Catch Me if You Can (Indi, Kaze)

[Kozmo]

((Here's that missing date scene that we just HAVE to play out. Kaze, hop on in here!))

She hadn’t been out in so long, she’d forgotten how utterly tedious it was to go out on a date. First there was the long shower, then hair, and attire… and now she was putting on makeup. Her eyes were her favorite feature- their color made them unique, and their shape exotic, and she played both up expertly. She nodded at her reflection in the mirror. Yes, this would suffice. Next came the shoes- usually, she preferred trainers and jeans, but that didn’t exactly work with the dress she was wearing, so she chose a pair of kitten heels that wouldn’t add too much to her height. She did one more check in the mirror. Yes, she looked good. The shawl hid the worst of the scarring on her right shoulder, and, well- he’d seen the scars on her neck, yet had still asked her to go out with him. She headed down the stairs. Sherlock was completely bored with his lack of a case, and hadn’t so much as moved from his spot on the couch. After applying three (yes, three) nicotine patches to his arm, he’d fallen into a sort of stupor. Of course, it was potentially a lethal dose of the drug, but she’d seen him do this before, and, technically, it was legal, so she usually just left him alone. She’d make sure to tell Mrs. Hudson on the way out, though, to make sure the woman knew what he was up to.

“I’m going out…” she said, not expecting an answer. “I have my cell if you need me for anything.” She sighed. “Take it easy on those patches- don’t particularly want to come home to you drowned in a pool of your own vomit.” Nothing. But, when he was on a sulking fit, nothing really mattered until he needed her. She shook her head and headed downstairs, pausing the knock on the landlady’s door. When it was opened, she smiled. “Mrs. Hudson!”

“Where are you going, luv?” She looked up. The girl looked lovely- no Sherlock behind her. So why did the girl look like she was going out?

“Out. He’s upstairs, using too many patches again. Just… keep an eye on him. I shouldn’t be too late, but…”

“You’re not going out with him, then?” A sharp look. “You two having another domestic?”

“What?” A startled look. “No. Oh, no. It’s just… we’re not like that, Mrs. Hudson. We’re not. He’s my flat mate… that’s all.” She sighed, kissed the woman’s cheek sweetly. The woman was dear to her, after all. “Have a good night, Mrs. Hudson.”

“I wish you’d stay in, luv. It’s not safe, woman like you wandering around alone…” but the girl was already gone. She had plans, after all.

----

She stepped out of the cab to find her date already waiting for her, just outside. She smiled, just seeing him made her do so, and she took a moment to just watch him. She rather liked the man- he was one of the less annoying DI’s, and would be a great asset to Scotland Yard once he grew into his confidence. He’d met her at a crime scene- Sherlock had insisted she speak to the witnesses- and she was good at interrogating, especially with the seven-year-old girl. He’d come over casually, and the two had become friendly, and eventually he’d started bringing her coffee, or offering to escort her when she went to fetch it for Sherlock. He’d finally asked her for a date, and she had said yes.

Of course she had.

He was a handsome man, of course. She chuckled as she approached, and laughed at the expression. He’d only ever seen her in what she considered work gear. Judging from the look, she’d got it down right, though, and her smile widened invitingly. “Evan!” She greeted him with enthusiasm. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the blue and white tape,” she teased. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long…”

[Kaze_Haga]

He was not a particularly vain man by most standards. He didn't spend most of his nights in front of a mirror fretting over his hair or choice of clothing for the evening, masterfully preparing an internal dialogue of polite dinner conversation, and applying just the perfect amount of cologne that would air out just enough by the time he met up with Rai at the restaurant; it was just this evening that this happened to be the case. It was his hair that was providing him his greatest challenge and test of patience of the night so far, but he finally gave a sign of resignation, throwing his hands up in the air in a 'so be it' gesture before wiping off the excess water and gel on a towel. He had the act of styling his hair down to an art, able to breeze out of his flat within ten minutes of rolling out of bed with perfectly coiffed hair that gave him just enough of an unruly appearance so as not to appear stuck-up, but also maintain a professional exterior.

He headed out to the main room of his small, but comfortable, living space; "spacious" by some metropolitan standards. As a single man living alone he hardly took up all of the space that he did have anyway. The time he spent there was rare since he was a busy young man trying to climb the ranks in his chosen career. He was passionate and driven in all things he undertook in life, so he was advancing quickly. He was intelligent but possessed a sort of youthful naivety about the state of the world and the goodness of people that had yet to be torn apart. He had chosen this way of life for very noble and idealistic reasons, again, not yet embittered as many of his older superiors were.

In the corner, on an antique table stand, came the old-fashioned tunes of musicians of another era. He had a substantial collection of old records that he had picked up from various places; not for their collector's worth but simply for the music they provided him with. He much preferred having music on in the background over television. The thing had hardly been on in the several months he had been living there.

"Well," he finally said aloud after shutting off the music, affording himself one last passing glance in the hallway mirror before he stepped out and shut the door of his flat behind him. The painstakingly meticulous ritual he had gone through tonight was a clear indicator that this was an evening he was very much looking forward to. She made him work hard for her attention. It made her all the more thrilling. The first time he had seen her he had been enchanted by her. He wasn't uncomfortable around women, and it was for this reason only that he managed to bring himself to approach her that first night at a crime scene. A less than romantic first chance encounter, but in his line of work he adapted to it quickly. He had began by simply figuring out what coffee she drank most often, and seizing every opportunity to just so happen to have two on hand when he knew he would run into her again. He would hand it over to her wordlessly, and she would accept it in the same fashion, a satisfied little smile on his face each time he did so.

"One of these days you'll have to repay me for all of this coffee I'm giving you by going out to dinner with me," he had said as they stood side by side taking in a scene without making eye contact. It had taken a lot of of work on his part to finally get some attention back from the closed off woman, and the run ins for coffee had finally turned into an evening out together.

Having her arrive before him at their place of meeting would have been unacceptable, so as planned he arrived early and with time to spare. It gave him a little more time to compose himself and not look like he was rehearsing conversation in his head when she did arrive. And really, he wasn't anymore; not once he laid eyes on her as she stepped out from a cab, long thin legs adorned with just enough of a heel to make her look dressed up, but not so much that she didn't look like herself. He had never seen her "done up" before, and he had to admit that at first he was a little taken aback. She clearly noticed, for she chuckled and he let out a sigh, along with it most of his nerves and tension.

"Rai," he greeted in return, giving a laugh and a nod. "Not at all," he assured her when she expressed concern over keeping him waiting. He didn't mention that he wouldn't have had any qualms if he had to have waited another hour and a half to see her. "I know," in response to her teasing about only seeing each other at a crime scene. "I think I much prefer this venue, though" he said, gesturing behind him. It was one of his favorites; pretty much his only favorite considering how busy he was and how little he actually got the opportunity to go out. "Thank you for indulging me," he said playfully, leaning in to give her the slightest kiss on the check with a gentle hand on her elbow in a more proper greeting. "You look beautiful," he said, taking away with him the smell of her perfume in his nose. Stunning, was more like it. He had taken particular interest in her violet eyes, always noticeable but looking especially vivid tonight.

He gave a big smile, placing one hand gently at her back and reaching out ahead of him with the other. "Shall we?" He led her next to him through the doors, of course having had the presence of mind to make reservations ahead of time so that there would be no wait. He waited until she was seated and comfortable before seating himself. His attention was nowhere other than on the woman accompanying him out to dinner this evening, barely glancing up at the waiter every time he spoke to them. Their conversation was light and friendly and he found himself not even thinking about his previously rehearsed topics and questions. Their conversation flowed quite naturally in fact.

They stayed long past the time they had both finished their meals, and he took the check from the waiter and handed it back with his card so seamlessly mid-conversation that she would not even have the opportunity to object. He continued listening to her, smiling, her accent becoming so normal and enjoyable to his ears that he had long ago stopped listening for every little difference in pronunciation. Even though their meal was finished and they had lingered, it was still relatively early. He stood when it was time for them to leave, again leading her out with him. The attention and treatment, he had a feeling, was making her ever so slightly uncomfortable, but he managed to pull it off as so ordinary that she didn't seem to protest.

He only walked a few steps with her out on the sidewalk before they were facing each other. The silence between them was not awkward, at least he didn't percieve it that way, and he innocently met her gaze, refusing to let this be the end of the most enjoyable evening he had had in the longest time. His eyes sparkled with an idea and excitement suddenly.

"Come dancing with me." His eyes were practically smiling. Sensing a millisecond of hesitancy, whether because she didn't want to spend anymore time with him or she wasn't keen on the idea of dancing, he wasn't sure, but he did his best to convince her otherwise. "I know a fantastic little club a few streets down. Some good music and drinks, it's not too loud." He gave her another charming smile, mock pleading for her to join him and not let him down by cutting their evening short. "Really, you'd be doing me a favor. I can't rightly go alone, now can I?"

-


(Mainly, I'm proud that I managed to force myself to use 'flat' instead of 'apartment'.)

[Telarai]

She was taken aback when he stepped forward, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. What did she do now? Should she kiss him back, or smile and nod? She suddenly wanted the familiarity of Sherlock. He didn’t coddle, didn’t kiss or nuzzle, or grant affection as a normal man would- but in his own way he showed appreciation and, yes, affection. He rarely even touched her, unless she was scared, or exceptionally amusing. Then…? Well, no man, when confronted with such sexy distress, could refuse comforting, and when she was amusing it was usually enough to break his sulking fit. They would play board games, go out to people watch (and she made as many observations as he did). She was good for him to have around. Sherlock used his eyes and voice to calm or lead her to a logical conclusion, and his hold was always so light, as if he thought he’d somehow break her- or they’d break each other. Still, those eyes could coerce her into anything. They were the softest thing about him, betraying emotion clearly. She smiled when Evan stepped back, though, mildly surprised when he took her elbow, as well. All this… touching… she wasn’t used to it.

Still, it wasn’t unpleasant and she allowed him his gestures. To not do so would be rude, and she wasn’t rude if she could help it. She’d seen the longing looks some of the female detectives sent the man she was with tonight, so she knew that he was, to the eye, pleasing. She found personality more attractive, really- and he was intelligent and threw himself into his work. He was young, but quick- Lestrade spoke highly of him when she’d casually mentioned going out to dinner with him, though the DI was taken aback, slightly. He’d asked if that would cause a problem with her flatmate- why, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if she and Sherlock were a couple, after all. They were simply flatmates. They had separate rooms. Never mind that they often spent time together- him playing the violin (or scratching at it, at times), while she read- or talking, playing board games… well, they did spend time together. She was perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend- she considered him a friend, even if he didn’t view her the same way.

And she should stop thinking of her eccentric flatmate when she had a handsome man sitting across from her. She smiled, briefly. “I’m sorry- I must have been off in my own little world for a moment, there.” At his compliment, she managed another smile. “Why, thank you.” A sigh. “I haven’t been on a date in… a long time.” She wouldn’t include the few times Sherlock was hungry and dragged her to dinner with him- even though he usually paid. Topics of conversation for a date did not include a minor row about how the victim in Cluedo did, in fact, kill themselves- or the newest gristly murder. And… well, at the end of the evening she usually put her head on Sherlock’s shoulder, the perfect height for her head, and the two would head home to Baker Street.

Conversation wasn’t forced between them, but very polite, charming. There was no nervous tremor in his hands, no infectious, almost maniac energy to put off. And his attention was on her- it didn’t switch around the room, didn’t read people for fun. He didn’t push her to think about the other patrons. Still, she glanced at her watch, to make sure it wasn’t too late. She would have to make sure her flatmate was alright, after all. He insisted on paying for dinner, something she may have protested, but he was as smooth as Sherlock when he passed his debit card over. They lingered over the table until a pointed look from a waiter sent them out. Again, with the touching! It made her slightly uncomfortable, but she tolerated it- even managed to keep smiling. They were outside, now, and she pulled out her cell to check for messages. One from Lestrade- one from Mycroft, of all people!- nothing from Sherlock. She smiled at her date, unsure. “Well…” She should go home, check up on Sherlock. But, he was a grown man- she didn’t need to watch over him. “I suppose that won’t hurt anything. Just- let me text my flatmate.” She pulled out her phone again.

‘Dancing, then theatre. Don’t wait up.
T’

A frown, then.

‘And please, no bullet holes in the ceiling again. Mrs. Hudson was furious that last time, and it ended up in my mattress. Lead is not comfortable to lay on.
T’

Satisfied with the two texts, she nodded. “All set.” A smile. “My flatmate is a bit on the eccentric side- worries constantly when I’m out alone after dark.” A flash of Moriarty’s face, and a soft inhale of breath accompanied that sudden image. She was safe. Jim Moriarty was delusional, crazy- but he wouldn’t harm her. He couldn’t. She wasn’t a chink in Sherlock’s armor. “Well, not alone. Without him… I’ve got a male flatmate. That bother you?” She paused. “He’s… well… you’ve seen Sherlock Holmes on the scene, right? He’s my flatmate.”

There, bring that up right away.

“I know you’re heard about him from other detectives, but he’s not a ‘freak’ or ‘psychopath’, or whatever. He’s actually fun to be around.” And he was once he let you past the impenetrable wall, and into his heart. There was certainly a Telarai-shaped space in his heart, by now- just as he had a warm niche in hers as well. She knew he was capable of compassion- he’d spent hours stroking her hair just last week when she’d been miserably sick from some drug she’d ingested somehow. He’d ordered her to lay on the couch and stroked her hair for a few hours, which made her think he had possibly put the drug into something she’d ingested, and, out of guilt, was giving her these little tokens of affection. She’d woken up with his coat draped over her, the lights out, and a little note- ‘Didn’t want to wake you. Sleep well. SH’- propped on the table. “And, contrary to what Donovan thinks, he would never raise a hand to me. He’s not a vicious man by nature.”

Rambling, rambling…

[Kaze_Haga]

His patient, friendly smile grew dramatically as soon as she reluctantly agreed to join him. He chuckled, averting his gaze as she sent a quick text to her flatmate to let them know where she was.

"You two are close, then?" He asked innocently without searching for anything deeper than the fact that her flatmate and her were very good friends and wanted to check up on each other so that they didn't worry. "We don't have to stay out long," he offered, only because her response had been fairly unenthusiastic, which he had honestly been expecting anyway. He nodded, again listening intently after she had put her phone away and turned her attention back to him to explain the dynamic between the two. As he had previously thought to himself, they did indeed sound very close, her being out late drawing worry from the flatmate. He didn't miss the look of worry that crossed her features only for a split second either, but she moved on and he didn't comment. What he didn't expect as she continued, though, was that the person she was speaking of was in fact a man.

"Oh," he said, blinking back his surprise and fumbling to cover his confusion. "No, no" he managed to get out. It didn't bother him that she might live with a man, those types of living arrangements weren't all that uncommon nowadays. Obviously his express desire was that this was a mutual, platonic relationship though. She hadn't told him that she was unavailable, after all, or really even given him any signals to the contrary that she was single and willing to join him out to dinner. "So then, the two of you - you aren't..." he trailed off, shaking his head and replacing his temporarily thoughtful expression with a bright smile. "Forgive my prying," he said with a good-natured laugh. He simply let her continue.

Sherlock Holmes; certainly he knew the name. He had never really interacted with him on a personal level, only heard of and to an extent seen his wild antics at a scene they both happened to be at. He was the man living with this beautiful young woman? He looked at her quizzically, fully prepared to have a laugh and compliment her on nearly pulling one over on him. She didn't crack a smile and he cleared his throat, wiping the smile off his face and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Sherlock Holmes, sure, sure, I know of him...Really?" he responded with a bit more seriousness this time. "How on earth did that come about?" He was just too curious, he couldn't let that burn in his mind for the rest of the evening. He had heard his fair share of Sherlock stories from other detectives who had had the "good fortune" to have an encounter with him, but he gave her a chance and listened with an open mind to what she had to say about the man. She lived with him, clearly she should know him better than anyone. A troubling thought.

After her final notes of praise, he again nodded agreeably without any humor in his face. "Well, good." At least that was one thing he didn't have trouble accepting. "No lady, especially one such as yourself, should ever tolerate a man raising a hand to her." A man or case like that was enough to make any good of heart detective's blood boil. He had contemplated giving her some more space, but instead continued walking right beside her, pushing away any sudden panic about her being already taken with another man. Gladly able to change the subject and get back to enjoying spending time with Rai, the muffled indiscernible music of their destination reached his ears.

"Here we are," he said, opening the door for her and following her inside. It wasn't too crowded, and the music was softer, slow. It was a place people could come together, chat, and relax. He had hoped the atmosphere would allow her mood to lighten and that she could enjoy herself since it was not overly cozy or intimate. It was why he liked it. It wasn't crowded with the dregs of the city, and it was clean. Respectable. Nothing less would do for a lady. They found a table easily enough, off to the side and close to the bar.

"Don't tell me, let me guess," he said, holding up a hand playfully before stepping away and ordering the pair of them one round of drinks. Just one. He wasn't trying to take advantage, after all. He was observant as well, how could he not be in his line of work, and her reaction told him that he had done well in guessing what sort of drink she would want. He had all but forgotten Sherlock Holmes, the man who had in a flash become something of a threat, the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. He was optimistic and why would he want to ruin their evening?

[Telarai]

She nodded when he inquired about her flatmate. “I… suppose you could say we’re close. Well, as close as flatmates can get.” And maybe a little closer, seeing as hers was male, and he did not often keep company. She was a rare gift- a diamond among coal- and she sparkled in the light of Sherlock’s brilliance, reflecting it right back at him. But, when she mentioned he was male, she quirked a brow.

Tripping over the tongue.

Blinking.

Confusion.

Oh, he was jealous… or starting to be.

“We’re not what?” She inquired, before laughing. “Green isn’t your color, Evan. And, no, we’re not involved in those sorts of activities. He’s married to his work- that will always come first.” She would be secondary, even if he were so inclined to be an affectionate, loving man. She went on, and from the look on her date’s face, she knew he didn’t believe her, at first, when she mentioned the name. Why would he? Donovan and Anderson both painted him some sort of psychotic recluse who was on the verge of snapping. When she didn’t, he looked up, and she gave a slight smile.

“Yes, really.” She shook her head. “Contrary to popular belief, he is human. With a flat and everything.” A laugh. “Well… you’re asking how we met, aren’t you? Well, that’s what you want, anyway. Let’s see… Sherlock was on the chase- ran right into him, knocked him over, and down we went in a tangle of limbs. He looked up at me, and said I must have Germanic-Welsh roots, based on my eye color, mixed with Asian somewhere based on my eye shape and hair- then he got up and hailed a cab. Took me to get treated, then scared the heart out of me when he came up to me out of the darkness, and he took me to a shelter that night. Told me I could find him if I tried, and disappeared again.”

“I was in a part of town I didn’t know… but he’d dropped a pack of cigarettes with a card from Speedy’s inside- I figured it out from there. He spotted me right away, and he actually laughed. Thought it was funny that this little American woman managed to track him down with so little information, and decided I was more than just a pretty face. I was worth talking to, worth being greeted and befriended. I got a job working for a friend of his who owed him a favor, but it was quietly domestic, and I was meant for more. Sherlock pestered me at work, constantly, trying to get me to tell him things about patrons, making my mind work. I liked it. They had to lay me off, and I didn’t know HOW I was going to afford my flat, when Sherlock comes bounding up and tells me he’s got an extra room and could use a flatmate, and why not consider moving in with him? After all, we knew each other and it was better than moving in with a total stranger.”

“I said no, at first, but he gets pretty masterful when he wants something, and he went on a sulking fit for a few days. He said he wanted me to move in. Said he needed someone who wasn’t a complete idiot to bounce things off of, and so far, I was proving bright and amusing. I kept him from getting bored.” She laughed. “Still do, in fact. Word of advice, never play Cluedo with him, unless you don’t typically play by the rules. He’ll actually convince you the victim offed themselves!” An amused shake of her head. “Never mind it isn’t in the rules- he’ll convince you.”

A shrug. “He’s on the eccentric side, but brilliance does that to people.” Defending him. She was like a dragon when it came to protecting him. “I know what lies Donovan’s been feeding you about him. He’s a ‘psychopath’, who will one day snap and kill, maim, destroy. He’d harm anything in his way. It’s a lie. He’s not a psychopath.” That was firm. “He’s not. That’s like saying I’m a psychopath. And I know the… rumors… about me too.” A huff. “I’m not deluded, or afraid of Sherlock. I know Anderson is convinced I’m actually terrified of him, but I’m not. He’d never harm me, and he has told me he would gladly dispatch my abusive ex if he ever comes sniffing around me again.”

“And I’ve gone and ruined the mood, haven’t I?” She realized, belatedly. “I… well, usually Sherlock and I bounce things off each other, so I think my social tact guard is possibly malfunctioning tonight.” She laughed, then.

“Anyway, he wore me down with that sulking fit, and I moved into 221b Baker Street. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” She sighed. “I never know what I’m walking into.” A fond smile. Or what he would come home like. They had been walking- her looking five minutes late for an appointment due to those glorious long legs- the whole time, and when he spoke again, she smiled. “Of course no woman deserves it. I’m not a statistic, Evan.” She sighed. “Yes, I was abused. But, go back to my childhood, and it’s normal, for the most part. I wasn’t hurt by my family, wasn’t weak. I made good grades in school- worked through college. When I met Randy, he was charming and cultured- an exchange student from London. He convinced me to come with him, back here. I’ve never regretted it. It made me what I am today.”

She was confident despite the scarring, and her smile and dignity pushed all physical imperfections aside. Sherlock didn’t mention the scarring, except in passing, and even then it was brief, and it felt- normal. “I’ve done it again- sorry. Been cooped up in Baker Street for the past week, so my tact is really lax.” She didn’t use tact with her flatmate, nor he with her. And it was true- she HAD been cooped up. She didn’t leave Sherlock alone in the flat when he went on those sulking fits, for fear that he’d somehow harm himself. She gave him space, of course. “I promise I’m not usually like this.” A slight laugh. No, she usually didn’t want her flatmate- didn’t usually wish for his particular brand of sarcasm- but right now that was familiar and she was in unfamiliar territory.

She let him usher her into the club, and she relaxed almost instantly. Not intimate, not loud- and she let him lead her to a table, and accepted her drink, sipping before laughing. She nodded at him with an amused light in her eyes, gesturing to the couple at the bar with her eyes.

“They’ve only just met, but they bonded over a mutual love of cats. She’s never done this before- tourist- American. Older than she looks. Married, too- shameful.” Her eyes twinkled in mischief, waiting for the surprise, before responding. “Eyes and brains. Note their body language- their hips are touching but the rest of them isn’t. Signals sexual attraction, but they don’t know one another well, yet- that is the only place they touch. On her collar, a patch of white fur- too high to be from a dog, so, logically, a cat. At his ankles, both legs, ginger tabby fur- a cat, most likely an affectionate tomcat winding its way through his ankles. She keeps laughing and looking around- not to see if anyone notices her, but because she’s nervous. She won’t meet his gaze for long.” A grin. “You can see the blue corner of her passport peeking out from her purse, and her clothing screams American. She keeps herself fit- most likely from L.A. or one of those posh towns. Smile is slightly frozen, hinting at botox. Only an older woman would try so obviously to look so young.”

“As for the married bit, well- she keeps fiddling with her left hand, the ring finger in particular. She keeps looking at it, as if something’s not right. If she were recently divorced, she’d play with the finger but she wouldn’t look down so much, as if she’s betraying him. A middle-aged woman clinging desperately to her youth, who’s unappreciated at home.” She winked, then. “You see? I can make observations too..” she indicated her drink. “Like… you, for example.” Her smile grew.

“You grew up poor.” She said it as fact. “You got into your chosen profession to make a difference in your community. You have a fondness for old records, and you are wondering when I’m going to make sense. Oh, and you’re slightly jealous of Sherlock for living with me, don’t try to deny it.” A small laugh. “Really, it’s not hard to read people. I’ve gotten better at it since moving into Baker Street, but I was always pretty good.”

“I’ll save you some trouble now- Sherlock doesn’t see me as a woman. I’m a… companion, an assistant. I’m surprised he knows my name, let alone sees me- if he even does. Quite frankly, he’s quiet most of the time, and I’m used to his personality quirks.” Like… walking around in nothing but a sheet. That had been a fun morning, honestly. He was shameless about nudity. He’d just wandered in and sat down, chatting away like it was nothing. Then again, she slept in a very brief pair of shorts and a tank top, so it was perhaps his way of getting back at her. “There’s nothing going on there. Besides, he’s probably passed out on the couch by now- hasn’t texted me back.”

[Kaze_Haga]

Normally he wouldn't be too big on listening to a date prattle on about another man, a man that she was living with no less, but he had to admit that he had a personal interest in what she had to say. All he knew of Sherlock Holmes really was what he had been told of him and none of it had been flattering. It seemed that she would have none of that, though, and she passionately defended him. He refused to let it ruffle his feathers, keeping his expression light and interested in whatever she had to say. She had already called him out on teetering on the brink of jealousy. That was not the sort of reputation he wanted for himself.

The story of their meeting and how they had ended up living together was actually interesting, and while it did little to put his mind as to the nature of their relationship at ease, it gave the mysterious man a more human element to him. It was the one point she emphasized most often. He held up his hands in mock defense, issuing a gentle laugh.

"I never said he wasn't human." It was true that he had heard little positive about the man. This was mainly because he normally chose not to waste his time dealing with others, so there was not a lot of information readily available about him. He, personally, had never had any negative encounter with the man, but even from watching him from a distance he had never pegged him as the type to snap and cause harm to people.

Her defense of him continued, and she bristled visibly as she must have been recounting in her head some of the things said about her flatmate. Yes, it was obvious they were close, but they way she spoke of him and knowing the nature of Sherlock Holmes, Evan's mind refused to let him believe that there was anything romantic between the two of them. He held his tongue when she mentioned an abusive ex of hers, that revelation becoming a sudden obvious factor as to why she was uneasy about his gentle touches. He didn't comment on it. He had no authority to, and anything he might say would do little to console and only add insult to injury. Besides, she hardly seemed like she was lingering on the subject. She was confident in herself despite her negative experience and clearly had moved on with her life, accepting her past for what it was.

Pleased with himself for having selected a drink that she enjoyed, leaning forward ever so slightly across the table in interest. When she gestured over to a pair of people sitting not too far away, he let his gaze follow. Her eyes lit up then, sparkling with humor and intelligence. He mimicked her movement exactly as she angled her body towards the bar, gazing at the oblivious couple she spoke of now. With each point of observation she made and the conclusion she inevitably drew from it, he let his eyes travel to the minuscule little hints she was picking up on. He laughed as she began, pleasantly surprised, which seemed to cue her to continue. This seemed to be an enjoyable pastime of hers. She clearly had a lot of practice in the fine art of reading people and picking up on subtle clues. Finished, she gave a little wink of pride and his smile brightened. He hadn't doubted her abilities, but was nonetheless surprised at the confidence in which she spoke of the couple she had never seen before in her life. He was on the verge of a playful tease, ready to tell her that anyone could make up such a grand story about two people that they would never speak to and be able to confirm or deny the information she had just reported about them.

"Me?" This time greater surprise as she turned her attention on him. He had nothing in his life to hide, yet still had to keep himself from squirming as she scrutinized and judged. He sat in silence as she listed off the truths of his life, beginning with his poor upbringing, even eventually nailing his admiration for old records. That one puzzled him the most. He could understand how perhaps his demeanor might give away that he didn't come from money. Even now on his salary he wasn't able to afford the absolute finest in clothing, and she knew about where he lived which was nowhere overly grand but he couldn't recall having mentioned anything to her about his taste in music or collectibles. He laughed when she mentioned teasingly that he was jealous of her living with Sherlock Holmes, giving a gesture of resignation in similar light-hearted fashion.

"Impressive," he acknowledged. "Seeing as how you already know then, I won't waste my time." He took another drink from his glass before meeting her gaze in that friendly, casual way of his. "I think we'd have a hard time of finding a man that wouldn't be jealous of Sherlock Holmes, then." He nearly stopped her as she went through the trouble of explaining their state of living together, and the "job" she had with him, but the knowledge actually was a bit of a relief. If there was something more, not only would he be miserable about the fact that he had absolutely no chance with the beautiful woman that sat across from him now, but he certainly did not want the guilt of sneaking away another man's love either. Definitively, then, she told him there was nothing going on there. He smiled, hardly even bothering to hide his pleasure at the news.

"Well I can't say I'm sad to hear it," he said, letting his smile grow. His light, clear gray eyes found her violet ones once again, and he realized that she had volunteered so much information about herself this evening, and most of what she did know about him she had figured out for herself. Well, at the very least he could confirm.

"I did grow up poor," he said after another lull and with a gentle smile, gaze trained on the barely full glass in front of him. "I grew up in an orphanage, as a matter of fact." So his parents, whoever they were, must have been even worse off than he was. He glanced up to see her reaction briefly. "No one wants the boys," he said with a grim laugh. "So I spent the first 18 years of my life there and had a lot of free time to learn and read crime stories. That was when I decided I wanted to be a great detective one day. Yes, to help people who otherwise might not be helped," he added with a laugh and a roll of his eyes, obviously poking fun at his own idealistic and youthful ambitions. Unfortunately he had no one to share the pride of finally reaching his goal with, it being a deeply internalized accomplishment instead.

"And," he added, to top it all off. "I do indeed have a fondness for old records, though I can't quite work out how you would have known that." He eyed her as if he was suspicious, but his eyes were once again dancing with delight. The mention of music seemed to make him remember that there was music playing as if he'd forgotten. He stood up, swiftly closing the distance between them and taking her hand, signaling to Rai to stand up and come with him.

"Just one," he promised. Unless of course, she didn't mind more. Why on earth would he argue with that? But her shyness and reservations were the first thing he had to break through, and it was just one dance. He led her just a few feet away from their table, on the edge of the dance floor, where a few other couples were quietly moving together. They were in their own worlds, no one stared at them, it was just an innocent little dance. He was careful of his hand placement, not too friendly but just right so it didn't look uncomfortable. His movements were smooth, in character for the tall, lithe man. They moved together well, skipping over the fumbling moments of missteps until they were in sync altogether.

[Telarai]

She listened to him. By now her ear was accustomed to the refined British accent, and she enjoyed it. His voice was softer than the panther-like tones her flatmate had, but it was still enjoyable to listen to, and she let him have the majority of her attention. She was always alert, but for now, she was as relaxed as she could be among so many strangers. “No, you didn’t, but, well… most of the force seems to think he’s less than human. Donovan, in particular, hates him, possibly because he’s not shy about her illicit affair with Anderson. She’s not too keen on me, either- but that’s more due to the fact that she’s sure I’m an accomplice to Sherlock, and will go down with him when he snaps.” A shrug. “Lestrade trusts him. And so do I.” She took another sip of her drink, before switching the conversation. Eventually he’d meet her flatmate, anyway, so might as well prepare him for that meeting.

She used her observations to charm him, and it had apparently worked. When he leaned in, telling her men would be jealous, she shook her head with a laugh. “Oh, no. No, men don’t see me that way, especially when I’m with Sherlock when he’s in one of his moods. Just last week he showed up covered in pig’s blood- I’m surprised they let him on the tube like that.” A laugh. “Some people would call my life insane, and empty- but I love it. How many girls can say they get to go on crime scenes for fun?” A laugh. “If I hadn’t, never would have met you.” And she was a sucker for grey eyes, always had been. That had started in school, and continued. Sherlock’s eyes were a darker grey than the man across from her, though- his almost appeared to change color depending on the light. Evan’s were light grey, almost like the eyes of a husky.

He began to confirm, and she shook her head when he mentioned an orphanage. “Better than foster care. People don’t want the older ones, either.” She left it at that- she too was abandoned into the system, a forgotten child. And when the child was pretty, well… she’d had several foster fathers. She nodded when he confirmed his idealistic reasons for joining the force, and chuckled softly. “Every little boy wants to be a hero, a great man who solves mysteries and makes women swoon.” A grin. “Me, I was the odd little girl. Instead of the damsel in distress, I was usually beating up on the source of my distress. Guess that never changed, really.” She laughed. “I remember this one time, someone bullied me for reading during class. He somehow got locked in a gym locker. Wonder how that happened?” A twinkle in her eye as he finally asked about the record. “Oh, that?”

She reached out and took his hand, turning it palm up before releasing it, indicating a small tear in his coat cuff- so small, he probably hadn’t noticed it. “Too big to be a sewing needle- and it looks as though it was torn as you moved. Don’t figure you for the knitting type, so not a darning needle. And there’s a tiny spot of grease on your sleeve, too. Only logical assumption is a record player.” She grinned. “I wasn’t too sure on that one, so thank you for confirming it. Sherlock will be pleased, I’m starting to make logical assumptions and follow them up.” He loved to test her wit, and skills. When her date stood, she rose nervously. But he wanted a dance and she didn’t mind dancing- she let him put his hand at her back and take one of her hands in his. For a moment, there was the usual missteps, the nerves getting the best of them both, before it smoothed out and they started to sway in sync.

[Indiana]

It was another three-patch problem he was out of work and BORED. There hadn’t been any proper cases for weeks, his brain slowly turning into mush, he needed something to work on, during the day he had to go out the flat and wonder round making his brain work. Daytime TV was becoming such a bore, which the novelty soon wore off, forever shouting at Jeremy Kyle. “CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S LYING? LOOK AT HIS POSTURE!” and “CAN’T YOU TELL HE’S THE BOYS FATHER!? LOOK AT THE TURN UPS OF HIS JEANS!” but that got pretty boring soon.

He gasped, rubbing his patches, feeling them work, before letting out a breath of air and opening his eyes his form spread on the couch, feet up on the other end his eyes flicked to the ceiling and took another sigh.

He heard a female voice and looked across to see Telerai walking out all smartly dressed, even he had to admit she did look rather pretty, having got rid of her usual jeans a t-shirt he was so used to. Ah! Of course, she had told him that she was on a date, with one of the other DI’s down at Scotland Yard. He was less annoying, (At least it wasn’t Anderson!) and Sherlock wondered why she had to go on a date at all! She had him didn’t she? Maybe he should pay more attention to her but he wasn’t driven that way, he was driven on work and caffeine. But he did love her around him, she was safe with him although he might not have shown it, he’d always be there for her if she needed him.

After all it was her that had found him again after they had bumped into each other, that case was pretty vigorous and Sherlock had managed to capture the attacker even with bumping into her. He was pretty chuffed with himself, even if he did say so. A mini smile spread across his face at that thought. But living with Rai now had changed him somehow, she defended him and vice versa. He couldn’t imagine what life was like without her now. He needed her. She was one of the few that didn’t call him a freak, (Along with Mycroft and Lestrade) not that when people did call him a freak, he chose to ignore anyway.

She was also becoming a good little detective, he was teaching her to see beyond what most people would generally miss, when observing. If they’d go out for meals on the rare occasions when he was actually hungry he’d get her to observe the nearest couple, or people sitting at the tables. Getting her to use all of her brain, and she was a fast learner he’d give her that. But on all accusations he’d be one better and told her exactly what was going on with the chosen table. Sherlock liked her around with him on the crime scenes so he could practically show off and that she was useful interrogation’s. They bounced off each other. With her being out of the house, it was quiet and he hated quiet, unless the case was partially hard and he needed the quiet to think.

He heard the door slam shut and he shot up just to peer out the window and watched her get into a cab.

“Look at that Mrs Hudson. Peaceful, tranquil all is right in the world. God I hate it,”

“Nice to see you up and about Sherlock, a good case, that’s what you need,”

He was still staring out the window long before the cab went out of sight. He guessed they’d do the usual thing people do on dates, dinner, dancing, chat, chatting about him. If he knew Rai, and he did she’d be defending him not that he needed defending he had gone years without being defended and pretty much kept to himself unless he had to work with the others.

“Anyway I think its nice Telerai has gone out. They seem to be getting on well,”

She potted around his space trying to tidy things up a little. He wished she didn’t and to top it of she was mumbling, and he hated when people mumbled. Sherlock guessed that Rai told her to keep an eye on him, not that he didn’t need her to but was still slightly greatful that she was here none the less. He turned away so his back was facing the window. Thinking while she talked.

“And I think you should go out too, it not doing you any good in here,” Does this woman ever shut up!? “Why don’t you go and join them maybe?”

“It’s a date Mrs Hudson,”

Mrs Hudson didn’t seem to have heard him.

“It’s unnatural for you to be moping around and it’s not doing you any good,”

Sherlock grabbed his violin flopped back down and started plucking at his strings. A few moments in and his mobile bleeped, his hand dived into his pocket and pulled it out. Two texts from Rai something along the lines of trying not to blow up the wall and the other tell him not to wait up. He didn’t reply and carried on plucking.

“Right! I’m not having this. Sherlock OUT!”

For a small lady she didn’t half have a set of lungs on her, one of her fingers pointing towards the door. Sherlock was taken aback, she hadn’t done this to him before! She was throwing him out! Practically telling him to get out, luckily for him he was already in his trousers and purple shirt.

“It will do you good to go out for the evening. I am also trying to save my walls!”

Her eyes darted towards the holes that he had already made from previous boredom. Sherlock huffed, and she gave him a look, he threw his violin next to him, got up and grabbed his jacket putting that on before getting his coat, scarf, gloves and putting them on. She hurried behind him and ushered him out of the door. Before slamming the door shut behind him.

“Well then…” he muttered glancing at the door behind him he was going to have to enjoy himself now. “That was uncalled for,” he sighed and tugged his gloves on and looked around him. He’d rather stay at home, pouting and sulking but now he was out he guessed he was going to have to make the most of it.

Sighing he tugged at his gloves once more set his collar high to his neck and set off it was up to him to find Rai and her date which shouldn’t be too hard to find. Sherlock didn’t really know much about her date, had only seen him a few times on crime scenes, and never had the need to actually talk to him. There where only a few places around own where they would have dinner and dancing mixed together. The long walk did him good, it gave him time to clear his head and it didn’t take him long to find them and their choice of a good time. Looking up at the building the music wafting outwards towards him, he sighed,

“Boring, predictable and dull..” He muttered to himself.

He opened the door and stepped inside, and lingered on the threshold for a while. He didn’t realise just awkward this will be he suddenly realised that he was gate crashing and a small smile spread across his face. He closed the door and walked in properly, he wondered if Rai would actually hate him for crashing her ‘normal’ date but shrugging, he spotted them dancing and headed over towards them.

His face said it all, bad mood and sulking. Didn’t care whether he bumped into anyone and made a bee line for them both and sighing rather loudly, he didn’t even bother giving her date the once over he knew he was working in Scotland Yard but he guessed that Rai had already done that too him. Completely ignored him.

“She threw me out Rai! Actually threw me out! I need a case!!! I need something!”

He was partially throwing a hissy fit in public, not that he cared.

“Look at them all being normal, must be so boring in their little minds..,”

He said as he looked around at the ‘normal’ people..

[Telarai]

((Short post is short, but I’m drunk as hell and I wanted to give Kaze something to work off of.))

She caught the look first- that brooding, sulking look that was usually enough to make her laugh outright- and now was no exception. She shook her head, amused, as she snaked Evan’s attention with her eyes and gestured towards her flat mate. “See, that’s his ‘my horribly mean landlady kicked me out’ look. He’s pouting.” She fought off the laugh as he approached, and casually made sure they were on the edge of the dance floor to avoid him actually colliding with anyone. He had one goal in mind, she could see it- he wanted to annoy her. She was his favorite target when he got into these moods. She could see, clearly, that he was in full-on tantrum mode, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her upper lip from twitching into a smile as, without preamble, he immediately began to draw attention to himself- and the pretty woman who had been dancing with that dashing young man. She released her date, quirking a brow, before stepping in closer to Sherlock.

“Aww, poor baby.” She reached up and tucked his collar back down, before toying with his scarf. The best way to get him out of his moods was to poke at him, and fuss over him, and he got over things quick enough. “She ought to be shot, kicking you off the couch for some air.” She did laugh now. “There. Perfect.” She fought the urge to reach up and brush an errant lock of dark hair off his forehead- his curls were a temptation, always, that she resisted. But there was that one lock that liked to get into his face that begged to be played with, and it was right there when she was this close to him… but she made do with his collar and scarf instead. However, she did give his scarf a little tug. “Say hello.” An apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Evan, I’ve tried to socialize him but he doesn’t listen.”

She huffed, laughing. “And you love me, Sherlock, don’t try to deny it!” Another tug to his scarf.

[Kaze_Haga]

(Short, short....shorty McShort....and I can't even blame intoxication...)

There was a mildly satisfied smirk on his face as they moved in unison on the dance floor. His mind kept wandering back to her careful observations in the tear in his coat sleeve and the spot of grease there that had given him away as a fan of records. He would have to be sure to have that mended and cleaned. Tiny as the clues might have been, they were apparently noticeable, and he was particular about his appearance after his upbringing.

"Well, I suppose I can thank you for pointing out the imperfections of my jacket," he joked, keeping the mood light. But his voice was soft and he was clearly enjoying her company.

Never would he have called her the damsel in distress type, and despite the tragedy of her own childhood, he was glad to hear that she was the type to fend for herself in any given situation. It seemed that had remained as she grew into adulthood. And she had said herself if she hadn't chosen the path that she had, they would have never met. He couldn't help then, but to be grateful for the chance encounter. He never got the chance to mention this. It seemed like no sooner had they found a perfect rhythm together with the music before a rather tall fellow came sweeping over towards them, barreling his way past the people surrounding them with absolutely no acknowledgement of their presence or his less than sociable entrance.

Taken aback at first, Evan released his hold of his date as they both spun to face the stranger. But he was no stranger; not, at least, to Rai. Mind snapping back to attention after the momentary shock of his shrill, whining voice after what had been pleasant, quiet conversation and music, he recognized the man. Stranger no longer, this was obviously Rai's flatmate, and therefore the infamous Sherlock Holmes. Evan had seen him from a distance and his distinct voice now certainly wouldn't allow him to be mistaken for another. His gaze was directed purely on the woman now standing between them, not so much as a glance over to the young man she had been dancing with earlier.

He stood behind her silently for the time being, watching with extreme and painful awareness the way her eyes lit up when she saw the man that she claimed did not see her as a woman. This seemed to be true, at least. He clearly did not take the time to appreciate her physical beauty, or even look at her with any remote sort of romantic interest, but there was an undeniable dynamic there that was, to Evan at least, unsettling. It didn't take long for Sherlock Holmes to live up to his unfavorable reputation, and he mumbled a demeaning insult to the crowd at large. Evan quirked a brow, still managing to remain silent. In his mind, he was obviously far superior intellectually and God all knows what else.

It seemed the man had been thrown out by an unnamed 'she' that Rai had identified as their landlady. His date didn't hesitate to step forward and fuss with the man patronizingly, doing her best to, as she put it, keep him entertained. She played with his scarf and fixed his collar, her hand twitching to brush a lock of hair out of his face. Her resistance told him that she was mindful that Evan was still behind her, but the gesture might as well have been completed. As if on cue, she turned to give him an apologetic smile, trying to explain away the behavior of her flatmate. He smiled back half-heartedly, but her attention was already back upon the man before her throwing a tantrum in public, practically demanding his love and affection in return for her gentle caresses.

Evan took the opportunity to eye him closely, torn between a profound respect for his skill of solving cases, and strong distaste for his arrogance and attitude about everyone else around him. He wouldn't admit that he already had a biased bitterness towards the man not only for what he had heard of him, but for the way he held and discarded Rai's affections. As usual, he tried his best to keep an open mind and not be quick to judge others. He would be civil, of course, and introduce himself if Sherlock did and seemed receptive or even aware of his presence.

[Indiana]

((Omg, horrible post is horrible, but its tons better then what I had this morning. but I still don't like it and it's small, but postable...)

If he didn’t have a case soon then he might as well beg Lestrade for one of his cases, or at least dig through some unsolved cases down at the Yard, since there where loads. Either that or go on holiday somewhere and come back afresh since he wasn’t doing anything good in London, he might as well not be doing anything good but enjoying his time somewhere else.

He had previously thought about bee keeping, but that was for when he retired. He’d thought out that pretty well but that was put in a box in his mind ready to be opened when the time came, for now he was in, (he guessed he could say) club gate crashing his companion’s date with one of the detectives from the Yard.

He couldn’t help but twitch his lip in a sort of smile when she dropped her date, and came over to him, of course when he was in this type of mood he did like to pester Telerai, resting his head on her lap occasionally, or the other way round. He valued her mind, and personality rather then looks and beauty alone

He began to protest when she started fussing with his collar,

“No- It-it needs to be-,”

But then gave up, and he secretly enjoyed her fussing over him. Mycroft fussed over him just his was annoying fuss, this was pleasant fussing and he was tearing her away from her date, he smirked in his head and feeling his scarf being tugged always put a little smile on his face.

He gave another little huff of protest since he actually hadn’t said hello to her date at all just went straight over to Telerai. He noticed that the man was behind her slightly, he looked at the man through his grey eyes and gave him the once over, he too noticed the grease stain and the small tear, but he guessed that Rai had already worked her magic on him like Sherlock would do. But it seemed that the man didn’t tell her to piss off.

God he hated socializing that wasn’t on his terms or if it wasn’t listening to clients, that was really socializing, that was merely listening to voices of sad people and half the time the stuff wasn’t even bother worth looking over, or else it was sorted with in a few days. Sherlock loved to be challenged which hopefully didn’t result in to many lives lost, but he was trailing off in thought.

“My socializing skills are perfectly standard thank you,”

His grey eyes flickered to Rai’s before flickering to the male behind her. He shouldn’t have to introduce himself but he did so anyway, he half expected the man to be all “Sherlock? The Sherlock Holmes?” But obviously not. Sherlock sighed a little annoying sigh but he was only really doing this for Rai’s sake.

“Sherlock Holmes,” He said to the man without holding a hand for the man to shake. He was still in his mood. “And you..?”

He did recall Rai saying the mans name, but he’d forgot and it wasn’t important at the time.

[Telarai]

She was glad he wasn’t tugging at her hair, yet. He had a horrible habit of tugging at her hair… or putting his head in her lap… or his feet, both of which were met with a shriek of protest every single time. His head was slightly more welcome, and he didn’t object to her toying with his curls when he did put his head in her lap. She’d just read, or knit, when he did that. Usually she’d fall asleep, too- only sleep he got on cases was when his head was in her lap. But she was also ashamed that her hand had almost twitched up to caress Sherlock’s hair off his face, in front of her date, no less. His protests were met with amusement.

“Oh, stop acting childish, Sherlock, you’re far too old for it.” But her eyes snapped merrily, pupils dilating just slightly. Her flatmate really was a good-looking man, all things considered, and…. She mentally cut that thought off. She was out with an equally handsome DI from the Yard, and she should be paying him attention, not her flatmate. With a final ‘tug’ to his scarf, she released him, turning back towards Evan as the other man huffed about his social skills. “Yes, perfectly standard for a crime scene, not for a date.” This was said under her breath. But he did as she asked, and she smiled up at him in praise. After all, he was usually not a sociable man, except with her, because he considered her his contemporary and companion.

“See, was that so hard?” She almost purred it, the tone different. They were like this, though, always. She was as likely to take Sherlock’s hand as she was to take Evan’s. “Anyway, don’t you have someone else you can pester? Like Greg? I’m sure he’s got some unsolved cases you can play with. I’m on a date.” But she knew he’d stay with her- she was his comfort spot, his familiar. That was the thing about Sherlock Holmes- once you were in his inner circle, you were there for life, and he would inevitably worm his way into your life. “Oh, never mind.” She turned back to Evan, mouthing an apology at him. But she couldn’t just… leave him… here. “Well… where to?” She directed the question at Evan, not Sherlock. So much for a romantic evening- with her annoying flatmate, anyway, romance was out of the question. “And, oh, look, it’s snowing. I’m stealing your scarf, Sherlock, since mine is somewhere under the rubble you call a den.” Which she did steal with a smirk. The shawl had not been her brightest idea, come to think of it. But she had two men with her, she was sure they’d keep her warm.

At least, she knew Sherlock would. He was always covering her and lighting the fireplace for her. He was fond of the way the fire cast shadows, and would often dreamily start playing the violin. She’d drifted off more than once to him playing something soft, only to wake when the fire was low. She assumed Evan would, too- possibly with his arm around her shoulders. So she’d be warm, no matter what.

“I’m assuming we’re not going to stay here, right?”

[Kaze_Haga]

(Sorry, been sooo busy and this is all I can manage. Just trying to keep the ball rolling here!)

One eyebrow arched at the man's tone and his gaze fell to the hand that remained at his side instead of offering it in a friendly greeting. Taking his cue from the man standing in front of him, Evan did the same, though it felt unnatural to him.

"Evan Haldane," he replied with the utmost politeness despite Sherlock barreling in on their date and displaying behavior on the verge of just plain rude. Some would venture to simply call it that and drop the subject, building up their resentments and dislikes for the man. No matter what people said about it, it couldn't be argued that the man was a genius. He was the type of man Evan aspired to be, albeit with better social skills and hopefully overall better liked by others. Evan was no push-over but he did enjoy pleasing people. Again, it was another reason he was advancing quickly in his field. His desire to please did not come before his ethical or moral values though, making him well suited for work as a detective. He would gladly step on someone's toes if he knew he was right.

He cleared his throat nervously, the silence between them uncomfortable and the tension nearly palpable.

"I've heard a lot about you, Holmes, " he said, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. The man had to know what others thought or said of him. He had no idea how the man preferred to be addressed either, and he played it safer by being reasonably formal. "I must say I'm a fan of your work." No doubt, the man standing in front of him know holding the affections of Rai didn't need anymore of an ego boost, but Evan was always honest and forthcoming. Sherlock Holmes was an incredible asset to solving crimes and the city would be worse off without him. He couldn't lie and say that he didn't admire someone like that at least for his crime solving capabilities.

His eyes shot back to Rai when he heard her voice and he smiled in response to her silent, mouthed apology. What she said though required some thought, as he hadn't much anticipated the evening progressing past dinner and after-dinner drinks and dancing since she had seemed eager to get back home to check on her flatmate. With said flatmate now present, her mood was different. And certainly, he didn't factor in a third wheel even if he had thought past their time spent at the quiet little club. (His mind was also torn over which man that stood on either side of Rai was the third wheel anyway.) He glanced over to Sherlock once more, mind racing to figure out what the three of them were to do. It still wasn't very late, there should be plenty for a group of mutual friends to enjoy. But this had been a date that suddenly turned into...something indescribable. Most of all, he didn't want Rai to be uncomfortable, and for a split second he considered gracefully bowing out and letting the two of them continue their evening alone. He could have work early in the morning; he could feel a sudden headache coming on; he could just be honest and tell her to enjoy her night with Sherlock. After all, she was happier now with him present than she had been all evening. She was playful, affectionate, touched her flatmate adoringly, and Evan realized with an internal groan that he was already jealous. Rai was right; green didn't suit him. It wasn't a feeling he particularly felt very good about himself with.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, stalling for time, gaze still darting back and forth between Rai and Sherlock as if trying to decide whether he should leave or not. The woman looked at him expectantly and didn't seem to be giving off any signals that she wanted this evening to end. And she was wrapping Sherlock's scarf around her neck to prepare for braving the cold air outside as they headed to their next destination. "If you need to head home..." he offered as an escape, finally, twitching under Sherlock's burning gaze whenever he tore his disdainful look away from the crowd surrounding them.

"If not," he quickly countered so that she didn't think he was trying to brush her off, "we could always see a show." He again looked inquisitively at Sherlock Holmes. "Will you be joining us?" he asked outright, hopeful that the antisocial man might skulk back to his flat but never believing for one second that he would leave Rai alone with him.

[Indiana]

((It's short crap, so deal with it. XD)

God, staying here was boring. Most things to Sherlock Holmes were indeed boring, unless the case was challenging. He could do with one of them now. This was just awkward. He made a face when he got told to stop being so childish. That was never going to happen, since he was in an annoying mood, and his favourite person was here to be annoying too. So what if Evan was there, he was going to be damn right annoying to perhaps he’d go away and leave him with Rai. But he doubted that was going to happen. So he carried on pouting.

“Greg’s boring and stays at home watching the sport,”

Sherlock further pouted. He never understood sports personally. Mycroft was too busy trying to get him to look beyond everyone else, and he never really watched television.

Sherlock however did get a call a few days ago about a missing Champion horse, but he wasn’t bothered and it was exactly his division running after missing animals. If there were a murder involved then yes he would be down there like a shot and solve it. But he was pretty sure that the local police could find a missing horse, being that horses are rather large.

So he dismissed that case, he had of course looked though cases, but nothing was grabbing him and everything seemed to be really quiet, as if something was just waiting and lurking, he also felt like there was something, or rather someone watching them; watching their moves, always ahead of them, he’d have to worry about that later.

But right now it was his boredom that he needed to conquer and them standing around doing nothing wasn’t exactly helping. He was getting fidgety and eyes kept darting around.

“Well I’m going somewhere, plus I need a ciggy,”

He strode out, stood out side for a few moments pondering before coming back in and barging into people as he strode back towards where they stood.

“But do you know what I actually fancy? Ice cream…Mint Choc Chip…that’s what I fancy. Im going for ice cream..”

And he finally strolled out; the place wasn’t far from Embankment and walked along the South Bank of the Thames River. The evening was cool, with a slight refreshing breeze. He wasn’t going to wait for them; with one thing on his mind he wanted it and wanted it now. He was craving. Which was something slightly new for him. But managing to find somewhere that sells ice cream at this time of night was fairly easy on the South Bank, the bank it’s self was fairly busy, after grabbing his cone and paying. (Well there’s a first for everything!)

Sherlock walked to the wall and over looked the London water while licking his cone. He was rather enjoying his choice. Sherlock sat on the wall and dangled his legs over enjoying the freedom that London had to offer, he still had that horrible feeling that someone was watching him; he looked behind him and saw people going about their nighttime wonderings and continued to rather enjoy his ice cream.