perception of the mind (sh adaptation)

Thirty Two • The Bet

"Love is what you've been through with somebody."
-James Thurber

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"John, come in."

She walked into the living room and he trailed behind her.

He hadn't been to Baker Street since the incident; Sherlock always made him meet someplace for a case and went to Rose's house if they needed to discuss something. He followed her cautiously. "How've you been?" he sat down in his armchair.

"Oh, fine. You?"

"Great.. What about you?"

"Fine..." She repeated slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just asked me twice," she scrunched up her nose with a smile.

"Oh, just..." he glanced around. "Was kind of expecting a proper response the second time around,"

She laughed. "We're doing well, thank you."

"We?"

"Sorry, I meant.. me. I'm doing well."

He cleared his throat. "You and er, Sherlock."

"Oh yeah, just a small miscommunication."

"Small misc- Yeah, right.."

Ophelia frowned, her brows falling together. "How did you know about it?"

"I was there," he swallowed. "When it happened."

"Really?" she scrunched up her nose again amusedly, absently biting her nail. "That's funny, I- I can't remember you being there."

"Yep, I definitely.. Was."

"Oh."

He shifted in his seat, glancing over at a large blanket draped over the couch. "You sure everything's okay? After the.. Small miscommunication."

Ophelia giggled. "If you're here to check in, we're doing fine. I appreciate it though. If Sherlock is what you need then he'll probably be back later, come back then."

He stood up with a small smile. "You sure?"

"Yes of course."

"Right well.. If you need to talk. At all,"

"No, no, don't be silly. I'm fine," she waved her hands in the air, gazing at the floor intently as she bit her fingernail.

"Alright." he turned around to leave. "Bye then."

It was silent.

"I mean, you'd just think he'd know when he's crossed the line," she blurted out and crossed her legs with a sigh.

John pursed his lips and turned back around. It was transparent that she needed someone other than her landlady to lend an ear.

"It was terrible. I felt terrible. And the entire time, he kept telling me that he was fine. Was I? No," she scoffed. "I mean, I know he's some.. heartless thing, but, just to think about me as if I wasn't a desperate decision. Maybe that's just the way that he is. What- what if this is in my head and I'm just going crazy? But he's not like that,"

"Has he made up for it?"

"Yes," she admitted softly.

"How?"

"You know, he keeps his experiments to a minimum.. Stays on his side of the fridge."

"His side?"