Sherlocked

Rose

Aaron just stood still, fidgeting on the doorstep. I pushed past him as I unlocked the front door. Sherlock was still standing in the same spot on the pavement, staring at Aaron.

“Sherlock!” I shouted, immediately feeling bad for my tone of voice, but grateful that he followed me into the foyer.

“You cut your hair. I like it,” I heard Aaron say quietly, the familiarity of his voice cutting me like a knife. I steeled myself, wanting to strike him but resisting the urge.

“What do you want from me?” I spat, unable to hold back my temper.

“I came to London when your father told me you had moved. He gave me your address.”

“What do you think you could possibly accomplish by coming here?” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t like the way we left things. I regret what I did. I was terrible to you,” he said, reaching out to me. I recoiled, Sherlock looking on at the scene that unfolded in front of him. I didn’t want him to see this.

“That’s the beauty of hindsight, Aaron. And how was I supposed to leave things? I walked in on you and my best friend on my living room couch!” I spun on my heels and stalked up the stairs, Sherlock following me silently, clearly uneasy about the entire situation.

Sherlock unlocked the door to the flat while Aaron followed me up the steps. I removed my coat, tossing it onto the coatrack before turning around again to face Aaron, shoving a hand against his chest when he tried to enter the flat.

Aaron looked from me to Sherlock, and watched as he hung his coat up next to mine. Something clicked in his head, and his eyebrows furrowed over his once warm brown eyes. He looked angry. “You live with him?”

“Yes, I do. Not that it’s any of your business. He’s my flat mate.”

“I have been hating myself for the last month, and your living with some pasty English guy in central London?”

“Don’t you dare act like you have a right to be upset about who I choose to live with. You repel me,” I said, spitting out the words as if they were poison on my tongue.

He was taken aback by my harsh words. “Rosaline, I-“

“Don’t call me that,” I said gravely, reaching the level of scary calm that encased my barely suppressed rage. “Get the fuck out of my building before I remove you myself.”

“Please, Rose,” he said, stepping over the threshold. I swung my arm back and shot it forward, hitting him squarely on the nose, making him stumble out the door. I slammed it shut and sent the bolt home, shaking my burning hand. “And if you don’t leave this building, I’ll call the police.”

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Sherlock

I wasn’t sure why, but I felt a sudden surge of pride in Rose, even as she hissed, clutching her hand before running it under cold water and shaking it repeatedly. She stomped around the flat with no apparent purpose, even long after Aaron had left. I heard the front door close and watched out the window as he walked down the street, head tilted back as he pinched a severely bloodied nose.

Rose slammed dishes around in the kitchen, roaring in a frightening way when she broke a teacup. She quickly swept up the mess and disposed of it in the bin, walking over to retrieve another cup from the cupboard as she prepared tea.

“Do you want any tea?” she asked, not looking at me. I was about to tell her no, not to worry about me, but then I remembered what she had told me on the street. She liked to feel needed.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, sitting down in the armchair in the living room, safely out of her way.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.