And ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the 100th chapter.
At this monumental point for me, I would just like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, advised me, and supported me. You've all been fabulous, and I am so flattered and grateful to have such kind and enthusiastic readers. It really lights up my life to hear how much you all enjoy Tea Leaves, and I love being able to share something I love with you. It's truly a highlight of my day to see a subscription alert, a review, or a favorite alert arrive in my inbox- it shows someone is enjoying my writing and sharing my dream with me.
Thank you for your amazingness, and on with the story!
Introductions
"Am I even dressed properly?" John hissed as they neared the doors. He glanced up and saw a curtain ruffle on the second floor. He swallowed nervously, wondering who could have been watching them.
"I refuse to reassure you over such a trite anxiety," Sherlock said haughtily, striding confidently up the stairs. The door swung open before they reached it and Sherlock nodded his thanks to a butler.
A butler. John shut his eyes. Gracious, this was getting more surprising by the minute.
"My mother will be home, doubtless, but my father will be returning in the evening," said Sherlock as he shed his coat and scarf gracefully, handing them to the butler with a natural motion. John dithered, slowly slipping off his coat and awkwardly holding onto it until the butler gave him a small look indicating that he should hand it over. "You'll see a stronger resemblance between me and her than with Mycroft. He looks more like our father."
They entered a foyer with an enormous winding staircase, the likes John had only seen in films. The foyer gave the feel for what the rest of the house was like: elegant, yet lived-in and comfortable, with a recurring theme of a deep, wine-red color and gold. Landscapes in brass frames decorated the walls. John noticed a wooden table with a small clock and pictures. His eyes were torn away from the image of a dark-haired, pale adolescent when he heard a voice call, "Sherlock!"
At the top of the stairs was a woman. She quickly began to descend and with each rotation, John got more glimpses of her: alabaster skin; dark hair; snatches of facial features; glinting jewelry. Sherlock's face was slowly stretching into a smile- an affectionate, genuine smile, John noted happily.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and as she strode toward them, John realized just who this was.
She was practically a female version of his flatmate, but her eyes were a rich brown color instead of Sherlock's crystal blue. Everything else was the same- the sharp angles of her face and body, her fair skin, her shadowy curls, her full lips, a nose that almost looked out of place but seemed to suit her well. She wrapped her arms around Sherlock.
"Hello, Mummy."
"You don't come home enough." Her voice was similar to Sherlock's confident purr but lacked the snark he so often slipped in; hers was more gentle and affectionate.
"I'm sure Mycroft is keeping you updated."
"Of course, but it's not the same."
John shifted, folding his hands.
Sherlock glanced at him. "Mummy, there's someone I'd like you to meet."
Sherlock's mother pulled away from her son and approached John, who took her appearance in in more detail. He noticed faint smile lines around her eyes and mouth, but they weren't obvious. There was a touch of silver in her chestnut locks, near the temples. She was probably just past fifty, John guessed.
"Mummy, this is John, my flatmate and assistant. John, this is Anita Holmes...my mother."
John held his hand out to shake but suddenly found himself pulled into a surprisingly strong embrace for so slender a woman. It was a warm hug that smelled of lilac and hand cream.
"John," she said when she released him, ignoring his stunned look, "we're so happy to have you here. Welcome to Marview, and welcome to our home."
XxXxXxXxXxX
"John, you're going to be in the Glass Room; it's the room conjoined with Sherlock's. It's a shared bathroom in between the two. I'm sorry you're not getting your own; if you'd like me to move you I can put Sherlock's cousin Joseph there instead."
John didn't respond immediately; he was transfixed by the long hallways lined with bedrooms and parlors, elegantly painted portraits adorning the walls, and the quick glimpse of a magnificent library. "Ah, no, that will be just fine. Wait, did you say the 'glass room'? Am I going to have to watch out for...?"
Anita looked over her shoulder and smiled. "The 'Glass' in the name is for a large stained-glass window we had installed when Sherlock was two. A cathedral in Germany was being remodeled and they were taking it out. Sherlock's father was visiting and decided to bring it back with him when he heard they were just going to get rid of it."
Mycroft's voice appeared behind John, making him jump. "It's a lovely addition and filters the sunlight nicely."
"Jesus, Mycroft, no need to go all assassin on me. You could at least warn me that you're there." John's remark caused a smug smirk to cross Mycroft's face.
Upon reaching the Glass Room, Anita handed him a key. "Just in case you'd like some privacy," she said as she opened the door.
John stepped in and set his suitcase down on the floor. Plushly decorated and cozy, the room was bathed in a warm light from the wrought-iron chandelier hanging just past the four-poster bed. There were a few scattered chairs, a wardrobe, a fireplace, and there- the stained glass window. The gloomy day took away some of the splendor but John could tell that it was beautifully crafted, with intricate details on every inch. It did not have any icons, but rather was a blend of colors and shapes, like a kaleidoscope.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Thank you."
"Dinner will be ready in about an hour, and the family will start arriving in fifteen minutes," Anita informed him, leaning against the door frame. "I'll make sure Sherlock sticks close by so you don't get pounced upon."
"Ah, yes, I'd be grateful for that."
"I have to thank you, John."
John was bewildered. "Whatever for?"
Anita was quiet, but she smiled softly. "From what Mycroft has told me, you've been a dear friend to Sherlock. He needs that more than he'll ever acknowledge. Thank you for being that person for him."
"It's my honor," John said with a smile
Prompt was #15: lilac
I am now officially completed with this table of prompts! On to the next one hundred :) Got any suggestions for what the next one hundred prompts should be? If anyone knows of any good ones I'd be thrilled to take a look at them.