It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

39 - Would You Do It Again?

The morning after the party was awkward. Period. No other way to describe it.

After the thrill of the previous evening had settled, both thief and detective recalled their kiss. The kiss that Elizabeth had initiated. The kiss that Sherlock had very willingly gone along with. The kiss that left them both confused as hell.

John observed their morning encounters. He was sat at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of tea. Sherlock was making more tea for himself. Elizabeth made her way out of Sherlock's room, stretching from her sleep. As she turned the corner, she waved at John, who reciprocated the gesture. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at her approaching and quickly moved out of the way - however she moved the same way.

And so he moved to the other side.

But so did she.

They did this dance for a few moments, muttering incoherent things to each other before both stopped.

"We having a more upbeat version of our dance last night?" She asked, heat rising in her cheeks.

"Um, it would appear so..."

They stood in silence.

John was perplexed at their seemingly sudden change from rather friendly behaviour to cringeworthy demeanours. What on earth happened last night? A dance didn't sound bad so what else had happened? If he didn't get the story from either of them, John thought he may have been willing to approach Mycroft for the details.

"So."

"So." Sherlock repeated.

They stared at each other. Unfortunately, John blinked at the exact moment both the thief's and detective's eyes darted down to each others lips.

"Is everything alright with you two?" John had to ask this aloud.

They looked at him simultaneously.

"Yes! Fine!" Was the unanimous answer.

They both looked back to each other, mildly freaked out that they had said the same thing at the same time. John frowned. It definitely wasn't fine.

"I just want tea."

"You can have tea." Sherlock nodded, still not moving.

"To get tea, I need to get to the counter, Sherlock." Elizabeth said this with eyes that pleaded for mercy from the universe.

"Right! Of course. Yes. Sorry, I'll move."

But they both walked into each other at the same time, stumbling back slightly from the sudden contact with a resounding 'oof'.

"I'll just get tea later." Elizabeth resolved and walked back out of the kitchen and into Sherlock's room again, shutting the door a little too loudly.

John looked to Sherlock, confusion plastered across his face, "What was that?"

"What was what?" Sherlock asked innocently.

John scoffed, "You know what I'm talking about. That moment. Just now. What even was that?"

"It was a normal moment, John. Absolutely fine."

"What happened at the party last night? You danced? Was that bad? And don't lie to me, Sherlock. Something happened. I can tell."

"Nothing happened." Sherlock shook his head quickly, "How was work, John?"

"Ha! Now, I definitely know something's up because you have never, ever, ever, asked how my work has been."

Sherlock internally facepalmed at his failure to change the conversation. He clenched his jaw for a moment then sighed, taking a seat opposite his friend. John was good with these situations after all - perhaps he could advise?