My Fair Maiden (Book 1)

Chapter 16

Sherlock shut the door behind us and I stood at the curb, looking up and down the road waiting for a cab to swing around the corner.

"C'mon, we'll start walking." Sherlock called and I looked to his voice, seeing him halfway down the block. I sighed and walked after him. The snow was thin on the ground but I figured if it kept on snowing like this then there would be a couple inches on the way back.

"You know, I am wearing heels." I stated and Sherlock hummed in response. "It would be nice if you didn't walk so fast, Mr. Holmes. " I pulled out a cigarette and lighter from my inside jacket pocket and placed the filter between my teeth. I cupped the end as I flicked the cheap plastic and inhaled once the flame licked the end of the cigarette. Once I saw the cherry I pulled the lighter away and slid it back in my pocket and grabbed the cancer stick between my pointer and middle finger. I pulled it away and let out the smoke in a long exhale, away from Sherlock's face.

"When did you start?" Sherlock asked and I looked to him and he motioned to the offending object in my right hand. I shrugged and brought it back to my lips and thought for a moment.

"13? No, wait... that was weed. Um, I think 15. Maybe 16?" I stated, taking another drag. "My parents weren't... well, the typical parents. On one of those birthdays they bought me a pack and tossed them into my lap stating they hoped these would kill me faster." I chuckled scratching my chin and looking ahead, stopping at a traffic light.

"You really don't show signs that you smoke. You know that, right? I mean, you probably get an occasional tick, but your teeth are white, when your mouth forms an "o" there are no wrinkles on either side of your top lip. No tobacco stains on your fingers. I really didn't take you for a smoker when we met." Sherlock deduced, never looking at me but straight ahead. I looked away from him and stepped up onto the other sidewalk.

"Well, I'm not good at deductions, Mr. Holmes, please tell me about yourself. I know you're a detective of sports. You live above me and you're what? 30? Maybe 32?"

Sherlock was hesitant and shrugged. "That's all there really is to me. I'm 33, consulting detective. Married to my work. Theres nothing to know."

"Hobbies? Do you not play an instrument? Read anything other than case files? Video games? Any tv shows or movies?"

He glanced at me them looked away, taking a sharp turn in front of me, basically shoving me to follow. "Fucker!" I sneered, my foot slipping on ice hidden underneath the snow.

"No. Nothing of the sorts. I keep to myself. I play the violin occasionally. Maybe a bit of reading. No tv. Dulls the mind." His answers were short and quipped. I sighed and shook my head. I pretended to slip and fell to my knees, grabbing onto Sherlock's arm. He crouched to help me up, but I held him in his position for a second and looked up at him.

"When someone is following you, possibly listening; it's best to act natural, Mr. Holmes." I smiled sweetly as I whispered to him, slowly standing on wobbly legs and thanking him for helping me up.

"Now, we have 20 minutes left to be at that restaurant. If we're late, I'm sure Eve will kick my ass. It would be great if we made it there in time, my ass is one of my best features. " I jested and kept my arm wrapped around his and continued to walk.

"Apologies. Just wanted to take a little bit of a longer route." Sherlock stated, a little more casually and I squeezed his arm in praise. I sighed as I went to bring my hand to my mouth, but realized I dropped my cigarette in my fall.

"The last time I ever do something like that" I chuckled to myself and looked around. "London is beautiful as Christmas approaches, isn't it? I mean, maybe not to you, but... I've never been here for the beginning of December. New York is gorgeous! There's lights strung up in November. They'd be finding the biggest tree to put I'm the skating rink. I'd begin my shopping." I breathed out, just trying to keep the conversation going.