Fixated

The next day I packed my things to move out of 221B Baker St. I figured I felt safe enough to return to my little apartment after nearly three weeks there.
During my time there, I realized a few things. One of them being that I’m not like your average, run of the mill woman. However hard I try to be, I simply am not. I don’t get scared easily, after the things I’ve experienced in my past it would take a lot to shock me now. I had done some thinking and the true reason I had consulted Sherlock was not out of fear…but curiosity. Furthermore the things Sherlock Holmes had made me feel over the past few days were far more terrifying than simply being afraid of a stalker. And seeing as Mr. Holmes was proving redundant in terms of solving my case, causing me more agro than he was worth; I decided to return home.

“I’m almost sad to see you go.” John slightly pouted as I put on my leather jacket, making sure I’d collected all my things.
“Yes dear, you must come back and visit us lot at Baker Street now and then.” Mrs. Hudson added, “I don’t know what you’ve done to our Sherlock though. He’s been so strange lately, he must think highly of you, love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him lend his clothes to someone!”
I looked down and realized I was wearing his jumper again, god it was comfy.
“Oh of course, Mrs. H. Thank you for putting up with me all this time, you too John.” I gave each of them a warm squeeze, trying to bury the feeling of disappointment that Sherlock wasn’t around. “You’ve been an absolute star. Uh…when Sherlock resurfaces tell him I say thank you and goodbye. It’s been great.”
“Certainly, see you later Laura.” Called John as I trundled down the stairs.

To tell you the truth, I was expecting more of my stalker. As I returned home to only one note stuck through my letterbox and nothing else. The note said, “You’ll never guess, don’t bother.” In scrawled handwriting, dating back to more than a week or so ago. I tossed it in the bin without much of a second thought and did a house check, making sure to close every window and lock every door before going to bed. I know I should have felt more vulnerable being back alone, susceptible to probable danger but I was okay.
I hated to admit it, but Sherlock was still playing on my mind. Of course he was, with the baffling mind games he’d played with me and the amazing sex he’d given me. Yet I probably wasn’t even an inkling of a thought in his mind.
I popped two valium capsules and two codeine pills that I had set aside in my rainy day stash before I climbed into bed and experienced probably the most comfortable sleep I’ve had for a long time.

My eyelids felt like they were cemented together as I attempted to open them after I’d groggily awoken. I scrabbled around for my phone under my pillow and checked the time, it was 2pm. Well shit, I’d missed my first shift back at work after claiming extended holiday time off. I decided not to bother going in, they wouldn’t miss me that much if I missed one more day surely? Eventually I summoned up enough strength to finally sit up; I heard a crunch and felt something dig into my stomach. A little thrown, I reached under the baggy jumper and felt a piece of paper slipped under the waistline of my pants.
‘Oh for god’s sake, what now?’ I murmured, tearing it open frantically.
“Where did you go?” It read.
I know I logically should have been more terrified than irritated, but that wasn’t the case. This madman, this lurker, intruder now, had evidently been surveying my every move at the house. Knowing when I leave and come back, and he’d clearly observed my return. Assuming it was okay to gain my attention by pulling stunts such as writing petty notes and breaking into my house.

The thought of texting Sherlock to let him know that my house had been broken into again, crossed my mind but I decided against it. Yet two minutes later exactly, my iPhone played the message tone.
“Any updates on the stalker? – SH”
What was this man trying to do to me? I thought he would just drop it all. I was wrong.
“Small break in with a note. Nothing serious.” I replied. Less than 30 seconds later I received- “I’ll be over in 10 – SH”

I staggered out of bed, uncoordinated was an understatement. Putting a large amount of makeup on with minimum amount of mistakes while simultaneously fighting the opiate and benzo hangover was not an easy task. Before I’d even had a chance to change out of the jumper and pants the doorbell rang.
I reluctantly went to open it, seeing the tall individual looming outside the brushed glass.
I invited him inside, trying my best to cover my knickers with the loose jumper as I did so.
“Nice jumper.” Sherlock remarked with a small grin as he made himself at home and began to boil my kettle. “So how is the… secret admirer situation?”
I half-heartedly told him what had been happening, not bothered, assuming that he wouldn’t be too interested anyway. Wrong again. An expression of somewhat genuine concern flashed across his face.
“You shouldn’t have left.” He eventually said quietly.
“Yeah well I would rather not have continued to be an awkward burden.”
“You weren’t” He snapped. “Listen, I know I’m pretty good at explaining things. I’m just not the greatest at explaining myself. I apologize, Laura.” He took my hand in his and proposed “Let me take you to dinner tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow, dinner…with Sherlock Holmes? Was this a trap? Nevertheless, I let myself down. I was so weak and the butterflies in my stomach were much stronger so, against all judgment, I agreed.