Wednesday was market day in the park beside Evelyn's office. She got out of the small space to take a walk around the green space most days, but she'd emerge without fail on Wednesdays to get lunch from the sandwich stall.
On this day, Eve felt more free than she had in a year. The air smelled crisp, an omen of winter. Being in the midst of her favorite season put her in a good mood, but her happiness felt emptier without Sherlock. She grew more accustomed to the pain in her chest with each day that passed, but it would always hurt.
Evelyn took an unhurried loop around the stalls, stopping to buy two warm mugs of tea and bunch of orange chrysanthemums for her desk before ending up at her favorite stall.
Andrew Clarke owned a small sandwich shop in Piccadilly, but set up a smaller stall every Wednesday to get word out about his restaurant in different parts of the city. Over the months of working at MI6, Eve had befriended the small business owner with the kind smile.
"Hello, Andrew." Evelyn greeted.
She handed him the second mug of tea. "You look like you need something cozy out here in this chill."
Andrew laughed in surprise. "Thank you. I was just thinking how much I wanted a cuppa. Are you sure you aren't telepathic?"
"I'll never tell." She said.
"Yes, of course." Andrew grinned. "Must keep me interested with that air of mystery."
"So what are you tempting me with today, Andrew?" Eve asked.
"The usuals, of course, but I did have something special in mind for you." He said. "In honor of your American background and the turn towards the cold, I'd recommend the grilled cheese."
"Now you're the one reading my mind! That's perfect!" Evelyn said.
"Coming right up." Andrew said.
Eve cradled her cup of tea in both hands while she looked at the chilly sunlight glinting off of the buildings nearby.
"Your grilled cheese, m'lady." Andrew said.
"Thank you ever so much." Evelyn accepted the package with a grin.
Eve reached for her wallet, but Andrew waved her off.
"This one's on me." He said.
"Andrew..."
"No, I insist." Andrew said. "Getting to see you today, looking so beautiful, is payment enough."
He scratched the back of his head, growing sheepish at the successful delivery of that line. Evelyn felt her cheeks grow hot. She looked down at her shoes.
"Oh. Thanks, Andrew." She said. "It's, um, it's always lovely to see you as well."
Before he could respond, Eve gave him an awkward wave and a smile that was a bit too wide. She gathered her tea and sandwich and flowers and scurried back to the headquarters.
Several stories up, Mycroft watched the interaction from his office window. He pushed any lingering concern about the body language between Evelyn hat sandwich man, but silently reminded himself to observe them again the next Wednesday.
--------------
Weeks turned into months as Eve steadily dismantled Dr. Bradley's drug network, John and Mary fell ever deeper in love, and the weather grew colder.
Evelyn's birthday arrived with a large group of friends and heap of cheer. 221B Baker Street was full to the brim on the eve of her 29th year. Molly and Tom stood together by the mantle; Mary sat in John's chair and sipped her drink while John perched on the arm and made her laugh; Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson chatted amiably in the kitchen doorway. John and Mary's friends from the clinic and some old friends from the CSI department at the yard mingled in the flat. Even Mycroft joined the festivities, sitting on the sofa and pretending to be bored.
Eve made smalltalk in between replenishing trays of hot d'oeuvres and making sure the music playing through speakers on the bookshelves was at the right volume. She was talking with Dana, her old desk mate from the Yard, when Andrew walked through the front door. Evelyn paused mid-sentence at the sight of him.
"Andrew?" She greeted in disbelief.
"Happy birthday." He said.
Eve smiled and gave her friend a hug.
"This is going to sound rude, but what are you doing here?" Evelyn asked, she could have sworn she saw his cheeks grow rosier.
"Oh, erm, Mary invited me." Andrew explained.
"That's right." Mary said, joining them. "I stopped by Andrew's store the other day to get some lunch and asked about his plans for tonight. When he told me he had nothing on the agenda I told him he'd be more than welcome to join us."
"Well, great!" Eve said. "Here, why don't we get you a drink?"
"Sounds excellent." Andrew smiled.
The kitchen was a bit crowded, and Evelyn's shoulder pressed into Andrew's bicep as she poured him a glass of punch. Andrew took the drink with the smile he always gave Eve when he handed her her food.
"Thanks." He said.
Evelyn poured a glass for herself and settled against the counter.
"I'm glad you could make it." She said.
"Me too."
Eve laughed a little.
"What?" Andrew wondered.
"It's Wednesday." Evelyn said, giggling into her punch.
Andrew grinned. "Oh Lord, you're right!"
"I have never seen you on a Thursday." Eve said.
"Or a Tuesday." Andrew added.
Evelyn shook her head, still chuckling. Silence fell between them as they both took a sip of punch. Andrew put his glass down.
"Listen, Eve, I was wondering if you'd, erm, if you'd like to see each other on a Tuesday or a Thursday or really any day you'd like to have dinner with me."
Evelyn froze with her cup halfway back to its place on the counter.
"Oh." She said. "Andrew, I―"
Eve paused, glancing across the flat and catching sight of John and Mary, nested happily together in a haze of love.
"Yes, dinner sounds lovely." She said.
Andrew's smile was radiant. "Really? Great! How about this weekend? Friday maybe?"
"Yeah, sure." Evelyn said.
She smiled back at him, but felt suddenly unable to ignore the violin sitting by the window.
---------------
Dr. Margaret Bradley was about to be sent to jail, although she didn't know it yet. She'd given them all the information they needed, and now it was time to face the courts.
For several weeks, Eve had been sending coded messages to the lieutenants of the gang, writing in Bradley's style. She sowed seeds of disorganization among the ranks with her communiques. She had members of her ops team obviously tail members and lieutenants alike for whole city blocks until they got antsy. Intel from the Network told Evelyn that her tactics were working. Lower level members were getting word of the chaos up top. Some were even beginning to abandon the gang before things got worse.
Sitting at her desk, she wrote out the final nail in the coffin.
Empty the toolbox. Power wash. Now.
Eve used her enigma machine to scramble the message before copying it onto several flash drives. She sent a quick text to Maisie, who sent a Network member over. Evelyn handed off the drives to be placed at drop-off locations with bags of mysterious white powder.
Eve got on the phone with her ops team.
"Red five, I need you to tip off the police that drug deals are going down at all four drop off locations."
"Copy that ma'am."
A few hours later, Evelyn's cell phone rang. Lestrade was on the other line.
"Eve," The DCI greeted. "Something odd has happened at the yard today."
"Oh?" Evelyn said.
"Yeah," He said. "We got a tip that led to four of the most untouchable gang members in the city getting arrested for cocaine possession. Once they got here, they all flipped on each other. Sleep deprived and paranoid, the whole lot of them."
"Hm." Eve said.
"And here's the thing," Lestrade went on, "They were carrying bags of flour, not cocaine. If it weren't for the evidence against each other, we would have had to let them go."
"You must be having a great day, Greg!" Evelyn said.
"Uh huh." Lestrade said drily. "Remind me that I owe you several pints."
"Make it one dinner among friends and I'll agree." Eve said.
"You're on." He said. "Take care, Eve."
Evelyn hung up. She rolled her chair away from the desk and leaned back. Her case was complete. She righted herself and looked at a photo on her desk of Sherlock and John. She picked up, touching the curly-haired figure of her detective.
"I wish you were here." She whispered.
Eve allowed herself a moment to wallow in the feeling of missing him so much she could barely breath.
"Come back." She breathed, tasting the salt of tears.
Evelyn looked at his eyes, his gloved hands, his coat, and took in what she could from the image. She tiptoed close to the edge of misery she'd fallen over in the weeks after it happened, but pulled herself back before she could get lost again.
Eve took deep, ragged breaths and scrubbed the tears away.
She lifted up her chin, straightened her shoulders, and got to work.
---------------
'What is wrong with me?' Evelyn wondered.
She sat on the sofa, her head resting on Andrew's chest with his arms around her while they watched a movie on her laptop. Andrew chuckled occasionally at the jokes, but Eve paid no attention to the plot unfolding on screen. She was far too busy with her own perplexing emotions and thoughts.
Andrew was sweet, very handsome, and warm. Andrew asked her about her day and always tried to make sure she was happy and comfortable. He smiled at her and told her she was beautiful. He made the best sandwiches she'd ever had.
But something was wrong.
Andrew held Evelyn a little tighter and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her skin crawling, Eve gave him a half-hearted smile and slipped out of his grasp.
"I have to use the bathroom, I'll be right back." She said.
Andrew nodded, despite the disappointment behind his eyes. Evelyn shut the bathroom door behind her, and leaned against it. She pinched her eyes closed and sighed. Eve moved to the sink, supporting herself with both hands on the basin, she stared at her reflection.
"Don't mess this up." She said to herself. "He's like a rom-com character, for fuck's sake! Don't throw this away."
Evelyn splashed cold water on her face. She examined her ocean blue eyes.
"He's not coming back." She said. "He's not."
Eve set her jaw and exited the bathroom. On her way back over to the sofa, she passed to closely by the desk and accidentally knocked over a picture frame. Evelyn righted the object.
She paused.
It was the photo she'd given Sherlock for Christmas three years ago.
He's not coming back.
"Eve?" Andrew asked. "You okay, love?"
Evelyn looked away from the photo of her detective and up at Andrew.
But he's not Sherlock.
"Yes, I'm alright." She said, coming over and sitting next to him on the couch.
Eve turned towards him and took his hand in her own.
"Andrew," she began. "I don't think I can be with you. Not right now." She said.
His face fell.
"You are one of the kindest, most amazing men I have ever met in my entire life, and I am so grateful to know you." She continued. "But I'm still in love with someone who can't love me back. Until I'm fully over that, I can't possibly hope to feel the same way you feel about me. I am so sorry, Andrew, if you feel that I've led you on in these last few weeks. I really like you, but you deserve better than what I can offer. I'm sorry."
Andrew nodded despite the unhappiness in his face. "It's okay. I understand."
He patted her hand before pulling away and standing.
"I should go." He said.
Evelyn didn't try to stop him. She walked him downstairs and handed him his coat. They hugged.
"Goodbye, Eve." Andrew said.
"Take care, Andrew."
"You too." Andrew turned around for a last word. "I hope...I hope that whoever the lucky guy you're in love with gets his act together and doesn't miss out on a chance like you." Andrew said.
"If only he would." She said.
---------------
Evelyn wasn't alone. She had come to terms with her single status, but she was by no means lonely. John and Mary spent more nights at Mary's place than at 221B, so the flat felt like Eve's own space. She danced around the kitchen and sprawled on the couch, and took really long showers on those mornings when it was especially hard to get out of bed.
Life became a sufficient routine of work and friends.
Evelyn ate lunch most days at the clinic with John and Mary. On quiet nights on Baker Street, Eve would tiptoe down to 221A in her pajamas and watch "The Great British Bake Off" with her mother. Evelyn hosted game nights with karaoke and intense rounds of Cluedo with their whole friend group. At least once a month, Mycroft would whisk her away in his black car for a business dinner where she updated him on cases and he relaxed enough to let his posture slacken.
Eve carried on. Every once in a while she'd falter long enough to press a hand to her sternum, hoping to ease the persisting pain.
The announcement came in September, around the time John began growing a moustache.
"Mary and I are moving in together." John said.
He stood in the kitchen doorway, holding Mary's hand. They beamed at Evelyn. Eve dropped her spoon into the cereal bowl with a clatter. She leapt up, pulling them into a big group hug.
"That's amazing!" She squealed.
"We're going to rent a place in Hampstead." Mary said. "It's a fair bit bigger than my current place, but still in our price range."
"We're going up to look at it today, if you want to come." John said.
"Yes, please!" Evelyn said. "I'll go get dressed."
Eve sat with John in his new living room. She held a mug of tea as they caught up a bit following a long undercover case she'd been working in Cheshire. The once white-walled flat boasted maroon wallpaper and tasteful decorations selected by Mary's eye and John's off-hand approval.
The flat held a kitchen, a master bedroom, a laundry room, two bathrooms, and an extra room. Evelyn thought it was a perfect kid's room, but she held back from saying so. John and Mary would get there eventually.
In the midst of their conversation, the doorbell rang. Lestrade had arrived with a box of old things he'd finally cleared out of his office.
"It's been a day of memory lane today." He said. "I just had a coffee with Anderson. He's got some half-cocked theory that Sherlock is coming back. Showed me all these crime stories from around the world like a trail. Poor sod took losing his job harder than I thought."
"Anyway, there's something here, and I wasn't sure if I should have kept it in." Lestrade went on, opening the box. "You remember the video message we made for your birthday, John? Practically threatened him. This is the uncut version, it's actually quite funny."
"Oh, right, yeah." John said.
"Maybe I shouldn't have brought it." Lestrade said, looking at the identical expressions on his friends' faces.
"No, it's okay." Eve said.
After Lestrade went back to the Yard, John and Evelyn each poured themselves a glass of whiskey and put the disc in the video player. The couch in 221B appeared on screen.
"Was that supposed to happen? The light going down? Yeah, okay." Sherlock said.
The sound of his voice sent shivers down Eve's spine.
"Oh, er, erm. So what do you want me to do at the end? Shall I smile and wink? I do that sometimes, I have no idea why. People seem to like it. It humanizes me." He said.
"It's fine, whatever." Lestrade said from behind the camera.
"Why am I doing this again?" Sherlock asked.
"You're going to miss the dinner."
"Of course I'm going to miss dinner, there'll be people." Sherlock said.
Evelyn let out a breathless laugh, tears welling up in her eyes. John reached over and took her hand.
"How could John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him ― well, not Evelyn. But you only have to look at their faces." Sherlock said. "I wrote an essay on suppressed hatred in close proximity based entirely on John's friends. On reflection, it probably wasn't a very good choice of gift." Sherlock trailed off.
He took a breath, refocusing. "What was my excuse again?"
"You said you had a thing." Lestrade said.
"Oh right, yes, that's right. A thing."
"You might want to elaborate." Lestrade suggested.
"No, no, no. Only lies have detail." Sherlock said. "Right, I just need a moment to figure out what I'm going to do."
"I'll tell you what you can do," John took a sip of whiskey. "You can stop being dead."
"Okay." Sherlock said.
Eve's grip tightened on John's hand.
"Okay, I'm ready now." Sherlock continued. "Hello, John. I'm sorry I'm not there right now, but I'm very busy. However, many happy returns. Oh and don't worry, I'm going to be with you again very soon."
On the screen, Sherlock smiled and winked.