Ashes, Ashes

The Obvious

- c h a p t e r   s i x t e e n -

Sherlock released an audible sigh as he walked into 221B to see that Emma was on her way out. She seemed to be heading out often just so she wasn't permanently stuck within her flat. Just a simple glance at her told Sherlock she was attempting to cover up melancholy feelings hanging right under her skin, but she hid it all with a curl of her lips and a snicker.

"You look sort of sick," Emma noted, doing her best to scan over Sherlock in the same manner he always did to her. While she certainly wasn't any good at deducing, she could certainly see a few things that stuck out to her - and one of them was the fact that he looked rather stressed. Flustered. Out of whack. All things she typically didn't see from Sherlock, all things she rather enjoyed seeing.

"I'm not sick," he replied, refusing to make eye contact with her as he attempted to make his way to 221B.

"Are you drunk, then?" Emma asked, trying (and failing) to restrain a giggle. "You look like you might be drunk. It'll be like the stag night all over again - you two were a mess! Couldn't hold your alcohol at all, it was quite funny..."

"I'm not drunk, either," Sherlock sighed, beginning to be fed up with everything that she brought up. Nevertheless, she seemed to have grown roots to the floor right where she was standing and therefore he couldn't get around her without purposefully pushing her out of the way (and he wasn't going to do that, no matter how irritated he got).

"Then what's going on?" she asked, genuinely curious about what was happening to make him act so strangely.

"I have a case that I'm meant to be working on," Sherlock explained. "I picked it up on John's stag night, in case you're wondering - and I plan to work it out. I just need to get more information. I'm sure it will all become very obvious once I manage to find a trail-"

"Wait a moment," Emma said, heavily amused by the entire situation. "You picked up a case on John's stag night? Really? I remember you came back to your flat, and then someone else came along...oh, you picked up a case when you were drunk, didn't you? I can't believe the two of you! You did pick up a case when you were drunk, yeah?"

"Yes, I managed to pick up a case even in my drunken stupor. If you're wondering, it's one of the best and most interesting cases I've gotten in ages."

"Oh, really?" Emma said, tilting her head in mock interest. She liked getting to do this - for once, she was messing around with Sherlock. Yes, she'd been curious at first, but now it seemed that Sherlock was actually going to go along with what she wanted and that made it boring.

This was far better than going out into the streets of London and searching desperately for a job, however. Too much of her life thus far had been spent job searching, and she would much rather mess around with Sherlock as much as she could manage before going off. It was all dull and frustrating - she would gain so much more by giggling at what she could tease him about.

"If it was so interesting, you won't mind telling me what it's about and sparing me a yawn or two," Emma said, starting to rock back and forth on her heels. "I mean, it must be so very fascinating if you decided to keep working on it even after all the alcohol from the stag night ran out. Tell me about it."

Sherlock didn't want to explain a single word of the situation to Emma. He simply wanted to go to his flat, the one that was just steps behind where she was standing. But he knew this woman well enough to understand she wouldn't budge even in the slightest unless he followed absolutely everything she wanted from him.

He formulated a quick, simple way to explain the entire situation - not only would it save time, but it would allow Emma to understand it with less downtime. He knew that anything he said would end up causing more questions to rise up to her tongue, but perhaps he could buy himself enough time to slip past her and cease the torment of having to speak with her.