Greta //(A BBC Sherlock: Moriarty Fanfiction)

Chapter 16: "Let's just say if it happens, I wouldn't object."

AN: well, I am SUPER PUMPED for this chapter. It is a bit of a filler but I just love writing in Greta's point of view and just make it all about her and not really with the story line. So let's just get it in then! 

HAPPY READING! 

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Greta POV-

-past-

I couldn't fall asleep that night. I just couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked at me, and smiled at me. I was confused and flattered at the same time.

I had been on first dates before, but this...I didn't know if I can even call it a date. It wasn't awkward as it was with the dates Renee hooked me up with, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I mean, how can a guy like James Moriarty even think twice about looking at me.

But he did.

And we're doing it all again tomorrow.

I pulled the quilted covers up to my shoulders, hearing the crickets chirp and the frogs croak from the man-made pond my father and I had worked on together, before I graduated High School. It took weeks for us to dig the pond, and when we did, we decided to have a water fight, my father and I. He accidentally hit my cat with water, and she went storming up a tree in fright, and she ended up staying in the tree for days. The only one who was able to get her down was my mother.

I smiled happily, and turned on my side, although I still showed no signs of sleep. I don't know how James did it, but he invaded every space in my mind. Not that I was complaining.

I mentally began to prepare what I was going to wear. Should be something cute, or casual? Does he like the easy-go girls, or the serious kind. What if I say something awkward, no wait...that's already happened and even then, he still wants to see me tomorrow. What if he just agreed so he didn't seem rude, and just hates me?

No. He called me a lovely young woman. That means something, right?

Probably only because he didn't want Maurice to fire me for being not enjoyable. She could do that right?

What if I do something wrong, like not offer to pay the bill, or whatever. Aren't women supposed to take turns paying for their dates? Is this even a date? Probably not. But what if it is, and I never offer? Should I do it anyways? But what if he thinks I'm trying to hint to the fact I have money? Because I really don't. What if he thinks that I'm already poor that's why he's paying, because I'm not poor either. What if he thinks I'm just free-loading him for free ice cream?

I turned over on my other side, lazily, to check the time on the alarm clock on the bed-side table. 12:34 pm. I sighed, and closed my eyes. I really needed sleep.

My eyelids grew heavy and I knew I wanted to sleep, but my mind just kept stressing about everything that was going to happen tomorrow, and mentally preparing for any situation which will most likely never happen in a million years, such as a Woolly Mammoth trampling a bench Jame's and I would be sitting at and ruining our first kiss.

I mean, why in the world would he kiss me?!

I sighed, and groggily climbed out of my covers, my feet touching the cold carpet, and tiptoeing to the kitchen, where my phone lied on the charger, with earbuds attached. I carefully picked it up, as my eyes adjusted to the change of dark scenery.

I opened up my music and clicked on shuffle, the sound of my 1,589 songs I've bought, drowning out my thoughts.

The earbuds buzzed with a little bit Elton John, Pink Floyd, FUN and even Ella Fitzgerald music in my ears.