Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Seventeen: Don't Let an Unorganised Mess Organise a Mess

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DON'T LET AN UNORGANISED MESS ORGANISE A MESS

"If you think that's going to work, you're bloody insane," Amelia said, standing on her toes to peer over Sherlock's shoulders. He grunted in response, not deigning to give her a proper answer. She tutted, shaking her head as she turned away, fully aware that taunting Sherlock with a glimpse of her thoughts would drive him to asking her to elaborate. There was hardly any point in trying to talk to him when he didn't want to talk—that much she had learned very early onto their...partnership.

She grimaced at the word as she all but threw a pile of petri dishes filled with god knows what into the mini-fridge she had procured all those years ago. "Keep your science in the mini-fridge, how often do I have to tell you this? You're going to poison us, and while I understand that you haven't been particularly updated on modern day values or beliefs—I do hope you know I'm never going to let you forget about the sun thing—it is not my responsibility to be your dutiful little housewife. What kind of grown man can't feed himself? It's ridiculous. If you weren't so skinny that I could count every single one of your vertebrae, I'd leave you to fend for yourself."

He spun around in his chair, blue eyes flashing under the buzzing white lights. "What's not going to work?"

"Hm?" Amelia said, pretending to not have heard him. Served him right. She bent down to shut the mini fridge and by the time she'd straightened, Sherlock was all but pinning her to the counter. He was nearly as tall as she was while sitting but now, especially considering the fact that she lacked her usual heels, he loomed over her. Stormy eyes narrowed behind a strong nose, the rising and falling of his chest coming even more rapidly as the silence drew out. "Christ, if you weren't so lanky, you'd make a good Batman. Tall, intimidating, oddly good at moving in complete silence..."

"Amelia."

"Pretty clever too, all things considering. Well, I'd wager that Batman's a bit smarter than you..." She bit her tongue, unable to keep back her laughter when his face began to grow bright red. "I'm kidding, relax. What do you want?"

"What's not going to work?"

"A solar system where the planets revolve around the Earth."

He let out a sigh, leaning in closer. "Do I have to pry the answers from you woman, or will you give them willingly?"

"Depends on what you're wishing to pry these answers from me with," she answered with a shrug.

"What do you want?" He caught her eye then, sputtering when he realised her intentions. "You're sinful."

"Listen, I've been lonely," she said, "but no, not that. God, I'm hardly that difficult." She raised a brow, pausing, as though waiting to see if Sherlock would disagree for the sake of being disagreeable. When he didn't say a word, she continued on with a smile. "Regardless, um... Your wedding plan isn't going to work."

"Why not!" he said, his words sounding closer to an exclamation than a question.

"Because Mary insisted that we have a formal dinner as part of the reception, and you've simply thrown all the guests together at random!" she said. She pushed herself away from Sherlock, grabbing the paper he'd been marking down place settings on. "Are you seriously putting Uncle Alexander next to Aunt Angelica? You know she tried to steal him from his wife, correct? His wife who happens to be her sister?"

"I thought they were friends," he mumbled.

"They might be but if you put the three of them—four if you count Aunt Peggy, always do manage to forget about her—John and I are going to be wrestling them off of each other by the end of the night."