It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

10 - Tea & Toast & Treating Wounds

"And maybe bring her tea too."

Sherlock nodded and gave a small smile to the army doctor as he left.

*Flashback End*

So that's what he had done. He had waited until he heard her stirring and went to make her tea - and toast.

He took her last line as an invite to come in, that and the way she beckoned him impatiently to come into the room. Then she saw the tray he was holding and frowned as he put it next to her on the bedside table. Sherlock stood there, hands behind his back, as he looked at her somewhat unsure of what to say.

"What's this?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Breakfast." He replied rather obviously.

"No, I know that but what's - this?" She gestured around, "Didn't realise I was in a B'n'B and I thought you said you wanted clothes."

"I - uh - I also wanted to - apologise."

Now, it was Elizabeth's turn to share a look of uncertainty and woe. Silence fell across them both as he stood there, waiting for some tell that told him it was time to go. Part of her knew she was harsh on them last night - Sherlock had saved her after all - but this was becoming a frustrating back and forth. They make a mistake, she has a go at them, they apologise, repeat. She said 'they' - more so she meant 'him'. But this was a hard mistake to forgive. The first step was acknowledging it wasn't their fault but Jim's. It was difficult to do so though.

"Tea and toast won't bring Shaun back." Elizabeth replied sullenly.

"I know. I'm sorry."

She could tell he meant it sincerely. That and I wasn't like her to hold a grudge for so long.

"Thank you." She broke the silence between them.

Another part of her mind told her this happened anyway, that no one's life as a criminal guaranteed you would live, regardless of what crime you committed. She took the tea off the tray, taking a small sip. Sherlock nodded to her and turned to leave.

"What about your clothes?" She called after him.

The detective strolled back in again without looking at Elizabeth as he searched his drawers and wardrobe for that day's outfit. Her mouth curved up at the edges a small bit as he had pretended like he hadn't forgotten at all. Then he faltered slightly as he got his shirt off of the hangar and she frowned.

"How's your arm?"

"Fine."

She could tell he said the line with gritted teeth.

"Didn't John look at it?"

"No."

"Why not?" Elizabeth was already getting out of the bed to see.

Sherlock turned away from the wardrobe, shutting it as he saw Elizabeth approaching him, "Because it's fine." He gave a pained look, "Eat your breakfast." He then instructed.

Quirking her eyebrows at the detective, she said, "One - I'm not a little girl you can just order around, two - you and I aren't stupid enough to not realise that it could get infected. The bullet went - straight through, yes?"

Of course yes, because the bullet ended up in Shaun.

Sherlock gave a small, reluctant nod, realising now that she wasn't going to let this go.

"Let me see."

"You're not a doctor." He raised an eyebrow.

"And you're in no position to protest, especially if the wound is infected. Wardrobe behind you, upset thief that knows martial arts in front of you. Where are you planning to escape to? Narnia?" She gave him a knowing look.

"You don't know martial arts." Sherlock looked at her in disbelief.

"I'd let you find out but I know you're injured."

Sherlock still made no move, "Go and enjoy your breakfast." He smiled politely, knowing last night John said to give her space.

But Elizabeth didn't want any, she just wanted something to take her mind off of it, off of what Shaun had said, "I'm not asking."

She could be bloody insistent when she wanted to be. With a sigh, Sherlock nodded and directed her to the first aid box in the kitchen. He wasn't getting out of this one, the whole world knew it. Removing his gown slowly, he went sit on the couch and she followed. Sherlock had done his own patch job last night, putting a dressing over the entrance and exit wound but hadn't cleaned it. After seeing the wound, Elizabeth went to fetch a bowl of water and cotton pads. The entire time, she remained quiet cleaning the wound, save for the quiet wincing of Sherlock when it stung. He kept looking at her every now and again, trying to study her, trying to deduce what she was thinking.

"What?" She questioned without looking away from the wound.

"Your tea and toast are getting cold." Well, he didn't lie about that.

"Enjoy tea and toast while the person who is responsible for me gets an infection and dies or treat said person's infection because I literally have nowhere else to go?" Her gaze met his for a brief moment, "I wonder which I would choose." She spoke sarcastically.

This earned a small smile from Sherlock.

"What are you really thinking?" She wasn't an idiot.

"About what you're thinking." He answered a little more honestly.

"Why?"

"Well, if I were you, I know I'd pick the former choice. Looks like you were lucky and you just left."

"Forgetting the 'nowhere to go' part. Nowhere safe anyway."

"You could just not work with us."

"I could - but then I'd be in prison."

"We really didn't give you much choice did - ah! Ow!"

Elizabeth had gently pressed his wound as she looked at him with a blank look, "You think?" She removed her finger.

Noted: a little bit touchy about what happened still. Sherlock looked to her with a pained frown.

"Did that hurt?"

"Yes."

"Good."

His brow knotted in the middle. Well, that was rude.

"What I'm thinking is that because I don't have any real choice, I might as well make the most of this one because if I don't, I won't have any choice anyway."

He nodded. Fair enough.

As she put the dressings back on the wound, she said, "What I'm also thinking is that you saved my life - thank you," She gave him a grateful look, "But I did lose a friend in the process of you doing so."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." She gulped, "But I also know that the risk of death comes with the job and if we hadn't seen Shaun last night, who's to say he wouldn't have been killed on the next job he went on."

Sherlock was silent.

"And I know that you only did what you thought was best. I know that I'm entitled to be upset but I know I was harsh last night." Elizabeth looked away as a tear rolled down her cheek when she finished putting on the dressing, "I'm sorry too," She choked.

"It's okay." Was all Sherlock said, an air of understanding around him.

And then he did something that neither of them expected him to do, he gently, slowly, wrapped his arm around her, despite the pain, in a friendly embrace, which she didn't refuse. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes as she cried quietly and Sherlock just held her, and reassured her it would be okay.