The Blonde

Sock

Rose finished tucking the blanket in. The last bit of her room that needed straightened. John had been gone for a while. She'd sent Sherlock out to start on the living room mainly because she knew if they stayed in the same room he'd open his mouth overload his arse and they'd be at it again. Arguing again…not that other thing.

She shook her head, mentally chastising herself for doing something she promised herself she wouldn't. She cared about him and she fooled herself into believing that it was only friendship she felt for him, but there was something else there. That kiss…No, don't think about that.

It couldn't be anything else. Friends. That's it. She wouldn't go down that road again. They left. They always left. First The Doctor in his TARDIS leaving her on that God forsaken beach and then James in that accident. No, she couldn't allow herself to care like that. Not again.

Besides. It would never work. He drove her mad. The genius part she could live with, she'd lived with it with The Doctor, but his self-righteous, arrogant behavior, well, that was another thing entirely. Telling her what she could and couldn't do and then sticking around to babysit her. The Doctor let her make her own decisions. It wasn't like she purposely put herself in danger unless she had to, but she always managed to get out of it. Why couldn't Sherlock see that? She didn't need him or anyone else telling her what to do.

She had half a mind to march out there and…then he'd argue with her and then…No, best not. He had to leave eventually because there was no way in hell he was camping out on her sofa. She could wait him out and once he was gone she'd slip out, even if she had to go out the window again, and use her sonic to locate her phone.

She stepped into the living room to appraise Sherlock's progress only to find the detective lying on her sofa, eyes closed, palms pressed together. The room was still a disaster. It looked like he put the cushions back on the sofa and then laid down.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped.

"Waiting for John," he replied without opening his eyes.

"You were supposed to be straightening up."

"I did."

"Where?" she asked, sweeping her arm around the room even though he couldn't see her because he hadn't opened his eyes.

"Can't you see I put the sofa in order?"

"And?"

"I can't be expected to do everything," he replied as if he was beyond anything so mundane.

That was it. She'd had enough of his smug attitude. She walked behind the sofa and while his eyes were still closed, reached down and shoved him off.

"What the hell-" he shouted as his eyes snapped open.

His arm darted out as he fell and he grabbed her hand, pulling her over the sofa. She landed between the overturned side table and the sofa, directly on top of him. At that moment the door opened and John stepped in carrying the takeout bag.

"Sock!" he shouted, pointing at the door handle as he surveyed the scene before him with a what the hell did I just walk in on? look on his face.

"This," Rose said, trying to stand up, which proved to be more difficult than she expected because Sherlock was still holding her hand, but she pulled out of his grip. "isn't what it looks like."

She could feel Sherlock's eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.

"It isn't?" John asked, closing the door.

"It was an accident."

"An accident?" John asked, raising his brow.

"Yes, John, an accident," Sherlock replied, standing up and straightening his suit.

"You two being on the floor or her…" he trailed off giving them a smile as he crossed the room.

"The…um…later," Sherlock replied.

"So you two meant to be on the floor?"

"I shoved him off the sofa," Rose began.

"And I may have grabbed her hand," Sherlock finished.

"Oh…" John said, picking up the side table and then setting on the sofa. "So you purposely shoved him off the sofa, he grabbed your hand, and you two…"

"Precisely," Sherlock replied.

John pulled the takeout cartons out of the bag and then set them on the table sporting a knowing grin that made her want to slap him. Instead she sat down in the chair forcing Sherlock to share the sofa with his amused friend.

Standard Disclaimer.

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