ＴＨＥ Ｗｉｄｏｗ Ｄｒｅｓｓｅｄ ｉｎ ＷＨ?

Can I just cry? Because for whatever reason I could log into this blog after the hacking that happened 2 FUCKING YEARS AGO?????!!

Well perhaps it’s just a way to tease me that you even said it in the first place. A woman of your status could hardly have the courage to do as such, not knowing wether a man is dressed or not beneath his linen. It’s…beneath you.

- Seeing a fine set of buns? Please. You must misunderstand feminine taste, be it seemingly beneath someone or not, it does not necessarily mean they would not enjoy a bite or two.

Well, were you, or are you just saying that to trick me into believing you were?

- You are the ingenious detective, you should give it a go.

How are you so certain I’m not clothed beneath this sheet? Afterall, all you can see bare is my feet. - He teased further.

- How are you so certain, I was not counting on that?

Sherlock chuckled slightly and nodded. - I see, so your sole motivation is to see beneath the sheet, even if that would mean I’d be unprotected from the cold, which would make me even sicker? Now Miss Auslag, I thought you were trying to heal me, not sicken me further.

- How do you know it is so that it shall remain that way? How do you know I wish not to have you properly covered with something warmer, than a simple piece of linen?

Sherlock raised his eyebrow, now quite intrigued indeed. - You wish I didn’t? Why not? - He asked. If she made him the food, he figured she’d like him to like her food, not dislike it right? Well that was the logical thing anyway. This made little sense.

- Or that it would be too hot. - There was no sign of a true reaction or reason for the time being, while watching him eat, only a smile hid on the edge of her lips, waiting to be revealed. - Well mayhaps you could spill it and would be obliged to get rid of that sheet of yours. To make sure, of course it wouldn’t leave a permanent stain.

Sherlock smiled. He tasted the soup as she explained her passion for cooking and indeed, her talents were far greater than he had first imagined. - Well such passion is compensated. The soup is lovely. - He told her with all honesty. - As you have probably seen, I not much of a cleaner myself, but that is not due to the size of my flat. I have much to think about and cleaning the house is in all honesty not a priority. - He admitted.

A smile spread on filled lips along with a shake of head, unvoicedly dismissing his apology. - It depends on the person. I liked to clean because it allowed me to think. However as there were more rooms it was more of a nuisance, than opportunity for silence and thoughts. So, by the end I just did not care enough.

Very much in fact. I rarely drink anything other. - He said and placed the tea of her choice into the kettle for a few minutes, as he went to get his soup. - I never took you for a cook, I must admit. Given you have a maid and a demanding job, I’d figure you would take advantage of having others do those mild tasks for you.

- Well they do say, it is more effective in the long run, than coffee. I wager, that is the one you need during your cases. - Following his movements, the silverette never moved. - Cleaning that large of a house is tedious. I could never keep up with myself with all the dusting and scrubbing and as you might have noticed I enjoy it pristine and so came Doreh. Otherwise I’m quite homely, cooking is one of my great passions.

Sherlock smiled and showed his small collection of tea bags. - Any you’d like in particular? - He figured that the fact at least two thirds of the box were of black tea would not go unnoticed. The detective was a big fan of black tea, it relaxed him even if most people said it was bad for you, he quite disagreed.

She took her time with walking near her host, looking from the side of the counter, there was no heaven or heels tall enough to have her see behind his shoulder. - Mayhaps the ginger and smoked black would sound lovely. - Still feigning she did not notice he still did not take on anything. - Fan of black tea then?

Holy shit, he did it. He actually did it! He was too drunk with his buddies the last night and eventually did the biggest, stupidest, asshole-y-est thing EVER. It wasn’t like nobody had a crush on her but no one dared to send a letter like that to her! He thought it was just a dream that he put something in her families’ letter box. Fuck! How could he be so stupid! Sweet fucking baby Jesus he even signed it! He must’ve been pissed drunk! October flushed immediately. She called him and she was about to send him to H— wait a moment. What did she say? October groaned and sat up, his heart racing in his chest. Did she actually—? No. He must’ve been dreaming. This can’t be real, he’s not that lucky! "Y-yes… of course… today?" It was a rather dark Sunday afternoon but they both’d have school the next day anyways so she probably wouldn’t be able to stay for long. "Where?" OhGodohGodohGod please don’t be cruel with me!

It was eerie to read the message dropped so carelessly in her mailbox. At first thinking it a joke of a drunken night, the silverette never even opened it being addressed to the “Fairest maiden of them all” pushing it aside as some silly jest of whomever felt like playing games, however the familiar handwriting, after coffee of course, it was too early for her to function just yet a wide array of emotion flooded her.  There was no question, the lean for her phone, calling in to try figure out if, despite the sentiment and mutual respect between eachother since their first year, he would do something as cruel to impress a few drunk friends, or if it was at all true. The cracked, soar voice on the other end of the phone sunk her spirits, a weight of disappointment washing through. She wanted to see him nevertheless. If nothing else, to make fun of his morning after, or slap him or play the same cruel favour, even if saying she lied would be a lie in itself. - Whereever. That or you come over, when you are a tad more sober.

Sherlock smiled, impressed by her concern. - Does stew also help with a cold? I always heard soup and tea were the key. - He teased, though he was grateful for it. - I thank you, none the less. You didn’t need to go through so much trouble really.