«We wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left us tired the night before. And that, Holmes, is bravery.»
«Then why...» His baritone voice dragged, as he took a stride closer to her, his blue orbs searching her face for a millionth time...
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Chapter 11: "Spider-Man."
«This is a bad idea.»
«And why is that, John?» Emma asked, climbing out of the cab for first, followed by Sherlock and then, for last, by the soldier himself.
«Because we're about to break into a banker's penthouse.» the army doctor grumbled, shutting the cab's door with one hand, while the two geniuses walked off.
«I wouldn't call it a penthouse–»
«That doesn't matter!» John cut off the woman «He still has enough money to win every case if he wishes to.»
Emma grinned «John Watson, are you saying that our trail system is dishonest?»
«Oh, please, we all know it is!»
Emma chuckled while Sherlock smirked, stuffing his hands into a pair of black gloves. Another nervous sigh escaped John's mouth «We shouldn't be doing this.»
«Sebastian had a lot of money too.» Emma said, seemingly off topic.
Sherlock smirked, while John asked, frowning «So?»
«Our dear Swan still managed to win the cause.» Sherlock said, eyes forward, causing Emma to flash him a wide smile.
But John frowned «She won?»
Emma, hands in her pockets, turned to glance at him over her shoulder, with a frown «I'll pretend not to be offended by the incredulous note in your voice.» she said, returning to watching forward as they kept walking.
John, who's eyes had widened, opened his mouth to explain himself, but was cut off by the haughty detective «I do think that John meant it as a commendation, Swan.»
A smirk curved her lips, eyes kept forward «Would have you, Holmes?»
Sherlock looked around as they proceeded walking «Compliments postulate beauty, which is a–»
«–tediously inutile concept to you. Yes.» she looked up at him, smiling, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes «So you say.»
«And so I think.» he stated, looking forward once again. Emma watched him, not ashamed at all of her actions: he marched forward decisively, like a soldier into battle – a soldier that had something worth fighting for. His blue eyes stared forward, calculating, measuring, while the wheals of his brain kept grinding against one another, allowing him to think. Such a beautiful machine, with such a beautiful brain... and perhaps a heart, somewhere beneath. Emma's smirk widened as she thought of this, eyes still glued to the serious profile of her rival. «Stop it.» he suddenly spoke up, not looking down at her, and not altering his pace.
