Sherlocked (BBC Fanfiction)

Chapter 13 - Rendezvous

“Christ!”  I shrieked and jumped back.  Eva stood in the middle of the living room, a couch throw pillow clutched in her first.  Her flaming red hair was frizzy – usual – but her green eyes were locked on mine, a death stare being exchanged.  Her other hand was on her hip and she was beyond enraged.  She charged me, bringing back her arm to hit me with the pillow.

“You – left – me – at – the – café – for – three – hours – Jordyn – Watson!”  With each word I received a blow from the pillow, some to my body, more to my face.  She threw the pillow down, an aggravated expression clear as day on her face.  “And what’s this about you getting shot?”

“It’s a…long and tedious story.  And I was in surgery; there was no possible way I’d be able to make it unless you wanted me bleeding out at Starbucks.”

“Getting shot’s no excuse!”

“What?!”  I exhaled, my arm still raised to protect myself.  “And how did you find out where I lived?” 

She sighed irritably and said, crossing her arms, “Mycroft Holmes.”

“Jesus Christ, he knows everybody in London.”

“He’s the British Government for crying out loud,” she retorted, uncrossing her arms.  Just then Sherlock strode out from the hallway, typing away at his phone.

“Oh, so she’s your friend,” he said, gesturing to Eva with his phone, taking a break from texting.  His eyebrows were raised.  “I was wondering who was in our house.”

I nodded.  “Who’s this?  Your boyfriend?”  Eva asked, nodding over to Sherlock as he went for the fridge.

“God no,” I said in response to Eva’s question.  “And its empty remember?”  He spun around on the balls of his feet before he reached the fridge.  “Oh and what was Mycroft doing here earlier?  I passed him in the hallway when I left.”

“Hm?  Lengthy explanation, too boring,” Sherlock said as he sat down on the couch, not glancing up from his phone.

“Ah,” I murmured, slowly shaking my head.

“Oh, Jordyn” Eva said, touching my shoulder.  “I brought a few of your things you left at my place last time you were over.  Like your computer.”

“I was looking for that.  I thought Brendon-”

I instantly regretted saying his name.  Eva averted her eyes and I felt a pang of agony inside.  “-I thought he had it.”

Quickly changing the subject, she said, “I put the stuff in your room.  Come on, let’s uh, go out somewhere.  Like Starbucks.”  She eyed me as she strode over to the coat rack next to the door, grabbing her jumper. 

“Yeah.  Sherlock, I’ll be out for who knows how long,” I said as I turned, opening the door again.

“Mmkaybye,” he said, not even glancing up from his phone.  Eva and I walked out, shutting the door behind us.  After exiting the building, we ended up walking to Starbucks.

“So what on Earth happened to your face?”  She asked as we strode down the sidewalk, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

I sighed.  “Well,” I respired, wondering how to explain the “dead cabbie” to her.  “Sherlock and I were taking a cab ride and the driver...well, tried to kill us I guess.  That’s why I suddenly hung up on you.”

“Oh,” she said.  I looked at her; her cheeks were flushed from the abrupt cold that had dropped down on London and her nose was red.  We finally reached the coffee house and strode inside, the strong smell of coffee in my nose.  Standing in the short line, I let myself drift off into the air around me.  I allowed myself to inhabit the quite noise that hung in the atmosphere and for my thoughts to run unharnessed.