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The halls were filled with the usual commotion, students up to the most mundane things, using their youth as an excuse for their ruckus and mistakes. Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes as he his way into the chemistry lab.
It was lunch time for everyone–a time for leisure and gossip– but to Sherlock, spending time in solitude was very much preferred. He had heard enough of what others have to say about him, taking in his deductions as harsh truths rather than advice and one day, he convinced himself it was better to stop. He was in no mood to eat, his eyes boring deep into the meal his mum has prepared for him when he heard someone enter the room.
“Goodness me! I thought it was impossible to find an empty room in this bloody school.” he heard the intruder say, breaking the silence he was enjoying. He turned, his eyes studying the girl who was at a loss for breath as she locked the door behind her, obviously oblivious to his presence. Some of her dark hair has escaped the lazy bun she had on top of her head, her grey eyes tired under her long lashes. Her pink lips broke to a smile as soon as her eyes met his, making Sherlock turn back to his food, thinking whether he should leave or stay.
“Oh sorry. I didn’t expect anyone would be here.” the girl said, making her way to the chair across Sherlock.
“How else would you find the chemistry door unlocked?” Sherlock replied coldly. At that, the girl raised her eyebrows.
“Well, I would like to ask the same thing. How come you’re here?” she said, crossing her arms on her chest.
Sherlock sighed. “I was given permission to use this lab to my disposal."
"Impressive.” she simply replied and Sherlock wondered why it was all she said. Usually, people are much more inquisitive to the point of annoying.
There was something oddly familiar about her and he finally remembered. She was the one almost everyone was fussing about. She extended her hand to him and despite everything else, he was keen on keeping his manners straight. He took her hand and they shook, her smile bright as ever.
“I’m Irene, by the way. Irene Adler."
"Sherlock Holmes."
At his introduction, he was expecting her expression to change, for her smile to turn sour and her hand to flinch away from him as what other people usually do upon hearing his name. To his surprise, she simply nodded and her gaze lingered on his food. "Are you going to eat that?” she asked sheepishly.
‘Wha– no.“ Sherlock replied, his interest piqued. "You can have it."
"Are you sure?” she asked, holding him by the hand. Sherlock simply nodded, feeling the skin from where they touched prickled with heat.
He watched as she started eating, making such a simple act almost graceful. There was delicacy in her actions, but not fragility, almost something that Sherlock found captivating and smart. He tried to read into her but saw nothing, despite what she was projecting. All he could see was that no matter what she was in, what she was running from, she was unhappy.
“Who were you running from?” Sherlock asked, completely embarrassed as he did. “I– I didn’t mean to pr–”
“Everyone, basically. It’s awful out there.” she replied and he completely understood. “Fake people, fake friends… The lot. How about you?”
“Me? What about me?” Sherlock asked, surprised at the question. For the first time, someone in this bloody school was near to curious.
Irene drew nearer, looking at him intently as she completed her inquiry. “What are you running from?”
“Why do you think I’m running?"
"Why else would you stay cooped up in this laboratory if you weren’t?"
Sherlock stared at her and she took his silence as a reply. She ate silently, stealing glances of him from time to time which he also did. As soon as the bell rang, she waved him goodbye and he simply nodded.
***
The next day, Sherlock was surprised to see Irene again, sitting by the same chair she had sat in the day before. He was about to comment what she was doing here, in a place that he had owned for himself, when he saw her smile at him, a geniune smile that was almost knowing. Sherlock simply opened his bag and offered her his food, turning and sitting away as soon as she accepted it. She never complained, thanking him for the food and possibly for not turning her away from his makeshift sanctuary.
A simple day that crossed their paths turned into a routine, with Sherlock and Irene spending everyday in silence that was comforting and even heartwarming. They learned to exchange simple pleasantries, glances and even small smiles almost effortlessly.
One day, to Sherlock’s surprise, Irene had laid out a simple lunch by the table they had first met.
"I figured it was my turn to feed you. Seeing as you never seemed to eat.” she said, smiling at him widely. “I do apologise as some of them are burnt. I was never a good cook. We have someone at home who prepares the food but this is different. I wanted us to share something I had made on my own."
Sherlock did not protest and sat across her, his eyes looking at what had laid in front of him. There were some sausages, beans, vegetables, beef and some sandwiches, and most of them are evidently burnt as Irene had confessed. He even figured that most of them are too salty and the vegetables are seasoned not with salt but with sugar. Still, he sat and took out his own prepared lunch, handing them to Irene for the exchange.
He watched her, the twinkle on her eyes somehow different, this gesture almost as if a sign. Still, he respected whatever she was keeping despite her eyes giving everything away. Slowly, he reached for her hand and she took no offense in the action, smiling at him as he did. Sherlock doesn’t even know why he did what he did, only that he was feeling it was the right thing to do at the given moment.
"Sherlock…” Irene said, her voice almost a whisper that Sherlock felt his heart flutter at the sound of his name on her lips. “…tomorrow night is prom and I know you’re not coming but would it be possible for us to meet here?”
Sherlock wanted to ask why but he saw in her eyes that she didn’t want to say anything else. He simply nodded and he felt her hand on him grow even tighter.
The next night, Sherlock patiently waited, his eyes on the windows with the moon as his only light. The room was dim and he could not afford to open the lights for he might get caught, his mind racing at the mystery that Irene had planted in his mind. He was not aware of what else to wear so he opted for a purple buttondown shirt and plain black trousers. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he heard the door of the lab slide, Irene walking ever so gracefully on a simple black walking dress. Despite the darkness of the room, Irene’s smile brightened everything. She walked up to him and he gave her a small smile.
“You look rather good.” Sherlock mused.
“You’re not so bad.” Irene replied, her smile growing brighter.
Sherlock held out his hand, not sure what he was trying to imply at the action. Irene simply stared at him and when he was about to take his hand away she took it, their eyes trying to avert one another.
“I never said I asked you to meet me here to dance.” Irene whispered.
“But you hoped I would ask.” Sherlock replied in the same hushed tone. His other hand made its way to her small waist, her face to his chest as they stood just a breath away from each other.
“I didn’t know you dance.” Irene teased, looking up at him and Sherlock frowned.
“No one actually knows.” Sherlock replied. “Only you."
The air seemed to thicken at that, both of them silent for a while, their breathing the only thing that can be heard. When Irene stepped closer to eliminate the distance between them, Sherlock started to sway with her, leading her to a slow rhythm even without music to be heard. They just stayed as they were for God knows how long, his fingers on her wrist well aware of how fast her heart is beating, and her ear on his chest listening to how fast his heart was also doing the same.
There was too much to be said that time and yet no words were left to describe it. Both Sherlock and Irene knew that it was a bittersweet moment, almost like the start and the end of something.
"I need to go now. My flight is very early tomorrow.” Irene murmured and she felt Sherlock nod, knowing that there was no need to ask where she was going or what else lay ahead. That was one thing they liked and hated about each other: it was like they understood each other and yet too much proud to go beyond what they know.
She looked up to him and to her surprise he was already staring down at her, his blue eyes unreadable. Tiptoeing slowly with her hands on his chest, she planted a soft kiss on his lips and she felt his arms tighten around her at the action. It was subtle and it was brief but in this room that they made they own, it was much more difficult to explain, much more intense and unwavering.
When they broke free of each other, a simple look was all it took and she was walking away from him, leaving Sherlock alone in their sanctuary like the beginning. As Irene disappeared into the night, the room felt darker than before, and as Sherlock closed the door behind him to retire for the night, he promised himself to hold a special place in his mind palace for what seemed to others as a normal chemistry laboratory.