Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

22. Choices

Sherlock had come back before the sun set, so I was lucky to not get a call from Greg or have to file a missing person's report. When he returned, my mind went to Mycroft. He knew about us. He knew that this was only between us. But did he know that I was cheating on Bayley? He might, knowing that it's Mycroft. I'd only met the elder Holmes brother twice in my life, and it felt like he knew everything about me.

Dinner was quiet, like it was since I'd been staying in 221B. I was trying to keep Sherlock in the dark about his brother's visit by keeping normal. But knowing him, he'd find something unusual and go from there, eventually coming to the conclusion that Mycroft had threatened me, threatened us.

I'd gotten out of dinner deduction-free. When night settled in, the gnawing thought of Mycroft's visit nipped at me. My stomach churned uneasily. I'm warning you now, Rachel, stop this. I can see no good coming out of it.

Hoping to make myself feel better, I fetched a blanket, wrapping myself in it. Sherlock was up playing his violin, so I stole his chair after I got the fireplace going. It took some time before I got comfortable, but eventually I managed to find a sweet spot. I curled in the corner closest to the warm fire. Even though it wasn't the greatest season to have a fire going, I felt like I needed one, like it would help calm my nerves.

I was caught between a rock and a hard place. This secret was at risk of being exposed to the people who I wanted to keep it from. If I didn't end this, Mycroft would.

I wondered how long it would take before Sherlock noticed I was curled up in his chair. He probably had his back turned to me.

This seemed almost natural, this different chemistry. To think, Sherlock and I had butted heads the first time I'd spent time with him. To think, from the first time he'd seen me, he'd known about my true identity. And now, here we were, getting along.

Did the thought of dating his best friend's daughter bother him? Did Sherlock even see me as John Watson's daughter right now? Did he just not care?

This was something I couldn't explain, because I would never understand what went on in Sherlock's mind. He was the last person I'd expect to have a serious relationship with. He didn't exactly come off as relationship material.

He seemed to be settling in to this new thing easily, though. I didn't know whether to be overjoyed or worried.

I was tempted to pull out my dad's blog on my iPod to see if I'd read all the posts on the site. I felt like I'd read a good amount before Sherlock had come back to the world. I knew there were still many more cases I had yet to read, though.

"Don't get too comfortable there."

I peered up to see Sherlock standing over me. "You're not going to move me."

"You really want me to try?"

I shrugged. "I've been bored all day. Unlike you, I handle my boredom by not shooting walls and giving people heart attacks."

"So the alternative is moping around?"

"Pretty much," I muttered. "I was thinking about reading more of my dad's blog."

"Haven't you gone through it already?"

"Not all of it."

"Why not just ask me about the cases?"

"I would rather hear it from his side, not yours. You'd make everything sound simple and obvious when really it isn't."

Sherlock squeezed his way into the chair, practically smashing me between an arm and him. I sighed, adjusting to the tight space I had left. Timidly, I laid my head on his shoulder, staring at the fireplace.