It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

32 - Forty Elephants

A/N - Bit of a long chapter again! Get comfy and enjoy! 😊

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Elizabeth and Sherlock were taking a taxi to Scotland Yard where Lestrade hopefully still had the thief in a jail cell. John had to run an errand for Mrs Hudson and so couldn't join the two.

It was a quiet ride. Both of them looked out of their windows as the taxi travelled the streets of London. They watched the tall buildings and rushing people zoom past and they watched the clouds crawl across the blue sky. Elizabeth absentmindedly began playing with her ring again, her anxiety of receiving Mycroft's message physically manifesting in this act.

Sherlock wondered what her assignment would be. He even tried to deduce it. Thinking about it logically, he didn't think his brother would send Elizabeth on a fatal mission. There would be no point if he was planning to use her for multiple operations. Equally, she was a thief, not a spy. Perhaps her job would have something to do with retrieving an item. There was only one way to find out and that was to wait until tomorrow.

But he wanted to know now.

He didn't like not knowing.

Sometimes, during this journey, Elizabeth would look over at Sherlock and Sherlock would turn his head to look at Elizabeth but only when the other was looking away. It was almost a game. A game to see if they would do it at the same time or not. They could see each other's reflections in the window clearly. They both knew they were doing it. But they didn't really seem to acknowledge it until finally, as their taxi turned the corner to Scotland Yard, their gazes met with each other.

They shared a small smile as the taxi driver stopped and requested payment for his service.

Once out of the cab, the two stood together on the pavement. Both shuffled on their feet, not quite sure of what to say or if anything should be said about their glances.

Sherlock lightly joked, still with a straight-face, "I was almost tempted to say 'if you take a picture it would last longer'."

"You can't use my own words against me." She scoffed.

He appeared to contemplate her statement before beginning to walk into Scotland Yard, "Mm, I can and I did."

They shared a look again and Elizabeth stood there on the pavement for a moment, shaking her head as a quiet chuckle left her lips. She hurried after the detective, joining him by his side.

"What are the chances that this woman is actually going to talk to you?"

"Low. Very low. But I'm hoping we'll get something useful out of her. She's already slipped up so I'm hoping it will be easy to make her slip up again."

When they walked into the building and entered the elevator to head up to Lestrade's floor, they faced each other. Under Sherlock's gaze, her hand pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Sherlock found himself standing up a little straighter, his chest puffed out a little more.

It was only when he heard a ding and the elevator doors opened that it dawned on him that they were flirting with each other through their body language. The stares, she playing with her hair, himself showing him to be a worthy partner, a quick look at their feet and he saw that even their feet liked each other.

But Sherlock Holmes, flirting?

He struggled to believe it himself. His fondness for Elizabeth had apparently grown like a wildfire. All it took was one spark and suddenly the whole forest was on fire. He refused it though as he stepped out of the elevator. Sherlock Holmes didn't flirt. Sherlock Holmes wasn't close to anyone. Sherlock Holmes was -