Staying Alive - Sherlock (BBC)

Chapter 12

The bar was humming with life. People of all shapes and sized had all flocked to this one building, bringing their lives and problems with them, but leaving them at the door before entering. Stationed in various corners of the building, glasses in hand, everyone was talking and laughing.

The building itself was quite old, a majestic building. It gave across the message that it had been selling drinks to people for longer than you can imagine. Despite this, it had an extremely modern appearance. Clean surfaces, simple minimalist colours, and artistic lighting, it made the bar seem very expensive.

Lizzie and Sherlock were sat at a table by themselves, pints of lager loosely clasped in their hands. Both of them were sat there in a comfortable silence, happily analysing their surroundings. That was until Lizzie spoke out loud.

"Who knows we're here?" She asked.

"Oh, just his uncle."

"Steve Blake's uncle? I take it that was the man you were messaging after your unauthorised break in?"

"Yes, he is being very supportive about the whole maneuverer."

"What about Pauline? Does she know we're here?"

"No of course not! I want to access the situation first."

"You mean you want to find any connections to your other case first."

"Yes." He replied bluntly. Lizzie sighed, so Sherlock had happily left a mourning woman in the dark about her husband's disappearance because he wanted to connect it to an entirely different case.

Before either of them could speak again and man walked into the room, Unnoticed by everyone else, he strolled up to the bar and perched on an empty stool. Without exchanging a single word, the bartender slid him a pint of beer and moved on to another customer.

Slightly overweight with balding grey hair, what struck them both about Steve Blake was how overwhelmingly boring he looked. He wore dishevelled, semi formal clothing than was so undeniably bland, he had no visible character. Ironically his lack of character and originality was what made him stand out. He was too boring, this therefore made him quite interesting.

Without looking at Lizzie, Sherlock stood up quietly and took his lager with him. He walked over to the bar and slid into the stool next to Steve. Even though he had not yet spoken, Lizzie could tell by Sherlock's posture that he was already acting. They had both excelled at drama in school, much to everybody else's dismay.

"Did you see that ludicrous display last night?" She could just about hear Sherlock ask. But after that their mindless small talk simply blended in with the cacophony of noise that filled the air.

Knowing full well that she would be sat there for a while, she let her thoughts wonder.

The past few weeks felt like distant dreams, she could simply not get her head around how Sherlock had aged. In her mind he was still a scrawny, socially inept teenager. The memories of him back then felt more real than the recent memories of him now. Looking over at him, she felt like she hardly recognised him, yet she also felt like she had known him all her life, a combination she would never get her head around.

*****

The school hall was full and bursting with people and noise, the floor was alive with movement. Sherlock and Lizzie sat opposite each other, cold school meals sat, discarded, in front of them.

"Okay, that girl lives with her dad in a flat, she has a cat and no siblings." Lizzie stated carefully observing a girl stood to her right.

She glanced at Sherlock for confirmation, he was looking at the girl, running over what she had just said. "Almost, she has two cats."

"Dammit!" Lizzie exclaimed letting out a bark of laughter. Sherlock smirked at her smugly. "You are always better than me with this, it's not my strong point."

His smirk grew wider. "Okay what about that boy over there, the one with the curly blonde hair." Sherlock pointed to the boy stood behind her.

Lizzie turned around to look at the boy. Almost without warning, he turned around and caught Lizzie staring at him. Sending her a small wink, he walked out of the hall.

She turned to face Sherlock again, cheeks burning red. "He does a lot of sport and has a dog, two parents, and an older sister." She said quickly.

A grin slid onto Sherlock's face. "You like him don't you." He stated simply.

"Me?" She gasped. "Of course not."

Simply raising his eyebrow provided her with an answer. Lizzie went silence. "Well, maybe a little."

"Thought so," Sherlock chimed. "You could do better, but then again you could do worse."

"Thanks." She said sarcastically.

"Go and talk to him."

"What? No. I don't even know where he went."

"Yes you do."

She frowned at him and walked towards the sports field. She knew exactly where he was.

*****

In the corner of her eye she noticed them standing up, pulling her back into reality. She stood up and brushed off her coat before slipping it on and walking up to them, a fake smile plastered on her face.

Sherlock noticed her and smiled an equally forced smile, drawing Steve's attention towards her. "Ah Lizzie, we were just about to leave." Sherlock began. "Steve, this is Lizzie, Lizzie this is Steve." They shook hands briefly.

"Nice to meet you." Steve said, an East London edge to his voice, impeccable English.

"Nice to see you too." Lizzie replied. "Should we take this outside? I've already ordered a taxi."

No more needed to be said as they all swiftly walked out of the door and onto the cold street. By now night had fallen and they were illuminated by the warm glow of the street lamps. But despite the warm appearance, there was a chilly edge that turned every breath into a visible puff of air. They all instantly buried their hands into their pockets. "Are you sure you won't come with us?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I'll go back in my own time."

"You do realise that we'll have to tell her were you are?" Lizzie added gently. He sighed.

"Yes, I knew that it would not last for long." He looked down the empty road nonchalantly. "I better be off. I'm sorry I couldn't help you with your case Mr. Holmes."

"Oh don't worry about it." Sherlock waved it off, Steve smiled sadly at them both before walking off. "That was tedious." Sherlock commented as soon as he was out of ear shot, the grinning facade crashing to the ground instantly.

"He seemed nice enough."

"He would not stop talking." Sherlock hissed through gritted teeth. "Anyway, I did not find out anything worthwhile. This whole trip was wasted."

"Oh really?" He glanced at her. "Well lucky for you, I had a lot of spare time to take in our surroundings."

"And? Cut the unnecessary build up and get to the point."

"One day I will demand you say 'pretty please' before I tell you the answer." She grumbled. "Steiler, it is German for Steeper."

A short moment of silence passed as Sherlock absorbed what she had just said

"Want to play a steeper game!" He gasped and gripped her by the arms. "Yes! That works perfectly, 'steeper' seemed too odd a word without it meaning something." He walked around in a circle excitedly clapping his hands together extravagantly. "Steiler is also a family name. That is what we need to look for, that could be our man! Yes! Brilliant!" He began to walk hurriedly down the road his coat billowing out behind him. "We are back in the game!" Lizzie heard him half shout.

She rolled his eyes and started walking in the same direction. "He's always so bloody dramatic."