No Shit, Sherlock

I Am A Lady

I find myself in a bar, sitting with Sherlock, Enola, and Tewkesbury. Somewhere along the line, Enola had suggested we go drinking. I tried to refuse. I really did. But, how could I refuse when she was looking at me with those big, sparkly brown eyes?

Sherlock watches me closely as I stare at my glass of wine, "Do you want a different drink?"

"I'm not an alcoholic," I snap.

He lets out a sigh, "I never said you were."

Enola and Tewkesbury sit across from us, not even noticing our conversation. Tewkesbury is rolling his eyes at something she said, but he's unable to hide his amused smile. I set my glass of wine down, and glare at the red liquid.

Liquor has always been a fear of mine, I never wanted to be an alcoholic like my father. But getting drunk a few months ago had seriously messed with me. I had decided to avoid alcohol altogether, rejecting any glass of whiskey John had offered me. Sherlock noticed but never said anything.

"I need to get some fresh air," I say.

I stand up from the table, accidentally bumping into my chair as I leave. My fingers run through my messy hair as I make my way outside. It's dark and quiet. It won't be long before the drunks take to the streets, yelling and swinging their empty bottles around. My back rests against the front of the bar, the stone digging into my shoulder blades.

I close my eyes and lean my head back, enjoying the peace. Just the scent of alcohol was enough to trigger my darkest thoughts. The craving of the numbness that comes after getting drunk was gnawing at me relentlessly. Alcohol is supposed to be fun, but not when my father's genes ran through me. Polluting my DNA like some sick and twisted virus.

"We can go home."

I look to my right to see Sherlock staring at me, an unreadable look on his face. I turn my focus to the sky above us, "And why would we do that?"

"Because you're uncomfortable."

"I'm fine. Now, let's go back inside."

I push myself off the wall, preparing to go back inside, but he grabs my wrist.

"You're lying."

I pull myself away from him and walk inside. He cares about me, I know he does. But sometimes it's better to work things out on your own. Sherlock Holmes, of all people, should know that.

"Well, you two look like you're having fun," I say, sitting down.

Enola laughs loudly, "Who would've known that alcohol was so fun?!"

I put on a fake smile, watching as the young couple in front of me laugh at each other's words. They're going to regret this in the morning.

"Why so glum, chum?" Tewkesbury asks Sherlock.

Sherlock gives him a bewildered look, "Oh, great. You're drunk, too."

"I am not!" Tewkesbury yells.

The people around us glare at him, causing him to shrink back into his seat. Enola slaps his shoulder with a laugh, "You're so loud!"

"We need to get them home. They can sleep on the couch."

I shake my head at Sherlock, "Nonsense. My place is closer and I have extra rooms."

Sherlock pulls Tewkesbury to his feet, the poor boy gives me a flabbergasted look. "He's strong. Now I see why you fancy him so much."

"Come on, Enola. You have to at least carry half of your weight," I hiss.

Sherlock and I manage to drag the drunk couple out of the bar, I struggle to pull Enola along as she is too busy trying to skip.

"I've forgotten how to skip!"