Royalty

Chapter 20: Caring Is Not An Advantage

(A/N: Hi again! First of all, sorry this took a little longer again, I'm trying to be a little more regular, so apologies. Secondly, I'm changing the way I format the texts to make it a little more clear. I'll probably go back and fix it in the earlier chapters soon, too. Also, this is random, but have you guys read "The Science of Illusion" and "Moriarty's Musician"? They're a couple of amazing Moriarty x Reader fics on here. Both long, but both worth it, the authors are incredible, and would highly recommend. 

However, if you'd still somehow rather read my stuff instead  - for some unfathomable reason -

Enjoy!)

Sherlock's POV:

I stood, stacking Astra's food on top of my now empty containers. "I'm heading back to the flat. Coming? Or are you staying a bit longer?"

She was still sketching, and took a moment to answer. "I'll stay a bit longer. But you can take the umbrella." She holds the thing out for me to take.

She was still looking down at her drawing, and missed out on seeing the look of disdain on my face. I had no need for stupid contraption. "I have my coa --"

"Sherlock, it's pouring out there. For heaven's sake, just take the damn umbrella," she told me without looking up. I sighed and reluctantly took the umbrella from her hand, trying to catch a glimpse of her sketch. But she tilted the book further towards her, and I let it go, leaving the small shop without another word.

Though I would never have admitted it, the moment I stepped outside, I appreciated the umbrella. It was pouring, and I could hear thunder. I pulled my coat a little tighter around me and started back towards Baker Street.

The walk back felt longer, though I could see what Astra meant about the rain. If you weren't being soaked, it was ... thoughtful. And I suppose it looked ... fine.

After about fifteen minutes, I reached 221, and quickly stepped inside. I leaned the umbrella up against the wall and walked up to the flat, hearing the umbrella fall as I moved up the stairs.

The second I walked in, John got a curious look on his face. "What?"

He glanced up at me, confused. "What?"

"You were about to ask something."

"You didn't even look at me yet."

"It's called peripheral vision. What is it?"

"You had a look on your face." My eyes narrowed in confusion as I hung up my coat.

"A look?"

"Like you were concerned. Or thinking about something. I'm not sure. You still have that look about you. Like you're trying to figure something out."

I glanced in the mirror. "It's just my face."

"Well, it's doing a thing, and you look concerned and thoughtful, I dunno." He returns his attention to his laptop.

"The only thing I'm consciously concerned about is that you seem to be trying to deduce me."

John shoots me a look as I sit down in my own chair, choosing to ignore the pile of papers on the kitchen table. "Astra stayed back then?"

"Mm. Should be back in a bit, just had to finish a sketch."

He looks out the window. "It's raining hard. Did you take her umbrella?"

"Not exactly by choice. She told me to take it." He sighs softly.

"She'll be freezing by the time she gets back here ... I'll put the kettle on. Need a break from all this research anyway. Could hardly find anything on the kidnapped girl."