The Glass Rose

Chapter Twelve

"Where are we going?"

"Up to my apartment. Even if you can't fall asleep, at least you won't feel like you need to hold a fire poker all night." The two walked up to his apartment in silence. Once they got inside, Sherlock closed the door and locked it.

"I'll take the couch."

"No, you're taking the bed. If you're on the couch you're just going to stay up and protect the both of us with my fire poker. Or worse, you'll grab one of the knives and we both know how clumsy you are with those." He joked with a small smile. "I also don't want you being uncomfortable on the couch."

"Your couch is comfortable. I'd even argue it's more-"

"Too bad. You're taking the bed." Adelaide let out a sigh but sent him a small albeit genuine smile.

"Thank you, Sherlock. For everything."

"Of course. Try to get some sleep."

"I'll try." Adelaide really did try. She laid there for hours, hoping her eyelids would grow heavy and she'd slip into a dreamless slumber. And yet, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. She saw Martin standing in front of her with a wild look in his eyes. She saw him coming at her with the knife as she tried to get out of its way. It was as if his face had stained the inside of her eyelids. After a few hours of simply lying in bed, hyper-aware of every sound through the building, she gave up on the notion of sleep.

She climbed from the bed, her bare feet padding against the cool floor as she made her way over to the door. She opened it cautiously as if she thought Martin would be standing on the other side. Instead of Martin, on the other side of the door was the rest of Sherlock's apartment. A few candles were still burning in the living room, but Sherlock was dead asleep on the couch. He still had a book in his hands, now lying on his chest. Adelaide let out a quiet sigh, guilt filling her as she looked at him, feeling responsible for his exhaustion. She made her way over to him as quietly as she could. She gently took the book from his hands, putting his bookmark on the page and placing it on the coffee table. She grabbed a warm blanket and threw it over him, making sure he wouldn't get cold. Before she went back to his bedroom, she blew out the candles, letting Sherlock rest in peace.

Once she was back in his room, Adelaide didn't know what to do. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, but at the same time, she was glad Sherlock was and couldn't bear waking him. Walking around the room aimlessly, a bookshelf caught her eye. She had never spent much time in the room, so she had never noticed it before. Sitting down on the floor in front of it, she peered at the books that lined the shelf, letting out a small laugh when she noticed most of them were mysteries. She grabbed a few of them and made her way back to the bed.

Minutes bled into hours and Adelaide had successfully solved the crimes in six of the books in front of her after only reading a few chapters in the beginning and then the last one to check and see if she was right. A soft yawn escaped her lips as she continued writing on scrap paper trying to solve her seventh book of the evening. Well, morning. Sherlock quietly opened the door, not wanting to wake her, but revealed Adelaide sitting on his bed surrounded by books and papers with her scribbling on them.

"Did you actually spend the entire night reading instead of sleeping?"

"Do you actually read mysteries as a detective?" She asked, looking up at him with a small smile across her lips. "They're no fun when you solve them within the first chapters."

"And yet, from the looks of it, you've been entertained for hours." He returned the small smile and extended a hand to her. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." The two sat in comfortable silence as they ate the breakfast Sherlock prepared for them. Adelaide let out a content sigh, realizing this was the most at peace she felt since before she was attacked and before her fight with Sherlock. That was, of course, until there was a sharp knock at the door that caused the fear to come rushing back in. She quickly stood as if preparing to run any second.