221B Baker St.

The Perfect Impression of an Idiot

It was approximately another thirty six hours before I was allowed to go back to the flat. About an hour after Sherlock made his declaration, the nurse came in and gave me more food, since the porridge had stayed in my system. I also got dry sheets, and was allowed to put on the clean clothes Sherlock had brought me. I was really touched by the gesture, and I was acutely more comfortable than I had been. He had picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants, as well as a jumper that I never really worse. I felt better. My head still felt a bit foggy, but that was from the pills the nurse had forced on me. My body didn't hurt so much anymore, and my cuts were already starting to heal. 

It wasn't long after that that Lestrade came in and asked me many questions. He was very nice, as usual, and quite concerned for my mental well being. I assured him I was fine. He left pretty soon after that, and I found myself falling in and out of sleep. When I woke for good, Sherlock was there. When Lestrade had came to question me, I had demanded that Sherlock go ingest sustenance. It seemed that I was the only force that would keep him fed. He had begrudgingly agreed.

He was standing at the window, just like the first time I had met him. Although, this time, he clutched a sandwich instead of his violin. I smiled at the thought. I could see his jaw moving silently, and I smiled wider. "Don't tell me you're playing the game without me, Lock."

His head whipped around, his curls bouncing deliciously. "Ivy, I didn't know you were awake!" 

My smile grew anew at his boyish demeanor. "Well, now you do." I gazed longingly at his half eaten sandwich. "How much have you eaten?"

He strode purposefully to my side. "I have eaten a plate of chips from the cafeteria, and half of this horrid sandwich. It is pastrami, spicy mustard, provolone cheese, and lettuce."

I laughed, and then flinched sharply. All of my abdominal muscles were extremely sore. I saw Sherlock's eyes darken, and he set the sandwich aside. "What is the matter? Should I alert a member of the faculty?"

I shook my head and let out a slow breath, my fingers gingerly massaging my stomach. "I'm alright. My muscles are just very sore. And I'm hungry." My eyes went to the sandwich a third time.

He nodded thoughtfully. "I should think it prudent for you to eat, and also for you to move in some capacity. You've been bedridden for twenty four hours, and you should have been. I will alert the nurse." He handed me the sandwich, and I bit into it gratefully.  I felt his fingers stroke my hair briefly, and with a swish of his dark coat, he was out the door. 

I shook my head and smiled. 

After much arguing with the nurse, a physical analysis, and half a sandwich, I was being slowly lead into a cab by Sherlock. It was cold, but I didn't mind too much. London had started to grow on me. It must have rained at some point, for most of the visually pleasing snow had turned to dirty, grey slush. 

The cab ride was unlike any I had had so far. I must have been experiencing the shock of trauma because it felt as though I was seeing the city for the first time. All the people, the shops, the landmarks suddenly seemed surreal and wonderful, and I spent most of the time with my face up against the glass, trying to take it all in. 

When the cab pulled up to the curb on Baker St., Mrs. Hudson was waiting at the door, waving at us. I opened the cab door and stepped out while Sherlock paid the cabby. Wind whipped through my hair, and I was looking up at our flat window when Mrs. Hudson came into my view, arms outstretched. "Oh, deary, I was so worried about you!" I let Mrs. Hudson hug me gingerly and pat my arms, as if to check that they were still there. 

"Mrs. Hudson, Ivy is quite cold, and in no condition to be out in the elements," Sherlock's voice sounded from behind me. Mrs. Hudson kept tittering about nonsense as she led me inside, her hands firmly gripping my arm.

"You must be so cold, I'll bring tea up in just a minute, alright?" She was already making her way into her flat. "But just this once, dears, I'm not your housekeeper!"

I giggled quietly, and gingerly kicked off my boots. "That she is not."

I felt Sherlock's fingers slide along my lower back as he walked past me, taking the stairs two at a time. "Come along, Ivy! That nurse gave me bothersome orders, saying I must keep you hydrated, comfortable, and well rested. As if I wouldn't do that anyway."

I smiled as I called out, "Her name was Katherine, Lock." I sighed and ascended the stairs, more slowly than Sherlock had. 

When I got into the flat, I found Sherlock rising next to the fire place, a cheery blaze residing within it. He turned and stared at me for a moment. Then he snapped into action, gathering blankets and pillows on the couch, and muttered as he arranged them. I leaned against the door frame, watching him. It was cute to see him being so nurturing. Finally, when he was satisfied, he beckoned me to the couch and arranged me on it as well. I was comfortably curled between several pillows, and draped in a myriad of throw blankets. He sat down in the arm chair next to me and gazed thoughtfully at his work. 

"Are you enjoying the view?" I smirked, laughing quietly at my own joke.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he murmured, "Immensely."

 I felt myself blush, but I was saved by Mrs. Hudson hurrying in, clutching a tray of tea and biscuits. Sherlock was immediately upon the biscuits as Mrs. Hudson settled herself in the second arm chair. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. You didn't have to do this..." I said gratefully as I grasped my tea. I hadn't had tea in over three days, and I relished it as I sipped.

"Oh, it's no trouble, Ivy," Mrs. Hudson insisted, grabbing a biscuit of her own. I observed as her hand shook slightly, and I could see the worry in her expression. I knew Sherlock could see it too. 

"Spit it out, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock snapped, staring intently at his food. 

I scoffed, and swatted at his arm. "There is absolutely no obligation to be rude." I turned to Mrs. Hudson, who sat there with an obvious expression of alarm. "Is there something bothering you, Mrs. Hudson?"

She swallowed, and set her cup down nervously. "Well, dears, see. The thing is, I've come in a bit of a bad way. My other forms of income have come to an end. All I have left is my savings, and this flat." She glanced nervously at us.  

"What does this mean, Mrs. Hudson? Do you need us to pay more rent?" I inquired.

"Well, I feel bad doing that, and I know there are other places, cheaper places for you to live..."

Sherlock, who had been completely silent up until then, spoke. "Mrs. Hudson, you have no reason to worry. The plan of action is simple. Ivy and I will share half of the flat, and pay the same price we always have, and you will rent out the extra room to someone else."

We both stared at him. I was the first to recover. I cleared my throat, "That's actually a good idea. Mrs. Hudson, do you like that?"

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Y-you and Sherlock, share a room? Is there something going on that I..." her eyes widened with realization. "Oh. Oh, I see."

I looked away, feeling my face redden. "Um, yes, Mrs. Hudson. But what do you say?"

She fanned her face with her hand. "Oh, I think that would be fine, dears. I can put out a notice tomorrow."

"Splendid!" Sherlock jumped to his feet, and I almost dropped my drink. His phone immediately started ringing, and Mrs. Hudson started gathering the tea things as he strode over to it.

I made sure to thank her again as she made her way out, and she gave me a look as if to say you have so much to tell me, young lady. Once she was gone, I settled back against my pillows. I could hear Anderson chattering on the phone.

"Anderson, that was the perfect impression of an idiot," Sherlock snapped into the receiver, and I started giggling. Sherlock sent me a quick smile before declaring, "I'll be right there! Don't touch a single thing!"