Departure of the Undead
Feb. 9th, 2012 06:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solrosanNotes: Finally done with this! Reichenbach is processed and maybe I can start writing proper things again. All of the Undeads’ Club (or The Zombie Fics as ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
frayedshoelace calls them) can now also be found here.
Summary: Sherlock is done with what he sat out to do and meets up with Irene one last time before resurrecting.
-x-
February and clouds heavy with rain. The whole world was grey, really. It made Irene easy to spot from a mile away when she came walking along the pavement in her red coat and white umbrella. Sherlock stood waiting for her on the bridge and stepped in under the umbrella as she passed.
They walked in silence for a moment as Sherlock retrieved the membership card from his wallet and gave it to her.
“Rhododendron ponticum,” she said and placed his card in her coat pocket. He didn’t protest, he didn’t even question how she knew that his membership in the Undeads’ club was about to finally expire.
“What’s her name?” he asked instead and something as uncharacteristic as a blush spread over Irene’s cheeks. Sherlock found himself thinking it was endearing. Had she known, she’d probably have rolled her eyes at him because ‘endearing’ wasn’t an adjective she liked to associate with herself.
“Freya Norton, she’s a lawyer.”
“That’s handy,” he smirked.
“Like your doctor.”
“He’s not mine,” Sherlock’s smirk got replaced with something distant, something longing. She took his arm and rested her head against his shoulder as they turned a corner. It gave them both an odd sense of comfort.
“Are you nervous?” she wondered as they stopped at a traffic light. He avoided looking at her, but nodded, surprising them both with the honest answer.
“I’ve talked to Mycroft,” he said to change topic, any topic was better than John right now, “There is no reason why you wouldn’t be able to return as well.”
“Believe it or not, but your brother isn’t the only one I prefer to keep hidden from,” Irene’s smile was almost rueful, “I’m never coming back, Sherlock.”
“I’m sure a lot of people will be happy to hear that.”
“Are you one of them?”
He gave her a look telling her just how stupid she was to assume such a thing. Pleased with that, she smiled in return and rested her head against his shoulder once more.
“I should get to the airport,” Sherlock said when they had walked in silence for close to fifteen minutes. They stopped and looked at each other, realising that both of them were reluctant to say good bye.
“If I ever die again….” Sherlock said with a half-hearted smirk.
“…you’ll know how to find me,” she finished the sentence and give his cheek a soft kiss, “Good luck.”
“You too.”
He stepped out from under the umbrella. It hadn’t rained a drop since this morning; still it felt very unsafe to not be under the protection of the white umbrella all of a sudden.
“Good bye, Ms Adler.”
“Good bye, Mr Holmes.”
She closed the umbrella and winked at him with a smile before turning away. Sherlock watched her walk away for a moment or two before starting to walk the other way; both feeling very certain this wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other.
frayedshoelace calls them) can now also be found here.Summary: Sherlock is done with what he sat out to do and meets up with Irene one last time before resurrecting.
-x-
February and clouds heavy with rain. The whole world was grey, really. It made Irene easy to spot from a mile away when she came walking along the pavement in her red coat and white umbrella. Sherlock stood waiting for her on the bridge and stepped in under the umbrella as she passed.
They walked in silence for a moment as Sherlock retrieved the membership card from his wallet and gave it to her.
“Rhododendron ponticum,” she said and placed his card in her coat pocket. He didn’t protest, he didn’t even question how she knew that his membership in the Undeads’ club was about to finally expire.
“What’s her name?” he asked instead and something as uncharacteristic as a blush spread over Irene’s cheeks. Sherlock found himself thinking it was endearing. Had she known, she’d probably have rolled her eyes at him because ‘endearing’ wasn’t an adjective she liked to associate with herself.
“Freya Norton, she’s a lawyer.”
“That’s handy,” he smirked.
“Like your doctor.”
“He’s not mine,” Sherlock’s smirk got replaced with something distant, something longing. She took his arm and rested her head against his shoulder as they turned a corner. It gave them both an odd sense of comfort.
“Are you nervous?” she wondered as they stopped at a traffic light. He avoided looking at her, but nodded, surprising them both with the honest answer.
“I’ve talked to Mycroft,” he said to change topic, any topic was better than John right now, “There is no reason why you wouldn’t be able to return as well.”
“Believe it or not, but your brother isn’t the only one I prefer to keep hidden from,” Irene’s smile was almost rueful, “I’m never coming back, Sherlock.”
“I’m sure a lot of people will be happy to hear that.”
“Are you one of them?”
He gave her a look telling her just how stupid she was to assume such a thing. Pleased with that, she smiled in return and rested her head against his shoulder once more.
“I should get to the airport,” Sherlock said when they had walked in silence for close to fifteen minutes. They stopped and looked at each other, realising that both of them were reluctant to say good bye.
“If I ever die again….” Sherlock said with a half-hearted smirk.
“…you’ll know how to find me,” she finished the sentence and give his cheek a soft kiss, “Good luck.”
“You too.”
He stepped out from under the umbrella. It hadn’t rained a drop since this morning; still it felt very unsafe to not be under the protection of the white umbrella all of a sudden.
“Good bye, Ms Adler.”
“Good bye, Mr Holmes.”
She closed the umbrella and winked at him with a smile before turning away. Sherlock watched her walk away for a moment or two before starting to walk the other way; both feeling very certain this wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other.
