The Science of Deduction Does Not Extend to Relationships

Chapter 13: Unanswered Messages

Chapter 13: Unanswered Messages

            The next few days I stayed with Spence and Mark while Sherlock and John finished up the Baskerville case.  During that time I literally heard nothing from Sherlock.  John, on the other hand, sent me a text the first day I was there.

            You ok?

            Sherlock is an ass.

-   LM

Really, you sign texts like Sherlock?

He’s a bad influence and old habits die hard.

-   LM

I’ll be in touch when we get back.

K.

         -LM

    That was the last I had heard from John since I’d stormed out of the inn in anger.  I went back to work business as usual, but Spence swore I wasn’t acting myself.  Considering I’d learned that my life-long best friend didn’t consider our relationship a friendship, I’d say ‘not myself’ was a pretty damn good reaction. 

Exactly one week after I had heard from either Sherlock or John I received a text from Sherlock.

Where have you been?  Need to talk.

-   SH

I promptly deleted the message and shoved the phone into the bottom of one of my

suitcases.  Clearly I was not quite over my anger at Sherlock yet.  Not even ten minutes later and I could hear my phone ringing in my bag.  I sighed and fished it out, worrying it may have been something for work.  Unfortunately, I looked down at the caller ID and dropped it back into the case.  “That bloody wanker!” I groaned and plopped down on the couch.

            “Is that prat actually trying to get in touch with you?” Mark asked sitting down next to me and throwing his arm around my shoulders and rubbing my arm soothingly.  I sniffed and nodded, allowing a few tears to silently fall.      

            The next day I received a total of five texts and seven missed calls from Sherlock, all of which I ignored and deleted.  As amazed as I was that Sherlock was actually putting effort into contacting someone he had wronged it wasn’t enough to fix what he’d done. 

“Sweetness, you’ve got to actual tell him to bugger off if that’s what you want.  You can’t just ignore him forever,” Spence sighed, loosening his tie as he poured himself a glass of brandy.  “And if you want to bone him you should tell him that too.”

“Shut it Spence,” I groaned, nailing him in the head with a well-aimed pillow from the couch on which I was sitting.  “I don’t plan on ignoring him forever, just until I’m not angry anymore.”

Spence smirked and sat down next to me.  “So you do want to bone him then?”  I rolled my eyes at him but before I had the chance to respond, the phone rang and Spence picked it up.  “Ello, Spencer speaking.”

            I couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but Spence suddenly sat up straight and looked peeved as hell.  “Look mate, if you want to get through to a girl who is royally peeved at you, I’d advise not insulting the man who you have to get past to contact her.”  With that, he hung up on who I could only assume was Sherlock.

            “Sorry bout him,” I smiled apologetically up at Spence.

            “No worries.  Look, are you sure you don’t want to go out and get drinks with Mark and me?  We’d really love for you to come out.  It’s been ages.”

            “I’m positive, Spence.  I’m just going to sit here in my pjs and watch a movie.”

            “Anything good?”

            “Depends, do you consider American 80’s teen movies to be good?”

            “Hmm which one?” he asked.

            I smiled crookedly at him.  “The Breakfast Club.”

            He nodded approvingly as Mark came out of their bedroom.  The two of them left for their date night and I put the movie on and changed into comfy shorts and a tank.  About halfway through the film there was a knocking on the door.  Thinking it may have been a package for Spence or Mark I opened the door a crack…and promptly slammed it shut. 

Standing in the hall outside the flat was none other than the flat was none other than the self-proclaimed consulting detective I had been avoiding for over a week.  “Lilliana, open the door!”

“Um, no I’m not gonna do that Sherlock!  I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

I could hear him sigh before he responded.  “Then I will break down this door.”

“No you won’t,” I called back and after a moment’s thought added, “and no coming

the fire escape either.”  He tried to open the door but I pushed back, closing it once more.  “Sherlock, I said no.”

            “Just listen to me for one minute Lilliana!”  I groaned silently and sighed before opening the door a bit for him.  “Are you going to let me in?  Isn’t that the social nicety or something like that?”  I pursed my lips and stepped aside so he could follow me into the flat.  I plopped down on the couch again and looked up expectantly at Sherlock. 

            “You’re angry with me.” It wasn’t a question.

            “Damn straight I’m mad at you.  After what I heard you say in Devon I’d say I have every reason to be.  ‘I don’t consider Lilly a friend’ was it?”

            Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at me condescendingly. “Lils, I don’t consider you a friend.  I thought that much was obvious.”

            I stood up tall and glared up at him.  “Obvious?  Because I’m pretty sure since we were six years old we have been—”

            “Do you ever shut up?” he asked lazily.  I stared at him, my mouth open in shock at him.  Sherlock grimaced and looked at me apologetically.  “Let me try that again.  What I meant by what I said to John is that I think you and I have been a bit more than…ah… friends for a while now.  I’d say since that one night in Greece when you think about it.”

            “Wait what are you saying Sherlock?”  I asked completely and utterly bewildered.

            He sighed and looked slightly uncomfortably down at me.  “What I mean Lils…is that I…ah…have…feelings for—”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his.  “I love you too Sherlock,” I smiled up at him and immediately all of the anger and hurt I had been feeling since Devon melted away.  I pulled Sherlock down to the couch and kissed him once more.  All of a sudden, the door opened and Spence and Mark came in giggling and obviously drunk.

“Wha’s he doing ‘ere sweetness?” Spence slurred leaning heavily on Mark and pointing to Sherlock.

I smiled at him and took Sherlock’s hand in mine and said simply, “I think I’m going to be moving back into the Baker Street flat.”