The Power of Love: A Sequel

Chapter 8

The Power of Love Ch.8

"Your feet were sickled."

Charlotte looked down as she went down the row of seats to sit next to her family.

"Other than that it was great."

"Thank you," she whispered to the older curly haired man.

She stiffened as the concert was getting towards the end.

Thomas was last.

"You know," he began, "people expect me as a math major to just talk about equations and formulas. But this year, I realized that there is something more important than that."

He continued thanking people and talking about the power of people and human existence. After all, humans did create math equations.

"There is one last person I have to thank," he paused.

"I swear to god if he mentions me-"

He started pacing around until finally-

"And that is Charlotte Lise Holmes."

"You cock," she whispered trying to signal him to stop.

"My wonderful girlfriend."

She covered her face with her hands.

"She's blushing, I can tell," Mary whispered to John who was sitting nearby.

"Who taught me that there is someone always crazier than you," he smiled, "but in a good way..in a good way," he looked dreamy now and even Charlotte could not deny that in the spotlight, he looked good.

He then ended his speech quickly, and as they met in the end to take some pictures for the school, Charlotte fake smiled as all the winners posed together.

"I hate you," she smiled looking at the photographer.

"You know you loved it," he smiled back looking at the photographer as well as he put his arm around her.

"Alright now the families!"

"Come on Tom," Char stated gruffly.

"This is a family picture," Sherlock stated coldly.

"Which is why he stays."

Tom smirked while everyone tried to fit in the picture as photographers flashed their cameras.

After they finished, Mycroft asked Charlotte for a private conversation.

Charlotte looked confused for a moment and followed him.

"Your performance was....interesting."

"Thanks?"

"But a couple words of advice for you."

"Oh god," she muttered.

"Grow. Up."

She stared at him for a moment as he paced around with his umbrella, which Charlotte for a long time figured was his only friend.

She thought of her retort for a moment longer, trying to say something clever or unexpected. But she thought of nothing. So she decided to be honest.

"What you're doing," she paused, looking at him up and down, "is truly ineffective."

"What?!"

"What you're doing," she repeated slowly, "is-"

"Yes I heard you," he snapped, "rephrase."

"You're coldness and lack of emotion. It isn't effective. It won't help you now and it never will help you."

"That is part of my job. It isn't coldness. It's professionalism."

"Oh," she paused doing a mocking realization, "so it's professional for someone to tell another to grow up?"

"Yes," he snapped, "if they are acting like a child. Which you are."

"No. It's rude. And you're trying to hide from the fact that you hate that you told Sherlock to let me go. You hate it. And you hate it even more that I know too."

"How did you know anyway," he asked coldly.

"I was there when you said it."

"How. Did. You. Know," he stated his voice low and intimidating.

"Hear me loud and clear," she started, trying to be as equally intimidating, "I heard you. I heard all of it. And you were right."

"What?!"

"I was in pain. You were right. And at the time, I agreed with you."

"What changed?"

"Someone told me to wake up," she stated quietly.

"Who," he asked quietly back.

"I," she paused for a moment, "looked all over my mind palace for that voice for months now."

"You don't know," he asked shocked.

"Not in the slightest."

He laughed for a moment, until he realized she was serious.

"You know it's time."

He looked at her confused.

"It's time for the ice man," she stated slowly, "to finally melt."

His eyes widened.