Sherlocked

Rose

I awoke fairly early the next morning so I could have an hour or so to myself before the boys got up. I showered and dressed quickly, then made myself a cup of tea, sitting in the armchair that was Sherlock’s favorite while I enjoyed the perfectly sunny morning. After my cup of tea, I made breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and more tea until either the noise or the smells I was making in the kitchen drew John and Sherlock from their rooms and into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Sherlock said, arm brushing against mine as he reached for the sugar for his tea. I tried to ignore the shock that seemed to run up my arm in response to his touch.

“Rose, I must tell you immediately the depth of my love for you,” John said as he grabbed himself a plate and piled on the food I prepared.

I laughed, nearly spilling my second cup of tea. “How are you feeling today?” I asked.

“Like hell, but once I get some food in my stomach I can take the painkillers they prescribed for me.”

“Well, I’m glad you still have a sense of humor,” I said as I sat in the chair opposite him at the table.

Sherlock looked unusually surly, even for him. I knew he was prone to taciturnity, but this just seemed off to me.

“What’s wrong with you, grumpy?” I asked, and Sherlock shot me a look that could chill blood. But before he got a chance to answer me, there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” I announced, jumping at the chance to escape Sherlock’s look.

Lestrade was at the door, and I invited him inside with a smile. So, he was my rescuer of the morning.

“Pleasure to see you again,” he remarked. “Something smells good.”

“Please, help yourself. There’s plenty left,” I said, directing him to the kitchen. John looked suddenly crestfallen, as if he had been hoping for seconds.

“I really came here more on business,” Lestrade said, smiling apologetically at me. John looked suddenly happy again.

“You couldn’t phone?” Sherlock’s voice droned from the kitchen table as he took a sip of his tea.

“Well, I came to deliver formal invitations to the charity masquerade ball Scotland Yard is holding at the Prince Albert Hall.” He handed me three invitations, each in thick, expensive looking envelopes with our names written in gold calligraphy.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing any dancing any time soon,” John said, tapping his leg lightly with his cane.

“Well, I’m excited. I can’t remember the last time I had an excuse to dress up,” I said.

“Thank goodness you’re coming,” Lestrade said, looking relieved. I thought I was going to be stuck with socialites and stodgy old types. Now I have something to look forward to.”

I smiled. He was being flirtatious, but only in a polite way. I think he was quite convinced that I was with Sherlock, however untrue it was.

“Well, if it’s a ball, I suppose I have to wear a dress. I haven’t had the opportunity to dress up in a long time. Thank you, Greg,” I said, smiling at the detective inspector, and Sherlock made a face when I used his first name.

“Are you coming?” I asked Sherlock.

“I suppose. After all, it’s for charity,” he said, sounding a bit glum. I made a point of ignoring him as Lestrade shook his head and left the flat, thanking me again for accepting his invitation before leaving.

I made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen before brushing my teeth and announcing I was going out dress shopping. When I was young, I never went to dances or Prom. I never got asked out, and I had never felt comfortable enough around people my own age to go by myself. I much preferred watching the action to participating in it.

This was a new and exciting opportunity for me. Whether or not it stemmed from being in a different city in a different country wasn’t clear. I felt like part of it was proving to my inner teenager that I could in fact be the belle of the ball. I had actually made new friends here in Sherlock, John and Lestrade.

I hailed a cab, and soon found myself on a street that consisted of a string of boutiques. I stepped into the first shop after paying the cabbie, and went to my purse when my phone buzzed.

Looking forward to seeing you at the ball. – Mycroft.

I knew this was all some sort of attempt to frighten me. My mind flashed back to the night I had met Mycroft, and how he had gone to great lengths to try and scare me off from Sherlock.

I remembered the comment he made about Sherlock and me; Do you think he could ever think about you the way a man could think about a woman? He is not a normal man. Whatever charms you may possess will have no effect on my brother.

I had not expected for him to even be slightly correct about my relationship with Sherlock. I had not expected to feel what I felt for him.

I wanted to ignore the text, but was too peeved by his obvious surveillance of me to take the higher ground.

I’ll make sure to save you a dance, I replied, smiling at myself before seeing a gorgeous dress on the rack in my size.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Unknown

The girl left the boutique, garment bag in hang, and I watched as she smiled to herself, crossing the street and sharing her smile with strangers. She certainly was gorgeous. I’d give that much to Sherlock. Still, I couldn’t wait until the plans unfolded and I had even just a few minutes with her all to myself. Not that he would let me touch her. But she was very pretty. I told the driver to move on, retrieving my phone from my pocket and texted the number that had been sent to me earlier that morning. One thing was certain; my employer could never be too careful. I hadn’t even met him face to face yet. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to get his hands dirty with the usual formalities recognized by a normal employer. But there were certain people I wanted dead, and he was the only one who had the means to help me.