My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the room. Looking around, I see that Sherlock is gone. Did I dream of last night? I stand up, cringing at the violent headache. I walk out of the room to see Sherlock in the kitchen. Cooking?
"Good morning," he says, his voice deep and husky.
How can he be so seductive without even trying? All he's done is said good morning and I can already feel my body burning.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks.
"Yes," my voice is hoarse, but not in a sexy way.
My stomach churns, this is the worst hangover I've ever had. I make my way to the bathroom, as nonchalantly as possible. Once the door is close I immediately start puking into the toilet. I'll never touch a bottle of whiskey again.
Once I'm done in the bathroom I slowly make my way out to see Sherlock sitting at a table, two plates of food resting on it. He gestures for me to sit at the opposite end of the table, "I made breakfast."
I sit down and stare at the food. "I didn't know you could cook."
"I'm the world's greatest detective and you think I can't cook?"
"I assumed that you ate out everyday."
He nods, "I do, but today I felt like cooking."
"Thank you."
He nods again, and the two of us eat in silence.
~~°°••°°~~
"Thank you for everything," I say.
He tilts his head, I've noticed that he does it when he's curious. Like a puppy.
"Will your mother be back tonight?"
"No, she'll be gone for a while," I reply.
He puts the clean dishes away, "And what about Enola?"
"Her and Tewkesbury will be attending another meeting tonight."
"And what about Timothée?" he asks.
I roll my eyes, "You say his name like it hurts you to do so. He'll be attending the same meeting."
"John will be gone again tonight," he says.
He stares at the ground for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I try to see what he's looking at, but find nothing. Then, he suddenly speaks, "You could spend the night here again. So you don't have to be alone."
My eyes widen. "Only if you don't mind."
I try to be nonchalant, act like it's not a big deal to me. And most importantly, ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
"I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't okay with it," he says smoothly.
I nod, causing my head to hurt even more. "Oh, right. Well, I'll have to go to my place to get spare clothes then."
He throws a coat on and grabs mine, holding it out to me. "Let's go."
He helps me into my coat and the two of us start our journey to my house. The sky is a gloomy gray, and the wind carries a sharp chill. Sherlock walks beside me, greeting anyone that speaks to him. A few women glare at me, and I of course smile in return.
"Good morning, Mr. Holmes!"
Sherlock nods, "Good morning, Mr. Smith."
The older man walks over to us, Sherlock stops and I do the same.
"And who is this beautiful young lady?"
"(Y/n), she's a friend of mine."
The old man smiles brightly, "Good to see that he has company. I worry about him being on his own."
"He's not completely alone, Dr. Watson is always there as well," I say.
"Yes, but the company of a woman is much better."
Sherlock clears his throat, "We must be on our way, it was nice seeing you."
"I'll see you two around," the man says, giving me a sneaky wink.
As we're walking away I laugh, "The company of a woman is much better?"
"Depends on the situation," he says.
I smirk, "So right now, who would you rather be walking with? Me or Watson?"
"John, he doesn't ask ridiculous questions."
"Ridiculous," I say, in a horrible British accent.
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, "He also doesn't mock me as much as you do."
"Alright, then who would you rather lay in bed with? Me or Watson?"
He stumbles over a rock, his blue eyes widened in surprise. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Answer my question," I say with a smirk.
"I'd rather be in bed by myself."
I shrug, "Fair enough."
My house comes into view, I look back at Sherlock and smirk. "Wanna race?"
"Why would I?"
I don't answer and begin to run, trying not to knock people down in the process. The street is unusually busy right now. I look back to see Sherlock jogging behind me, apologizing to everyone he bumps into. Such a gentleman. I continue running and jump on to my porch. A proud smile on my face.
Sherlock finally makes it, "You won. Are you happy now?"
"You didn't even try," I say, pouting.
I push my door open and he follows me in, shutting it behind him. I point to the couch in the living room, "You can sit down while I gather my stuff."
I jog up the stairs and into my room. I quickly change my clothes, putting on my normal trousers and a blouse. There's a small bag in the corner so I shove some clothes in it and take it downstairs with me. Sherlock is in the living room, looking at the pictures on the wall.
"How old were you in this one?" he asks.
I examine the picture, it's a picture of my dad and I. "I was ten."
He nods, "And this is your father?"
"Unfortunately."
He points to another picture, "Who is the girl standing next to you?"
I smile sadly at the picture, I hadn't even realized that my mother hung it up.
"Her name is Sadie, we grew up together."
He looks at me curiously, "Were you two friends?"
Memories of Sadie and I flash through my mind. The two of us laying in a field together, wearing crowns of twisted flowers and grass. She was my everything.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"What happened?"
"She got married and moved away. Things didn't end well between us."
He nods, his eyes still staring at the picture. "You looked happy."
"I was at the time," I reply.
He turns back to me, "Are you happy now?"
"I'm always happy when I'm with you."
My hand covers my mouth, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I look back to see that he's just as surprised as I am. He quickly regains his composure, "You're one of the few things that make me happy."
"Really?" I say, smirking.
He gives me a stern look and I blush. I love it when he looks at me like that.
"Are you ready to go now?" he asks.
I nod and the two of us leave, I walk beside him, keeping space between us. He takes my bag out of my hand and takes a step closer to me, our arms almost touching. A woman raises her eyebrows at me as we walk by, her smirk causing my face to flush.
"I'm investigating a case this afternoon. Would you like to join me?"
Sherlock Holmes, inviting me to tag along with him on a case? Maybe I actually died last night and this is Heaven.
"Are you being serious?" I ask.
He tilts his head, "I'm always serious."
"Of course I want to go!"
I continue rambling, not noticing how loud and energetic I hab become. "This is going to be so fun! The cases Enola and I have been working on are so boring. You always get the interesting ones, while we get the scraps. Not that the cases we work aren't important-"
I stop myself, feeling completely embarrassed. "Sorry, I ramble when I get excited."
He smiles at me, "Your excitement is amusing."
My heart beat quickens as he looks back at me. His eyes are a beautiful shade of blue, like the reflection of the night sky off of the ocean's water.
We make it to his apartment, he sets my bag down on the couch, and walks over to his desk. I follow him curiously, "So what's the case, Mr. Holmes?"
"I hate when you call me that," he mutters.
"Why? Everyone else does."
He grabs a magnifying glass, "Makes me feel old."
"But you are old."
He stands up straight, "I am not old."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Holmes."
He lets out an annoyed sigh, I smirk to myself. Annoying him never fails to make me smile.
~~°°••°°~~
"Where are we heading?" I ask, as we walk down the street.
The street has a thin layer of ice on some parts, making it hard for me to keep up with him. He slows down, allowing me to catch up. "To a hotel. A murder happened there earlier this morning."
This morning? How did he even find out about it?
He notices my confused look and sighs, "The police came by this morning and asked me to investigate. You were still asleep so I told them I'd be by later."
Why would he wait until after I was awake? He could've left a note for me. He could've told me earlier, after I had woken up.
We walk into a hotel, the building reeks of stale smoke and alcohol. Police are questioning women in the lobby, they give Sherlock seductive glances, and hike their skirts up higher. He glances at them but looks away, a disinterested look on his face. It surprises me, I've never seen a man reject women as pretty as them.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock nods to the police officer and the two of us enter the room. There's a couple of officers chatting in the corner. A familiar face catches my eye and I groan.
"Mr. Holmes!"
Sherlock turns to the man and nods, but doesn't say anything. The man's eyes land on me and he does a double take. "Ms. (L/n). What are you doing here?"
I take a look around the room, "Oh, you know, just the usual investigating murder scenes."
I stick my hands out to Lestrade, "Are you going to arrest me this time?"
He gives me a bewildered look, I smirk in response. I thought it was a clever answer. Sherlock pushes my hands down, "She'll be joining me in the investigation."
"The more the merrier," Lestrade replies.
He steps away and allows Sherlock and I to analyze the room. There's a blood stain at the head of the mattress, along with some drops on the floor.
"The body was found on the bed?" I ask.
Lestrade nods and I kneel down to examine the blood on the floor. There aren't many drops, which meant the person wasn't standing for very long.
"How did the victim die?"
"The man died of blunt force trauma. Wood fragments were found in the victim's flesh."
I nod and continue looking, mumbling to myself long the way. "The victim must've been attacked here, and fell on to the bed."
I look under the bed, there's nothing there. I stand back up to see Sherlock looking at me. "I'm sorry, I'm overstepping-"
He shakes his head, "You're not overstepping."
I give him a nod and walk around the room. There's a wooden candle stick holder sitting on the table, but there isn't any blood, and no chips of wood missing.
"There are no witnesses?" I ask.
Lestrade shakes his head, "No one saw anything."
"What are you thinking?" Sherlock asks me.
"I think it's bit odd that there are no witnesses in a hotel as busy as this one."
He nods, "We should go question the women downstairs."
We walk downstairs and over to the group of women. All eyes land on Sherlock as he speaks. "Good afternoon, ladies. Mind if we ask a few questions?"
"Of course not, you can say or do whatever you want to us," a woman says.
The rest of the women laugh, fanning themselves while eyeing Sherlock. I roll my eyes and walk around the room. Sherlock begins to ask them questions, I notice one of them watching me. She's a bit older than the rest, her clothes are more revealing, which means she must be a prostitute as well.
"Is that your girlfriend?"
Sherlock ignores the question, "I'm the one asking questions."
His voice is sharp, he's getting annoyed with them. I don't blame him, every time he looks at one of them, they bat their eyes and push their breasts up.
I continue watching the same woman, slowly walking around to the front so I can see her better. Her hands rest on top of her cane.
Her wooden cane.
"May I see your cane for a moment?"
The room goes silent at my question, everyone's eyes are on me.
"Why is an American woman investigating anyway?" one of them asks.
I ignore her and continue staring at the older woman, she fidgets nervously. As I walk towards her I notice the dark spots on the bottom of the cane.
"What do you want with my cane?"
"I just want to take a look at it," I explain.
Sherlock stands beside me, "Give her the cane."
The woman looks at me nervously before swinging the cane at my head. I catch it before it makes contact and her eyes widen.
I examine the cane, "Care to explain where the blood came from?"
"You bitch!" she jumps to her feet, swinging at me.
Sherlock pulls me back and Lestrade escorts the woman out of the building. Another officer takes the cane from me and I smirk at the ladies in front of me.
Sherlock rests a hand on my shoulder, I look up to see him smiling, the smile actually reaching his eyes, causing them to brighten up.
"Well done, Detective (L/n)."
We walk back to the group of officers and Sherlock nods to them, "We'll be on our way now."
They ignore him and instead stare at me, their mouths hung open in shock. One of them shakes his head, "How could a woman solve the case before us?"
"Because women are smarter," I snap.
Sherlock pushes me toward the door, "Calm down before you get yourself arrested again."
Author's Note: sorry for updating again! I just really wanna get these chapters posted, so I can move on to the juicy stuff ;)