Contact High → Sherlock Holmes (BBC) [on hold]

{ ten }

"What do you mean you have to stop by your flat?" Sherlock snapped. Carmen and Sherlock both sat in the back of a cab, arguing over where it was headed.

Carmen flinched before firing back, "Listen, Sylvia is gone with the rest of the ballet troupe all week, and I forgot to feed Spots yesterday!"

"We just found the location of the car! I've only got eight hours to solve this thing!" Sherlock huffed.

John stood outside of the cab, "Why don't you two go on along to Carmen's flat, and I'll head to the crime scene."

Sherlock moved to get out, "That's not logical, you should go with Carm--,"

John shut the door in his face and shooed the cab away. Sherlock watched as John got smaller and smaller as they drove away. Ridiculous. He huffed and looked out the window. Carmen glanced over at him. He was sulking. "Really, Sherlock? Sulking? Doesn't that seem a bit childish?" Carmen asked.

Sherlock glanced over at her, "I'm not sulking. And what's really childish is the fact that you forgot to feed your damn cat."

Carmen lifted her chin, "I'll have you know that the only reason I forgot was because I thought you had been blown to bits."

The cabbie stopped and Carmen paid him before exiting the cab. She went up the stairs and unlocked to door. Sherlock followed her inside. "I thought you lived alone?" Sherlock asked. Carmen smiled, "I did until about a month ago. Sylvie moved in with me after my accident." Sherlock nodded and looked about the flat. The decor was interesting, a mixture of classic looking pieces of art and dark purple. "I'm guessing it's Sylvia with a thing for the purple," Sherlock muttered.

Carmen gave him a smile, "What makes you think that? Sylvia's been hounding me to go to that lost Vermeer thing for ages." She glanced over at Sherlock, "Hey, you match."

His purple shirt did indeed match the flat. He frowned. Spots the cat bounded down the stairs to greet them, rubbing against Sherlock's legs. He frowned at that too. He seemed to be full of frowns today. "This shouldn't take too long," Carmen commented, heading to the kitchen. Sherlock followed her and watched as she filled up the cat's dish with food.

"Hey, Sherlock?" Carmen asked softly.

He glanced up at her, wary about her tone, "What?"

"We never really got to talk about how we parted, after that case," Carmen sighed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snooped in your room. Whatever's in there is your business, I had no right--."

Sherlock cut her off, "No... I-I'm sorry." He had to choke out the words, and Carmen knew it was a special thing she was hearing, Sherlock apologizing. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just-- I might take you up on that offer... someday. To talk, I mean."

Carmen smiled, "I'd like that, Sherl."

He paused a moment, "What?"

Her face went red as she realized what she said, "Sherl... lock..."

Sherlock just stared at her, "No, you just said 'Sherl'."

"N-no, I... I just have a bad habit about coming up with nicknames for people--," she rambled.

Sherlock grinned as he held back a chuckle at how flustered she was becoming, "It's alright. It's kind of nice, actually."

Carmen closed her mouth with a snap, "You're... okay with that?"

He shrugged, "Why not?"

With the cat fed and the time ticking, Carmen headed for the door. "Then let's go catch ourselves a bomber, Sherl."