Chapter 8: The Day After

Author's Note:

I'm alive guys! And so is this fic! Sorry for the long hellatus, as my friends in the Supernatural fandom like to say. But I'm back now, so on with the show! 

I looked down at Irene lovingly. It was uncharacteristic of her to get so drunk, so fast, but off of something so... not strong as champagne. It wasn't as if it was vodka or something. I sighed with contentment as I thought back to the previous night. Everything has gone so well I almost thought that we were in a fairy tale, and that she was the princess and I th gallant knight. Or we might have been in a glorious dream... That would've made sense, as I could hardly believe my good luck when she fell asleep in the car, giving me an excuse to keep her in my place for the night. I sighed again, and perhaps that was what woke her up, because all of a sudden, her eyes fluttered open.

“History repeats itself,” she said.

“What?” was my intelligent response,

“I'm in your bed, you're looking down one me-”

I cut her off with an “Ohhhhhh....” of enlightenment. She rolled her eyes.

“Really, Sherlock. You must be tired. Come rest with me,” she said, patting the bed next to her.

At this point, I was torn. My brain said “Are you as stupid as you don't look?” And my body said “Yes. And?” Eventually my flesh won. And I slipped into bed with her. I lay quite a respectable distance away from her though. What do you think I am? A hormonal teenager?

“Such a gentleman, Mr. Holmes.”

And she slid across the bed until she was cuddling against my chest. I froze, entirely unsure of what to do.

“Now you put your arms around me,” Irene instructed dryly.

I automatically lifted my arms to do as she said, but then I hesitated. For no good reason. Other than simple nervousness. Sherlock Holmes does not get nervous. But I did it anyways, covering up my hesitancy with a “Of course, milady,” trying to regain some of my suave smoothness from the night before. My last thought as I drifted off was “Definitely a hormonal teenager.”

We were still in that position when John found us several hours later. He flicked on all the lights and said “Are the lovers hungry? Because dinner's on the table.” He looked over at our position and added a “I still vote for the baby to be called Hamish.”

Irene started to laugh long and hard, and my heart did a little skipping dance at the sound. I scowled to cover the foolish smile undoubtedly forming on my face at the thought of a baby.

“Where would a baby come from, John?”

“So you did use protection. I thought, in the eagerness-”

“For god's sake, we did not have sex!”

“Sure, sure- oh. Um. What did you say?”

“I said, we did not have sex.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. Dinner's on the table.”

And John slipped out, undoubtedly muttering “Awkward” under his breath.

Irene laughed again, and then got out of bed.

“The poor man.”

“Where are you going?” I whined.

“To take a shower and go eat the dinner that John keeps talking about. Unless you want to actually have sex...”

I quickly rolled out of bed.

“Ouch. Rejected,” she said.

“No, it's not that I don't want to have sex with you, it's just that I realized that I'm starving.”

“I know, I know. No need to be the blushing virgin. Oh wait.” And with a smirk, she headed off to the shower, leaving me with a stupid little grin on my face. Screw that woman. Oh wait.

As we headed down to dinner, Irene turned to me.

“Wanna totally freak John out?”

“How?” I asked, busy watching her beautiful lips move.

“Follow my lead,” was all the cryptic advice that she gave me. But whatever. I'm Sherlock. Just because I have a sort-of girlfriend doesn't mean that I can't still solve cases. Then she grabbed my hand as we walked into the dining room and my brain drew a blank. 5 seconds later, she went “John sure does make good-looking food. You're so lucky, honey.” And then my brain went “Ohhhhhh.....”. Damn. This wasn't going to be good for a case.

We spent the rest of dinner looking, acting, and basically being as couple-y as possible. I thought I died and went to heaven. John thought he died and went to hell. And Irene? Irene was just getting a kick out of messing with all of our heads. Except for mine. Nobody messes with my head. 

Author's Note:

Sorry for the horrible chapter guys! School started and my muse has abandoned me. But hey, crap is better than nothing, right? Right? (Don't forget to comment!)

Peace, Love, and Baby Ducks,

Wendy KL/ vivagreen 

Chapter 1: The Woman (REDONE)

Author's Note:

Hello! I'm back again! This chapter is Chapter 1 redone. I'd like to make clear that this is somewhat of a crack!chapter, and I intended for this to be funny, so please don't take this too seriously. Enjoy!

The journey had long and tiring, requiring much concentration and hand-eye co-ordination. It had been so long... so long....

What had this journey been, you might ask. Well, I, Sherlock Holmes, had been to the supermarket to buy some milk. It had been horrible! There had been so many different types of milk, and then there was the cream, pretending to be milk and messing me up. But that horrifying experience was a story for another time. Right now, I was home. And I needed a nap.

I walked towards my bedroom, where I could rest up for the rest of the day, as I felt really drained and needed to have my brain functional again so that I could deal with any cases that just might come my way. But the instant I walked into my room, I knew that I would not be getting any rest at that moment.

Irene Adler lay stretched out on my bed, looking delicate and peaceful. While I knew in my heart that she was none of those things, I still loved the thought that being in my room could make her feel safe enough that she could let her guard down like that. Once I got past that unreasonable feeling, I got to the greater question: What was she doing in my bed? As much as I loved having her around, I still liked knowing when she would be coming, and being there to greet her, instead of having her break into my flat.

You may have realized something, and you may be shocked at the realization. But yes. The great, emotionless Sherlock Holmes had fallen in love. With Irene Adler no less.

As I pondered my next course of action, I realized that I was far too tired out by my milk-buying adventure to think properly. But that didn't stop me from trying to pick the right thing to do. First, I listed out all the possibilities.

1. Wake her up.
2. Crawl into the bed with her and snuggle for awhile.
3. Pour ice-cold water on her.
4. Do nothing.
5. Go to sleep in John's room.
6. Draw on her face.
7. Or arms...
8. Or feet...
9. Pretend to be a dragon so she'll wake up,
10. Pretend to be a unicorn so she'll think that she broke into the wrong flat so she'll feel super awkward.

By the time I got to 10, I realized that there was something seriously wrong with my brain. But pretending to be a unicorn would be fun, and then I can laugh when she starts to apologize for breaking into the wrong-

SHUT UP, SHERLOCK!

Okay. Much better. Must think of plan.

Can't think of plan.

To tell you the truth, she was just too distracting, lying there. She had her hair down, and looked so vulnerable in her sleep. It reminded her of the last couple of times that I had seen her with her hair down. Each time marked another stage in our relationship: first came tolerance, then friendship, and then finally, love. Ah, love. The oldest trap known to mankind, one that I had scorned for ages before I fell in it. How the mighty have fallen, you could say. Or you might say “FINALLY! THE IDIOT! THEY ARE SO OBVIOUSLY MEANT FOR EACH OTHER AND OH MY GOODNESS-” Hem. The second one totally wouldn't be the reaction of some of the people I tell *cough cough Molly cough cough*.

I think the milk I bought may have been mildly drugged.

Author's Note:

So, how did y'all like it? I hope it's funny, but I'm writing this really late at night (again), so I apologize for the crappiness. Yeah. That's pretty much all I have to say. Except a plea for comments, as always. (Thumbs up to the people who think that I should release a story entitled "The Milk Buying Adventure of Sherlock Holmes". Comment down below if you think I should!)

Peace, Love and Baby Ducks,

Wendy KL/ vivagreen

  

Chapter 7: The Date

Author's Note:

Dun dun dun dun! The chapter is finally here! Yup, I finally decided that it was time for Sherlock and Irene to go on their date! But before they do, I need to say that Jolly is a definite possibility as a side romance. And I'm sorry if my (Sherlock's) deductions are bad. I'm not as clever as Moffat is. I have been drowning in homework, hence this late chapter. On the other hand, summer is almost here! That means that I'll be updating more than once every half year. And for any Percy Jackson fans that might be reading this, I'll be starting up my “The Story of Liriana Pearl Jackson” again. It will go up in another tab. I already have like 5 chapters done, so the updates will go fast.  And so, the following is my summer updating schedule that I will do my best to follow.

Monday: TSoLIP (The Story of Liriana Pearl Jackson)

Tuesday: WSDK (What Sherlock Didn't Know)

Wednesday: Nothing

Thursday: Nothing

Friday: New Story (I've yet to decide what fandom and title)

Saturday: A one-shot, or nothing.

Sunday: Accompanying Materials to my stories (Song-Fics, One-Shots, etc. etc.)

Sorry for the ridiculously long author's note.

I fiddled with my tie. The thing was not being very co-operative. I tried hard to remember what John had taught me about tying a good tie knot, but it seemed that I had deleted the (at the time) not-so important skill from the hard drive that is my mind. At that moment, John reached over from where he was sitting on his armchair.

“Here, I'll help you with that, you incompetent buffoon.”

Reluctantly, I let John's nimble fingers tie a neat four-in-hand.

“You did not just call Sherlock Holmes an incompetent buffoon.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I think you need the harpoon again.”

“Where did you even get that thing?”

“Not telling!”

“You know, for a mad genius, you sure are childish.”

“There's no point in growing up if you can't be a child sometimes.”

“That's- that's- the most un-Sherlock thing that I've ever heard. She must have really changed you.”

“Yeah, she really did. But that reminds me, as much I'd like to continue talking with you, I have a date to go on with a beautiful woman, so I'll be leaving now.”

“That sounds profane coming from your mouth.”

“Goodbye, John.”

I huffed as I went outside. Irene would be here any minute no- Ah, there she was.

“Hello, Ms. Adler.”

“Sherlock. You're looking gorgeous today.” My heart skipped a beat. Ridiculous.

“You're looking beautiful yourself.”

“Thank you!” Irene was obviously (pleasantly) surprised, as well as genuinely glad to see me. Which was good. Very good. Very, very- oh shut up, Sherlock.

“Well, Ms. Adler-”

“Please, call me Irene.”

“Fine. As I was saying, Irene, I think that we should get going. I have reservations at a quaint little place, nothing too fancy, but I've eaten there before and the food is marvelous.” I hoped I didn't sound too nervous.

“That sounds wonderful.”

I hailed the next passing taxi and opened the door.

“After you.” Irene stepped in, and I sat next to her.

“The Golden Phoenix, if you please,” I told the cabby. He nodded and drove off.

“So, Sherlock. You call me here, dress up for it, and make reservations at a lovely-sounding restaurant. What do you want from me?” I was slightly hurt that she thought I wanted something from her, but that wasn't too far from my old nature.

“Your company.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Well, no. But it's true nonetheless.”

Irene sighed.

“I'll ask again when dinner is over. I still don't believe you, but there's no point spoiling our lovely little evening, is there?”

“Correct, milady.”

“Since when did you become so soft-spoken? Are you sure you're alright? Are you sure you're even Sherlock?” Irene was teasing, but it annoyed me.

“Yes, I'm Sherlock. And I'm fine. My brain will never dull. Don't worry about my identity. I thought that you were intelligent enough to see that I'm me. No impostor would be able to look exactly like me.” I snapped, reverting back to my ordinary self again.

“There we go. I think I like that far better than the soft-spoken Sherlock.”

“Really now? You like it when people snap at you? Interesting.” This revelation helped me too loosen up just a bit. Or maybe a lot.

“Well, when you phrase it like that... What I meant was that I like it when you're true to your nature. When you put up a soft-spoken gentleman attitude for me, I don't like it. I feel like you're lying to me, even if every word that comes out of your gorgeous mouth is true.”

“Well. That's useful information,” I smirked.

“What's with the smirk?”

“It's good to know that you find me so attractive that you feel the need to put something about my attractiveness into every sentence that includes something about my body.”

“Wonderful. He's getting an even bigger ego, if that's humanly possible.”

“All because of you, milady.”

“You just said that to annoy me.”

“Not true. Lady Irene is my lady,” I said, flashing another smirk.

“Are you... flirting with me, my lord?” Irene asked, clearly thinking “Two can play at that game!”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You are such a child.”

“Milady is not the first one to have told me that today,” I said, thinking of John. “As well, milady should step out of the cab, as we are at the restaurant,” I continued.

“Well. I thought you said it wasn't fancy.”

“It isn't,” I blinked.

“Sherlock! This must have cost you a fortune!”

“It didn't cost a cent. The owner of the place owes me, and so insisted I didn't pay. But I could easily have covered the cost, so I didn't know what he was going on about.”

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Her voice had heartfelt thanks and it made me fell all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

But once inside, the food was too good for much conversation. Our conversation had been pretty much reduced to comments on how good our meal was. The first course was white asparagus with a lavender infusion. This may not sound very tempting, but it was incredible.

“This asparagus is the best thing I've ever tasted.”

“There's more to come, so save some of your stomach, milady.”

That was basically how our entire meal went. The champagne that we had along with the meal was also some of the best I have ever tasted.

“It feels like I'm drinking the stars,” Irene remarked.

“Best description I've ever heard, milady.”

As we left the restaurant, Irene was leaning heavily on my arm, having drunken a bit too much champagne and wine. And I? I was the happiest man on earth. I hailed another cabby, and took Irene back to Baker Street. John had already gone up to bed. I laid Irene carefully onto my bed, and took out our spare mattress to sleep on the floor. Before I went to bed however, Irene shifted on my bed.

“Kiss me goodnight, Sherlock,” she slurred

I walked over the the edge of my bed and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“On the lips, you moron.”

I then carefully, carefully pressed my mouth to hers.

“There we go. Thanks for dinner. It was wonderful...” And with that, she fell asleep.

I grinned, still feeling her delicate lips on mine.

“Goodnight, my angel.”

Author's Note: 

Okay, I know everybody is OOC here, but it had to be done for the next part of my story. So please don't flame me going “OOC! Everybody's OOC! You will burn in fanfiction hell for this!” However, comments are appreciated. I will do my best to adhere to the schedule at the start of the chapter. I hope you all like flirty!Sherlock, because I'll be putting more of him in. Sorry for getting Irene drunk. (I know I'm rambling, but it's late at night and I really need to be getting this done, so...) Next week I'll be posting Chapter 1 redone. It'll be Sherlock's monologue, but longer, better, and in the correct time period. During the summer, things like that will be posted on Sundays. As well, brownie points to whoever understands what Sherlock and Irene's meal is based on. Comment if you know (and include where it came from if you do know) and if you don't, comment anyways! Sorry for my rambling and the two ridiculously long author's notes here.  

Peace, Love, and Baby Ducks,

Wendy KL/ vivagreen 

Chapter 6: The Suit

Author's Note:

Back for more! I recently switched to Ubuntu (Linux), so I've just familiarizing myself with the new format, hence the wait. But I barely got any feedback from the last chapter yet, so I don't know why I'm even here. *sniffs* But enough with the rant, and on with the show! 

“Stop being so stubborn, Sherlock! We're just trying to help!” John's voice sounded exasperated. I couldn't blame him, as I really was being difficult, but so was John! I would not, I could not, wear that SHIRT.

“Sherlock... I think I'll leave now... we agreed that when you finally asked Ms. Adler out, you would let me and John pick out what you were going to wear. And you're not letting me do that, so I'll just pop to the morgue...” Molly's voice trailed off.

A mild panic settled over me. John had no sense of fashion, what with his jumpers and all, so if Molly left I would have to pick my clothes myself, and I had far too much to do without having an added obligation. I'd probably just go with my usual outfit, and I wanted this date to be special.

“Please don't go, Molly. I'll wear anything else, just no THAT shirt... or one of John's jumpers...” John look indignant, but I pressed on. “Please, Molly. For me?”

Molly looked amused, and set her bag and coat down.

“You know, I was just trying to get you to be less stubborn. I wasn't really going to leave. I would've thought the great Sherlock Holmes would've been able to figure that out.”

“I knew, I was just... practicing... being human?” My transparent attempt to cover up was easily picked apart by everybody.

As John and Molly laughed at me, I realized that Molly had gotten relaxed enough around me to such an extent that she could make me the butt of her jokes. I was no longer a god to her, and she had clearly excepted the fact that I loved Irene, and had moved on. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. What if I could get John and Molly together through my ineptness? Molly would be a lovely girlfriend to John, and she would be one that I could stand, and she can obviously stand me. I filed the thought away, then smiled. What have I come to? Sherlock Holmes, matchmaking?

“I think you can stop laughing now.” I tried to make my voice flat and unemotional, but again, everyone knew what I was doing. “Seriously, it's not that funny.”

“Um, yeah it is. You're usually a better actor than this, Sherlock.” John's voice still held a note of amusement.

“It's. Not. That. Funny.” I was trying to be firm, but firmness didn't seem to be working.

After a few minutes of waiting, John and Molly got over their mirth at the fact that Sherlock Holmes was being accepting enough to allow people to laugh at him. Honestly, I wasn't that inhuman. Everyone else was just too human.

“So, will you wear the shirt?” John sounded slightly hopeful.

“No.” This time, my voice really was flat and unemotional.

“Fine. Then wear the purple shirt. It's tight on you.” Molly seemed a bit embarrassed to admit that she noticed the tightness of my shirts.

“Yes. I'll wear the purple shirt and the normal suit jacket. Like what I normally wear. I wanted to be... better, so I enlist the help of two people. First they force an ugly shirt on me, then, they just leave me to what I would normally wear. How wonderful.”

“Oh dear. Sherlock-y Sherlock is back.”

I just glared.

“I thought we agreed that you would be nice...?”

“But you're being useless.”

“That's friendly.”

Well, I had to admit I was being a prat again, but I couldn't help it. They were being useless!

“Then we can buy you a new suit. A fancy one, perhaps. Or maybe just a different one,” Molly interjected.

Why didn't I think of that?

“Yes. That was what I was just thinking.” Great. Lying through my teeth.

“That's a really good idea, Molly!” John seemed surprised that he hadn't thought of it.

“Thanks.” And Molly seemed surprised that John complimented her.

“Nevermind buying. I'll just...” I took a deep breath. “...ask Mycroft to borrow one...” Another deep breath. “...as a favour.” Now that was courage.

“Put him on speakerphone! I need to hear this!” John desperately needed to be re-familiarized with the harpoon.

I picked up the phone and dialed Mycroft's number, and yes, put him on speakerphone.

“Hello, dear brother. How are you doing?” At least the wording was different from last time.

“I'm not getting you into a top-secret military base again, Sherlock.” So Mycroft wasn't busy at the moment. Perfect.

“No, I just need to borrow a suit.”

“Why?”

“For a case, of course.” Great. Lying through my teeth.

“Don't lie, Sherlock.”

“Okay, maybe it's not for a case. Maybe it's for something else.”

“Yes, it's for that little get-together with Irene Adler you're planning with John and Molly, is it not?”

I felt the colour drain out of my face.

“N-no...” Great. Lying through my teeth.

“Don't lie, Sherlock. I'll have a suit sent to you by evening.”

“How does he know...?” John was vaguely impressed. Definitely the harpoon for him, then.

“He has government surveillance on us, John.” How dare he be impressed?

“Isn't that a bit unorthodox?” Molly was scandalized.

“This is Mycroft, Molly. He is the definition of unorthodox.”

I got up and started pacing. No point blocking the cameras. In fact... I moved in front of the mantelpiece.

“Thanks for the suit, Mycroft.” Ha! That'll inconvenience him for sure.

“You know where the cameras are?” Molly asked, confused.

“I forgot they were active. He turned them off for a while. Stupid, stupid, stupid! That's going to cost me. I'll have to do legwork for him now.” Love was distracting me. What a terrible thing. Terrible, but sweet.

“It's just some legwork, Sherlock. It's not that bad.” John looked bemused by my outburst.

“It is terrible! I owe him now!”

“Calm down, Sherlock. At least you got the suit. That's the most important thing right now. You need to get ready for Ms. Adler,” Molly consoled.

“Don't you get it? He's buying me a new one!”

“Where'd you get that from?” Now John was impressed with the right person.

“Isn't it obvious? He said 'a suit', not 'my suit'. Mycroft loves to emphasis my debt to him. The use of the word 'my' would emphasize the fact that it's his, and I'm using it. He thinks that I don't care if he spends money on a new one because he's already dripping with money anyways, but that's even worse! At least if I borrowed it, I could give it back! But a new one... I would keep it! And my debt... would be far larger.”

“Then give it back.”

“Mycroft would never wear a suit that fits me. It'd be too thin for him.” I smirked. The cake was catching up with him, after all.

“Fine, fine. So you have to do legwork, and you have debt to Mycroft. It's not the end of the world, Sherlock.”

“Yes it is.”

“Stop being a child.”

“I am not a child, John.”

“Well, you're acting like one.”

“Sherlock, John, please stop it. We have to concentrate on the task at hand.” Molly sounded fed up with all the bickering happening at the moment.

“If I'm acting like a child, then you are too.”

“Sherlock...” I recognized Molly's warning tone and shut up.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang and we all jumped. I moved towards the door.

“That'll be the suit.”

“Sherlock, it's not evening yet. Mycroft said it would come in the evening.”

“He underestimates his importance to the British Government. His name tends to speed things up.”

It was indeed the suit. And a very good looking one, at that. Mycroft did want me to make a good impression after all. Hmmm, maybe I should stop this feud... But my train of thought was interrupted by Molly, who insisted I try the suit on. So I did.

“Sherlock, you look bloody amazing! It's so clingy in all the right places. Ohhhh... Ms. Adler is a lucky woman....”

Molly was saying this was good humor though. And even John looked impressed. Mycroft did do things right this time after all. 

Author's Note:

Not sure if I like the end, but my muse was running out. This super-long chapter ought to make up for the short one before. If you liked it, please fill out the box below. If you didn't like it, please fill out the box below.

Peace, Love, and Baby Ducks,

Wendy KL/vivagreen 

 

 

Chapter 5: The Text

Author's Note:

I’m so sorry for not updating, but homework’s been killing. Well, I’ve been encouraged to continue, so I will. This is a rather interesting chapter, maybe funny (I tried), maybe not. But anyways, I’ll shut up and leave you to read. Enjoy! 

Back at 221B, I sighed and collapsed into a chair. Molly was right. This… cowardice… was unacceptable coming from the world’s only consulting detective.  I was going to do something about Irene today. Now, in fact. I pulled out my phone, determined to do it.

Next week Tuesday. Baker

Street. If convenient, come.

If inconvenient, come

anyways.

-SH 

My finger hovered over the send button, just about to press it. But something held me back.

“John!”

“Yes, Sherlock?” John came into the room, holding an apple.

“Can you read this text that I’m going to send to Irene?”

John took my phone, read the text and stared at me. I waited, eyes closed. I could feel his gaze boring into me. Finally, I opened my eyes.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think that you were deprived of air at birth.”

“Are you insulting my intelligence?”

“YES I AM YOU PRAT!”

“Well, what’s wrong with it?” I was getting impatient.

“So many things, Sherlock. So many things.”

“And they are…?”

“First of all, that’s not an invite, that’s a freaking command!”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“So many things, Sherlock. So many things.”

I sighed. This wasn’t getting anywhere.

“And they are…?”

“Ms. Adler is a strong, independent woman, not a pet dog!”

“I never said she was.”

“You’re sure acting like it.”

“And what’s wrong wi- you know what? Never mind. If you know how to do…..this…. so well, then write the text for me!”

John looked dumbfounded. For no good reason. He should’ve seen this coming straight at him. I handed him the phone, and he took it. His mouth worked up and down a few times, and he spluttered. I leaned back, steepled my hands, and closed my eyes. Spluttering sounds continued to reach my ears. Finally, I opened one eye.

“Well…?”

“If I ever agree to help you ever again, hold my head underwater until I stop struggling.”

I laughed. How John.

“Fine, I’ll dictate. ‘Dear Irene. It’s been awhile. I’d like to gat back in touch with you. How about dinner? Text me back with good times. No guarantee that I will match. –SH’. “ I closed my eyes again.

“Whoa…. where’d all that humanness come from?” The keys clacked as John finished keying the message in, and there was a beep when he pressed the send button.

“I’ve been saving it up.” I heard the smugness in my own voice, but I didn’t care.

Ahhhh. The sound startled us both.

“She replied!” My voice sounded disgustingly happy, with a tinge of… nervous.

John fumbled with the phone before pulling up the text.

“She said ‘Anytime is the right time, Mister Holmes.’”

“Well, text her back. Tomorrow at 3.”

“No. You are nowhere near ready for this. Thursday at 3.” 

“Fine…. And call Molly!”

Author's Note:

Sorry for the short chapter! Please don't hurt me! But anyways... what do you think? Leave comments below.

Peace, Love, and Baby Ducks,

Wendy KL/vivagreen