Skulls and Cigarettes

Chapter 4

It was awkward. Everything was awkward and embarrassing.
Sherlock was holding a frozen sack of vegetables to his face, John was sitting there utterly red in the face from anger, and Amara was wearing a thin cotton robe over a semi revealing nightgown. In any case, all three were obviously uncomfortable and wished to say something but could not bring themselves to make a sound. Both of the men sat on a Sofa across from Amara who was holding Pieter in her lap.

"Mummy, why is that strange man holding vegetables to his face?" Pieter asked, oblivious to the flush that was settling on his mothers face.

"Well-" Amara started. She never got to finish.

" I had a bit of a run in with some bad men." Sherlock said, at the the child's eyes grew wide. "Your mother was kind enough to help me."

"Did you scare them away Mister?" he asked. Sherlock hesitated, he was many things but a fighter was not one of them. For as ling as he could remember, he was never able to defend himself in hand to hand combat. He had studied it, knew every sort of technique, every position of every kind of fighting style, but he had never been any good at it.

"Yes, yes I did." he lied.

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John could scarcely believe it. That tiny woman's bang out had  to have left damage to Sherlock's brain. There was no way he would ever  speak to a child without any indignation. much less protect the honor of someone he more than slightly disliked. He stared at Sherlock, purple faced and bewildered.

"Oh don't look so surprised John, honestly." Sherlock said after Amara had left the room to put Pieter to bed for the second time. "I do have my moments of kindness, they're just rare." John stayed silent. What could he say? Sherlock had met his match, and he knew it. Somehow this woman had gotten a hold of Sherlock's reality and totally reshaped it.

"I told you, Sherlock. Ms. Erickson would not dissapoint you. I just hope you have learned from what you habe done."

Sherlock knew what he had done had indefinitely changed things between the mother and himself. They both knew it. But which will it affect the most, he wondered. Not only had he lied, but he had protected Ms. Ericksons pride and image.  Just for a child. The most important thing to a childs mind is the image of his role mode, and he could certainly tell the redheaded woman was most defintely her sons idol. Even Sherlock as a child had had a role model, although that admiration happened to be quickly  diminished as Sherlock grew older and became more aware of his older brothers less than pleasurable charms and forceful ways.

His eyes moves around the impossibly bare living room. A vase of flowers sat on the center of the coffee table and lamp in the corn sat next to a metallic blue torch, which was just in case of emergencies.
A sofs and two chairs surrounded the coffee table. Lace doilies delicately placed on the tops of the seats.

Ms. Erickson walked back into the room and sat down in the brown seat across from the two on the Sofa. Her face looked exhausted but her eyes were bright. Blue and Hazel both stared full of hope towards Sherlock.

"So, are we going to sit here all night, or will we start from the beginning?" She said, the ball was in her court now.