alternate universe where Lockwood and Lucy kiss before she leaves Lockwood and Co, after their argument in the Cafe. There's also a sad twist in the end so stay around for that
the start of this fic is basically the Creeping Shadow's plot, except th...
I stepped inside, she closed the door behind me. Looked around at the scrunched up rug, the mattress with a.. strange substrate stained on the side. The horrific wallpaper colour. Her stained pillow. I blushed slightly, that image echoed in my mind as it had done relentlessly the past four months.
"So this is your place." I started, barely choking it out. She should not be here, this place makes her stick out like a sore thumb. Its not comforting and inviting like Portland Row. Like her real home, and i need to show her that. "It's.. nice." Who am i kidding, this place is not meant for her, she should be in a place like Fittes House. The luxurious red velvet carpets, the paintings on the walls. Not.. here.. with toast crumbs littering the countertops. I kept my voice calm, i didn't want to upset her. "Thanks. Look, do you want to sit down?" She offered, i took a move towards the bed. "No! Not there! There's this chair here.. No! Wait! Let me move this for you." Whilst she scrambled in her manic state, moving some pink towel, i looked around the room again, staring out at the window showcases the dreary weather. A voice pounded in my chest along with my heart beat, get her out of here, get her back home. Look at her, she's a mess. She doesn't deserve to be here.
I calmed my emotions, silenced the voice, it was her decision, i was not her boss anymore. "I'm actually quite happy to stand, thank you, Lucy. So.. this is Tooting is it? It's a pretty nice view, mh?" "Which part? The industrial boiler company or the Ironworks?" She laughed, hysterically, high pitch. She was breaking down just at my presence. The skull on her windowsill gave me a glare, so i turned to face her, "It's not exactly Portland Row."
So she did agree, this place was not home. And her saying that proved it. She looked at me then, our eyes met. "No. Well." We stood there, crumbs cupped in her small hands, me stood there by her manic skull. "So," She finally spoke, "do you want some tea? I could do with some." I needed tea, i needed tea to numb the pain of seeing her this way. I took a seat at the kitchen table, watching her make tea. She had made tea on cases we had been on, she had made tea whilst arguing with George or the skull. She even made tea for Flo. All of them she had been steady, made few splashes. But now, with me being there, she seemed off hinges, she moved fast, her hands shook. But that wasn't the worst part. As she rushed on, asking how business was going, profusely stated she doesn't look for my headlines in the papers, she asked,
"Do you take sugar in your tea?"
My head reeled. She knew how i took my tea.. surely. She must have just had a mind-blank. Of course, i straightened in the chair, pulling my jacket closer to me, "It's only been four months Lucy, i haven't suddenly started taking sugar in my tea." I smiled at her reassuringly, but there was pain in my chest as i did so. It shouldn't mean this much, but i remembered everything about her, and she had forgotten, that i took sugar. She had made me a mug of tea multiple times over the years at Portland Row, she should remember.
Did i really mean that little to her?
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