Treble Trouble with Sherlock Holmes (A Sherlock Holmes Fanfic)

Chapter 26: Coffee

"No!" Eve exclaims.

"Yes! At first, it started off slow and sweet, but it became much more passionate."

"Wow, and how was his pulse during that?"

I sigh. "I kind of lost track of his pulse. Both of my hands ended up on his face and in his hair."

"But he was definitely kissing you back?"

"Absolutely. He wrapped his hands around my waist. We just, sunk into it, you know?" Eve nods eagerly. "His hands gradually made their way up to my hair and my neck."

"Oh man, this guy is good!" Eve exclaims.

"No no no, don't you get it? My neck, aka another place to take a pulse. He was just taking my freaking pulse again!"

"Are you sure?" Eve asks.

"That's the only thing I can think of."

"Oh, I don't know, what about the fact that you're a hot woman kissing him and he's a man with hormones and he got caught up in the moment?" Eve replies sarcastically.

I shake my head. "You don't know Sherlock. He refuses to acknowledge his emotions, he buries them deep so they won't interfere with his work. That includes sentiment, and I'm guessing lust. Besides, I also think he's afraid of getting hurt. "

"I don't know, Sophia, I think maybe the man just wanted to kiss you. I think he cares about you more than you realize."

I shake my head again.

"Well, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, and there are three pictures on the front page of the Daily Mirror Lifestyle section that speak volumes," she says while holding out her paper.

My eyes widen, and I snatch the paper from her. I can't believe I'd forgotten about the photographers last night! I unfold the paper and see a headline along the top:

"Sherlock Holmes: Finally Solving the Mystery of Love?"

Beneath it are three pictures: in the first, my arm is linked through Sherlock's as he escorts me up the red carpet. In the second, I am reclined in Sherlock's arms with my hands around his neck, taken at the conclusion of our waltz when Sherlock lowered me into a deep dip. But the third picture is what makes my heart flutter. In the first two pictures, it is clear that we are having fun and enjoying each other's company. But the third picture is different.

We are dancing, and my back is facing the camera, so only Sherlock's face is visible. Other dancers swirl around us, but his gaze stays entirely focused on me. He has a huge smile on his face, mid-laugh. His eyes are sparkling with laughter, and they almost have a hint of adoration as he looks at me.

Eve points at his face. "Doesn't look fake to me. You can go through the movements, opening doors and being a gentleman and being a fantastic dancer, but you can't fake happiness like that."

I look at his face. My heart yearns to believe her. But my mind tells me otherwise. "Sherlock can."

Eve leans back in her chair. "Well, then go on telling yourself that it's fake. But it seems to me that you're acting just like Sherlock, refusing to acknowledge your true feelings because you're of getting hurt."

"Well, that's quite the psychoanalysis, Dr. Eve. How much do I owe you for this visit?"

"I'm serious. Be honest, do you have feelings for Sherlock? Do you want to be with him?"

I think for a moment before I respond. "Part of me does, but part of me is afraid that he won't ever return my affections, so what is the point?"

"The point is what could happen if he does like you back. Here's what you should do: just keep living your life as you have been. Don't change anything, don't act any differently around him. If he likes you, he'll eventually come to you. If I had to guess, I'd say these feelings he might be experiencing are new for him, so he will probably figure this out pretty slowly. If you get tired of waiting, then move on; his loss."

I guess it wouldn't hurt to just hang around for awhile and see what happens. It shouldn't be too difficult to see if he comes to me, would it? "Okay, Eve. I'll give it a shot. But I'm holding you personally accountable if this backfires."

"Okay, deal. And you can hold onto that paper."

I set the paper with my purse. "Now, tell me all about your date last night with this lawyer," I say with a smile.

She gives me a sly grin and begins to recount her evening.

We stay at the Starbucks talking for a couple of hours. We finally finish our conversation and head our separate ways. As I approach 221B Baker Street, I look in the window to see if Sherlock is practicing, but he's not. I walk upstairs nonchalantly, trying to act as I always do. I enter the living room to discover it empty. I walk through the kitchen and peek into Sherlock's bedroom: also empty. I guess he's still out.

I go up to my room and set down my things. My eyes linger on the paper that Eve gave me. He truly does looks happy. I quickly shake that thought from my head and return to the living room. I need to practice for Wednesday's rehearsal, and hopefully it'll help take my mind of last night's kiss.