How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

Her coat is a much darker, shorter version of the 10th Doctors. She keeps the collar down unless it’s raining or windy; she refused to wear a scarf. (She didn’t like the way they felt) I also put her height in standard measurements not metric because I am American, sorry.

 

(Alice’s POV: )

 I woke up with a sore back and groaned as I sat up. Sherlock and John weren’t in the den so I got up and looked around. The case was on the table, safe. The laptop was next to it. I smiled deviously. I opened it up and opened the history. Searches on me. Over and over again. My eyes narrowed and my eyebrows pushed together. Sherlock walked in on me.

 “Why the bl**dy he** did you search me!?” I yelled, still scrolling on the laptop.

 “To get more information on you, why else?” He said, taking it from me.I tried to grab it back but he held it above his head. I put my hand on my hip.

 “Very mature, Sherlock! Just as mature as Googling someone!” I said, lowering my voice but still angry.

“Do you think that really matters to me? I need to have information on you before I trust you with mine or John’s life.” He replied.

 “You think I will hurt you?!”  I yelled. He stood glaring down at me, frowning and not answering. He clearly didn’t trust me, and I gladly returned the favour. I stormed out of the apartment.

 (Sherlock’s POV: )

I watched Alice storm out, smiling and feeling quite accomplished. John came out, quite angry.

 “Where’s Alice!? Why is she yelling?” He asked, agitated and looking around.

 “She just left. Something about being upset at me for searching for information on her.” I answered, sitting in my chair and steeping my fingers under my chin. He rubbed his face.

 “Do you know if she’s coming back? You were the one who wanted her to come with us.” He asked, leaning on the back of his chair like he did when he was upset. I may have let a smirk play on my lips.

“Yes, she’s coming back. She’ll be here to drive with us to the airport.” I confirmed, opening one eye to look at him. John sighed, frustrated with me but relieved.

 “Go pack, Sherlock.” He commanded. I complied and escaped to my room.

 (Alice’s POV Again...)

I hailed a taxi and ordered it to my house... well, mansion. I used the time to calm down and think. He had a point; not trusting me until he had more information. It was still rude to search me though. Oh well. I needed to pack anyway. I paid the cabby and went in after the walk up the driveway. I went in as quietly as I could, which was difficult because the foyer was very cavernous. I hung up my coat and took off my boots, padding up the stairs into my room. I made it without being noticed. I showered and got dressed.

(She wore dark denim skinny jeans and a dark navy blue, long-sleeved button up. She left the top two unbuttoned. She had blue eyeliner and light gray eye shadow with mascara and some light lip gloss. She wore the 11th Doctor boots again)

I made sure my ring was securely on my finger and my silver chain clasped tightly around my neck. I quickly packed a change of clothes and a few extra rounds for my pistol and a first aid kit (knowing John was a doctor and it would be handy to have if one of us got hurt) in a small backpack. It was supposed to be chilly in Venice today so I grabbed some black fingerless gloves and quietly exited my room, grabbing my pistol and swinging the pack onto my back as I did. As I was tip-toeing in the hallway I ran into one of our maids.