Chapter 16

"I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight."

F. Scott Fitzgerald, 'Tender is the Night'

The final day of the year crept up on London in all its cold and windy glory and Everleigh found herself at 221B Baker Street. She'd decided to surprise the two inhabitants with afternoon tea, her true motivation to see Sherlock again getting more and more apparent the longer the three sat in a comfortable silence. John sat reading a magazine, Sherlock in the armchair across from him tuning his violin, sneaking wayward glances to the woman sitting on the couch against the back wall reading her well worn copy of John Keats' poetry she always kept handy. Their eyes met every so often, resulting in both turning their attention quickly away, with coy little smiles peeking out from behind their attempted masks of indifference. The truth was Sherlock was happy she was there; her presence calmed him and quieted his screaming mind. He didn't have a case and normally he would be running circles around the flat, clawing at the walls and annoying every living soul he came into contact with, but right now he was content. And so was she. Even though they sat across the room from one another they felt a closeness to each other that no distance could alter. The other had been a constant statue in their minds since Christmas, the thoughts and memories of what had happened were confusing but exciting.

A soft knock to the open door announced a new presence in the room and jolted all three of the occupants out of their inner quarrels and musings. John's newest, and to Sherlock, incredibly dull, companion had joined them. She always had an overeager smile plastered on her face and her voice was too high pitched, both obviously over-exaggerated for John's sake. She always attempted to overcompensate for her lack of personality and wit. Sherlock had yet to hear an intelligent thing come out of her mouth, adding one more thing to his list of pet peeves about Emma Halloway.

"Hello everyone!" Emma bubbled, scampering over to John and planting an exuberant kiss on his cheek, earning a scoff from Sherlock, who then received a warning eyebrow raise from Ellie.

"Hey," John responded, taken aback by her excitement.

"It's New Year's Eve tonight!"

"Yes, yes it is."

"A brilliant deduction! Tell me, how did you come to figure that out all on your own?" Sherlock asked, steepling his fingers in front of his lips.

"SHERLOCK!" both Ellie and John yelled out simultaneously, causing him to look at Ev sharply in confusion, the woman was intolerable, couldn't she see it?

"I uh, I looked at the calendar..." Emma responded, not catching the air of sarcasm in Sherlock's question.

"Don't mind him. So, what would you like to do this New Year's Eve?" John asked, turning Emma's attention back to him and away from his brooding flat mate.

"Go to the fair and fireworks of course! Oh, you two should come, it can be a double date!"

Everleigh and Sherlock both lifted their heads up to her, their eyes wide in embarrassment and tongues tied in apprehension. Inaudible sounds escaped from their mouths as they searched for the right answer to her invitation. A date?

"We're, not, dating," Ellie finally articulated after a good many uhs and ums, "Why on Earth would you think that?"

"I know women that would kill to have their husbands look at them like that," Emma stated, gesturing over to Sherlock.

Ev caught a glimpse of what Emma was referring to before Sherlock could look away, and it made her heart skip a beat. His mouth hung slightly parted, as if in awe of the sight before him, and his eyes matched in adoration, but there was a tenderness to his face that she'd never before seen with her own two eyes, as if his very life depended on the words she spoke. For not having any experience when it came to women Sherlock certainly did know how to bring her to her knees, but maybe that was why he excelled so well. He didn't know about standards or protocol, he just did exactly as his heart told him to do. There was a purity to his affections that made them all the more endearing and sincere.

"If you two aren't dating, then you should be," Emma added, emphasizing the last half of her sentence.

"Well they're not. Should we get going?" John urged, walking towards the front door hoping Emma would follow.

"Hang on. You really won't come along? It'll be fun!"

Sherlock and Ellie looked at one another, silently speaking. It didn't seem like a terrible idea, but Sherlock hated Emma, they hadn't been out together yet, was going with John a good idea though? The debating in their heads went on, neither wanting to agree if the other did not. Sherlock dreaded it, but Ellie would probably like to go, and she thought exactly the same as him. She'd never been to the New Year's Eve celebrations all the time she'd been in London and the thought of going with people she actually enjoyed the company of, Emma included, would be the best way to spend her evening, but Sherlock was nothing if not the epitome of antisocial.

"Fine," Sherlock finally agreed, drawing surprised little gasps from John and Ev, and a happy little grin from Emma.

"You're serious?" John asked, taking a step back towards his friend.

"Yes."

"My God."

"What?"

"Nothing I uh, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?"

Sherlock rose and followed his friend into the kitchen, giving the women now chatting amicably in the sitting room one last glance, Everleigh's smile lighting up the room. When he turned his attention back to John, he noticed his friend had a small grin set upon his lips, a reaction he was not expecting, John's eyes full of humor.

"You have to be a date for her tonight, you know that?" John asked, using his hands to emphasize his statement.

"What?" Sherlock countered, his face turning up in confusion.

"A date, you know, romantic stuff. Women like that kind of thing."

"What?"

"Open doors for her, put your arm around her if she's cold. A date. Romance."

"Don't be ridiculous, if she's cold she should have brought a coat. It isn't my problem she didn't check the weather reports. They're right on her ph-"

"For God's sake Sherlock most of the time they aren't really cold, they just want your arm around them."

"What for?"

"You're hopeless."

Sherlock watched John walk back into the other room, confusion still coursing through his mind. He'd placed an arm around her before, when she was crying, and when he'd kissed her, but just standing idly and in public, what was the point in that? It just seemed useless and a little redundant. He looked back into the room at Ellie who was laughing, at something stupid Emma had said he was sure; maybe an arm around her wouldn't be so bad if she smiled like that when he did it.

The cab ride was miserable for Sherlock, listening to Emma babbling on and on and John feeding in to her nonsense. He'd sat in the front, using the rear view mirror to lock eyes with the only reason he sat in that car in the first place. Sparkling, fragile, endless brown; they spoke to him in ways no other persons could. Emotions were destructive; they destroyed everyone who made the mistake of letting them in, but what he was feeling in that moment did not seem malicious. When he looked at her he felt happy, and safe, and protected. His heart fluttered beneath his ribs in excitement whenever she walked into the room, her voice calmed the storm that raged in his mind and her touch set fire to his skin that spread through every nerve fiber, warming him to the very core. Certainly nothing that made him feel this impervious and light could be such a bad thing, but the world had been known to be that cruel. Dreams were empty promises, hope was false and for the weak, felt only by fools and love was nothing more than an illusion placed over people for continuation of the species. But as Sherlock looked at her, he didn't feel empty or weak, foolish or tricked, he felt alive and human and happy. What was he expected to do with these feelings? Push them aside and file them away in a deep, dark corner of his palace? That wouldn't be doing them, or their cause, any justice.

The cab pulled to the curb, Sherlock peered out the window to the hoards of people mulling about and his happiness turned to dread. This was going to be a disaster. Emma got out the car first, pulling John by his arm like an exuberant little child, who rewarded her behavior with a smile, did he really find that endearing? Everleigh emerged last from the back seat, stopping to take in the world surrounding her.

The streets were bustling with happy people chatting amongst themselves merrily, enjoying the evening, the dry weather and the pending fresh start to all their slates. There were people from all over the globe there to take part in the world famous London New Year's celebrations and she marveled in the numerous different languages floating into her ears, she understood a little French but her fluency was less than sub par. She felt Sherlock come to stand beside her, his warmth radiating off of his body and she remembered that he was here with her. The thought made a smile erupt across her face, she didn't know what it was about Sherlock Holmes that made her feel this way, he just did, and she liked it. She turned her attention up to his face and saw a happy little lopsided smile adorning his sharp features, softening him slightly, his curls falling messily onto his brow. His eyes gazed at her softly, but they were wary. He was uncomfortable out in settings like this, she knew that, and she appreciated him even more for coming. This was the final affirmation. To her, everything she'd been throwing around in her mind about what he felt came together in this moment. As she stared into his grey eyes, she saw the heart that lie underneath, and his capability to care, and maybe even love.

"Are you two just gonna stare at each other all night or can we go?" John asked sharply from a few yards in front of them, an eager Emma bouncing on his arm.

"Coming," Sherlock responded, not turning his eyes away from the woman by his side.

The four began walking down the streets, taking in the vendors and different games lining the sidewalks, their owners beckoning people to step up and try their hand, or discover the rare gifts their tents beheld. To John and Emma, this was just a normal date, surrounded by normal people, but for Sherlock, to every person his eyes fell on, his mind went to work. He couldn't stop it, the analysis', the facts hitting his brain one after another, it was exhausting, each deduction like a slap to the face. Liar, cat owner, schoolteacher, having an affair with a younger man, recent hernia surgery, gambling addiction, he couldn't stop them no matter what he tried. Without a case to keep his mind focused, his thoughts ran rampant, searching for anything to occupy itself with. He averted his eyes to the sidewalk, finding the discoveries of just how long that chewing gum had been stuck there much easier to cope with, but Everleigh couldn't help but notice his discomfort. She sped in front of him and turned, place her hands gently on is chest to stop him, her touch easing his tension.

"Are you ok? You look awful," she whispered, turning her head to check the whereabouts of their companions.

"Make it stop," he pleaded under his breath, more to himself than to her.

"Make what stop?"

He turned his eyes up to her and kept his gaze fixated on her. Her eyes held concern, her face was lined with worry, her hair blew softly around her cheeks, she looked lovely. He concentrated on her, and only her, ignoring the world whizzing by right behind her, he let it all melt away and everything went quiet. He concentrated each of his senses on her, seeing her face, smelling the lavender lightly wafting from her neck, remembering the taste of her lips on his, hearing her breathing and feeling her warm, comforting hands on his chest, her fingers subtly rubbing up and down soothingly. She occupied every facet of his being in that moment and at last he felt relief. He looked over her shoulder, testing his newfound serenity and saw John searching the crowds for them, his neck craning as he stood on the tips of his toes. Sherlock raised his hand and gave a small wave, much to the relief of John who grabbed his date's hand and ran over to them.

"Hey, everything all right?" John asked as he came to stand right behind Ellie.

"Fine," Sherlock answered, looking to John then fondly back to the woman in front of him.

"The fireworks are gonna start soon, we should go find somewhere to watch."

"Away from people preferably."

"Uh, yeah. We'll try our best."

The four took off into the hoards of people once again, John and Emma hand in hand leading Sherlock and Ellie to a patch of grass where people had started collecting in preparation for the festivities. Sherlock studied the two in front of them; their fingers entwined, shoulders bumping up against the others, her other hand resting gingerly on his forearm. It appeared simple enough. His eyes slid down to Ellie's hand swaying gently at her side, her petite, slender fingers hanging empty in the cold, winter air, then down to his own. Courage mixed with yearning surged through him as he cautiously moved his hand closer to hers. This was right, wasn't it? He'd never tried this before, he'd never wanted to, until now. His middle finger brushed against her hand, her skin sending shockwaves through his arms into his chest. He circled his finger around hers slowly, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for any sort of reaction from her, whether it was to be rejection or acceptance. He kept his eyes intently on her and he saw her eyes pulling at the corners of her mouth as her finger curled around his, welcoming it into her warm embrace. Sherlock felt a smile break his cold exterior in half, slowly these seemingly pointless behaviors all started to make sense. There was an inexplicable joy he felt building up inside of him as her remaining fingers wound their way between his, his heart was beating rapidly and his insides fluttered to life as their hands meshed perfectly, her warmth radiating through him.

"Here okay?" John asked turning around, causing Sherlock to rip his hand away from the refuge it had just recently discovered.

"Yes. Fine," Sherlock snapped in response, hoping John hadn't seen his show of affection.

"We're going to go get some drinks, do you want anything?"

"No thank you."

Ellie shook her head at John's offer and watched the pair walk over to a cart not far from where her and Sherlock stood. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she watched John and Emma walk further and further away, leaving her alone with Sherlock. He'd just tried to hold her hand, and the euphoria was still buzzing about in her body. She felt like a schoolgirl again, giddy and bashful, as his eyes fell softly back to her. The butterflies took flight inside of her stomach, she felt like she was floating, all the sadness, the guilt, the fear, had washed away and in its place was happiness and a newfound affection for the man beside her. Through the past years she'd thought she had forgotten what this felt like, the excitement of a new romance, the nerves and emotions, the fear of giving yourself wholly over to the other person, but building the trust that made it all the more easier.

"Should we, sit down?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence and gesturing to the grass at their feet.

She knelt first, easing her way back onto the ground as Sherlock followed suit. He sat inches away from her, the wind whipping his hair around his face. He looked like something straight out of Greek mythology, angular, stoic, and cold. It baffled her the ways his face could change so drastically with such minute adjustments, one moment he looked hardened and the next, tender and warm with only a simple flicker of his eyes and twitch of his lips. Lips she had come to be so very fond of with their slow, burning movements and tender touches.

"It's a bit cold out here," she confessed, wishing she'd dressed a little warmer.

"You should have worn a scarf," Sherlock retorted, turning his own collar up against the cold, "Oh."

John's words rang through his head, 'she just wants your arm around her'. Right. He turned his head, investigating the crowds around him. Everyone seemed to be pulled into their own little worlds, completely oblivious to the world around them. His eyes scanned for any potential threats, but none were found. He truly was in this moment alone with her, a small sliver of time carved out of the universe.

"Uh, here. You can, come closer, if that would help. With the cold," he offered nervously, pulling his arm away from his body slightly.

Was that right? She peered over at him with a disoriented stare, no, it mustn't have been right. She appeared as if his words had stunned him, was it awkward now? He felt awkward; he felt his eyes darting from left to right and his arm growing limp as it fell back to his side.

"Was that, wrong?" he asked quietly, "John told me-"

"No. Not wrong, sorry," she cut in, "It, yeah, it will help the cold."

Slowly she closed the tiny gap between them and situated herself into his side. He was warm and solid, a safe house. His arm went around her loosely as her body again fit perfectly into his. This was her haven, her stronghold, here, with him. Nothing could harm her and for once in her life it didn't seem like anything that had happened before mattered. She could smell his familiar scent now mingling with the faint trace of tobacco and her senses dulled, giving in to the hypnotic state his presence brought about. His wool coat was rough on her cheek as she laid her head on his shoulder, his jaw coming to rest on the side of her head ever so gently. Her hair was soft on his skin and he closed his eyes, taking in the new sensations tumbling their way into his brain. Never would he have believed he would be sitting here, holding a woman in his arms and enjoying it.

A whistle broke through the chattering around them; a thunderous boom introduced eruptions of colors in the sky. People around them cheered as 12:00 AM of the 1st of January 2011 began, ushering in the year that would change them all, for better and for worse. Sherlock peered down at the woman nestled into his ribs; red, green, gold and blue danced across her features, the colors painting her ivory skin like a canvas, each hue adding to her already flawless design. As he looked at her, he never could have predicted the events to come, even a mind like his couldn't fathom the trials that lay ahead, the good and the bad.

John and Emma wound there way through the crowds, finding their friends huddled up on the ground, Ev's eyes focused on the sparks flying in the sky, but Sherlock's were fixed on her, like she was the only thing in the universe. He should have been happy, he tried, but the pang of jealousy hit him hard in the gut, crippling all other emotional abilities. He realized though this envy was not entirely at the fact it was Everleigh Sherlock was with, it was just the way he looked at her. For his whole life John had been searching for that person, that one person that made the world spin, and he had yet to even come close. But Sherlock, Sherlock swears off relationships since, forever, and his first stab at it he finds his soul mate, or whatever he wanted to call it. Why was he so lucky?

"John? Should we, you know, go over there?" Emma quipped from beside him linking her arm with his.

"No. You know what, let's just go back to the flat. They seem to be having a bit of a moment," John replied, his sarcastic tone well masked, but still apparent.

John pulled his phone from his pocket, sending a brief text message to his flat mate that he was leaving early before turning towards the line of cabs waiting by the curb, Sherlock and Ellie taking the same course of action an hour later.

They stood outside of 221B, both with their hands secured in their coat pockets, the smoke from their breath rising and joining together above their heads. Sherlock didn't know how to say goodbye, he didn't want to.

"Happy New Year," she breathed with a perfect smile.

"Happy New Year," he replied quietly before leaning down and pressing his lips to her cheek.

She leaned her head into his, his hair tickling her temple contrasting with his stubble scratching at her cheek. This felt so effortless, so why was it all so hard? Because it mattered, she thought. Every action had a reaction, good or bad, and one bad outcome could send this fragile foundation shattering to the floor. One terrible revelation, or discovery, could destroy it, and at no cost could she allow that to happen.

She watched as he walked through his front door, his coat swaying around his legs, and not moments later as if on cue, her phone went off. Angrily, she ripped it from her pocket and stalked off towards her car.

"Stop calling me. I don't know where he is. Leave me alone," she seethed, speaking venomously through her teeth.

"You're lying. You always were so good at that," the altered voice spoke through the other line.

"I'm not. I have not a clue."

"Maybe Sherlock Holmes does."

"Leave him out of this. He has nothing to do with it."

"He does now. If he sniffs too close, we won't hesitate to put him down. We will pick you apart and tear you down until you tell us where he is. Don't assume that we won't."

Before she could respond her phone beeped into her ear, signaling the call had been ended, causing her to throw her phone down onto the seat beside her. There was a decision coming very soon, one she wasn't sure she would be able to make.

A/N: Agh, I'm sorry for the wait. Life kind of got away from me there for a moment. I rewrote this stupid thing 4 times, the end result not being entirely amazing, but the next one is. I kind of skipped about. Good news, I mapped out all of the post-Reichenbach fun/Season 3, it's gonna be a fun ride... Thanks to my dear friend Nazia for sitting up until 2 AM helping me plan, plot and sort it all out and form an amazing little story.

Thank you to Agent Pumpkin (your review brought tears to my eyes), Ava and Carlypso for your reviews and kind words, it means so much. If anything goes awry let me know immediately so I can fix it! Constructive criticism is always welcome. I'm so happy to hear that I seem to be keeping the characters very true to their form, John is incredibly hard to write! Haha.

New tumblr name for my personal is clueing-with-benedict, ask my plot questions, tell me things you want to see or don't want to see, I love it all! And, I've decided any questions asked on the everleigh-rose tumblr will be answered in her POV. Try and think of some! It will really help to try and get into her mind in ways I wouldn't have even thought to look.

Love you all, please keep your kind reviews, follows and favorites coming, I appreciate each and every one!