Pretty Stranger...Why Are You Following Me? (Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Stay." I told Sherlock, walking into the restaurant.

"John!" I said, hugging him. "Emily, good to see you." John replied. "Where's Mary?" I asked. "Bathroom." John said. "You nervous?" I asked. "A bit." John said. "You'll do fine."

I glanced out the window, but Sherlock wasn't there. "Dammit." I muttered. Mary came and sat down and I smiled at her, still looking around for Sherlock. I saw him, walking towards our table, with a mustache painted on his face. I struggled to hold back a laugh as he stopped by us.

After hearing him say some things in a odd accent, John finally looked up.

"Does yours wipe off too?" Sherlock asked, taking a napkin and wiping off the fake mustache. John stood up and took Sherlock by the neck, shoving him down.

I ran over and pulled John off of Sherlock.

•

After a few battles between the two, John came over with Sherlock and I.

"Was Emily in on this?" John asked, pointing to me. "I just found out today and believe me, I wanted punch that stupid face of his." I told John. John nodded.

"Has it stopped bleeding yet?" Sherlock asked. I looked up. "Nope, keep pinching your nose." I said. "He really got you."

"It's late, John. You should probably head home." I said. John nodded and left.

"Sit." I told Sherlock. He sat down in his chair and kept his head back. "This is why you don't surprise people like John." I said, lifting up the tissue. I threw it away. "You're good now, just don't blow your nose for awhile." I said. Sherlock nodded.

"What have you been doing while I was away?" Sherlock asked. "What'd you think?" I asked. "I don't know." Sherlock said. "Solving cases for Lestrade. Someone had to help him." I said, drinking some of my tea. "I didn't think you'd continue that." Sherlock said. "That's what I've been doing for four years now, Sherlock." I said. Sherlock nodded, looking at his hands.

I finished off my tea and stood up. "I'm going to turn in." I said, heading back to my bedroom. Sherlock nodded, not moving. I closed the door and changed into my night clothes. I climbed into the bed and turned out the light.

•

I opened my eyes, aware of the fact that Sherlock's arm was wrapped loosely around my waist. I rolled over and saw Sherlock fast asleep next to me. I crawled out and went to pull my hair back. Standing in the bathroom, I looked over at him. His arm was covering his eyes, blocking the sun. His hair a mess. It was actually a bit adorable.

"Why are you staring at me?" He groaned.

"Why not?" I asked.

Sherlock rolled over and looked at me.

"I thought we weren't sharing a bed." He said. "I didn't know that you'd climb in with me." I replied. He smiled and closed his eyes. "You look adorable when you sleep." He said. "Is that a compliment?" I asked, leaving the bathroom. "Sure." Sherlock muttered. "Then....thank you." I said, leaving the room. I sat down....in Sherlock's chair and picked up my book. He came out slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"What're you doing?" He asked, pointing at me. "Reading." I stated, not looking up. "But that's my chair." Sherlock whined. "It's a chair, Sherlock." I said. He pouted at me, but sat down in the other chair. Sherlock stared at me for a bit, as if he was examining me. I set the book down and looked at him.

"What do you want to asked me?"

"How many cases have you solved?"

"Around a hundred." I estimated. "A hundred." Sherlock gasped. "I have a lot a free time when I don't have to take care of you and John all the time." I said, poking his arm.

•

I pulled a black, knee length, flared skirt up and let my waffle knit, mint jumper fall over it. I stepped into my black, suede, pointed flats and pinned a silver necklace around my neck. I did my make up and slipped a silver ring on my ring finger on my left hand.

I stepped out of the bedroom to find Sherlock still in his night clothes.

"You do know John is coming over, right?" I asked. "Yes." Sherlock replied. "You make no sense to me." I muttered, sitting on the couch. Sherlock instantly looked up. "Show me your hand." He said. I held up my right hand. "No, no, no. The other one." He said. I held up my left hand. Sherlock knelt in front of me, taking my hand.

"You're wearing a ring on your left hand, ring finger. Why are you wearing and engagement ring?" Sherlock asked, looking up at me. "Why else would I be wearing an engagement ring?" I replied. "You're engaged." Sherlock said, standing up. He turned away, not wanting to look at me. I stood up as well.

"Emily," Sherlock said. "Yes?" I asked. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why that? The ring. What are you trying to say?" Sherlock said. "That you're not the only thing in my life. Two years." I said. Sherlock took me by the shoulders.

"Emily, what is said on the day I jumped....I have never said that to anyone, anyone, before. Not even my own mother." He said slowly. I nodded, looking up at his angered face with wide eyes.

"And if that doesn't mean anything to you, than....than I'm worth nothing."

Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf, storming out the door. I followed him until he stepped out the front door. I poked my head out, flashing the ring. Sherlock kept walking.

"It's yours, you know." I shouted. Sherlock stopped and turned around. I held my hand up and waved my fingers, so the suns rays caught the glint of the diamond.

"The ring. It's yours."

Sherlock came, basically running, back. He snatched my hand and examined the ring. Every inch of it. I yawned, bored.

"Where'd you find this?" He asked. "In one of your dressed drawers. Along with a note." I said. "It was a reminder to give it to me. Looks like you forgot about it." Sherlock looked up at me. "You could've told me." He said.

"But that wouldn't have been any fun, Sherly."