Failing Upward

Chapter 23 (part 2): In My Life

I was right, Cherry Point had changed some over the years, but it was essentially the same: an old flat white painted barn converted to a roadside stand. White lattice for trim, the barn doors standing open, inviting the public inside to shop and pick through their wares. I limped straight for the pastries while Sherlock browsed around the shop, thumbing through books and knick knacks.

As I checked out which cherry strudels to buy, I kept thinking about Sherlock's change of mind. It shouldn't feel like it was a betrayal. It was his life, but there was a part of me that resented he could make that choice when I never had a chance.

I couldn't decide on which pastries looked best, so I took three. I was deciding on which plate of macadamia nut cookies I wanted when I heard squeals from behind a rack of sweatshirts. Two teenage girls peeked around. A petite blonde with a pink tank top shoved her friend into me. Auburn hair and tangerine lips filled my face, and she sputtered and stuttered. I stepped back. I grinned wide at her— God, she reminded me of Harry: petite frame, sparkling eyes and a Jackson Pollock splattering of bronze freckles on her nose and cheeks. But what made me really smile was that just like Harry, she was another redhead who insisted that red was her color. She was all over clashing red from her clunky clogs down to her tight apple -red hip hugger shorts and her ruby sequined purse (which she was frantically digging inside). Even her hair ties were red. She hiccupped.

"Mr. Watson?" she stammered, sticking her glittering purse in my face. "Could I get your autograph?" She met my eyes and added: "I have all your CDs."

I noticed Sherlock watching me and chuckling behind the book rack as the cute blonde eyed my ass.

"Sure," I said.

Still scavenging her purse, she sighed with success, handing me what looked like an envelope and a purple marker. I fruitlessly juggled the strudels, cookies, paper and pen. Then I noticed she was looking directly at my crotch. Shit, it was like having my sister ogling me. Both our faces turned red. Hers was almost the color of her purse.

"Could you hang on to these for me?" I asked, and she grabbed both my cherry strudels, then my cookies, caressing them as if they were made of mithril. I cleared my throat. "Who do I write this to?"

"Ashley. Ashley Peters. Would it be too much if we took a selfie together?"

"All right, Ashley Peters," I winked.

As she dug her iPhone out of her pocket, I wrote a short message and handed it back, which set off another cascade of giggles.

"Thank you, Mr. Watson!"

"Call me John." More giggles. Lots more. I thought about winking at her again, but changed my mind. After checking out my package, I didn't want to give her any more encouragement. I put my hand loosely around her waist and bent my head toward hers, and she snapped the photo. Then another.

"Thank you, ah, John." More giggles.

"Um. Could I have my strudel back?"

"Sorry Mr. Watson... I mean John."

"...and my cookies?"

Sherlock was having way too much fun. I could see he had a book, Ghost Ships of The Great Lakes , and a couple of sweat shirts in his arms along with a grin wide enough to split his face.

I went up to the counter next to Sherlock to pay. And I heard him talking to the cashier about me. I set my things next to his.

"Isn't that lighthouse on this shirt the one you've gone on about ad nauseam?" Sherlock asked, pointing at his purchase.

"Yeah, it's Little Point Sable."

"It's only a few miles from here," the gray haired cashier chimed in.