Royalty

Chapter 5: But You Don't Have To Fear It

In almost no time at all, Sherlock and John had been sent another "little puzzle". I made my excuses and said I needed to look for a new job.

I think they bought it.

They went off to look at some car, and I made my way back to Baker Street.

... However, on my way off the tube, I bumped straight into someone, and immediately dropped my phone and my wallet.

The stranger's hands grabbed both. "Here." I took them back, muttering.

"Sorry, sorry --" I stopped short as I looked up. Because whoever this man was, he had gorgeous dark brown eyes. I snapped out of my brief stupor. "Sorry, I --"

"No, no, you're fine," he assured me. He had a gorgeously smooth Irish accent. And ... well ... he looked pretty good, too. I could feel myself starting to flush, and I blinked a few times. He looked ... vaguely familiar ... had I seen him before? "... you know, it's usually considered rude to stare, love."

I flushed further and looked away. "Sorry, I just ... you looked familiar ..." He only smiled. I quickly glanced over him. I couldn't ... I couldn't read him. I didn't realize I was still staring at him.

" ... you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry ... I ... I'm sorry, I'm ... yeah."

Why am I stuttering so badly? What the heck?

The man looks at me for a moment, smirking. "You're sure?"

"Y-yes. I'm -- it's been a long day --"

"And bumping into a stranger probably doesn't make it better." His eyes glanced me over, and I swallowed. "You should get more sleep, sweetheart. I'll let you get back to your flat now." And he made to walk away.

"What?" I asked as he walked away. But he was already gone ... what ... What was that?

He was pretty handsome though ... I pushed him out of my head. I needed to focus on whoever was writing me notes ... JM ...

I quickly made my way to 221b. I had to focus on the note.

I shoved my hands into my wool overcoat's pockets, trying to remember where I'd put the note. I pulled out the small square from my pocket. Nice paper. Cardstock.

I moved to Sherlock's desk, grabbing the lamp and pulling it close.

The note was typewritten, which sadly eliminated any hope of tracing the handwriting. The paper looked normal, and I couldn't read anything else except the message.

"Don't rely on them too much," I said aloud. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I huffed, frustrated, leaning back in my chair. "Sherlock and John? The world? You could be a bit more specific, Mystery Stalker." I crumpled the note, tossing it across the room. "Forget this," I grumbled.

I sat there at the desk for a while, wishing I'd just gone with Sherlock and John. Maybe I could still catch up with them ...? I stood, grabbing my coat again as if to do just that. But I heard something in one of the pockets. What ...?

I reached into the pocket, pulling out a carefully folded piece of paper. Folded into a star shape, in fact.

I know that I didn't put that there.

I carefully unfolded the star and read the words written on the sticky note.

The Irish idiot you bumped into:

xxx - xxx - xxxx

I couldn't stop my face splitting into a smile. I had nothing else to do, and pulled out my phone, entered the number and sent a text.