Roses, lilies and orchids assaulted your nose as you opened the door of Baker Street; the delivery man forced the flowers onto you then left. Looking at the card that was attached you smiled: ‘Clichéd but I wanted to do this properly.’ Sherlock may not understand dating and feelings but he is trying you thought to yourself as you headed upstairs.
You searched the kitchen and finally found a glass that could act as a vase which you rinsed- not sure what it had held previously. You added the flowers and their food. The gift of the flowers made you sure of Sherlock’s views of you, especially when you considered the argument between Mycroft and yourself that had left an air of animosity. He constantly tried to convince Sherlock that caring was not an advantage and that you should just leave his little brother alone. Both of you ignored Mycroft but you had remained careful around him, not sure how far he would go to break you and Sherlock up.
Glancing at your flowers one last time you picked up the book you were reading and lost yourself in its pages until John and Sherlock returned.
“John why do we have flowers in the flat?” Sherlock’s voice bought you back to reality, and then his words hit you. He had not sent them so who had? Before John could answer Sherlock solved his own question.
“They are for Mrs Hudson never mind.”
The consulting detective appeared in the doorway, his eyes fixed one your (e/c) ones. You tried to maintain eye contact and a neutral expression but holding his gaze was too much and you looked away.
“She’s not in. I answered the door and put them in water for her. It would be a shame for them to die.” You just about managed to keep the disappointment out of your voice.
Sherlock looked away as he realised what you had thought on seeing the flowers.As John entered the room Sherlock left in silence leaving you wondering what he was going to do. Instead of worrying about the actions of a grown man you talked to John about his work before leaving to take Mrs Hudson her flowers.
You hugged the stand in vase to your chest as you carefully made your way downstairs. After placing the flowers and their note on the kitchen table you left and walked straight into Sherlock.
“These are for you.” A mixed bouquet was forced into your hands “I didn’t pick them, the lady in the shop did but they are from me.”
(E/c) eyes looked at the flowers then Sherlock’s face; this was his way of apologising for raising your hopes when the first selection of flowers was delivered.
“Thank you; I appreciate the gesture even though you did not choose them.”
You elbowed the thin detective in the ribs as you said the last bit before standing up on tiptoe to place a fleeting kiss on his lips. As you did so you saw a slight flush appear on his cheeks. He may claim to have feelings like everyone else but he could certainly blush like everyone else.