anywhere.

"So how did you meet Sherlock?" John asked, causing Everleigh to clam up, and Sherlock to tune back into the conversation.

"Um, I just, ran into him. Quite literally actually," Ev answered as she grabbed at her now cold cup of tea, a hint of panic in her voice.

"Careful doctor, your vulnerability is showing," Sherlock interjected, noticing the change in her voice, her posture and mechanisms at his partner's question.

Both of their heads snapped up to stare at Sherlock, who hadn't even bothered to turn his attention towards them. Everleigh felt herself retreating back into her shell. This man was overly perceptive; it was almost an invasion of privacy. She just wanted to shout at him, tell him to leave her alone and stop doing whatever is was he was doing. But she didn't. Was it because she was too afraid to, or because deep down she didn't want him to stop? He read her like a book, and she knew he did this with everyone, she wasn't anyone special, but he knew there wasn't something quite right about her and yet he hadn't treated her any differently. He didn't treat her like some broken china doll, he treated her like he did everyone else, and that was something Everleigh wasn't used to. When most people uncovered her unsavory past they coddled her, watched their every move and word, afraid to break her further. But Sherlock Holmes knew everything, by one look, and he didn't coddle her, and she had liked that.

"Well, I should probably get going, thank you John, this was lovely," Ev announced as she stood up, John rising with her.

"Yes it was, would you like to get dinner sometime?" John asked throwing Ev off and earning a scoff from Sherlock who was still sitting in his chair, his head leaned back, eyes closed.

"Um, sure. I think that would be nice. Sherlock you're welcome to come as well."

She wasn't sure what possessed her to add that last part, but felt a slight jolt to her stomach as he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. Mostly she thought it was because she didn't want it to come across to John that it would be a date. He was a wonderful man, charming and kind, but she enjoyed his company too much to risk putting it on the line. She didn't feel any attraction to him and if she'd let him on to believe so she knew she'd never see him again. John laughed a little to himself at her invitation, turning his attention to the slender man behind him, looking forward to his response to her offer.

"I don't eat while I'm on case," Sherlock responded coolly, after watching her features change from relaxed to tense.

"That's not very-" she began, but was quickly cut off.

"I tell him all the time, he doesn't listen," John vented, shaking his head in annoyance.

"Ah, well, then I suppose I will see you later then John."

"Yes, I'll call you."

John gestured to his phone that she had placed her number into during their conversation. She bade the two men goodbye and walked outside into the morning air. Sherlock was becoming a more and more confusing figure in her mind, never in her life had she loathed and admired someone quite as much as she did him. She couldn't figure what about him was so alluring to her, his intelligence, his looks, his ability to observe and perceive, or his apparent disregard for feelings and emotions. One thing she knew for certain, those grey eyes would haunt her until the next time she saw them again.

John turned angrily to the dark haired man sitting behind him, off in his mind palace again no doubt. He needed to stop bringing him out in public, the world just wasn't ready for the cold, unforgiving apathy of Sherlock Holmes, not all of it anyway.

"Why do you have to be so rude?" John finally broke the silence that Sherlock had allowed to awkwardly set in.

"Rude? I may be veracious John, but never rude," Sherlock answered, slightly offended at John's lack of observatory skills, "Now, are you angry because I upset a woman, or because I upset a woman that you want to sleep with?"

There were few times when Sherlock left John speechless, this was one of them. And looking over at the smug look on Sherlock's face made John even more flustered. The way his hands were steepled in front of his slightly smirking lips, amusement flickering in his cold grey eyes. He wanted to punch him in the face, yes, right in the jaw, he'd done it once before and remembered the gratification he felt.

"That woman is hiding something," Sherlock thought out loud, his expression immediately changing to determination, "And I plan to find out what."

A/N I powered through this one! So it may be slightly lacking but I hope not. Had to go into work today, boo, so I didn't have as much time to work on it as I'd hoped.

Please Review/Favorite/Follow, I'll love you forever! Don't forget the tumblr for the story is: Everleigh-Rose. I've been slowly making little graphics and things for when the story really gets going, which will be around chapter 5/6 as of right now! My personal blog is benny-cumberbatched, in case anyone wanted to follow, it's all Supernatural and Sherlock/Benedict haha.

Review pretty please and give me wonderful words to look forward to!