"Oh look, it's the flatmates I didn't want and disagreed to, thank you, Mrs Hudson, how very courteous of you"
Beatrice Astor was sarcastic, perpetually moody and hopelessly gorgeous- Sherlock couldn't help but be instantly attracted... But how doe...
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By the time Sherlock Holmes and John Watson returned to 221B Baker Street, they had successfully caught a killer and the sky was dark and speckled with a thousand stars. Stepping through the front door, they were graced with the stunning scent of a home-cooked pie- Beatrice had been busy in their absence, walking around the room, seemingly on autopilot as when they entered, she didn't even acknowledge their presence from where she was assessing vegetables in the large saucepan on one of the hob rings.
"Beatrice?" John was the one to speak and he instantly felt bad when she jumped half a foot in the air and whipped around to them with wide eyes. She had somehow missed the sound of the front door opening and the proceeding chatter and footfalls but her own name was the thing to break her from her trance. When she turned to them, she smiled- it was tight and completely false but a smile nonetheless.
"I didn't know where you were or when you'd be home but I thought- I" she frowned, blinking around at what she had done in their absence. She remembered every second of it- she just didn't know why she had the sudden burst of inspiration to cook a full meal... for ten at night. "Are you hungry?"
"Absolutely" John smiled, approaching her and looking over what she had done. "Should I set the table?"
"Um- Yes. Yeah," she nodded, blinking herself out of her daze as she went to drain the carrots. Once completed, and all the appropriate food was laid out across their dining room table, Beatrice found herself marching purposely toward Sherlock Holmes and he took her into his arms in an instant, reading on her face that that was what she wanted. It was like a married couple reuniting after a week apart and John startled from where he was spooning carrots onto his plate. He knew that his housemates were growing close- but he did not expect them to be this close. Regardless... He was happy for them. They very clearly had some form of connection, they were two people most against bonding with others and yet- they had bonded together.
Never removing his hand from Beatrice's back, Sherlock gently guided her to the table, pulling her chair out and helping her to sit before he joined John on their side of the table, they used the same seats every single night. For a pregnant pause, John merely stared at them as if waiting for them to acknowledge the peculiarity of their own actions- they did not. Rather, they began to eat, as if everything was normal. That was the most unnerving thing about Sherlock and Beatrice to John- they would do strange things in a way that made them seem normal.
Sherlock analysed Beatrice carefully, looking for any sign of sadness on her face, the sobbing agonised sadness she had had earlier in the day- but it seemed to be gone. She was a blank canvas and he didn't like her lack of expression. Her emotions were back and forth as if she herself didn't know quite how to feel and that was agonising.
"Ahh, there you are" Mrs Hudson breathed as she entered the room. Her eyes were red and sad but she too, seemed to have collected herself quite well in their absence. "Beatrice, I have phoned Phil and he's getting everything sorted out for you. Is that alright love? Have you phoned Tanner?"
