Clandestine meetings (Sherlock X OC)

Chapter 2

England had been fascinating to Devi, yet scary. New but bizarre. All her life she stayed in her house, until she was married off to Debashish. 

Even after her marriage she remained at her in-laws most of the time. Though after she moved to London with Debashish, she always thanked him for bringing her here. 

She was delighted by the English ways, English people, and English food. She was still learning; learning of all the freedom she was getting here that was impossible in India. 

She didn’t know much about currencies yet, but enough to take out some money and pay it to the driver. She got down from the carriage as she arrived at her place, being careful with her pallu.

 “Mr Holmes” she muttered, her only hope to save her husband.

The chattering and busy London reminded her of Kolkata, except the British here were not cruel, unlike the ones in her country - torturing her men and those colleagues of Debashish. 

The carriage disappeared into the mist, leaving Devi upset in front of her house. The place she enjoyed with her husband. How could she stay a minute there without him? Will Mr Holmes ever write to her about taking the case? 

Mr Holmes, Mr Sherlock Holmes, thought Devi. That posh British detective. She couldn't help but recall his tall figure, his accent and voice, and his arrogance too. She walked a few steps closer to her house, took out her keys and unlocked the door. The inside was dark, not dissimilar to her inner state without her husband in this unknown place. “Mr Holmes,'' she muttered again and went inside.

As she got in and lit up a lamp, the flash of it brought Holmes' face back. She smiled to herself, her house so dark but Holmes' face brought a bit of light like the lamp she lit. She put aside the curtains letting more lights in, smiling to herself at Holmes' aloofness. He was pretty handsome. Not that Debashish was not but… somehow Mr Sherlock Holmes captured Devi's mind. Doctor Watson was rather humble, she admitted, yet there was something about the detective that she couldn't deny but got completely trapped in. 

Delighting herself with his thoughts she went to the mirror and that's when her smile faded away. 

That red Sindoor on her forehead reminded her of her marriage. She cursed herself, cursed herself for allowing another man's thoughts to reign her mind. Debashish, her Debashish, to whom she got married when she was 16. 

Four years of togetherness - though not always smooth, not always understood, not always heard - should have made her completely devouted.

Even their families said, “Devi and Debashish? Even their names are in for this union”. 

She was married. No matter how much Britain fascinates her, she was married to a respectable man, and came from a respectable family herself. 

Debashish's reputation was at stake, no time to allow sinful thoughts. 

She immediately looked straight into the mirror, deciding she'd do anything to save her husband.

She walked towards the kitchen, getting herself focused on his thoughts. She should make him some food, she thought, so that he could eat when he came back. 

Taking the vegetables out she only could wonder what might be going over him. 

*

“Are you sure about this, Holmes?” asked Watson as he watched his companion put on a deerstalker. Hair back brushed as usual, his expensive Inverness black coat and that golden string of pocket watch dangling from his coat button. He turned around to answer Watson. 

“Quite so. The lady is quite perceptive, Watson. To reject her case could be the gravest mistake of my career as a detective.” Saying so he recalled Devi, the desparation in her face when she came to meet her. She was so young and fighting for her husband alone. Sherlock couldn't deny but he found her strength quite endearing, also a woman confidently flaunting her traditional clothes and culture in a different country without getting intimidated by the natives. She… he stopped himself and shook off her thoughts away. It's just her case he's interested in, not her, he presumed.