Sherlock is dead or so Elizabeth believes.
Elizabeth is dead or so Sherlock believes.
Nearly nine months on from their tragedies, Sherlock finds himself still trying to take down Moriarty's network and Elizabeth finds herself in an unsafe yet conten...
A/N - And finally she was able to write another chapter 🙌🙏
I like this dress and thus, this is what Elizabeth is wearing:
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Warnings: mentions of grief over Hanna and a bit of blood towards the end (not Hanna-related)!
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Date: October 16th, 2012
Location: Brasov, Romania
A gentle breeze in the mild evening ushered the detective and the ex-thief down one of the sweetly-lit, neatly-cobbled, quiet streets. Elizabeth childishly followed the intricately designed patterns in the stone beneath her feet, double-stepping and tip-toeing across the lines in her heels, delighting in the musical clatter they made as they landed on each square.
Sherlock lingered behind her, a gentle smile on his lips as he watched her tap dance along the street, twirling here and there. Was he embarrassed by her? No. He simply appreciated the fact that she appeared to be enjoying a handful of things since they had left Nava Siasa, since...Hanna. He knew the wound was still fresh and, in a way, it was for him too but was aware that because of the time Elizabeth spent with the girl, because their bond had been so strong, it would take awhile for her to feel okay again. So whenever he saw her enjoy a simple thing, he was simply grateful that her mind was being kind to her.
The next time she spun around, she looked at Sherlock with a loving smile, the kind she had shared with him before the fall, the kind that he missed and one that beckoned him to join before she raised her hand to motion this.
"Dance with me?"
"There's no music."
"You don't need music to dance."
Reluctantly, he moved forward, gently taking her one hand and spinning her, then taking hold of her other so that her arms crossed over her chest, keeping her back against his chest so that they could sway together in the gentle breeze. She leant her head back in the crook of his neck and they stayed like that for a few precious moments, looking up at the starry night sky. Elizabeth tried to avoid clear nights, he had noticed, and when she couldn't, she would try not to look up but on a night like this, you couldn't help but look up at the beauty above.
A tear slipped out from her eye, falling and gently wetted his neck.
"You can't avoid the night forever."
"It's not the night I'm avoiding."
"Stars, then. You can't avoid them."
"I know." She let go of his hands and turned to face her detective, "I just miss her every time I look at them."
Sherlock raised his hand to wipe another stray tear away and moved to hug her. He lovingly caressed the nape of her neck, careful not to disrupt her done-up hair.
