"Shouldn't you go home to start getting ready?"
I sit at my desk, reading through a stack of papers.
"Yeah, yeah, I will later. I just gotta look through these poems. My publisher expects a rough draft of my new book soon."
Edith grabs the papers from my hands and sets them down on the desk. "You have three months to do that. Go. Home."
She walks around my desk and grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet.
"It's already six, that only gives you an hour to get ready."
She leads me through the building and opens the front door.
"I got plenty of time to get ready, I just needed to finish one more-"
She slams the door behind me, and I turn around to see her locking it.
"Hey! You can't kick me out!"
"Good night, (Y/n)."
She pulls the curtains over the door and I stand there in shock.
She kicked me out. Unbelievable.
~~°°••°°~~
I make my way home and immediately begin pulling dresses out of my closet. My mother walks in with raised eyebrows.
"What on Earth are you doing?"
I frantically push my messy hair out of my face, "Looking for a dress."
"Why?"
"Because apparently I have a date tonight."
"With who?"
"Sherlock."
She looks at me in surprise, "Well let's get this corset tied then!"
She ties the corset. Extra tight.
"You haven't even done your hair or makeup?!"
I slip my dress on and sit at my vanity, "I lost track of time."
She stands behind me and begins to braid my hair while I anxiously do my makeup.
"You're shaking like a leaf," she says.
I set my lipstick down and take a deep breath. "You know I get shaky over everything."
She gives me a sad smile, "You'll be fine, and you look amazing."
I stand up, looking at myself in the mirror. She's right, I do look amazing.
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts, the two of us look at each other, and she smiles.
"I'll distract him while you put your shoes on."
She heads downstairs and I quickly throw a pair of shoes on, and give myself one last look in the mirror.
I hope I don't screw this up.
My mom calls for me and I frantically make my way downstairs, tripping a couple times along the way. When I make it to the door I straighten my back and smooth my dress down.
Sherlock looks me up and down, a surprised look on his face. "You look different."
I frown, "Sorry?"
"It's a good different," he says with a nod.
My mom gives me a smile and pushes me towards him, shutting the door behind me.
"This is the second time I've been kicked out today," I say in disbelief.
He tilts his head, "Only twice? That's surprising."
I roll my eyes and smack his shoulder. Why does this man insist on making fun of me?
He shakes his head with a smile and holds his arm out to me, "You ready?"
I link my arm with his and we start walking down the street, everyone's eyes on us the entire time.
"You draw too much attention, Mister Holmes," I say, watching everyone cautiously.
"It's not me they're staring at."
"What do you mean by that?" I ask.
He gives me a small smile and says nothing.
"Ya'know usually I'm not a fan of the mysterious, and brooding type, but you sure are an interesting man."
He looks down at me and my breath hitches. Normally eye contact doesn't freak me out, but my eyes quickly shift back to the road in front of us.
"We're here."
I look up to see a huge theater, it's absolutely gorgeous.
"Whoa," I say to myself.
Sherlock leads me inside and I look around in amazement. This place is even more beautiful inside.
I let go of his arm and spin around slowly, looking at the painted ceiling above us.
A man bumps into me, almost shoving me to the ground.
"Watch where you're going, girl!" he yells.
I awkwardly smile and step back but Sherlock wraps an arm around my waist.
"You're the one that walked into her."
The man's eyes widen, "Yes, my apologies, sir."
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
The man bows his head to me, "Sorry, madame."
Then the man quickly walks into the crowd, bumping into more people.
"Sorry, I got distracted-"
Sherlock moves his arm from my waist and holds it out to me, "There's no need to apologize."
I hold on to his arm and we walk through the crowd and up a set of stairs, my eyes darting around the building in a mix of awe and fear.
I've never been comfortable in crowds.
He suddenly stops, causing me to trip.
"Go ahead and sit, I need to talk to someone."
His eyes are focused on a man not too far from us, I figure it's work related so I pay no mind and sit down.
I look down at the stage, even it is beautiful. It's like everything in here has to be mesmerizing, I bet even the bathrooms are gorgeous.
"Can you believe she came here with Sherlock Holmes?"
"Why would he even talk to her?"
I look over to the two gossiping women, "I don't know, maybe it's because I have a personality?"
They scoff at me and cover their faces with their fans, their voices much quieter this time.
"Making friends already?"
I look up to see Sherlock staring at the women with his usual stoic face.
"Yes, it's like everywhere I go people just throw themselves at me," I say sarcastically.
He sits next to me, "Part of your bright personality I presume?"
"Of course."
He chuckles and I can't help but smile, I've only known him for around a month, but even I know that Sherlock laughing is a rare sight.
I lean my arms against the railing, looking down at the bustling people below. "Last time I was in a theater it didn't go so well."
"I don't see any armed men, and you have me this time, so I think you'll be fine."
I smile to myself.
"Are you saying you'll protect me?"
He nods, "Of course, I'm a detective. It's my job."
I rest my head on my arms, still watching everyone below. It's always interesting to people watch.
"Why are you nervous?"
I give him a confused look, "What do you mean?"
"Your eyes are darting around, you're tapping your foot, and you keep picking at your lips."
Damn, he really is the best detective. I didn't even notice I was doing any of that.
"I get nervous easily," I say with a shrug.
A man takes the stage, clearing his throat loudly. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 'Joneson Theater'. The play will be beginning now."
He leaves the stage and the curtains open to reveal two beautiful women in very extravagant dresses and wigs.
The woman in the green dress walks around the stage, reciting her lines. However, I'm too distracted by the swaying of her enormous wig to hear what she's saying.
~~°°••°°~~
The play ends and I clap along with the crowd. The two women that were gossiping watch me with angry eyes.
"It's late, we should get going," Sherlock says, looking at his pocket watch.
I nod and stand up with him, he immediately links his arm with mine and we start walking down the stairs.
He looks around as we push our way through the crowd. He's rushing, but I don't understand why.
We make it outside and he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing.
"Sherlock! Leaving so soon?"
I turn around to see a man staring right at Sherlock.
"Shit," Sherlock mutters before turning around.
The man smiles at him, his bushy mustache moving upwards.
I watch the two in confusion, Sherlock's visibly annoyed, but the man seems to enjoy it.
"And who might this beauty be?"
"I'm, (Y/n) (L/n)."
The man looks at me in slight disgust, "Sherlock, who is this?"
"She just introduced herself," Sherlock says.
Sherlock has a smile on his face as he stares at the man in front of us.
"Right..... and is she your-"
"Friend. She also happens to be Enola's partner in her new detective agency."
Sherlock actually considers me a friend. That's an improvement.
"You mean to tell me Enola is still running around playing detective?"
I'm so very confused right now.
"She's a fantastic detective, and it's none of your concern."
The man scoffs, "It is my concern, especially since you won't put a stop to it."
"Why would he? Enola's happy," I respond.
"Women should only speak when spoken to!" the man snaps at me.
Okay, who the fuck does this guy think he is?
I glare at him, "Sherlock? Who is this incredibly rude man?"
Sherlock glares at the man as well. "This is my brother, Mycroft."
"Well, your brother is an asshole!"
I glare at the man one last time and walk away.
"What a disgusting waste of a pretty face," I mumble to myself.
Sherlock jogs up to me, but I say nothing.
The two of us walk together in silence until he speaks up, "I'm so very sorry for my brother."
"Men are assholes, you don't need to apologize."
He tilts his head, "Does that make me an arsehole as well?"
"Sometimes," I respond.
He shakes his head, "He's not that bad, he's just old fashioned."
"That's no excuse to be a sexist pig."
He looks up at the stars above us, "I look to the night sky when in doubt, for the moon and stars always know the answer."
That's my writing. Does he even know I wrote that? Has he read my book?
My mind races with questions, and my hands begin to feel sweaty.
"Where did you get that from?" I ask.
He looks down at me, "Well you should know, since you're the one that wrote it."
I look to the ground, trying to ignore his piercing blue eyes, and my racing heart.
"I saw you at the book store," I say quietly.
"You're a talented writer," he responds.
"Thanks."
We stop at the stairs to my house, both of us standing in silence.
I look up at him, "Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun."
He nods in response, his eyes still locked on to mine. My stomach begins to feel queasy, and my heart starts to race.
His face leans in closer to mine. I hold my breath, waiting for whatever happens next.
Then, as our noses began to touch he quickly steps back and begins to walk away
"Good night."
I stand there watching him as he walks down the street, and my chest begins to tighten.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"
My mom's already asleep so I pour a glass of water and head to my bedroom.
My hand slides against the wall until I finally find my lantern and light it. I immediately kick my shoes off, and begin getting undressed.
Once I'm done I put my night clothes on and sit in front of my vanity.
My once pretty makeup is now a muddy smear across my face, and I stare at my reflection confused, until I notice the tears streaming down my face.
I should realize by now that love and relationships aren't for me, they're for people who deserve it.
And I was stupid to think I deserve love, especially from Sherlock Holmes.
Author's Note: I hope you like angst ;)