perception of the mind (sh adaptation)

Twenty • Familiarity

"Love diminishes the delicacy of women and increases that of men."

-Jean Paul Richter, 1763-1825

▪︎▪︎▪︎

A/N: There is a trigger warning in this chapter (that will be mentioned at the beginning and end of said scene) regarding a panic attack that one of the characters experiences.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

He knocked on the door.

"Hi,"

Ian smiled. "Just came to check up on ya, what're you up to?"

"Just finishing up with work before the weekends roll in," said Ophelia.

"Oh, so you work at home?"

She smiled. "No, just a few things I need to complete."

"Right, so you do work on business days,"

She nodded, rolling her lips.

He shook his head and scratched his hands. "Anyways, I've just come to remind you that the painting is today,"

"Yes, I'm going to leave soon."

"Great."

After Ian had left and Ophelia sat back down at her couch surrounded by papers, it was only a matter of ten minutes did the sound of knocking come again. She was familiar with the knock, and instead of getting up, reached for the remote and turned down the volume. "The door's open," she called out with a smile.

The doorknob didn't even move. "No it isn't." his voice rang through.

"Well you have the key,"

It was quiet as she heard the key go in and the doorknob twist. The door opened and Sherlock came in with a frown.

"What?" she laughed.

"You said the door was open."

"You knew it wasn't and had the key," she put a few papers in her hand down. "Why didn't you just come in?"

"Social protocol," he sat down in her yellow armchair.

"Oh?"

"Exactly. You underestimate me." he smiled. He finally got the last word.

"Well I've trusted you enough to hand you my key, I don't think the 'social protocol' is necessary here."

"You are terribly confusing."

She smiled. "How's your erm.." she gestured to his chest.

"Better," he replied plainly, not wanting to linger on that night. He smacked his lips. "Oh," Then, as if he just remembered, reached into his coat and pulled out a large object.

Ophelia laughed. "You actually bought the gin..."

"Told you I would."

"You didn't have to."

"See this is why I don't tend to engage in 'social protocol', it's all made up," he remarked, placing the bottle on the coffee table.

She smiled, recognising that the warmth in his skin had come back as well as his usual confident tone of voice. "Well I'm glad you're doing fine," she finished. "Has John left yet?"

He nodded. "Rose even invited me to stay," he grimaced.

"What's wrong with that?" she laughed.

"As previously mentioned; you are terribly confusing."