❛ I'M REACHING OUT AND I JUST CAN'T TELL YOU WHY ❜
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 an untouchable and a self-proclaimed consulting detective band together in the most unlikely of ways
[ bbc sherlock holmes x fem!oc ]
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IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT SHERLOCK HAD scared Theodore Carmichael out of attempting something that resembled a healthy relationship with Poppy — an act everyone she knew seemed to be content to carry out. Sure he hadn't treated her in the best way in the past, and when he visited his mum in Cambridge Isabelle from three doors down liked to make her presence known because she knew he wouldn't turn down her bold advances, but he really was trying his best to make an effort.
After that night when they were interrupted on her sofa and Poppy'd told him that no-one she 'remotely cared about would ever be let into her shit-hole of a house' he'd deflated significantly, and watching her whisper into the ear of Sherlock Holmes ( who was refusing the shock blanket he kept putting over his shoulders ) had caused him to deflate significantly. Someone she barely knew, and he was acquainted with because as a patient he was acquainted with needles and rolls and powder, received better treatment than him.
It made his blood boil over a woman he didn't even have the right to call his fuck-buddy, and now there really wasn't any chance of her agreeing to being his girlfriend of all things because he'd gone and messed it up. If he had just told her that he'd gotten tickets for The National Gallery, then they would have already been up the steps before Sherlock had the chance to barrel into Poppy. Which would have subsequently meant he didn't have to come up with the crapy lie about the work rota changing just so he would get the chance to dart away
Theo's finger pressed the button of the bell installed on the door-frame to Poppy's house, the back of his hand brushing against the bottom of the hanging basket full of wilting petunias. He could buy her a new plant to go in it, but if Poppy had left the current one to die there wasn't a high chance of her nurturing a second one until it flourished and over grew up until it needed to be pruned. No, it was a stupid idea, just like standing on her door-step even when he knew she wouldn't be answering.
Reluctantly, and after he'd scanned up and down Crawford Street for a wandering soul, Theo crouched down and lifted up the letter box. From through the rectangular slit he could see the foot of her spotless stairs, presuming she was sat hugging her knees further up and out of sight. After clearing his throat, he spoke into the empty house, "Pops? Poppy if you're there I'd like you to know that I'm sorry." There wasn't even a cough or a sniff. Theo's heart sank as no sound of creaking stairs reached him. "If you insist on giving me the silent treatment, I completely understand."
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, along side his lighter. "I'm giving it up for you, you know. Straight up cold turkey, and if I end up in A and E I'm going to blame you. Look, you can see when I'm gone and you've come out that they're in the bin. I'll put the receipt for the nicotine patches through your door, just so you know it's true." Theo's voice trailed off as people walking past stopped to stare. "I'm just going to sit here for a bit I think, wait for you to mull things over. If you don't appear by five o'clock I'll assume it's over."
