Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

Snog Box

'What do you mean you need to talk to me? Who says I'm going to talk back?' Clara snapped as she stalked across the pavement next to Sherlock. The gallery came into view but they veered around it, heading for the back entrance.

'You're angry at me,' he stated, not looking in her direction.

Clara gave him a poisonous stare. 'Fantastic deduction, Holmes.'

'Look, John wanted me to...' He trailed off, sweating in his boots. He looked something resembling nervousness. Clara raised an expectant eyebrow. 'Ugh, I cannot believe I'm actually doing this, I am forced to apologise for my past actions.' Clara looked at him strangely. 'Oh shut up,' Sherlock snapped.

'Come on, I'm waiting for this courageous apologetic speech,' Clara hummed. They reached the back of the building and Sherlock headed towards a fire door.

He rested his hand on the doorknob. 'Okay, I'm sorry that I told you to shut up. But I will not apologise for the old lady.'

He turned the handle but Clara grabbed his arm. 'Don't ever do it again. Don't ever let an innocent person die because all you want is a distraction,' she asked him stiffly.

'Clara, don't be ridiculous, it wasn't my fault she started describing him. Really, it was...' CRACK! Sherlock wheeled back as Clara slapped him.

He clutched his red cheek with his hands. Clara definitely had his attention now. 'Promise me, Sherlock Holmes, or you will never solve another case again,' she hissed through her gritted teeth, deadly serious. Her eyes burned with rage. Sherlock stared at her in awe and irritation. 'Promise me.'

He nodded. 'Promise. Cross my heart and hope to whatever it was.' He awkwardly tried to cross his heart with a pale hand.

That seemed good enough for Clara because she let go of her iron grip on his forearm. Sherlock slipped through the door and she followed. They tiptoed through a maze of corridors, avoiding any passage that had voices echoing out of it. 'Are we breaking the law?' Clara whispered behind him.

'Oh, definitely.' Footsteps suddenly echoed down the corridor they were in. 'You, me, cupboard, now,' Sherlock said and opened the door to a cleaner's cupboard. Clata's eyes went as wide as sauces.

'In there?! I am not getting in that, that cupboard with you!'

'In here or you'll both blow our cover! It's only a cupboard. Now hurry!'

'A cupboard?! It's looking a lot like snog box right now.'

'A snog box!?' Sherlock exclaimed. The footsteps were getting louder. Sure enough, a shadow started appearing round the corner. 'For god's sake Clara...' Sherlock yanked her by the arm and closed the door on the broom cupboard. All they could hear was each other breathing.

'I despise you,' Clara whispered. She was pressed up against his side and could hardly see a thing. His aftershave however, made Clara want to melt into a puddle of the amazing fragrance.

'At least I didn't get us nearly arrested,' he replied quietly. The footsteps were still echoing somewhere.

'Don't flatter yourself, cheekbones.' Clara tried to move her arms, which were pinned behind her. 'Now can we get out now?'

Sherlock responded by shoving the door open with his shoulder because his arms were pinned as well. They stumbled out, catching themselves on the opposite wall. 'See, not a snog box.'

'Let's just get on with it, kay?' Clara said, brushing herself off.

.

Through various passages, most of which Sherlock had to yank Clara back from so they weren't seen, they came across a staff room. It was in neutral white tones with a mouldy looking couch in the corner. There was a row of lockers through another door. Clara sighed. At least there were biscuits. Sherlock immediately went to the lockers while Clara opened all the condiment cupboards. 'Is this where we are meant to be?' She asked, scrunching her nose at the greenish cheese in the fridge.