The walk to the bakery is short and warm, and when they enter, it smells wonderful — bread and chocolate and sugar and tea. Sherlock orders a chocolate croissant, as Lily had never made those and he wouldn't think it was bad in comparison. Lily gets a scone and some tea, and they sit at small table by the window.
"This is a nice little place," Sherlock comments. "I'm sure your bakery will be nicer, though."
Lily nearly spits out her tea. "My bakery?"
"That's your goal, isn't it? To open a bakery."
"Well... yes."
"It's a bit too plain in here," he goes on. "Your bakery will be colorful."
Her bakery. Yes, she still wants to open one. But that can wait... can't it? She's got the book and then there's Robert situation and she's already got a job for the fall. Would she even have the money, if she could find a location?
"Yes," she says. "But this is nice."
When they finish eating, they decide to head back to Baker Street. It's a quiet walk, but it's a nice quiet. Sherlock's hand keeps brushing hers, so she takes it, and they walk all the way home like that. By the time they see the front door, Lily looks at Speedy's and realizes she's still hungry. All that walking and only a scone for lunch.
"Are you still hungry?" Lily asks.
"Not really. But I rarely eat much on cases. Are you?"
"A little."
"Then we'll go get a sandwich." He practically pulls her into Speedy's, which is a bit busy at this time, but everyone's laughing and having a good time, employees included. Speedy is behind the counter.
"Hello, Lily," he says. "Oh, and my famous neighbor Sherlock Holmes. What can I get you?"
Lily orders her sandwich while Sherlock declines, saying he isn't hungry. Speedy calls the order back, then starts restocking the dessert case.
"You know, Lily, we won't be neighbors much longer."
She almost gasps. "What? Why?"
"I'm retiring." He laughs. "My daughter is about to have a baby, and they live in Bath, and I've got the money to retire. I'm gonna sell the place."
"To who?"
He shrugs. "Don't know yet. Haven't had many offers. Of course, I haven't told many people yet."
"Well, I'm sad to see you go, but I'm happy you'll be spending time with family."
"That's an important thing, spending time with family. I've got another month or so in here, as long as I get a buyer." Her order is finished, so he passes it across the counter. "Here you are. On the house."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Enjoy."
"Thank you."
They leave and walk into 221, then stand at the bottom of the stairs. Neither of them speak for a few moments. Finally, Sherlock says, "I suppose you'll want to go... eat your lunch now."
"Yeah," she replies, then remembering she ought to say something else instead of just standing there disappointed that the date is already over. "I had a really nice time."
"Me, too."
"We should... do it again."
"How about tomorrow?" He says as if he couldn't hold it back, like he didn't even think before he asked her. Like that's what he really wants and he wants it so much he couldn't give himself time to phrase it differently or just not say it altogether.
She smiles widely. "I would love that."
"We should do... dinner. I know a great Italian place, I proved the owner wasn't guilty of murder."
"When?"
"Oh, ages ago."
"But people don't tend to forget things like that."
"No, they don't." He smiles, almost to himself, but he's looking at her — not through her, not even to deduce something about her, just looking at her. He reaches out, takes her hand, and squeezes it. "I will see you tomorrow, Lily."
"See you... tomorrow," she manages, rooted to her spot as she watches him go. What a dream. Could that truly just have happened? Did she really just go on a date with Sherlock Holmes? And they held hands? And the way he looked at her and the way he spoke to her and everything about it-
He has been in 221B for a few moments now, after smiling at her and closing the door, and her sandwich smells delicious and she's hungry, so she snaps out of it long enough to get into the flat and sit down on the couch to eat. Her mind is still in a whirl, but in a good way.
She turns on the telly, looks through the channels. She flicks past a baking show and what Speedy said re-enters her mind.
He's selling the sandwich shop.
No one has put down an offer yet.
It would be perfect, wouldn't it? But does she have the money? And what about her teaching job? Is she even ready? The thoughts fill her with so much anxiety that she turns off the TV and grabs her laptop instead. Maybe working on her book will take her mind off it. And at least it's still productive.
Rose was a flower fairy living in fairy land. She quite liked fairy land, for she had many friends there and many things to do. She worked in the castle gardens for the Queen.
She and the other flower fairies kept up the garden, taking care of the flowers, pulling up the weeds, planting and growing and watering.
One day, Rose came across a curious sight. Their planting tool was broken! The other flower fairies were shocked, wondering how it could have happened. They took it to the fixing fairies. They didn't know who had broken it, either, but they could fix it.
In the meantime, Rose wanted to know what had happened. She went to solve the mystery.
Now what? What's the first clue. Who is it that broke it in the first place?
She looks across at the fairy castle on the mantelpiece, the setting for her story. Given to her by Liam.
She calls him. Shockingly, he answers. "Hey, Lil. I'm about to get off lunch. I don't have much time-"
"I went on a date with Sherlock."
Silence.
"Hello?"
"Sorry, I just had a heart attack. Lil, that's wonderful! How did it go?"
"It was fine. We're going on another one tomorrow. Really I only told you because I knew I would feel bad talking to you about something else and not saying anything."
"But-"
"It's this stupid book."
He pauses, likely deciding on whether he's going to accept the change in subject. He does. "Writer's block?"
"Of the worse kind. I don't know if I'll be able to get this done ever. I haven't even checked my email. My publisher has probably given up on me."
Liam sighs. "That doesn't mean you have to give up on you. What have you got so far?"
"Four lousy paragraphs."
"You can send them my way and I'll call you tomorrow once I've read them."
"I guess so. Not that they're worth sending."
"I hate to hang up, but I have to go. You know my boss — a second late back from lunch and it's grounds for a write up."
"I know. Bye."
"Bye."
Lily hangs up and sits there, laying her head back against the couch and trying to think. Liam can't help her right now. Maybe Raven? She could call Raven for help.
Help.
She erases everything she has so far, looks up at the castle, and starts typing.
,,,O,,, ,,,O,,, ,,,O,,,
{_;_;_;_} {_;_;_;_} {_;_;_;_}
\_|_|_/ \_|_|_/ \_|_|_/
When Sherlock walked back in the flat, John was already waiting in the sitting room, watching telly. He turned it off and turned to Sherlock, a ridiculous grin on his face. "So?"
"So... what?" Sherlock replied, sitting in his own chair.
"Well, how did it go?!"
"It was good."
"Just good?"
"We're getting dinner tomorrow."
John chuckled. "So it was great."
Sherlock shrugged. "It wasn't much different than being with her normally. Other than holding hands."
"What a romantic you are," John joked, though he was still smiling.
Sherlock didn't talk more about it the rest of the day, though he went over it again and again in his mind. There were a few instances he cringed at, purely due to his phrasing and timing, but he had to admit that Lily didn't seem to mind. He had to admit that it went well.
By the time dinner rolls around, John is on his daily FaceTime with Rosie. Her whole face fills the screen, as she holds Aunt Harriet's phone far too close.
"Guess what, Rosie?" John says. Sherlock is in the kitchen, looking for something to snack on.
"What?" she asks.
"Sherlock and Lily went on a date."
She gasps, her eyes going wide. "Like Belle and the Beast when they were dancing?"
"Well, they didn't dance. They held hands."
"Disgusting."
Sherlock rolls his eyes and laughs, walking over to get in frame. "And you're telling me I didn't see you hold that Wendell boy's hand in the park last year?"
"I did but I was only three then and not three and a half and we were running! So there."
"So there."
She wipes her frown away, and the furrow between her brows disappears. She holds the phone even closer to her face, leaving only her eyes and forehead in frame. "Does this mean you love Lily?"
Sherlock sighs — not a sad sigh, or an exasperated one. The kind of sigh one does before telling the truth, a precursor to the thing they must admit but, still, are happy to. He smiles a bit, too. "Yes, Ro, I do."
"Disgusting." This time she says it, she laughs.
"But don't tell her. I have to tell her."
"I won't. Pinky promise." She puts her pinky up to the camera, so Sherlock does, too.
She talks to John for a bit longer, detailing the episode of Thomas and Friends she watched today, showing him the picture she drew of he, Sherlock, Lily, and Aunt Harriet, and asking when she can come home. There's a pang in Sherlock's chest when she says it, but John simply tells her it isn't safe yet and changes the subject. When they hang up, John goes to make himself dinner, Sherlock sinks back into his chair, and there's a knock at the door.
Sherlock locks eyes with John. "You're standing."
"You're closer," John argues.
"I'm sitting."
"Exactly. You're not doing anything. You're not even eating."
"You haven't started cooking yet."
"It could be your girlfriend."
"She isn't-" he starts, but then he stands to get the door. Maybe one day, if all goes well.
Sure enough, it is Lily. She's holding an open laptop and smiling, eyes alight with excitement. "Hi. I didn't plan on coming up here, but I'm almost done with my book and I need your help."
"Mine?" Sherlock asks, stepping aside to let her in. She sits on the couch. "John's in the kitchen-"
She shakes her head. "Yours. No offense, John."
"None taken. I'm in here trying to make dinner, anyway."
Sherlock sits next to Lily. "I'm not exactly a writer."
"You don't have to be," she assures him. "But if you never asked me for help, we wouldn't be here, would we? And that's the whole point of the story.
"The setting is a fairy castle Liam gave me — the one on my mantelpiece — and the main character's name is Rose and Raven suggested what would be stolen and Elliot suggested some clues and Uriah is basically a character in it because that's what his ideas were — of course they were — and Gabby is going to illustrate it. I asked for help from everyone. Now I need help from you." She passes him the laptop. "Will you read it?"
"Well, yes, but then-"
"You'll know. Just read it."
He does as asked, turning to the Word document. At the top, it says: The Fairy Mystery.
"A working title," Lily adds.
He starts reading.
The fairy castle was big and grand. It was covered in flowers, grown by the flower fairies. There was a moat around it, but the drawbridge was always down.
Queen Arabella was always inside, working away for her people. Her people worked around her, doing what they were made to do.
Rose was a flower fairy. They were preparing for a feast for Queen Arabella's birthday. She had asked for a big bunch of roses.
She had also asked for cookies. The baker making her cookies, Raven, flew into the great hall of the castle in a rush. "All my baking tools are gone!" she shouted. "I can't make cookies in time for tonight if I don't get them back!"
The fairies decorating went to comfort Raven, offering help. But the flowers still had to be placed before the feast. Rose had already gathered her flowers for the Queen, so she said, "I'll help, Raven! Where was the last place you left them?"
"In the kitchen, of course," Raven replied.
Rose and Raven flew to the kitchen. It was incredibly loud, but it was very neat. Raven and Rose asked each fairy if they had seen the baking tools, but they were no where to be found.
"I know! Let's ask some more fairies," Rose said.
They flew outside, where the carpenter fairies were building a large table for the feast. Rose asked many of them if they had seen the baking tools, but she was also looking for the carpenter fairy Uriah. They were good friends. He would be willing to help search.
"He's working on the chairs," a fairy named Emmet said, so Rose and Raven went to find Uriah. They flew all around the castle, in every room. The building fairies and the sewing fairies helped search, too. Finally, they found him.
Sherlock looks up at Lily, coming to the end of the page. "Where is he?"
"I'm asking you."
He scans back over the story, thinking. "Well, it's obvious he took the baking supplies, probably because his chairs aren't very good, so he wanted someone else's contribution to be worse — nonexistent. He's likely hiding."
"Where?"
"The basement."
"The basement?"
"It's a good place to hide."
Lily laughs and leans over, quickly kissing Sherlock on the cheek before grabbing the laptop and heading for the door. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm going to finish this and send it to my publisher — with everyone's name on it, of course. I'll show you the ending tomorrow. What time are we doing dinner?"
"Ah, um-" Sherlock looks at his watch. "Seven."
She smiles. "I'll see you then. Bye, John!"
"Bye, Lil," he replies, just as the door closes. John sits down in his chair again with his dinner. "Well... that was adorable."
Sherlock can only hum in response.
"Your face is as red as a tomato, by the way. Though part of that might be her lipstick-"
Sherlock's hand goes to his face instinctively, and he does feel it there — the almost tacky, waxy consistency of the ghost of a lipstick print on his cheek.
"You gonna wipe it off?" John teases.
"Shut up."