While Sherlock waited for the pair to come back, he paced the floor, unsure of how he would break the news to Elizabeth that he hadn't gotten through to Mycroft. He said he would try. That didn't mean he would succeed. So why? Why did he feel so bad? They trusted her, he hoped she knew that. But Mycroft was a different matter.
And there, he guessed now, was his fondness for Elizabeth seeping through again. He found the concept ridiculous. I mean, Sherlock was fond of John but in a different way. He had been his second real friend. He would never admit it, no. That just put him at risk.
Take Moriarty, for example. He had exploited their friendship. In the kind of world that Sherlock involved himself in, it was dangerous to have friends. Would it be even more dangerous to be more than friends with Moriarty's only 'family' so to speak?
"More than friends." The detective scoffed at the idea aloud.
Utter nonsense. Elizabeth probably didn't feel like that towards him. He wondered if she, too, was fond of him in the same way?
"Same way? What's wrong with you." He scolded himself.
Same way. There was no specific way. They were what they were. Friends. Just friends. Friends that were fond of one another as most friends were.
He collapsed into his arm chair, exhausted from the overthinking. Rubbing his fingers on his temples, he closed his eyes. Sherlock needed a distraction, so what could he find in his mind palace?
There was the case with the thieves. Gang of thieves. Single thief. He saw Elizabeth stood there in her catsuit like when he had first met her.
"Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back." The mind palace version of Elizabeth said to him with her playful smirk.
He waved her away, "Not now."
"Then when? You know I like you too."
"I don't actually. Go away." He found the mind palace version of her much more annoying.
"Almost sounded like you cared. I care. I could have left you to die in Scarlett's hands but I didn't. I broke my 'lone wolf' style of behaviour. When will you break yours?"
He opened his eyes. Sherlock was mildly annoyed that for the life of him he couldn't concentrate while his mind was on overdrive, overthinking Elizabeth.
The door clicked open. How had he missed the shuffling of Elizabeth's and John's steps? He stood quickly to greet them both as they made their way in with the shopping bags.
"Hello." They both said in unison to the detective.
"Sorry we took so long." Elizabeth said to Sherlock as she set down the bags in the living room so she could speak quickly, "Small incident slash good news."
Sherlock listened, moving closer to Elizabeth and the bags with the intention of helping her carrying them into the kitchen. He didn't know why though. It was a nice thing people did? Even though the kitchen was only several steps away.
But when he reached down to collect two of the bags, he did so at the same time as Elizabeth and when he looked up at her, he noticed the two mean scratches on her face.
He shot straight back up, concern flooding his expressions, "What happened to you?"
He refrained from letting his hand check but John saw his hand almost instinctively want to move.
Elizabeth smiled at Sherlock reassuringly, "It's okay. I caught a thief."
"And, in turn, it looks she caught you too."
She shrugged, unbothered even though it was beginning to sting a bit more as the adrenaline started wearing off.
"As I said to John, I'm fine. Please, can you just acknowledge for one moment that I've done something actually helpful."
He frowned, "But you have been helpful."
"More helpful. I caught you a thief."
"Sherlock, it was one of the thieves from the female gang you mentioned." John spoke up, "A group of five of them this time, one of them being Abigail. Elizabeth ran after them and managed to get one. It was impressive, albeit dangerous."
"John told the officer to contact Lestrade. If you phone him, I'm sure she'll be in their custody now." She paused, noticing his lack of joy of which she found odd, "Why aren't you happy? I got a lead for a case. You know, a case. The things you love and can't live without."
"I - I am happy, just - "
"Just what? You don't think I should have done it?"
"No! I'm just - "
"I didn't mean to run away with such little notice. But I knew they would all get away if someone didn't do something."
"Elizabeth. It's not that - "
"I know you're going to have to tell Mycroft but I did it - "
"I'M JUST CONCERNED, ELIZABETH!"
Both John and the thief were taken aback by his sudden exclamation. She was stunned. A part of her always knew he cared but for a little scratch on her cheek? It was such a minor thing. She didn't get it. Now, that Elizabeth was finally quiet, Sherlock could attempt to get a word in.
"You could have been injured worse than you already are. There were five of them and one of you. What were you thinking?"
"They weren't Scarlett. They were thieves, Sherlock. And thieves have codes. You always get out with what you have if anything goes to hell. And if one of you is caught, you don't look back. No use in you getting caught as well. Why do you think most thieves work alone? I knew what I was doing."
"But what were you thinking?"
She snapped, "That I needed to prove myself more!"
"You don't need to do that. We already trust you." John said quietly, reassuringly.
"I know that, John, but the man with power to throw me in a cell doesn't. Another code among thieves - you don't snitch on each other. I went against everything I know just to bring you a suspect for a case!" She let her arms drop by her sides, "Please, can you just appreciate that?"
Sherlock gave a miniscule nod. He regretted asking as he could see the emotion in her eyes. He hadn't realised how scared she still was. He just knew that she didn't want to do whatever Mycroft had planned for her.
"Thank you." She sighed, picking up the shopping bags and taking them to the kitchen herself now.
Sherlock and John shared a look while she was out of the room. Both were worried about her. Mycroft's distrust in her was really freaking her out, even an idiot could see that.
"What was the verdict?" John asked, approaching Sherlock quietly.
The detective shook his head, "Mycroft still wants her to work for him."
John nodded, "Just break it to her gently then, yeah?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Help her pack away the shopping." John encouraged.
"So you can get out of the job?"
"No, mate, so you don't procrastinate and forget to tell her." He motioned with his head for Sherlock to go into the kitchen.
Elizabeth was packing cereal and tins into the cupboard, albeit with an hint of passive-aggressiveness. She was struggling to reach the top shelf to put one tin away.
"Why do they make these shelves so damn high." She muttered under her breath.
Out if nowhere, Sherlock took the tin from her hand and placed it on the top shelf. Elizabeth let her arm rest against the shelves for moment, as though not quite sure what had just happened. As Sherlock retracted his hand, he looked at her apologetically.
"It wasn't my intention to cause any upset."
"I know..."
"Are you - okay?"
She shrugged, turning to lean against the counter, arms folded, "I'm just - I don't want to be locked up. Not after - not after I've had this much of a taste of - freedom. Moral freedom. I've never agreed with what Jim has done over the years with all the killing and terrorism and whatever else. Never agreed with it. But I never went against him because a part of me was scared to. I got so good at blocking out the noise."
"Ignorance is bliss."
"Yeah. It is - was."
They stood in silence for a moment. Elizabeth's eyes traced the kitchen floor. Sherlock looked at Elizabeth, his gaze soft, sympathetic, devoid of any of his natural machine-like coldness.
"Mycroft still wants to use me, doesn't he?"
For a moment, Sherlock was almost happy that he didn't have to say it himself but having her guess it felt somewhat worse. Was he really that readable? Did his aura really give off such a bad vibe?
He nodded.
She nodded too, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trying."
Elizabeth turned to him with a small appreciative smile, her eyes shining with emotion. He found himself reciprocating the gesture, appreciative for her calm acceptance of the fact that he had failed her.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she took it out quick. Unlocking it, she found the message she didn't want.
~I've finished organising your first assignment. I'll come over tomorrow to explain in more detail. - M.H.~
"I think I know why you couldn't get through to Mycroft." She spoke sullenly as she traced the letters with her eyes again.
"Why?"
Elizabeth looked back up at Sherlock, "Because I think he'd already organised it."