[COMPLETE] ??? ???? ?? ??? ??????「Sherlock」

017; Valse Sentimentale

"It's nine o'clock," Elliot pointed out, checking his watch. He flashed a smile, but she could tell that he was rather bothered by her tardiness. "Were we not going to meet in order to sort out reservations downtown today?"

Oh, right, that was this morning! She visibly cringed, lip curling at her own stupidity. How could she had forgotten? Her hands came to her forehead and she sighed. "Oh hon, I am so sorry-" Movement behind her caused her to flinch. Sherlock leaned against the frame of the entrance, towering over her shoulder in order to face her boyfriend.

"Elliot, what a surprise," he intoned, although he sounded far from pleased. It was the same false facade that Sherlock had used on multiple occasions when he was angry with her. Her significant other looked between the two, brows knitting slightly in confusion. "You just woke us up."

Julia felt her ears burn at the word 'us'. Elliot had woken them up, he had drawn them out of their sleep, he had been the one to get them out of bed. It was a funny yet harmless little way of putting it. The rosette understood what it was like to sleep next to the detective. At some points, he would stir and roll over, laying close to her, their faces inches apart within the cramped space; other times he would remain with his nose pointed to the back of the couch, just as she had woken up to that morning. There had never been a moment where the two had been uncomfortable, either. Or, at least, Julia hadn't been.

"Oh? You spent the night here?" Julia could practically hear Sherlock rolling his eyes as he removed himself from his position behind her and sauntered off to make a pot of tea. Opening the door further, she turned and guided him inside. The scientist's eyes curiously washed around the room. "Caught up in another case?"

Julia sighed, side-stepping toward the detective's chair, ignoring the feeling of how the man watched them from within the kitchen, leaning against the back of one of the chairs that surrounded the table. "Well, Sherlock overworked himself last night. It was busy, to say the least," she murmured, tugging her sleeves over her hands. He had not even poured the water, he was just there, watching with those predatory eyes of his, like a vulture. "I suppose he pushed himself too far, and so... he just sort of, fainted."

Elliot had wandered over to the shelving unit that surrounded the fireplace. "Oh?" he piped up, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he picked out one of Sherlock's well-endowed collection of anthropology novels. The strawberry blonde glanced over his shoulder, a look of vague concern upon his face. "I'm glad to see him up and about then. Thank goodness he's alright."

"Be careful with those, Mr. Francis," Sherlock articulated, his voice biting into the calm as it always did. He wasn't a fan of this man, especially while he was nosing around within his collection of expensive books. Come to think of it, had Julia ever actually witnessed the man reading them?

"Ah, sorry." Elliot moved away, examining the fireplace. "So, what was so exhausting last night that caused superman to fall unconscious? Must have been something impressive."

Julia sighed and shook her head, shooting the man an accusatory glare, then returned her attention to her significant other. Make some tea already, for Christ's sake! Her conscience begged the silent detective. He had not even moved since they had entered the flat. He just stared. What was his deal? "We were followed last night, to say the least, and we only managed to shake them in the Tube." Elliot's head shot up, features suddenly touched with a deeper bought of concern. "Nobody got hurt, thankfully, but it was rather... frightening."

He came to her side immediately, caressing the side of her face and tucking a few strands of auburn behind her ear. Those honey and emerald pools of his were extraordinary in any light, yet something silent and greedy and tenacious within her piped up, whispering ever so softly, although not as stunning as Sherlock's. Julia's lips parted and she reached up, the two meeting in the middle. The kiss was warm and soft, and she felt a sharp zing of affection for the man. "But you're alright?" Elliot murmured, searching her face for any sign of distress. She nodded. "Who do you think it was?"