It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

31 - Trying

While Sherlock waited for the pair to come back, he paced the floor, unsure of how he would break the news to Elizabeth that he hadn't gotten through to Mycroft. He said he would try. That didn't mean he would succeed. So why? Why did he feel so bad? They trusted her, he hoped she knew that. But Mycroft was a different matter.

And there, he guessed now, was his fondness for Elizabeth seeping through again. He found the concept ridiculous. I mean, Sherlock was fond of John but in a different way. He had been his second real friend. He would never admit it, no. That just put him at risk.

Take Moriarty, for example. He had exploited their friendship. In the kind of world that Sherlock involved himself in, it was dangerous to have friends. Would it be even more dangerous to be more than friends with Moriarty's only 'family' so to speak?

"More than friends." The detective scoffed at the idea aloud.

Utter nonsense. Elizabeth probably didn't feel like that towards him. He wondered if she, too, was fond of him in the same way?

"Same way? What's wrong with you." He scolded himself.

Same way. There was no specific way. They were what they were. Friends. Just friends. Friends that were fond of one another as most friends were.

He collapsed into his arm chair, exhausted from the overthinking. Rubbing his fingers on his temples, he closed his eyes. Sherlock needed a distraction, so what could he find in his mind palace?

There was the case with the thieves. Gang of thieves. Single thief. He saw Elizabeth stood there in her catsuit like when he had first met her.

"Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back." The mind palace version of Elizabeth said to him with her playful smirk.

He waved her away, "Not now."

"Then when? You know I like you too."

"I don't actually. Go away." He found the mind palace version of her much more annoying.

"Almost sounded like you cared. I care. I could have left you to die in Scarlett's hands but I didn't. I broke my 'lone wolf' style of behaviour. When will you break yours?"

He opened his eyes. Sherlock was mildly annoyed that for the life of him he couldn't concentrate while his mind was on overdrive, overthinking Elizabeth.

The door clicked open. How had he missed the shuffling of Elizabeth's and John's steps? He stood quickly to greet them both as they made their way in with the shopping bags.

"Hello." They both said in unison to the detective.

"Sorry we took so long." Elizabeth said to Sherlock as she set down the bags in the living room so she could speak quickly, "Small incident slash good news."

Sherlock listened, moving closer to Elizabeth and the bags with the intention of helping her carrying them into the kitchen. He didn't know why though. It was a nice thing people did? Even though the kitchen was only several steps away.

But when he reached down to collect two of the bags, he did so at the same time as Elizabeth and when he looked up at her, he noticed the two mean scratches on her face.

He shot straight back up, concern flooding his expressions, "What happened to you?"

He refrained from letting his hand check but John saw his hand almost instinctively want to move.

Elizabeth smiled at Sherlock reassuringly, "It's okay. I caught a thief."

"And, in turn, it looks she caught you too."