High Functioning Hopeless Romantic

Chapter 3

After a long night of tossing and turning in my bed I awoke and glanced at the clock - 7 bloody 27. I mentally cursed my body for staying in the habit of waking up this early. Groggily, I reached for my laptop that lay on my bedside table and opened it up. I checked my email account to see it flooded with useless junk mail. I then flipped over to my work email, but that was as dry as a desert. Well at least I still have some of the money from the Meyers gig. They had paid me a large sum of money to write the blurb for a bestselling author who had just written, what they claimed to be, the last book of the series. It had been a hard one, late nights, early mornings, but it was worth it in the end. I put the laptop back and attempted to get out of bed, my muscles burning from moving yesterday. Although I ran, I wasn't the strongest person, if anything, I was probably one of the weakest. The trudge to the shower was difficult, but hot water poured over me like a hug from God, and my muscles were soothed. I stepped out of the shower and saw my hair already springing into curls. The product I put in smelled of exotic fruits and sunshine, the kind my mother had used on her crinkly hair as well. My music played lightly in the background, a daytime lullaby. I heard the door to my flat open and cocked my head listening. It could be Mrs. Hudson... or a psycho killer. Either way, I grabbed the best weapon I could find in my bathroom, which happened to be a shampoo bottle, and hid it behind me after wrapping myself in a towel. I heard the intruders footsteps padding around my kitchen and living room. Slowly I opened the door and slipped out, steam pouring out behind me. I crept around the corner and didn't see anybody in the kitchen, and everything looked to be in the right spot. I crossed the kitchen and headed towards the living room, taking a deep breath to calm myself before I walked through. Before going any further I strained my ears to hear any sound at all that would alert me to who was in the living room, I heard nothing. Slowly, after taking another deep breath, I stepped in to see no one other than a dark haired, tall man standing in my living room looking at one of my pictures I had hung up yesterday, it was of my mom and I when I was 5. Sherlock Holmes. I cleared my throat and he turned around, surprise grabbing hold of his features at my outfit choice, but just as quick a blank look absorbed on his face.

"Why are you in a towel?" he asked,

"It's usually what people use after a shower, which I was just in," I said defensively, backing away to go change.

"Where are you going?"

"To go change Sherlock, people usually put clothes on after a shower too," I added in dryly.

"Well I just came by to... apologize," he said slightly cringing, then continued, "I was not right to deduce you last night in front of everyone." Then he turned to leave. Deduce?

"What in the merlin's beard is 'deduce'?" I asked incredulously. He stopped, not bothering to look back.

"To arrive at a logical fact or a conclusion by reasoning. Not something normal people usually know nor understand, so I would expect you to be confused." Then he opened the door and stepped out of the flat, not shooting me another glance. I shook my head, not really sure why he had bothered coming down here to apologize when he had left insulting me. I locked the flat door, not wanting another incident like that, and changed into a jumper and jeans. I heard pitter patter of rain, and opened the shades in the living room to look outside. Despite London being known for it's dreary weather, the rain somehow made the city look more beautiful than anything, the gray glow of the clouds lightly illuminating the living city. I turned round to examine my living space, only a couple boxes were left to unpack, mostly just decorations. I took down one labeled "WALL" and ripped the tape off. Different wall coverings and more family pictures were cluttered in the box, I had only put 3 up last night that were my favorites. As I grabbed for a picture of my sister, brother, and I, someone knocked on my flat door. I opened it to find Mary standing there.

"Abi! I was hoping you'd be home. Would you like to come to Sherlock's flat?" I made a face, although I didn't intend to, and my stomach did a flip flop out of nervousness. "Oh don't worry, I just sent the boys on a case, and John left me here to wedding plan. Sherlock is the best man, so he'll be back, but in the meantime would like to help? It'll be a girls day sort of." She gave me a hopeful look and I smiled back.

"Well, I was REALLY looking forward to unpacking all of these boxes, but I guess wedding planning sounds a little better," I said jokingly. I tried to wink, but instead felt my face twitch. At first Mary looked worried, but she burst into laughter as soon as I did. I think I would get along just fine with her.

"Maybe I'll teach you how to wink while we're at it," she added, then winked.

~

"How long have you been engaged for?" I asked, sitting down on the couch with a pen and paper in hand.

"6 months," she said smiling proudly and looking down to pick up a folded swan napkin.

"Where did all this come from?" I asked looking at the ground covered in folded napkins.

"Sherlock," she said chuckling. He did origami? Hmm, interesting.

"You know," she said continuing, "he's not that bad once you get to know him. Yes he can be a complete tosser at times, but otherwise he's a quite interesting person. He plays violin, and very beautifully if I must say so myself."

"Yeah well he's not the nicest," I said huffing and writing something down.

"You get past that and learn to love it," she said chuckling. I shrugged my shoulders and thought about it. Maybe I had judged Sherlock too fast, although he had humiliated me, brought up past traumas I had rather not relived, and implied that I was daft, everyone deserved a second chance. Speak of the devil. Sherlock shoved opened the door and stomped in, immediately going to what I assumed was his laptop. John entered in and leaned down to kiss Mary on the cheek. I felt eyes on me and turned to find icy blues staring.

"What are you doing here?" asked Sherlock.

"Helping," I said, trying to offer a small smile, but felt it slide into a grimace. His eyes lingered on me for a little longer, then delved back onto his laptop. I turned back to my list I had started of everything that Mary still needed to complete. Lists were also, like weddings, one of my favorite things. They helped me to clear my thoughts and think, to figure out the next step to take.

"Sherlock, I need my laptop," said John from across the room, pretending to admire the centerpieces that Mary had put together.

"We all need things John," replied Sherlock simply. John rolled his eyes and walked to the desk.

"Sherlock," he said sternly, "your laptop is right next to you, why can't you just use that?"

"Because John, like you said, it's right next to me, not right in front of me like yours" remarked Shelrock, still typing like a mad man. John sighed and turned away. I giggled at their little argument, suddenly finding Sherlock's ill attitude funny now that it wasn't directed at me. He glanced up at me and smirked proudly. I narrowed my eyes at his cocky nature, and his eyes flicked back down to his laptop, the smirk growing slightly bigger.

>><<
(This chapter has officially been edited.)