That evening after John went out, in fact only fifteen minutes or so after he had left the door, Sherlock roused Petrichor, (who had dozed off on the last page of her book.)
“Up you get, we’re going out,” he informed her.
She raised a curious eyebrow. “Really? Where to?”
“I just had an…idea about the circus,” Sherlock stumbled a bit over the last sentence.
She shrugged and jumped up, her Oxfords tapping against the wooden floor. “Okay then!” she smiled. “Off we go!”
As they ran down the stairs and out into the street Sherlock suddenly had a strange tugging sensation in his mind…like he wished he hadn’t done something.
“What’s wrong?” Cora asked him as they hopped into a cab, looking at him oddly. “You look like you…I dunno, feel guilty or something.”
Sherlock shook himself. “Huh? No, I’m fine…just thinking.”
She nodded and darted a bright smile at him as the cab moved off.
The tugging sensation grew stronger.
Upon reaching the building where the circus was to be found, Cora noticed John and his date Sarah Somebody going up the walkway.
“There they are!” she grinned excitedly. “Hurry up!”
Sherlock jumped out of the cab and followed her up the ramp until they reached the doorway and they went in together. Watson and co. were at the ticket booth getting their reservations, and just as he finished and began walking away he heard a very familiar voice say,
“Two tickets reserved.”
“Last name?” the ticket boy inquired.
“Watson,” the voice responded coolly, and in stunned belief John turned around to see his colleague AND Petrichor standing there behind him.
The young man handed them their tickets with a look at Petrichor, at which Sherlock promptly added,
“This is my girlfriend, Petrichor.”
Petrichor froze, her breathing stopped, she turned white, and then red, and then almost purple. Her fingers worked with the long nails flexing as if they wanted to tear flesh from bone.
The young man nodded a bit awkwardly as he handed Sherlock back his debit card…it was fairly obvious. But why did said “Petrichor” look so angry? Couples, he sighed.
As Sherlock put his card back and in the two seconds they had before they were accosted by “Mr. Holmes” Cora said through gritted teeth,
“I-will-kill-you.”
Sherlock pretended to look surprised. “We discussed this…earlier, at the flat!”
“No, we didn’t you bloody-stupid-di—lighted to meet you!” she hastily concluded her sentence by greeting an extremely confused Watson and Date.
As the two women exchanged greetings John said in a low voice aside,
“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, Sherlock…but GIRLFRIEND? Really?” he groaned.
Sherlock threw up his hands in guilt; “It was the only way we could have gotten in here without making a fuss!”
Meanwhile, Sarah innocently asked Cora, “So…you’re his girlfriend, huh?”
Petrichor’s eyes were green sparks but she answered calmly, “Yes…apparently.”
Sarah smiled, “Well you’re a very good-looking couple.”
“Thank you,” Petrichor smiled outwardly as she threw a tantrum on the inside that would have put a two-year old to shame. “You’re not the first to have made that observation.”
“I have to use the Loo, be right back!” Sarah smiled brightly at Watson who nodded as she went off.
Petrichor stalked over to Sherlock and said in a quiet voice, “What the bloody hell were you thinking? GIRLFRIEND!” she spat; Sherlock took a step back as she advanced on him, finger poking his chest. “You could have stupid well asked me about it first!”
“But I DID!” Sherlock pleaded, “We talked about it in the flat before we left!”
“NO, I was READING, and YOU BLATANTLY took advantage of me telling you that I can’t hear anything when I read!”
“And why are you here anyway?” John cut in.
“I think that this is where the crime syndicate is meeting; think about it: in town for one night only…IT FITS!” Sherlock answered, fending off against two assailants.
“But why do you have to come here now?” Watson moaned.
“I NEED YOUR HELP!” Sherlock commanded.
“I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening,” John positively spat.
“Like what?” Sherlock grumbled.
“He’s got a date you stupid lugnut!” Cora almost shouted, causing several people to look towards her.
“I don’t want to chase some killer while I’m…” John began, and then stopped as two people walked past.
“Trying to what?” Sherlock the Oblivious One demanded.
“While I’m trying to get off with SARAH!” John spoke loudly this time…just in time for said Sarah to come inconveniently up the stairs and hear everything he just said.
“Heyyyyyyyy…ready?” he inquired.
“Uh…yeah.” She smiled a bit dazedly; and in all fairness who could blame her?
“You two go on up ahead, I’m going to have a word here with my…” Cora’s voice must have dropped a decibel, “boyfriend here.”
John nodded appreciatively and they proceeded leaving Sherlock against the wrath of a woman scorned.
He might have been the world only Consulting Detective. He might be 5’11 and in the peak of physical condition, and there even might be people all around.
He didn’t stand a chance.
“I swear you shall never live this down to your dying day,” she said quietly, gripping his hand with her long, dexterous nails. “And next time I catch you talking to me while I’m reading…” she gave him a dark look. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Right, perfectly understood…can we go now?” if Sherlock’s voice ever came anywhere near being a squeak, it was now.
Petrichor looped her arm through his, squeezing it painfully tight as people walked by. “Right,” she said loudly, “let’s go, boyfriend dear.” She dropped her voice as they entered the dimly lit theater-like area.
“There may be one more murder tonight.”
-=-=-=-=-
