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The Incident

By Nezzie

Humor / Romance

The Incident

I sat in the kitchen of my new flat. I'd been here for a while, after a man who had helped me died. His name was Sherlock Holmes, and he had killed himself, claiming he was a fraud. I shivered just thinking about it. I had never taken death well, even if I was only an acquaintance of Mr. Holmes. Well, he was practically a stranger to me, but I had been an open book to him. He learned about everything, even telling me things I didn't know about myself. 

I sighed. Where was this coming from? I didn't have work today, no plans other than staying inside. It was raining anyway, so I didn't plan on leaving. That was one of the few things I missed about the States, and California: When it rained, it was on and off, not a downpour. I didn't have many friends in England, with the exception of John, and Molly was nice I suppose, but beyond that, I am a stranger to everyone. Lestrade knows of me, but neither of us had really met. 

So when my doorbell rang, I nearly screamed. Instead, I fell out of my chair, startled. 
"Who on earth...? John's gone, so who would be ringing my doorbell?" I muttered, and quickly walked to the door, opening it to find a man in a coat, his hair sticking to his face, and his collar was up.
"May I come in?" He asked, but I just stood there. Something about his voice...it was familiar.
"Sorry, do I know you?"
"Please, Alizee, I'm soaked." He grumbled, but hearing him speak my name made me cautious. 
"Who are you?"
"I'm a dead man with nowhere else to turn to." He whispered, and I stared at him, before reaching forward, and brushing his wet hair away from his face a bit more, but when I saw his face, I gasped. I think my jaw hit the floor.
"Sherl-" He quickly stepped up, covering my mouth with his hand.
"Ssh, just let me in, okay?" He whispered, and I nodded slowly, eyes wide, stepping aside and allowing him entry, to which he quickly accepted. 

He took off his coat, and hung it on a rack to dry, before he heard a thump on the floor. He turned, and saw Alizee laying on the ground.
Sherlock sighed. "She's fainted."


I woke up to my bedroom ceiling. I sat up, and sighed.
"Oh, man...what a dream....I didn't even get to change into pajamas..." I mumbled, before my door opened and I yelped, falling off. 
"Alizee...Are you alright?" I heard Sherlock's voice, and I scrambled up, finding him holding a towel and his hair moderately dry. I gaped, resembling something of a goldfish. "What?" He asked, rolling his eyes.
"You're dead...you're dead, and I'm dreaming." I whimpered, and he sighed, putting the towel down.
"Alizee, I need a place to stay at for now, do you mind if I stay here?" He asked, and I backed away until I hit the wall. "Well?"
"Uh...Sure..." I breathed, and he nodded.
"I won't be too much trouble."


 I sat up, yawning, and rubbed my eyes slowly. Another day off from work. I wonder if Sherlock got in at all last night, but then again, probably not. I stood, and shuffled to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and filling it with water, before putting in a packet of hot chocolate, stirring and putting it into the microwave. Recently, Sherlock's been acting a bit odd here and there, but I think he's bored, is all. So, I dealt with it as best as I could.
"Good morning." I heard a voice grumble, and I smiled.
"Morning. Cocoa?"
"Tea." He corrected me, and I made a noise of disgust. I felt his eyes pierce my back. "You don't like tea?"
"No. Not British tea."
"Oh, right, you're American." He sneered, and I turned, glaring at him.
"Something wrong with that?"
"Only everything. Have you even tried British tea?" He asked, but I didn't respond. He scoffed. "So you haven't. I'll make some tea, then." He grumbled, and he stood, putting some water into the kettle and sat back down. We were quiet, not bothering to try to make small talk. I heard the microwave beep after a while, and I pulled out my mug, blowing on my drink and sitting at our table, taking a small sip of my burning liquid. I winced when the kettle began to screech, and Sherlock stood. I heard shuffling and various noises, before a cup of tea was placed in front of me as he made his tea the way he liked it. I rolled my eyes at the cup, and gently pushed it away.


When Sherlock next sat down, he saw the cup and scoffed. "Really? Not even going to try it?" He asked, and I shook my head. He sighed, and took a sip of his tea, before walking over to me.


"Sherlo-" I began, but he muffled me, as his lips connected to mine. I felt a hot liquid pour down my throat as I blushed like crazy.  He pulled away a few moments after he ran out of tea to literally pour down my throat. His tongue even prodded my lips for a moment, before I pulled away, looking at him. He opened his eyes, and his gaze seemed to suck me in. He stood there for another moment, staring right back into my eyes, before he stood up straight and headed back to his seat.

 "I told you you'd like British tea."


Even after the incident involving, er, tea, I would still wake up occasionally thinking Sherlock was still dead, and believe it was a dream. But, after one afternoon when Sherlock came home with  bloodied clothing with several cuts and bruises to boot, I began to get nightmares about getting myself involved, even so far as imagining my friends in America getting held captive by the organization Sherlock was after. I started losing sleep, and I know it's started to affect my vlogs, even my attitude. The only things that keep me sane as of late were the random calls from either Keelan-accidentally at three in the morning- or Alicia -deliberately three in the morning-. I awoke to one such call, my phone ringing out a soft, chirpy little tune. I sighed, and picked up the phone almost reluctantly.
"Hello?"
"Hey chickadee, you're already up...?"
"Wha-no, you woke me u-"
"Liar. Anyway, what time is it for you?"
"It's three."
"...If I said I didn't mean to call at three in the morning this time, would you believe me?""Alicia, out of all the times I wan't in the mood for this bull, this is probably the most prevelant.""What's got you down in the dumps? Are you okay, Ali?""I promise, I'm fine. I've just been losing sleep."
"I'm telling you man, melatonin. It helps you go to sleep and stay asleep."
"Yeah, sure. Hey, goodnight, okay? I'm going back to bed."
 "Alright, sweetheart. Kee and I send lots of love. So, you should be receiving it right about now." Alicia's voice then went quiet. "Alizee...We miss you. Not only that, but in all reality, I think you need to visit home sometime soon, okay baby girl?"
"Alright. I love you both."

"Night." And with that, Alicia's voice disappeared. Alizee didn't put down the phone, and instead simply held it to her chest, beginning to cry silently. She grabbed a pillow, hugging it, imagining Alicia's laugh and Keelan's soft voice. She cried harder, remembering her little sister's glomps, her mother's tea and even her brother's obsession with computers.

It wasn't until the bed sunk down next to her did she realize she wasn't alone.
"You miss them." His deep voice quietly drifted to her ears. She hesitated, but nodded. She kept crying, but now burying her face to hide it from Sherlock. Soon, she felt arms wrap slowly, almost nervously around her. She leaned into Sherlock's frame, crying now into his shirt, as he didn't do anything but hold her, before he began to stroke her hair a bit.
"I would too, if I cared for them that much." He rumbled quietly. And after that, it was silent as rain slowly began to fall outside.
Alizee would soon fall asleep from crying so much, but Sherlock wouldn't leave. He laid her down in her bed, pulling the blanket over her, before going around to the other side, and crawling in to hold her, even though he wasn't quite sure of it at first.

"Why must you insist upon drinking that sugary vile mess?" Sherlock asked as I bustled around the kitchen, getting over the fact that I'm almost one-hundred percent sure Sherlock slept in y bed last night."Because it's my sugary vile mess and you can kiss my butt if you think I'm drinking anything other than this. Your tea was less than desirable.""Was it now?""Oh yes.""Funny, you didn't seem to mind when I allowed you a taste." I had my back turned, but I froze in the middle of mixing in the chocolate powder. I could hear his fucking smirk from here, as he probably has figured out by now that I was an enraged, embarrassed, blushing mess."Never s-said I did, though.""Your confidence seems to be waning." Oh that's it. I smirked as I continued to stir."I did, however, enjoy your lips on mine. Provided a distraction from the liquid filth pouring down my throat." Silence was the only reply I received. I wasn't that concerned until I turned and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. My eyebrows furrowed as I set down my own drink."Sherlock?" I called, and was soon rewarded with a tap on my shoulder. I sighed, and turned, only for Sherlock's lips to crash onto mine. His tongue prodded my closed lips, and pushed them apart, before meeting my teeth. Sherlock grunted, and I was about to smirk, and one of his hands sneaked to my bottom and pinched it, eliciting a gasp from me, and his tongue barged in. Instead of doing what I thought was next, I felt a liquid tasting like watery dirt coming from Sherlock's mouth.Oh, lovely, he was doing this charade again. I knew if I pulled away it'd just be a big mess, so I waited until no more tea flooded my mouth before pulling away."It's not going to work, Sherlock. I just don't like tea."
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