𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

✩ ☽ ✩ 

Betty was running down a busy street. She hastily apologized to people she bumped into on the way but didn't stop. This time, she knew the way exactly, so she didn't have to stay lost for hours and wander around the city.

When she finally found herself on Baker Street, she breathed a little sigh of relief as she was finally nearing her destination. Honestly, it wasn't exactly easy to distract the ubiquitous police officers that were chasing them so that they could arrest all three of them. She had only separated from Edith and Eudoria in London, a short distance away from here. The women feared that she might get lost if they left her earlier (and they wouldn't be far from the truth).

As luck would have it, an elderly woman and her dog were just coming out of the door, and Betty held the door with thanks and made her way inside. She took the stairs two at a time, holding her pink skirt with her hands above her knees so she wouldn't trip over it. She even ran so fast that she almost bumped into the door, which bore a sign: 221B.

She smiled; this was exactly what she was looking for. She smoothed her skirt with her hands and adjusted her dishevelled hair. She was about to knock, but someone on the other side stopped her. Before she could even take a breath, she was pulled into the apartment and the door locked behind her. She stared in alarm at the man towering over her.

„Mr. Holmes," she breathed.

The man nodded expressionlessly and took a step away. „Come," he commanded, pulling her by the hand into the living room she already knew so well. Betty looked around; everything was in the same state as last time. Papers were strewn across the floor, and it was really hard to walk by without accidentally stepping on one.

Betty sat down on the small couch and raised her head to Sherlock crossing the room oblivious to the mess. His hair was a little dishevelled, he obviously hadn't slept a wink last night either. The girl put her hands on her knees and waited steadily to see what would happen next. But when, even after a few moments, he said nothing and just crossed the room aimlessly, she decided to speak first.

„She's fine."

The man jerked, obviously already displacing her. Once he got the meaning of her words, he sighed in relief and paused. His gaze was directed out the window leading to the street before he redirected it to the brown-haired woman sitting on the sofa in his apartment.

He nodded his head a few times, „Thank you." A wide smile spread across Betty's face, and she tilted her head to the side. „You're welcome," she slurred.

Sherlock exhaled loudly and stepped closer to her, finally allowing himself to sit down. Since the sofa was very short indeed, they touched each other's shoulders. Betty felt as if electricity had run through her when he brushed against her, she ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks.

„How did it go?" The girl lifted her head. „It was fine. A few unexpected twists and turns, but Enola's out and we're safe too." The man shook his head in agreement. He looked her over; he had to admit, the colour pink could make her glow. His gaze slid from brown eyes to full lips, but he immediately looked away. He mentally scolded himself.