toblameforit | (no subject)

(no subject)

Tony stumbles into the kitchen wearing beat-up jeans, a white tank top, mismatched socks in scuffed old sneakers, and a triumphant grin. His hair is a mess and his clothing is covered in smudges of dirt and various colours of sawdust. Clearly, however, something is going right for him.

He makes a beeline for the coffee machine.

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She nods. "Okay."

"It's just-"

It's hard for her to find the words to express what she wants to say. She was never good with talking. Alec did a lot of the talking for both of them.

"I'll help you however you need because I need to help you with this. It's not just for your sake alone, even though- I mean, I care about you. I do. A lot. But I stood up to Tom because I had to do it for me. You were my reason."

"Of course."

If anyone's going to understand being fiercely independent even while helping others, it's Sherlock.

She grins softly. Okay. Good. She's finally finding her voice, her determination, and herself. It only took eighteen years, the death of her twin, and meeting a real friend to help her find all three. It's hard - crazy hard - but she's not going back to being like she was.

"So... I don't suppose I could talk you into staying here today. With me. We could do some research into spells and more tests with the coat, and I could tell you more. Anything I can remember. I'll talk for days."

"Trying to keep me safe? A commendable effort. By all means, we can test the coat."

But he does not agree to stay home today.

The waffle maker pings again; he crosses the room to open it.

Ooh, Project Stall the Detective may be more of a success than she'd hoped. Even if he doesn't stay the whole day, she's bought a little more time to keep him here.

"Good. I tried some big stuff like lightning, but like I said, I want to make sure. Fire is one of Tom's favorite elements to call, like lightning is mine. I didn't try fire yet."

"After breakfast," he says serenely, loading more cute little waffles onto his plate. "Would you like one, by the way?"

"I had toast," she says. But those cute little waffles are awfully enticing.

"I could have one, if you don't mind sharing."

She remembers where he got his plate and takes one for herself. She hates poking through cupboards not knowing where things are. That's why she used a paper towel for the toast.

"By all means."

He takes three and leaves her the fourth.

This time, he sits at the table to eat. Right beside the coat.

She sits down, too, with her cute little waffle that is soon slathered in butter and syrup.

Oh, hey, look. This is the most normal thing that's happened to her in the past couple of days. Waffles for breakfast - yay!

"Mmm, delicious."

Sherlock smiles across the table at her. He likes it when people enjoy his cooking.

"Do you like making breakfast for all your house guests?"

She is still under the assumption that Sherlock has tons of friends who are all amazing and interesting people who just happen to be away on trips to, oh, Europe or the Canary Islands or other fascinating places.

"I like making breakfast for Tony, on the rare occasion when our schedules collide."

...That was not really an answer to her question.

Because the real answer to her question is 'what house guests?' or possibly 'Obadiah Stane can make his own bloody breakfast, thank you very much'.

She frowns slightly.

"So your friends don't come over? Even with the great guest rooms?"

The coven practically lived at Trixi's house at times.

He shrugs.

"I suppose they could, if I had any."

She blinks in surprise.

"Seriously? I thought you'd have- well, a lot of friends. You're such a good one to me."

"I believe I shall take that as a compliment, but no. By and large, they cannot get past the name."

"Well, they're stupid, is what they are."

It's an unusual name, and maybe it's unusual for someone to be a fictional character. Alyce won't deny that it's a little hard to understand, but she also gets that he's not pretending. He is who he thinks he is.

And Alyce is okay with unusual.

She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand.

"You're my only friend outside the coven since elementary school. So we'll stick together, okay?

He clasps her hand in turn, smiling softly.

"I would like that."

"Should I- do you want me to go with you? When you go? I will. It's my fight, too."

Alyce doesn't know much beyond the Sherlock Holmes cultural icon of 'detective, pipe, and hat'. She doesn't even know who Watson is. She doesn't know that she's suggesting taking a similar place by Sherlock's side.

Sherlock hesitates.

But: "I am still hoping it may not come to a fight. For now, I think stealth is in order, and as I recall that is not your strong suit."

Oh, stealth! Stealth is good! Alyce approves of stealth.

(Even if she does, indeed, suck at being stealthy.)

"See? There's another thing you'll have to teach me. Later on."

"Later on," he agrees, reclaiming his hand to take the last few bites of his penultimate waffle.

Alyce finishes her waffle and then takes her plate to the sink. She can't stall him much longer, but stealthy reconnaissance is safer than seeking an outright confrontation. That makes her feel a little better.

While he's gone, she's going to do research. She never has before, but she knows which sites Evan always used. It's time for her to figure some things out, and she's fairly sure there's a computer hooked up to the Internet somewhere in this mansion.

"So, yeah, when you're done, we'll do those tests. I'm in the mood for some more magic."

The last waffle goes by quicker.

He collects his plate and Tony's abandoned coffee mug and remands them into the custody of the sink, then returns to the table to pick up the coat and shrug it on.

Tony really did make it for him—for him, and no one else. It looks, somehow, exactly right.

She rinses the syrup off of both of their plates. When she turns around, she sees Sherlock in the coat.

Just when she thinks he cannot possibly become more desirable in her eyes, he goes and puts on a badass coat that makes him look so hot she can barely stand it. She takes a little breath and dials down her hormones a notch or five.

"Wow. You look like an action-adventure hero from a black and white movie. That's a compliment, by the way."

Guh. Damn it. It is so not fair.