Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

9. An "Emergency"

The wedding was rapidly approaching. Things were getting done, and cases were popping up. It didn't surprise me, seeing as Sherlock was back to stay for good in Baker Street.

I continued to share the apartment with the consulting detective. Dad and Mary came along every now and again to drop by, but Dad was more of the visitor. Usually when he dropped by, Sherlock was ready with a case. I was sort of glad that he never asked me to tag along, but at the same time I hated him for it. Dad didn't need to go running on cases. Maybe he was doing it because he realized he wasn't going to able to for much longer.

The holidays weren't exactly great, being that I was away from America. Bayley and my adoptive parents missed me the most. I felt bad about being apart from them, but I made sure to have lengthy talks with them over the phone. I needed to have some contact with my other home.

Speaking of Bayley, he wanted me home more than anyone else. It was partially from being lonely. I couldn't help but notice the other reason why was because he didn't want me around Sherlock. He probably thought I'd be brought along on the special cases, risking my life. I'd thought it was for that reason at first, but then as Bay voiced his discomfort the longer I was in London, I figured out a bigger, more concerning reason.

Bayley was jealous. He'd gotten so paranoid to where he actually convinced himself that Sherlock was a threat to our relationship. I'd laughed obnoxiously, telling Bayley that that was the last thing he needed to worry about. Sherlock might care about few people, but that didn't mean he'd fall in love and have something serious.

Speaking of the consulting detective, we seemed to find comfort in mutual silence. Of course, he would be the one to ruin the quiet time before I would. But his way wasn't one I was annoyed with. From the few times I'd heard him play the violin, the music was welcoming. It was that at first until I realized what he was doing.

He was composing a song. You could only guess how many times he experimented with different notes for hours to days on end. No high volume music on my iPod could bring me away from his composing sessions. It was those times I debated leaving Baker Street to get away from him, but I was slightly paranoid that Sherlock would lock me out once I left. It was something he would do to annoy me. I wouldn't blame him, as I had been annoying him these past few months.

Today was going to be no different. With the wedding nearing, Sherlock hadn't focused on the most important aspect of it for him: the speech. That's what happened when you're as busy as he was. I was very tempted to bother him early this morning, but I weighed how important the speech was. I considered leaving it alone.

But I couldn't.

"Why?" was the question that left my mouth. I was in the kitchen, finishing a bowl of cereal. Sherlock sat in the other room, sitting in front of his laptop. He'd been doing that since I got up, so he'd been at it for a while. He acted as though I didn't exist, which did happen from time to time. I tapped the spoon against the bowl irritably. "I've asked you how many times now, and you still won't tell me?"

"It's not important," he muttered.

"I'm pretty sure it is." I stopped the clatter before putting the bowl and spoon in the sink. I stretched. "Think of it this way—once you tell me, I'll back off."

"Unlikely. I know what question would follow."

I scowled. "I'd ask that later on."

"You wouldn't. Shouldn't you be out, doing something normal?"

"Shouldn't you be writing your speech that you've neglected?" I retorted, walking into the living room. "Have you even gotten a word down?" He didn't answer. "You know, I'm a walking resource. I can help."