I woke up, my forehead on the table. I must have fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the night, waiting for the doorbell to ring. I glanced at the clock sitting on the counter. 7:30 AM. Still another the person who the killer might send would arrive soon. The paper ran about an hour earlier.
Sherlock had moved a chair into the living room, and was staring out the window when I went into the living room.
"Sleep well?" he asked. I sorta groaned and nodded my head. The sky was a pale bluish gray, and I knew that I was up way too early. But I probably couldn't get back to sleep, so I didn't even try.
"Coffee." Sherlock offered, and handed me a cup of coffee that was sitting on the fireplace. "I made you some when I realized you were waking up. Don't worry, I didn't drink out of it."
I mumbled a thanks, and took the light green coffee cup. I took a sip of it, and almost immediately felt better. Sherlock apparently likes his coffee stronger than I do.
"Now that you're awake, we can talk." Sherlock said. "I know that you aren't a flirty girl, or whatever it's called, but why haven't you flirted with me at all? Every woman I meet seems to have an urge to flirt with me. Why are you different?"
I was suddenly speechless again.
"I mean, I know that you like me, or whatever the phrase is, that's obvious enough, but you don't dress up for me or anything. Why not? All women do that, I thought."
I was still speechless, and a bit angry. No, I was really angry. But I was angry at myself for not being able to hide my crush well. I thought that I had tricked the great Sherlock Holmes.
"Oh, don't be angry, no one can trick me." Sherlock said, "But I say, you did do good. You did have me a bit fooled for a while. But not that long. Thirty minutes? I do have to congratulate on fooling me that long. It must be a record."
I stood up off the ground, and pointed at the door. "Out." I commanded him. "Just get out."
"I can't, Bridget." Sherlock said, not moving from his spot.
"Out, Sherlock!"
"No, Bridget. The killer's henchman is going to be here soon. He-"
"I don't care about your case, Sherlock!"
"This isn't about my case! The henchman will be armed, and if you end up not having the object that I told him was at your flat, then he will shoot. I can't let you be shot because of what I did."
"I don't care. I know how to use a gun. Just let me have your gun, and leave."
" I can't, Bridget!" Sherlock shouted. He can shout pretty loud. "I can't let some one else I love die. Again. I'm not a . . . psychopath like everyone thinks. I do have feelings. There have only been four people in the world that I care about, though. John, who you know, Ms. Hudson, who you also know, Irene Adler, who you will never meet, and yourself. Those are the only people that matter, who have ever mattered to me, and I will do anything to protect them. I already failed with Irene, and I'm not failing again."
Even though I was still angry, that calmed me down some. That got it into my head that he was not leaving, so I knew that there was no point in fighting him. I took another sip of my coffee, and I felt a lot better. The room fell silent for several minutes.
"And, Bridget, I'm sorry." Sherlock broke the silence. And though the words sounded odd coming from his mouth, and he obviously felt odd saying them, I knew that it was a real apology. Not like that first apology that he had given me a few days earlier. This was a real apology.
I stared at him for a moment, trying to find any indication that he was just saying 'sorry' because he felt obliged to. I couldn't find any.
"It's fine." I said after a few more seconds of silence, "Just don't do anything like that again."
Sherlock seemed very surprised that I had said that. Then the doorbell rang.
