It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

64 - Hackers & Guys

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Stop it."

"I was just saying - "

"Stop."

She paused in the corridor, taking Sherlock by his arm to stop him too. She opened her mouth to speak but mere silence fell from her mouth as they stood in the comfy red aura of the corridor. Elizabeth shut her eyes for a moment, articulating what she was going to say.

"Sherlock, honestly, we are not - fixed yet. I'm still not totally forgiving - yet and I still have questions but - I want us to work."

"I do too."

"I know you do. But you did hurt me and I am entitled to my feelings. The things you said - they weren't nice nor were they said in a way that made me think you were joking. We still have a lot to talk about but I just wanted you to know that - " She sighed, "I want to give it - us - another go. But we need to talk more first when we get back."

"Okay."

"Okay." She nodded, "Let’s go then."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Grayson Sandborn was sat at the bar, drinking a small glass of brandy as he watched people take to the dance floor. He honestly just needed a drink after the night and day that he and his brother had had. The Sandborn had no clue as to how himself and Simon would explain this mess to their father. Especially seeing as this was a failure after another failure.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind." Elizabeth spoke in a sultry tone, as she sidled up next to Grayson, "Want to talk about it?"

His eyes narrowed at her briefly but his brow softened the look as his eyes traced her form, "I'd rather you help me forget about it."

Her eyes widened, "Well, I - "

"Sorry, that was really forward of me."

A soft, captivating, enchanting smile crossed her lips as she placed her purse down on bar, "Buy me a drink first and I'll think about it."

"And who, might I ask, is the drink for?"

"Eva Smith."

"Beautiful name."

"I find it quite plain."

"Sometimes less is more."

She nodded, "Never thought of it like that - and I'm a fashion designer!"

"You don't meet many of those in your life time."

"No, I suppose not."

"Very difficult industry to get into."

"I'm determined." She nodded, "Not giving up any time soon. I'll be the next Coco Chanel before you know it."

He smiled at her, "So what's your poison?"

"Whatever you're having, Mr..."

"Sandborn. Grayson Sandborn but, uh, you can call me Gray." He looked to the bartender, "Two more brandys, please, thank you."

"I love your accent - is it Irish?"

"You would be correct." He nodded as he handed her one of the glasses of brandy that the bartender had served.

"Thank you." She was about to raise the glass to her lips when he spoke again.

"I'll down it if you do?"

"What?" She grinned at him, bewildered.

"I said I'll down it if you do."

"But it's meant to be sipped, Gray."

"Oh well, what can I say, I like to live dangerously." He joked, "C'mon I know you want to."

"Smile like that again and I'll have no choice."

And he did as he was told, chanting quietly, "C'mon. Down it, down it, down it..."

"Okay fine. You win." She laughed, readying herself to down the small glass.

"Three...two...and one!"

Both tilted their heads back and gulped down the fiery drink, already feeling the warmth spread through their stomachs. The two chuckled at each other but Elizabeth was wary not to feel a true connection. He seemed nice but he was a killer at the end of the day and she much preferred Sherlock. Who, to her knowledge, wasn't a killer.

A slow song began to play in the bar and Gray looked restless as he watched all the other couples sway, "Would you like to dance?"

Elizabeth offered him her hand, "Thought you'd never ask."

The two took to the dance floor, both of his hands holding her waist and her arms resting on his shoulders as they swayed to the mellifluous melody.

For a minute or two, or maybe even more, the thief and the racketeer enjoyed each other's company, their gazes never leaving each other's eyes until Gray leaned down, placing his lips close to her ear.

"You're beautiful, you know."

"You don't have to flatter me again." She laughed quietly.

"Miss Smith, would you like to accompany me back to my room?" He pulled away after he had asked this.

Elizabeth paused, seemingly thinking about it before nodding, "Lead the way."

He smiled, squeezing her waist gently before taking her hand and leading her through the crowd, out of the quarter.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sherlock was sat at the far end of the bar, giving him a view of the vast space. He had watched Elizabeth approach Gray, watched how they had looked at each other and how they had laughed together and had felt the green-eyed monster in him begin to stir. He stopped himself from doing anything drastic though, reminding himself that it was an act - this time anyway. He still held a grudge against Victor.

When they had moved to dance, Sherlock watched still, and longingly at the pair. He wished he could dance with her again. The opportunity was there but they still had a ways to go in order to build up again what they had had before.

Part the way through the song, as Sherlock gazed intensely at them, Gray leant down to whisper something in her ear but his eyes were on Sherlock. He could tell that Gray had noticed him but couldn't work out if he was on to him, threatened by him or amused that someone appeared to be jealous of him.

When he pulled away from her ear, they stopped dancing. Elizabeth nodded and he seemed to lightly squeeze her waist through the rose gold cocktail dress she was wearing before moving to take her hand and lead her out of the bar.

The detective waited a moment before following.

And Elizabeth's purse remained on the bar.