You See But Do Not Observe

FORGIVE

CHAPTER NINE : FORGIVE

Serena was slumped against the cold window. What was it about Sherlock that made her lose all self-control? Why did she feel so bad about it?

She wanted to apologize already. But maybe this was for the best. Sherlock was toxic, not trustworthy, not her type.

She nearly laughed at the lie she told herself. Sherlock was exactly her type; mysterious, lonely and needing a friend, handsome. She was falling down the same road, stuck in the same cycle.

Her phone buzzed. She stared at it until it went dark. Heaving herself off the window seemed like such an effort.

But she had never given up before, and she wasn't about to now. She stretched for the phone. The screen blinked on at her touch. Unknown number, but she knew who it was.

I'm sorry. If you want to continue, come to Baker St. at noon. If not, I understand.-SH

Serena stared at the text for minutes as she absorbed it. Sherlock Holmes, apologizing? To her?

She was asking the wrong questions. Why was he apologizing? Because he actually cared? Or because she was another unknown, another riddle? She couldn't let herself think he actually cared, but she needed him. She needed his help to solve her case.

No need to text back, though. He needed her just as much if not more than she needed him. She would hold that over him as long as she could.

The door to 221B Baker St. seemed larger than normal. She twisted the doorknob and walked right up the stairs.

Sherlock was expecting her. John was too. He had a cup of tea waiting.

"You came."

"Obviously."

Sherlock looked to the seat across from him, and Serena sat gingerly on the edge.

"Locked or unlocked?" He asked.

"Why so hospitable?"

"I'm beginning to understand you."

"Doubtful, since you apologized. I frustrate you, don't I? It's incredibly annoying that you can't see into my past or read me." Serena said.

"That's not why I texted you. I texted you because..."

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit. We both know why I'm still here, why you let me participate in this case."

Sherlock placed his fingers together, resting them against his mouth.

"Look, I'm okay with working with you. I have absolutely nothing against you. And if you want to attempt to find out about me, fine. But don't pretend to be my friend if you don't want to be."

"And if I want to be your friend?"

The question threw her off guard. He always managed to mess with her carefully thought-out plan.

"Sherlock Holmes doesn't have friends." Serena said.

"Ah, correction. I have one."

"Yes, I am still here." John added.

Sherlock stared at her. His eyes were still electric blue-green. "What is it about me that makes it so hard for us to be friends?"

"I don't have many."

"And yet you've befriended John in a matter of days. You seem close with Lestrade, and with your patients. So why not me?"

"I can figure them out. I know what their intentions are."