Sequel: Written in the Stars ›
Status: ^.^
What Is Meant to Be, Will Be
Meant to Be
In nineteen years of life I knew two things for certain.
One: most people were idiots.
Not that, that was a bad thing. It just meant that they only understood about a third of what I said. It wasn't their fault, I was the abnormal one.
Two: what's meant to be will be.
I knew this because… I was special. I could see it happen as I walked down the street. A man spills coffee on himself and is forced to go back to his apartment to change. One the bus ride back he meets his perfect match and they hit it off. I know this because when I see him next he's got this smile on his face. A light in his eyes that tells me everything I need to know.
Yes, I believed in fate, in a divine plan. God was always a question in my mind, but not one I bothered to give much thought. If he was real or not didn't really matter much to me. His existence didn't affect me.
What did affect me was the mass of text messages from my friends asking why I didn't go out to the club with them last night. I looked at my phone, my thumb hovering over the keys before I sighed and put it back in my purse. Was it so wrong to just want a night in? It was highly unusual, everyone knew that I liked to party, but lately I found myself uninterested in the idea. I just wanted to go home and curl up with a good book. Was that so wrong?
I bit my lip and looked out across the courtyard. Around me London passed by, going about their usual business. No one saw me as I sat on the side of the water fountain and listened to the water fall from the top into the vast pool below. It was peaceful, but short lived as the timer for the start of my next class went off. I got up and started across the pavement wondering idly why I bothered with these summer classes. They didn't teach me anything of consequence, in fact they were basically useless. I knew everything the professor had to say and I could say it better and with a more interesting analogy than they could ever come up with. Part of me was tempted to do so, but the other part stayed quiet and took notes like a good girl. I knew I was smarter than everyone in the room; I didn't need to prove it and make everyone hate me. Knowing was enough.
I wasn't smart enough to think and watch where I was going apparently as I ran right into someone's torso and we both dropped our books. "I'm so sorry!" I said bending down to pick them up. "I wasn't paying attention."
"The blame is mine entirely," the man said kneeling down next to me. "I saw you coming and didn't realize you were too deep in thought to see me." His voice was like silk, wrapping around me as he spoke; so smooth and warm, drawing my eyes up from the pile of books to the man himself. He wasn't your typical attractive male figure but there was something about him that I could only describe as beautiful. Maybe it was his strikingly silver eyes, or his high cheek bones, I pondered as I looked over him. He would be about a full foot taller than me if we were standing, I thought, although with the pair of heals I'd chosen than morning it would probably be closer to six inches.
He smirked, looking up at me, "is there something on my face?" he asked and I blushed a bit.
"No- no, sorry," I laughed shaking my head. Smooth Hanna, I thought, real smooth. I'd been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I'd been openly staring at him.
He cocked his head to the side, those eyes raking over my face, "Have we met before?"
"I shouldn't think so," I smiled, allowing my eyes to meet his again. "I would recognize that hair." His hair was beautiful, dark brown curly locks that bounced as he spoke and moved. Damn those curls, I thought as I imagined running my nails through them, wrapping one around my finger and pulling ever so slightly.
"No, you're right." He laughed bringing me back to reality. There was something in his tone, a sort of false amusement at the situation that was ruining my fantasy. "I would recognize those eyes…. I'm Sherlock, by the way. Sherlock Holmes."
I raised an eyebrow. "Holmes, did you say?" So this is the brother you warned me about Mycroft, I thought looking him over again. They didn't really look like brothers but then again I could sense the family connection. They had the same air about them, the same energy. "Well it's nice to meet you Mr. Holmes-"
"Just Sherlock, please," he smiled kindly but there again; it was fake, forced and ruining his pretty face.
"Sherlock," I nodded holding out my hand. "I'm Hanna, Hanna Hooper." He took my hand and something like a spark zapped up my arm, leaving my palm tingling and my eyes locked with his. They were beautiful eyes, silver and green and blue with gold specks. Those eyes widened just a fraction as the electric current ran though us and began to trace a pattern in my freckles. He didn't take his hand from mine, not that I was complaining; his hands were warm, and soft. My hand looked so small in his, like a child's; but I was not a child and Sherlock Holmes had tried to fool me.
The corner of his lip twitched up as his gaze returned to mine. "Well, Hanna-"
"I believe it's Miss Hooper to you," I smirked, keeping my eyes locked with him. "After all I don't recall say you can call me Hanna."
His smiled faltered but he didn't back down. "Miss Hooper… would you like to have coffee with me?" Good, I thought, I like a challenge.
I gave him a thoughtful frown, my eyes turning up to the sky as I slowly took my hand back. "I'm going to have to pass. Try again tomorrow; I may have a different answer for you." Then I stood up, my books in my arms, and turned to walk away.
"What makes you think I'll be back?" he asked, struggling to keep the friendly tone in his voice. I'd made him angry.
I glance back at him and shrugged slightly, "Till then… Mr. Holmes."
He did come back, this time he was there twenty minutes before my class started. I was in the same spot on the water fountain. My books and bag acted as a pillow as I lay there watching the water. The clouded sky reflecting in the ripples, capturing me as I watched him approach in their waves.
"What's meant to be, will be," I said as he stood over me. "You are familiar with this idea?"
"The belief that there are certain things that need to happen," he said slowly. "Key events, or people, that will happen in our universe and every universe because they must."
"Awful narcissistic don't you think?" I asked with a thoughtful frown, "To think one important enough to exist across all the universes."
He paused a moment, "You're talking about me now, aren't you?"
"You were narcissistic enough to think I wouldn't see through your little performance yesterday," I smirked sitting up. "Mr. Holmes…. I've heard that name before, but you already know that don't you?"
"My brother," he said dropping his act entirely and regarding me with a clod gaze. Those pretty eyes piercing right through me like I was nothing, like I was a bug he could swat away. Let him try, I thought as I braced myself against his stare. "You are to be his successor."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because I'm brilliant," I said not beating around the bush. "Like you, like your brother, but with female parts."
He raised an eyebrow and turned to the side, looking out across the pavement. "So you will take it then, my brothers' job?"
"That's the plan," I shrugged looking over him again. He was beautiful, like yesterday but there was no warmth in his eyes. He was cold, like ice or the stone of the fountain that I sat on. No, I thought clocking my head to the side, there is more to him than that. This is just a different act, another performance. Well, I smiled; I would just have to break through this one as well.
"You're an idiot."
I gasped in fake hurt, "How rude, I'll have you know I got straight A's in school."
"Idiot."
"Mr. Holmes, name calling really is quite juvenile," I scolded crossing my legs.
"You're just a girl."
"Are you so sure?" I challenged raising an eyebrow. "Just because I say I have lady parts doesn't mean I do, I could be lying to you." He looked at me through narrow eyes and I smirked. Gotcha.
"Would you please stop?"
"You seem uncomfortable."
"It's really quite annoying."
"Does the idea of sex make you uncomfortable, Mr. Holmes?"
"No!"
"Well then you shouldn't mind me doing this," I smirked again, standing up and crossing the short distance between us. I smiled up at him as I pressed my body against his. Our faces only inches apart thanks to the ridiculously high heels I was wearing. My hands found a place on his broad shoulders before running down his arms to maneuver his hands to my waist. I then brought my hands back up his shoulders and into his hair. I watched my fingers glide through his soft locks, which proved to be even more satisfying that previously imagined, before returning my eyes to his and smiling. His hands at my waist suddenly tightened and pulled me closer, his head tipping to the side as he leaned in for the kiss.
"Tut, tut," I scolded playfully as I spun out of his grip. "I barely know you Mr. Holmes."
"It doesn't feel like that," he said reaching out for my hand and grasping it softly, much to my surprise. "When I asked you, yesterday, if we'd met before it wasn't part of the act. I feel like I know you Miss Hooper."
I reached up with my other hand to gently stoke his cheek, "Sherlock that was almost sentimental."
He made a face and I laughed. "I don't do sentiment."
"Neither do I," I smiled, dropping my hand and taking a step back so I was out of reach and our hands fell to our sides. "Never been a big fan of love. It only seems to hurt in the end."
"So no boyfriends then?"
"Not really my area," I shrugged.
He raised an eyebrow, "a girlfriend then?"
"No, Sherlock, I am unattached, like you."
"How do you-"
"'I don't do sentiment'," I quoted him. "Boyfriends and girlfriends alike would have a problem with that."
He smirked, his eyes holding mine, "Miss Hooper would you like to go get Coffee?"
I smiled at him, "I thought you would never ask."
Yes, I believed in fate, in a divine plan. Sherlock didn't believe in anything that he couldn't see with his own two eyes but even he had to admit that it felt right. He thought it was simple chemistry, the chemicals in our minds fooling our bodies, but I thought it was more than that. We are but two individuals existing within the same universe who were absolutely made for each other. Our paths could have led us anywhere, changed us into anyone, but they didn't. Was it fate? I believe it was, and I think that somewhere, deep inside where no one can see, Sherlock believes it too.
Because what is meant to be, will ALWAYS be.
One: most people were idiots.
Not that, that was a bad thing. It just meant that they only understood about a third of what I said. It wasn't their fault, I was the abnormal one.
Two: what's meant to be will be.
I knew this because… I was special. I could see it happen as I walked down the street. A man spills coffee on himself and is forced to go back to his apartment to change. One the bus ride back he meets his perfect match and they hit it off. I know this because when I see him next he's got this smile on his face. A light in his eyes that tells me everything I need to know.
Yes, I believed in fate, in a divine plan. God was always a question in my mind, but not one I bothered to give much thought. If he was real or not didn't really matter much to me. His existence didn't affect me.
What did affect me was the mass of text messages from my friends asking why I didn't go out to the club with them last night. I looked at my phone, my thumb hovering over the keys before I sighed and put it back in my purse. Was it so wrong to just want a night in? It was highly unusual, everyone knew that I liked to party, but lately I found myself uninterested in the idea. I just wanted to go home and curl up with a good book. Was that so wrong?
I bit my lip and looked out across the courtyard. Around me London passed by, going about their usual business. No one saw me as I sat on the side of the water fountain and listened to the water fall from the top into the vast pool below. It was peaceful, but short lived as the timer for the start of my next class went off. I got up and started across the pavement wondering idly why I bothered with these summer classes. They didn't teach me anything of consequence, in fact they were basically useless. I knew everything the professor had to say and I could say it better and with a more interesting analogy than they could ever come up with. Part of me was tempted to do so, but the other part stayed quiet and took notes like a good girl. I knew I was smarter than everyone in the room; I didn't need to prove it and make everyone hate me. Knowing was enough.
I wasn't smart enough to think and watch where I was going apparently as I ran right into someone's torso and we both dropped our books. "I'm so sorry!" I said bending down to pick them up. "I wasn't paying attention."
"The blame is mine entirely," the man said kneeling down next to me. "I saw you coming and didn't realize you were too deep in thought to see me." His voice was like silk, wrapping around me as he spoke; so smooth and warm, drawing my eyes up from the pile of books to the man himself. He wasn't your typical attractive male figure but there was something about him that I could only describe as beautiful. Maybe it was his strikingly silver eyes, or his high cheek bones, I pondered as I looked over him. He would be about a full foot taller than me if we were standing, I thought, although with the pair of heals I'd chosen than morning it would probably be closer to six inches.
He smirked, looking up at me, "is there something on my face?" he asked and I blushed a bit.
"No- no, sorry," I laughed shaking my head. Smooth Hanna, I thought, real smooth. I'd been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I'd been openly staring at him.
He cocked his head to the side, those eyes raking over my face, "Have we met before?"
"I shouldn't think so," I smiled, allowing my eyes to meet his again. "I would recognize that hair." His hair was beautiful, dark brown curly locks that bounced as he spoke and moved. Damn those curls, I thought as I imagined running my nails through them, wrapping one around my finger and pulling ever so slightly.
"No, you're right." He laughed bringing me back to reality. There was something in his tone, a sort of false amusement at the situation that was ruining my fantasy. "I would recognize those eyes…. I'm Sherlock, by the way. Sherlock Holmes."
I raised an eyebrow. "Holmes, did you say?" So this is the brother you warned me about Mycroft, I thought looking him over again. They didn't really look like brothers but then again I could sense the family connection. They had the same air about them, the same energy. "Well it's nice to meet you Mr. Holmes-"
"Just Sherlock, please," he smiled kindly but there again; it was fake, forced and ruining his pretty face.
"Sherlock," I nodded holding out my hand. "I'm Hanna, Hanna Hooper." He took my hand and something like a spark zapped up my arm, leaving my palm tingling and my eyes locked with his. They were beautiful eyes, silver and green and blue with gold specks. Those eyes widened just a fraction as the electric current ran though us and began to trace a pattern in my freckles. He didn't take his hand from mine, not that I was complaining; his hands were warm, and soft. My hand looked so small in his, like a child's; but I was not a child and Sherlock Holmes had tried to fool me.
The corner of his lip twitched up as his gaze returned to mine. "Well, Hanna-"
"I believe it's Miss Hooper to you," I smirked, keeping my eyes locked with him. "After all I don't recall say you can call me Hanna."
His smiled faltered but he didn't back down. "Miss Hooper… would you like to have coffee with me?" Good, I thought, I like a challenge.
I gave him a thoughtful frown, my eyes turning up to the sky as I slowly took my hand back. "I'm going to have to pass. Try again tomorrow; I may have a different answer for you." Then I stood up, my books in my arms, and turned to walk away.
"What makes you think I'll be back?" he asked, struggling to keep the friendly tone in his voice. I'd made him angry.
I glance back at him and shrugged slightly, "Till then… Mr. Holmes."
He did come back, this time he was there twenty minutes before my class started. I was in the same spot on the water fountain. My books and bag acted as a pillow as I lay there watching the water. The clouded sky reflecting in the ripples, capturing me as I watched him approach in their waves.
"What's meant to be, will be," I said as he stood over me. "You are familiar with this idea?"
"The belief that there are certain things that need to happen," he said slowly. "Key events, or people, that will happen in our universe and every universe because they must."
"Awful narcissistic don't you think?" I asked with a thoughtful frown, "To think one important enough to exist across all the universes."
He paused a moment, "You're talking about me now, aren't you?"
"You were narcissistic enough to think I wouldn't see through your little performance yesterday," I smirked sitting up. "Mr. Holmes…. I've heard that name before, but you already know that don't you?"
"My brother," he said dropping his act entirely and regarding me with a clod gaze. Those pretty eyes piercing right through me like I was nothing, like I was a bug he could swat away. Let him try, I thought as I braced myself against his stare. "You are to be his successor."
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because I'm brilliant," I said not beating around the bush. "Like you, like your brother, but with female parts."
He raised an eyebrow and turned to the side, looking out across the pavement. "So you will take it then, my brothers' job?"
"That's the plan," I shrugged looking over him again. He was beautiful, like yesterday but there was no warmth in his eyes. He was cold, like ice or the stone of the fountain that I sat on. No, I thought clocking my head to the side, there is more to him than that. This is just a different act, another performance. Well, I smiled; I would just have to break through this one as well.
"You're an idiot."
I gasped in fake hurt, "How rude, I'll have you know I got straight A's in school."
"Idiot."
"Mr. Holmes, name calling really is quite juvenile," I scolded crossing my legs.
"You're just a girl."
"Are you so sure?" I challenged raising an eyebrow. "Just because I say I have lady parts doesn't mean I do, I could be lying to you." He looked at me through narrow eyes and I smirked. Gotcha.
"Would you please stop?"
"You seem uncomfortable."
"It's really quite annoying."
"Does the idea of sex make you uncomfortable, Mr. Holmes?"
"No!"
"Well then you shouldn't mind me doing this," I smirked again, standing up and crossing the short distance between us. I smiled up at him as I pressed my body against his. Our faces only inches apart thanks to the ridiculously high heels I was wearing. My hands found a place on his broad shoulders before running down his arms to maneuver his hands to my waist. I then brought my hands back up his shoulders and into his hair. I watched my fingers glide through his soft locks, which proved to be even more satisfying that previously imagined, before returning my eyes to his and smiling. His hands at my waist suddenly tightened and pulled me closer, his head tipping to the side as he leaned in for the kiss.
"Tut, tut," I scolded playfully as I spun out of his grip. "I barely know you Mr. Holmes."
"It doesn't feel like that," he said reaching out for my hand and grasping it softly, much to my surprise. "When I asked you, yesterday, if we'd met before it wasn't part of the act. I feel like I know you Miss Hooper."
I reached up with my other hand to gently stoke his cheek, "Sherlock that was almost sentimental."
He made a face and I laughed. "I don't do sentiment."
"Neither do I," I smiled, dropping my hand and taking a step back so I was out of reach and our hands fell to our sides. "Never been a big fan of love. It only seems to hurt in the end."
"So no boyfriends then?"
"Not really my area," I shrugged.
He raised an eyebrow, "a girlfriend then?"
"No, Sherlock, I am unattached, like you."
"How do you-"
"'I don't do sentiment'," I quoted him. "Boyfriends and girlfriends alike would have a problem with that."
He smirked, his eyes holding mine, "Miss Hooper would you like to go get Coffee?"
I smiled at him, "I thought you would never ask."
Yes, I believed in fate, in a divine plan. Sherlock didn't believe in anything that he couldn't see with his own two eyes but even he had to admit that it felt right. He thought it was simple chemistry, the chemicals in our minds fooling our bodies, but I thought it was more than that. We are but two individuals existing within the same universe who were absolutely made for each other. Our paths could have led us anywhere, changed us into anyone, but they didn't. Was it fate? I believe it was, and I think that somewhere, deep inside where no one can see, Sherlock believes it too.
Because what is meant to be, will ALWAYS be.