"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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Beatrice Astor and Sherlock Holmes set off early the next morning in the consulting detectives 'mystery car' which happened to be a 'red 1963 Porsche 356B Karmann Coupe' as Sherlock had very specifically told her, it was allegedly gifted to him by his older brother but Sherlock, being stubborn - had only ever used it once. That was very evident from the interior, it was impeccably tidy, something that nobody would ever associate with Sherlock Holmes and Beatrice found herself guiltily glad that John had been too ill to drag himself out of bed that day; because, if John was present, she'd have spent the two-hour car journey in the very small back seat with her legs curled up close to her.
"So..." she hummed, turning her head to face the man who was driving with a very stern expression- it was rather rare that a genuine smile would light up Sherlock's face, especially one that wasn't painfully sarcastic at least. But when he looked across at her, his lips twisted, tugging into a small smile across the startling bow shape. Beatrice hated the way her eyes were drawn so eagerly to that action and she snapped her eyes away instantly.
"So?" he prompted after a long moment of nothing, it was destined to be a very long drive, and vacation for that matter if Beatrice and Sherlock couldn't initiate some sort of conversation.
"I don't know. I was hoping you had something" she sheepishly returned and her eyes locked with his for a fraction of a second before they burst out laughing. It was uncomfortable- but switched to jovial in under a second. The temperature relaxed and she felt infinitely comfier in the passenger seat despite the fact that she had not even moved. "This is going to be a long two weeks if we don't have anything to say" she mellowed and a dent formed on his brow as he thought deeply about what to say.
"Are you uncomfortable, Beatrice? Being away with me for two weeks?" he questioned softly and she couldn't help but stare at his side profile- Sherlock Holmes was beautiful from every angle, she'd long since decided upon that. But he looked impossibly... Freer now, as if he'd lost five years on his appearance merely from sitting behind the wheel.
"No" she replied sincerely, thinking desperately. "But, I know that I should be"
"Why?"
"I haven't known you for very long Sherlock" she sighed and he shot her a side-smile.
"And yet, you know me probably better than most other people. You know me better than my own brother, better than Lestrade who I have known for five years, than Molly who seems to have feelings for me. I've always seen myself as a rather open book, Beatrice. I've never had any interest in growing closer to people but then... John and you came into my life on the very same day and by the next morning, I was already closer to you than anybody else." he tapped the steering wheel beneath his hands gently once, not looking into her eyes as if that would somehow change his entire thought process.
"I've never let myself be close to anybody either." she frowned, aware of him flashing her a side-eye as she watched the greenery flashing passed, they'd left the city now and with it, they seemed to have left behind all their troubles, she felt lighter now. "Except Jamie of course, always Jamie" she breathed, seeming in reminiscence for a moment but the freedom that had recently cast a glaze over her doe eyes was swallowed up in an instant. "You were right,"
