He always knew love was a weakness, he just didn't think it would be his.
Imogen Hargreaves is a former detective that finds herself walking right back into the life she'd left behind. Not only does drama ensue but she manages to catch the eye of t...
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The text came through while I was at school and I think everyone sensed a change in my behaviour. As I sent the children away from their last lesson of the term I began to feel an overwhelming sense of dread. After all this time I had finally been told the date that they would be discussing Amelia in the trial. I gave my statement already, filmed it, done whatever I needed to. Now all I could do I sit back and watch as the trial came to an end and see what verdict Kromer gets.
But, for now, I force myself to stop thinking about it. It's Christmas after all. John hadn't really needed to do much convincing to get me to come to Baker Street for Christmas this year; the only other thing I'd do is watch Elf and eat a cake to myself. Being around others means less calories. That and I suppose they aren't awful company.
My eyes drift towards the unopened present at the bottom of my purse, neatly wrapped with not a single bit creased that isn't supposed to be. I've always prided myself on my ability to wrap gifts - pointless but oh well.
Everyone has already opened their gifts because I couldn't wait but with Sherlock I intend to wait until Christmas Day. It isn't anything expensive or fancy but because he's made such a point of trying to figure out what it is, I'm going to wait. It infuriates him and I dare say I saw his eye twitch as everyone else opened theirs.
Mrs Hudson claps happily when Sherlock finishes playing another Christmas Carole on his violin. I've been captivated by his playing since I arrived earlier on clad in my red dress covered by the obligatory terrible Christmas cardigan. Mrs Hudson had commented a couple of times on how she used to have legs like mine which I think in part is due to the bottle of Sherry I gifted her.
There's something about Sherlock when he plays; it's like he's allowing us to see him at his most vulnerable despite him being in control. He seems almost...carefree. Or maybe just free in general.
"I wish you could have worn the antlers." Mrs Hudson laughs, gesturing the novelty gift on the side. Oh now that would have been a picture.
"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock shoots her down again, glancing over at John's new girlfriend when she offers him a mince pie. "No, thank you, Sarah." He shakes his head and her face drops.
I put my face in my hands at the slip up and hear John scramble to get up, "No, no, no, he's not good with names." John apologises.
"No, no, no, no, I can get this." Sherlock assures his friend while the poor woman puts the pies down. "Sarah was the doctor and then there was the one with the spots and then the one with the nose and then...who was after the boring teacher?" He asks genuinely.
The woman shifts uncomfortably, wrapping her navy cardigan tighter around her, "Nobody." She tells him sheepishly. I wouldn't say it out loud but the woman does bore me a bit - she loves to talk about how rewarding her work is. Just complain about the little runts, it's what the rest of us do.
