Not Sherlock Holmes

Chapter Twenty-Three

Benedict's POV

I'm not even going to think about what just happened.

I realize that's exactly what I'm doing, but there's no helping it.

I cannot believe I did that.

I hear cries of joy from below, where Martin and Ian must have passed on the news. I glance out a window just briefly and see that one of the boats is trying to get up close enough to the building so that they can get in through a window.

"They're coming in," I comment, and Veronica joins me at the window, her face unnervingly close to mine.

"They'll meet us, I suppose." I take down the stairs again as fast as I can. So fast that Veronica is struggling to keep up.

The jubilant cries become increasingly louder until we are on our floor, and the smiling faces and the hugs and the tears of relief are overwhelming. Ian comes racing back through the crowd toward us, beaming. He throws his arms around Veronica, and she returns both his hug and his smile.

"They're coming up here, Ian!" she tells him, and he nods.

"Martin and I saw them!" He pulls Veronica closer to him, and we all watch the doors expectantly.

Uniformed men come in, and they appear to be military. They wear serious expressions in contrast to our joyful faces.

Cheering erupts around me. I don't clap. I wait. I'm not sure what to think yet.

There are three men, and they whisper to each other before they address us.

"Are you the only survivors in this building?" one of the men asks, and Tim steps forward.

"As far as we know, yes, sir." The officer nods.

"Do you know of any people taking refuge in any buildings surrounding you?" We all shake our heads uncertainly.

"We've seen no one else, sir, but that means nothing."

"Well it was smart of you to light the fire. That's what got our attention." Timothy gives me a grateful look, and I nod. "Here's what's going to happen," the officer continues.

He tells us that he's going to split us into two groups, and that one group will go on one boat, and the other group will ride in the other.

"We have a battleship stationed out at sea. It will take some time to get there, but we should have enough gas to last the trip."

"If it's so far away," I say aloud. "How did you see our signal?"

"We were scouting, mister. Patrolling." I nod my understanding.

"The waters are already receding, so we must hurry. Officer Blanche will escort group one, and Officer Rogers will escort group two."

The man who appears to be the leader walks among us and splits us up. Unfortunately, our group doesn't get to stay together. Veronica, Ian, and Martin are on boat two, while I am put on boat one with Steven.

He finds me just as we're being split.

"Where have you been?" I hiss under my breath. He holds his hands up.

"I'm sorry! I fell asleep and no one woke me!" I roll my eyes.

"We are not responsible for you, Moffat." I raise my hand to the officer. "Excuse me! Sir..." The man turns to me.

"Officer Marsh," he informs me.

"Officer Marsh," I correct. "Those three..." I gesture to Veronica, Ian and Martin. "We're all together. Is there a way we can be put on the same boat?" Marsh narrows his eyes.

"You dare question?" I'm perplexed, and I quickly backpedal.

"Wasn't questioning. Only making a request," I say. He looks me over.

"Request denied," he says simply, then moves on.

We take down the stairs to get on the boats. We carry the last of the supplies that we had gathered in totes and duffels. Veronica is in front of all of us, and I push past people to get to her.

"Veronica!" She turns and sees me, and makes room beside her for me to walk.

"Yes?" I feel my face go hot, and she blushes as well.

"I just... Listen." I struggle to find words. "About what happened. I don't know why..."

"I know..."

"And I was thinking..."

"I like you!" she insists.

"I like you, as well!" My face must look like a beet. "But, you know, you're 18..."

"And you're not..."

"Right. So I guess let's just, ah..."

"Not talk about it?" she finishes, and I nod. She smiles, and my heart flops.

"I am very fond of you, Veronica. I admire you greatly, and I want to remain close with you." Her smile warms.

"I'm quite fond of you, too. You're a good friend." I smile back, finally. She pats my arm, and we walk in silence for a little bit.

"Ben?" I raise my eyebrows. "You're my friend, so don't feel like you must always be so formal. Call me Nica." I take her hand in my own. It's smooth and small and nice.

"Nica."