It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

57 - Another Brief

A/N - Sorry for the delay!
I didn't realise how much downtime I would need after the holiday to recover from the loss of the sea :(((

But the new chapter is here now! Enjoy ❤

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"John, do you want tea?"

"Uh, yes, please." The doctor nodded, handing the thief his empty mug.

"Elizabeth?"

"Do you want anything else, John?"

"Elizabeth?"

The doctor looked sympathetically at the  detective who was desperately trying to get her attention. He was sat in the chair opposite, hands toying with the edge of a coaster, looking up at Elizabeth as though he were a child awaiting attention from his mother.

"Elizabeth?"

"Um, n - no. Not really. Just tea, thanks." John looked back to her and nodded quickly.

"Elizabeth, could I please have some tea too?"

The thief smiled at John but proceeded to pretend as though Sherlock had never existed. And she scarily seemed all the happier for doing so.

"Elizabeth? Please?"

The thief paused. Sherlock perked up at this, hoping he had finally gotten through to her but she momentarily turned around simply to meet the detective's gaze and still continued to pretend he wasn't there.

"Did you hear something, John?" She asked coldly, "No? Must have been the wind."

Elizabeth turned back to the kitchen and continued to the counter.

Sherlock sighed, looking genuinely upset with the fact that he had screwed up so badly. Was this what it was like when he had emotionally retreated after Irene’s fake death? If it was then he only felt all the more guilty. Probably rightly so. But she wasn't grieving - she was pissed. And at him no less. And it hurt. It hurt his heart - that tiny, little organ he wasn't even sure he had until John and Elizabeth came along.

Since they came along, he found he had experienced companionship, happiness that didn’t come from solving cases, warmth, regret and love. He couldn't even recall the last time he had felt that last one. Of course, he loved his family but that was a different kind of love - more distant than that of what he now used to have with Elizabeth.

He missed Elizabeth.

And it was only day two.

John was still struggling to believe how much Sherlock had truly messed up. But the extent of Elizabeth's blanking told him that she was very hurt by his words last night. Words John still didn't even know as Sherlock refused to speak to him last night also. He just slumped in his chair, looking at the cold fireplace with remorse dripping from his expression.

The army doctor wanted to be there for both of them but if neither would talk then he would just have to watch from this sidelines, helpless.

In the kitchen, Elizabeth got a text from Mycroft:

<I have your next missions lined up. I'll be at the flat this afternoon to discuss them further. - M.H.>

She just hoped it wouldn’t interfere with her own, personal mission.

As she brought John's tea back into the living room, she announced this to them both (although, more so John).

"Mycroft'll be round this afternoon." She took a sip of her own tea, "Has more missions for me."