Vague Shadows

“Happy birthday Lace,” John said with a grin, coming up to the stove and giving me a hug as Mrs. Hudson bustled in. I smiled as I returned the hug, then went back to flipping the pancakes.

“Oh come now, Laicee, don’t be cooking on your birthday,” Mrs. Hudson chastised, pulling me away from the pan and gently pushing me down into the chair. I started to object, but she cut me off. “You have your presents to open anyways, now go on, relax a bit!”

With a soft chuckle, I leaned back into the chair. It had been a little more than a month since my attack; I’d healed rather well, save the couple of scars that I’d have for quite a while. March had passed without anything of any importance happening. I’d seen Oliver twice, and both times ended with his attempts of apologizing to me turning into shouted insults and empty threats. Sherlock and I never spoke of the night in the kitchen, and John finally stopped worrying himself into a frenzy every time I left the flat alone. Things seemed normal again.

April, for once, was balmy and enjoyable, and today was no exception. I'd opened the windows in the flat, and a warm, sweet breeze gusted through the dusty room. Spring was in the air. As I settled into my seat, John pushed two neatly wrapped presents towards me. I sighed and gave him a look as I reluctantly took them.

“I thought I told you all not to get me anything,” I said, and Mrs. Hudson turned to give me a warm smile.

“Laicee, dear. It’s your birthday. We had to get you something.”

With a small smile, I opened her gift first. I couldn’t help the grin that came over my face. I held up the beautiful shirt - the same one I'd been admiring in the shop window around the corner - turning it over in my hands as I admired it.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful!” I said to her, holding it up to me and grinning.

“Go on, try it! I want to see how it looks,” she urged. I hurried to the bathroom, scrambling to change. It fit me well, the soft tank hugging my chest and billowing out down to my waist. I loved it even more now that it was on me instead of the mannequin, and I grinned at my reflection. I returned to the kitchen, and Mrs. Hudson’s smile grew wider.

“You look lovely, dear!”

“It suits you,” John complimented as I sat back down and picked up his gift. Still smiling, I unwrapped it; my jaw dropped a bit.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed, pulling the bracelet out of the box. John leaned over and took it from me, clasping it around my wrist. I turned my arm around, grinning as I stared at my new gift. It was a beautiful silver charm bracelet, already filled with feather charms and a beautiful diamond star.

“I thought of you when I saw it,” he told me, tapping the star. “I wasn’t going to get you anything, but I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I told him. “I love it. Thank you.” As I got up and gave John another hug, I saw Sherlock stroll out of his room, buttoning up his shirt as he went.

“John, Lestrade has a crime scene he needs us to look at. I told him we would stop by-“ his words cut off as he finally looked up and took in the scene around him.

“Sherlock, dear, would you like some pancakes?”

“Your birthday is today?” he asked, raising his brows as Mrs. Hudson sat my breakfast down in front of me.

“It looks that way,” I teased as I began to eat. Sherlock stood where he was, glancing between the three of us in front of him. Finally, he grabbed his coat from the back of the door and slipped it on.

“Sherlock,” John started, giving him a frustrated look. “Why don’t you sit down-“

“I’ve got other things to do,” he said simply, wrapping his scarf around him. I looked up at him, trying not to show the slight disappointment I was starting to feel. I didn’t want him to be overly cheerful or celebratory, but I’d hoped he would at least eat breakfast with us.

John caught the look on my face and cleared his throat at Sherlock.

“Ten minutes. It won’t kill you.”

Sherlock held John’s gaze, twitched an eye, and turned away.

“Come by Lestrade’s office later. I’ll need your input.”

With that, Sherlock disappeared down the stairs, the door echoing as it shut. The three of us stayed quiet for a moment as Mrs. Hudson sat down and started eating with us.

“I’m sorry,” John said to me; I shrugged and took a bite.

“It’s fine, that’s how he is,” I said simply. “He’s got things to do.”

I could tell John heard the lie in my words; I had wanted to see Sherlock, or at least talk to him for a bit, but really, I knew what he was like. I shouldn’t have even been mildly surprised. It was ridiculous to think that Sherlock would put any concern into my birthday.

“Why don’t we go somewhere?” John asked, sitting up a bit. “Bring Jeanette and Riley along, we’ll see a movie, or go out on the town. Something fun like that.”

“What a lovely idea,” Mrs. Hudson said fondly. “And tonight we’ll have a nice meal. How does that sound, sweetheart?”

I smiled at the two of them, two of the sweetest people in my life, and nodded.

“That’s perfect,” I told them. “We can go see a movie. I’ll text Riley and Jeanette and have them meet us at the theatre.”

As we finished eating, I sent out two quick texts as John and Mrs. Hudson got ready. Once Jeanette and Riley confirmed they’d meet us there, I sent out one more text, hoping for a reply but knowing I wouldn’t get one.

To: Sherlock
If you have the time, we’re going to see a movie. I’d like it if you came with. –LB

Sherlock never replied. The cab pulled up outside the theatre, Jeanette and Riley attacked me with hugs and gifts, and we all traipsed into the theatre, in high spirits. The whole time, I checked my phone. Twice, John caught me frowning at the screen, and he’d nudge my side, giving me a small smile that I made myself return.

Once the previews started playing, I finally admitted to myself that no, Sherlock wouldn’t be joining us. I turned my phone off and slipped it into my pocket, my heart sinking just a bit.

***

The movie ended mid afternoon, and John and Mrs. Hudson bid us goodbye, saying they had things to take care of. John gave me a hug before he left, murmuring to me,

“Don’t let him ruin your day, Laicee. Have fun.”

“Thank you,” I said as we pulled apart. He gave one last smile and then slipped into the cab, leaving Jeanette, Riley, and I to ourselves. Jeanette linked her arms with Riley and I as we strolled down the streets, enjoying the great weather.

“Let’s go to the shops, like old times,” she said, beaming at me. “We used to spend all our time there.”

“I miss those days,” I said to her, a smile coming onto my face as we made for the little gathering of boutiques and thrift stores we spent absurd amounts of time in. “All our allowances went to stupid little knick knacks.”

As the three of us chatted and joked, slipping between shops, I allowed myself not to think about Sherlock. He was off, doing his own thing, and I shouldn’t let his dismissive attitude bring me down.

My day was actually going brilliantly until we left one of the last shops. Oliver was standing along the curb, obviously waiting for us. I hadn’t seen him in quite a while; he had lost a lot of weight. His face was gaunt, and his eyes were dark and bloodshot. He was pale, and he had a disquieting expression on his face.

“Happy birthday,” he said the moment we stepped outside. Jeanette and Riley froze instantly; I’d told them about the run-in with him in the flat, and they’d seen how he usually acted around me. How long had he been following us today?

“Thank you,” I said quietly, nodding at him. He started to come forward, and I tensed. Jeanette pressed her arm up against me, and Riley straightened up, narrowing his eyes at Oliver.

“These are for you,” he told me, holding out a bouquet of roses and a box with a silver bow on top.

“Oliver-“ I began, trying to think of how to turn his gifts down without upsetting him. He pressed the flowers into my hands before I finished speaking, and he opened up the box for me. Jeanette, Riley, and I all dropped our jaws; an intricate diamond bracelet sat coiled perfectly inside, glinting in the bright sunlight.

“A beautiful bracelet for a beautiful girl,” he said, pulling it out and reaching to put it on my wrist.

“No, Oliver,” I said quickly, pushing his hand away. “Oliver, stop. I can’t accept that.”

Oliver’s face dropped a bit as I pushed him away; as I did so, he grabbed hold of my arm and turned it over. His eyes darkened slightly as he caught sight of the bracelet already on my wrist.

“Why, because Sherlock beat me to it?” he demanded, his voice taking on the unknown tone I’d grown to hate. I frowned at him and pulled my arm back out of his hold.

“It’s from John, actually,” I corrected, crossing my arms. “Oliver, thank you for the thought, but I can’t accept something that extravagant.”

“I do so much for you, and you always throw it back at me,” he growled, taking another step forward. Jeanette wrapped her around mine as Riley stepped towards Oliver.

“That’s enough,” he warned. “Why don’t you get out of here before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Back off, O’Malley,” Oliver snarled, looking back at me. “All I’ve done is love you and take care of you, and you treat me like shit. I’ve had it, Laicee. I’m done waiting.”

“Oliver, please, don’t do this today,” I sighed; Oliver’s eyes flashed, but he stayed put. Riley kept himself planted between us, and Jeanette kept her hold on me. Oliver reached past Riley; I began to pull back, but his hand grabbed the flowers instead of me.

“I’m done waiting,” he spat before turning on his heel and stalking away, throwing the roses into the street. Jeanette sighed heavily, giving my elbow a reassuring pat as Riley turned back to us.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I should have-“

“No, you’re fine,” I told him. “It’s all fine.” The two of them looked unconvinced, but I forced a smile onto my face and said,

“Come on. We were having a good day. Don’t let him ruin it.”

So the three of us once again linked arms, forcing the bad feeling away as we strolled down the street.

***

John texted me half past five, asking when I’d be home for dinner, and if I wanted to bring Jeanette and Riley along. They were more than enthusiastic; they loved Mrs. Hudson’s cooking. After replying, we caught a cab back to the flat, looking forward to a good meal.

“It’s been a while since we came over,” Riley noted as we entered 221b; they used to come by a lot when I first moved in, when it was just Mrs. Hudson and I. It was no secret things began to change when John and Sherlock arrived in the picture, but we never really spoke about that.

“It has,” I said, leading the way up the stairs. “You’ve got to try this new chicken recipe she has. It’s really-“

As I walked into the flat, the lights snapped on, and the people gathered in the small living room shouted a mixed chorus of surprise! and happy birthday!

My jaw dropped as my heart leapt into my throat; I barely managed to keep from screaming, and I was glad I didn’t. John never would’ve let me live that down. He and Mrs. Hudson were up front, huge grins on their faces as they saw my reaction. Lestrade, Donovan, and Molly Hooper (a lovely lady I’d met through Sherlock and his unpredictable work) stood off to one side, and Jeanette’s mum stood off to the other, accompanied by Mycroft and Anthea.

“Oh my gosh, you all didn’t need to do this,” I laughed, calming myself down and refusing to take note of the fact that Sherlock still wasn’t here. Jeanette and Riley pulled me into a hug that was soon added onto by Jeanette’s mum and Molly. Once I was released from their holds, John turned on some background music, and Mrs. Hudson gathered everyone around the kitchen table.

Where she found all the chairs, I’d never know.

It was halfway through dinner when I heard the top floorboard creak; I glanced up from my spot at the table, wedged between John and Jeanette, and locked eyes with Sherlock. He slipped down the hall and deposited his jacket in his room, then returned to the kitchen. He kept his face void of anything that would betray where he’d been for the better part of the day.

“I apologize for my absence,” he said, his voice smooth and his manners, for once, spot on. “Traffic was horrendous.”

Lestrade and Molly made room for another chair that Mrs. Hudson produced pretty much out of nowhere, and Sherlock settled himself across from me. He glanced up at me as he smoothed his napkin out on his lap.

“Would you pass the potatoes, Laicee?” he asked, and that was the only thing he said to me for the remainder of dinner. John could sense my irritation; sadness had turned from hurt to angry, and though I did my best to keep up my cheerful demeanor, I was silently brooding.

Once we’d all finished eating, the group more or less shuffled to the living room to drink idly and pass the time until dessert. I had begun to help Mrs. Hudson clear the table when I was all but forced from the kitchen.

“No working on your birthday, Laicee,” Molly chastised, giving me a wink. As I gave her a smile and turned away, planning to go strike up a conversation with someone to occupy my irritable mind, Sherlock gently grabbed my hand and pulled me to the side.

“A word?” he asked, his face calm. I flicked my eyes away. I heard someone come up behind me, and then saw John appear beside us.

“Sherlock,” John said, his voice quiet but his words holding a warning tone. I was just about to decline and pull away when Sherlock’s slender fingers gave a gentle squeeze.

“Please, Laicee?”

I swallowed hard, but nodded. John gave Sherlock a warning look and said quietly to me,

“If you need anything…”

I nodded as Sherlock dropped my hand and disappeared into his room. Taking a settling breath, I followed him. I shut the door behind me as I entered and stood off to the side, wrapping my arms around myself as I waited.

Sherlock was standing at his window, hands clasped behind his back. We stood in silence for a moment, before Sherlock turned. His face was solemn, his brows drawn together slightly, and his lips turned down a bit.

“I forgot your birthday,” he began. I shrugged, making my curls spill down my shoulders.

“It’s fine,” I told him.

“No, it’s not. It’s your birthday, and forgetting something like that isn’t acceptable,” he said, looking as regretful as I figured he could get.

“It’s not that you forgot my birthday,” I said, my voice quiet but firm; as I spoke, he turned his head away, eyes fixed on the wallpaper. “It’s that once you knew, you left. All day. You’ve said all of ten words to me. I don’t care about celebrating or parties or presents or recognition. I want to spend my day with my friends. With the people I care about.”

Sherlock said nothing, his head still turned away.

“I know you don’t have friends,” I told him softly. “But I consider you mine, and I care about you.”

“I’ve hurt you,” he stated, turning to look back at me. I nodded, taking a steadying breath to keep my eyes from watering like they wanted to. “I am sorry, Laicee. Truly.”

My brows raised a bit; in the two years I’d known him, he’d never apologized to me for anything. Not even for setting my hair on fire. Twice. I knew he was sincere, and I knew he hadn’t meant to hurt me. Knowing Sherlock, it probably never occurred to him that his absence would have any negative effect on me. So I nodded as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“It’s alright. Really,” I added, when I saw he didn’t fully believe me.

“I’m aware you don’t like gifts,” he began, walking to his bed and rummaging through his coat. He pulled out a small object from his pocket then turned and folded clasped his hands behind his back, keeping the present hidden. “Close your eyes, please.”

I sighed, giving him a look and then shutting my eyes obediently.

“No one listens to me, do they?” I teased him, trying to bring some of my old self back to assure him I wasn’t upset. I could feel him pause in front of me. He grabbed one of my hands turned it over, pressing something small and soft into my palm.

“I listen,” he said quietly as I opened my eyes and looked down. A small, intricate dream catcher rested in my hand, the netting woven so perfectly it took my breath away. “I know how badly your dreams bother you. You try to hide it, for John’s sake, and possibly for mine, but I notice. I always notice.”

“This is very.. very sweet, Sherlock,” I told him, my voice catching a bit as I realized all the thought he had put into such a simple gift. “This means a lot to me.”

“As you do to me,” he said so quietly I almost missed it.

And as I looked up at him, an unreadable expression on my face, Sherlock leaned down towards me. He pressed his free hand to my cheek and tilted my head up, and my breath left me.

Sherlock pressed his lips to mine so softly I almost couldn’t believe it. I leaned into the kiss a bit, returning it as gently as it had been given. We held onto the moment for a brief second before he pulled away. My cheeks immediately burst into a blush, and I couldn’t help the smile that wormed onto my face.

“Just between you and I, agreed?” he mused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Agreed,” I told him, tucking my curls behind my ears.

“Happy birthday, Laicee,” he said, giving my hand a final squeeze before heading back out to the party.

***

The rest of the party significantly improved after that. Sherlock and I acted casually, not making the slightest hint that anything happened besides a well-deserved apology and the presentation of my gift.

It was half past ten by the time everyone started leaving. The others trickled out slowly, bidding me happy birthday as they went. It was nearly eleven by the time Jeanette and Riley pulled me into a final hug while Jeanette’s mom helped Mrs. Hudson finish up the dishes. From Jeanette I’d gotten a stuffed animal I’d fancied in one of the shops earlier, and Riley gave me a gift card to my favorite tea shop.

“Happy birthday love,” Jeanette said as Riley added in a high, sing-song voice, “don’t spend that without me, or I’ll be rather cross with you my darling.”

“Sod,” I teased him, nudging him as Jeanette’s mom slipped on her coat.

“Happy birthday sweet,” she told me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Stop by sometime, I miss your lovely face around my house.”

“Will do,” I promised her as they headed down the stairs. Once the front door shut, Mrs. Hudson gave me a tight hug, kissing me on either cheek as she shut the kitchen light off.

“Goodnight dear, sweet dreams,” she said fondly, giving the boys a goodnight hug as she went to her own room. As John yawned, Sherlock turned to me.
“Sleep well,” he told me, nodding goodnight to John as he disappeared into his room, shutting the door softly. I helped John tidy up the living room before bed; we worked in silence, not speaking until we were done.

“Thank you for everything today,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his middle and giving him a sincere hug, which he returned generously.

“Of course. I’m glad you had a good day. Now go on, you’ve got to get some sleep,” he urged, pulling back and giving me a fond smile.

“You as well. G’night, John.”

“Night Lace. Sweet dreams.”

John disappeared up the stairs to his room as I went down, humming softly to myself. I snapped on my light and shut the door, wandering sleepily to my bed. I pulled out the dream catcher from my pocket and smiled to myself as I leaned over my mattress and hung it up above my bed.

As I righted myself, I heard a noise come from my bathroom. I turned, puzzled, staring at the half-shut door.

“Mrs. Hudson?” I asked, sincerely hoping she’d decided to do some late-night cleaning. As I began to approach the bathroom, the door swung open and Oliver stepped into my room. My body went rigid and I took a step back.

“Oliver, what do you think you’re doing?” I demanded; his eyes were dark and severely bloodshot, and his face was twisted into a snarl.

“I told you,” he growled, reaching behind him; he pulled a gun from the waist of his pants. My heart slammed to a painful halt as he lifted the barrel, resting his finger on the trigger. “I’m done waiting.