Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

9: An Abundance of Headlines

In a sleep-filled stupor, Clara Evangeline went to turn over onto her stomach. Then she realised that she couldn't, and her eyes flew open.

Sherlock's long fingers were holding onto her with an iron grip by the waist. His other arm held her to his chest by the back of her neck, her face buried into the crook of his neck. This was the way that they'd fallen asleep the night before. She was all but tickled to continue lying there with him, snuggling, but she knew she couldn't. She glanced at the clock and her heart started beating a bit faster; it was nine forty-five. Scotland Yard awaited her today; shed told Lestrade that she would be there at noon. Trying to be as quick as possible, she gently unwound Sherlock's fingers from her body, goosebumps appearing from the lack of warmth, and slid out of bed. She slipped on his dressing gown, kissed him gently on the forehead, and stuck a post-it-note telling where she had gone over the kiss mark.

 It was a blind stumble to get into her shoes and find her purse when she was only in her pink-and-white silk pyjamas and a dressing gown, but somehow she managed to get down to the landing without anyone realising that she was leaving. Then, she stole out of the apartment and hailed a cab to Belgravia. It was only as she was waving down a cab that she noticed it again - the gold and white glint on her left hand. She was shocked by it in the light; the diamond was exquisitely cut and polished, but worn in different places with age. She had completely forgotten that it was there in her rush. I'm engaged. After a moment she looked away from it as she climbed into her cab, slightly pinker than she was before noticing the ring.

"Evangeline Street, please." The cabbie took off straight away as she leaned back into the seat, smiling softly down at her hand. It was childish of her, she knew, but she felt a bit giddy. She was engaged, betrothed. Her inner child was squealing, and her inner teenager was fainting. The rest of her was asking what in the hell she was thinking. She bit her lip to contain her smile.

"Some party last night?" The driver asked. Clara flushed, sticking her hand in her pocket.

"Oh, no, no, it's -no." She went even redder as she remembered that she was in her nightie and Sherlock's over-sized dressing gown. "I have to be somewhere today and I wasn't watching what I was wearing-"

"Don't worry, don't worry." The cabbie chuckled. "So, what did happen? You're grinnin' like a schoolgirl who just made honor roll back there." She removed her hand from her pocket, starting to fiddle with the ring again.

"Um... I'm engaged. I got engaged last night." She replied lowly. "It's a secret, so don't tell anyone."

"A secret, eh? Your mumsy doesn't like him, sumpthin' like that?"

"Something like that." She replied.

"Well, no matter what's goin' on wit you, congratulations." He said, and the ride was silent after that. Twenty minutes to a half hour later, they were sitting in front of Clara's mansion again, and she paid the cabbie his dues, with extra for good service. "And... there's your tip." He didn't look at the bills, raising his hand to wave at her. 

"Have a great night, Future missus, uh-" She flushed again, her cheeks having faded from their previous strawberry shade.

"Holmes."

"Well, congratulations Missus 'olmes. Have a wonderful day."

"You too." She replied softly, and then stepped through the gates of Evangeline Manor.  She opened the door, which was still covered in broken crime scene tape, and stepped into the house. Eloise had kept up appearances, and she was happy for that. The floors were spotless, there wasn't a speck of dust - but the entire feeling of the house had changed, like something had sucked the life from it. Something like a murderer who loved to ruin everything she touched.