Sherlock: Lover Mine [Book II]

Susanna's Loss

"... He's dead."

Sherlock inhaled slowly, unsure of how to approach the situation now that he knew that Barney Fife, his girlfriend's beloved feline companion, had passed on. If he was the same Sherlock he'd been over two years ago, he likely would have scolded her for being so sentimental over an animal and exacerbated the situation. But he had matured, so to speak, and knew that Barney was more than a pet. He himself had become fond of the gray cat.

"I am sorry to hear that your dear Barney is dead, Susanna. May I come in?" She stepped back inside her flat and permitted him to go through. He walked in and she all but slammed the door behind them. He got a closer look into her eyes and felt his heart sink, noticing how empty and dead they were, "Susanna..."

"I texted John that I needed to take a personal day. He said that it would be fine." She explained.

"I am aware."

"D-Does he need me to come and watch Rosie after all? I-I can get ready if-"

"No. He's called surgery and will stay with Rosie."

"T-Then why are you here? Do you need me for a case?"

"I'm here because I knew something was wrong when you asked for a personal day off. And from what I am observing, I am needed here," Sherlock opened his arms and smiled as empathetically as he could, "C'mere, love."

Susanna didn't have to be told twice. She leapt into his embrace, trapping him in a mighty bear hug that spoke volumes. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, at first awkward but gradually he relaxed into it, gently swaying from side to side.

He frowned when he felt sticky moisture gathering on his purple dress shirt, followed by light whimpers and tremoring, "Th-Thank y-you, Sh-Sherlock."

"Of course, Susanna." He hushed, resting his chin on her head. They stood holding each other for at least ten minutes until Susanna relaxed enough to halfheartedly tell him to remove his shoes. He was about to take off his coat, blazer and scarf, when he got an idea.

He hung up the blazer but draped his coat and scarf around his girlfriend. She blushed heavily, and he couldn't help but smirk. She floundered in the Milford-Belstaff coat which hung off her shoulders, but it allowed him to wrap it around her tightly. He tied the scarf loosely about her neck, and then picked her up in one foul swoop, "Sherlock-"

"Shh." He carried her over to the chaise sat down with her bundled up in his lap. He angled her so that she was curling into him, and just held her tightly as waves of tremors rippled through her. Sherlock rested his lips on her forehead, offering soft kisses when she whimpered or hyperventilated. Another 45 minutes passed before her breathing rate stabilized and she had lost the tension in her muscles, melting limply against him with her eyes half shut.

He allowed her enough time as she desired before she spoke again, which was about twenty minutes after she'd deescalated. Finally she took a deep breath and turned her face upwards, "Thank you, Sherlock."

"Aren't boyfriends supposed to be there for their girlfriends during crises?" She managed a brief laugh, and it lifted the atmosphere.

"Yes," She affirmed and pushed up with a slight frown, "I'm so sorry, your shirt is all wet now."

"I'm sure it will dry out." This wrought a Mona Lisa smile from her and she breathed deeply again before straightening out, assuming a serious expression.

"I need to get cleaned up so that I can take Barney to be buried."

"Where?" She sighed.

"My Dad's home. It's kind of a family tradition to bury our departed companions in the garden."

"Well then, go get ready. I'll go make some tea." She nodded and he unfolded her from his coat and scarf, sending her on her way. He then got up and went to the kitchenette to fulfill his task.

After she'd showered and gotten dressed, they shared a light breakfast and tea before she brought Barney out from her bedroom, wrapped in a dark blanket, and put him in his carrier for the last time.

Sherlock obliged to accompany her, so they shared a quiet taxi ride to her father's suburban home. Niles had dug up a small plot for Barney next to a spray of tiger and calla lilies. Susanna laid the feline in his resting place and they covered him up, planting a few small flowers in the upsot dirt. Sherlock stood off and watched silently. Sentiment.

Sentiment.

While it was obvious she was crushed, she was at peace once they were done. They bade a brief farewell and Susanna led Sherlock back to where the taxi had empathetically waited for them.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

"You're welcome, Love."

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