Sherlock: Lover Mine [Book II]

Black Morning

~One Month Later~

Sherlock all but pranced out of his bedroom that warm summer morning, still on an Oxytocin rush from the previous evening. John was more than a little perturbed when he saw his best friend so chipper, but upon seeing a few somewhat smudged but nevertheless intact red lip impressions on the detective's cheeks and jaw, his confusion became amusement, "An eventful night, mate? You got back late last night." Sherlock was jittering so much he couldn't quite get himself to sit still. The brunette paced a bit and then answered his friend.

"I think my Oxytocin addiction worsened overnight."

"You've been saying that for a couple of weeks."

"Well it isn't my fault that Susanna and I have found yet another thing that spikes my Oxytocin levels."

"I suppose it wouldn't have anything to do with those marks all over your face then, Sherlock?"

"Okay, the first one was an accident when I dropped her off at her flat because she didn't wear non-smudge lipstick. And then I admitted that I liked it so she obliged a few more before she let me go," The lanky brunette flopped onto the sofa and wrapped his blue silk dressing gown around him.

"But other than that, another fine evening of dancing at Ritz's?"

"Always, John." The army doctor chuckled and continued to update his blog.

"Although, you should probably wash them off before Susanna gets here, mate."

"Fine." And down to the bathroom Sherlock went. John shook his head with an amused smile. A few seconds passed and his phone vibrated with an alert. He turned it on and opened the message.

I need to take a personal day. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience. -SM

John furrowed his brows.

No, no problem. Are you okay, Susanna? -JW

Don't worry about me, I'll be back tomorrow. Just need a mental health day every once in a blue moon. -SM

Don't we all? -JW

Of course. See you tomorrow, then? -SM

Tomorrow it is. -JW

Thanks, John! -SM

John texted a 'no problem' and didn't hear back, but he didn't let it weigh too much on him. He could easily call surgery and not go in that day- he'd been working overtime for a few weeks and had required Susanna to stay with Rosie overnight. Sherlock had been working a few complex cases too and they hadn't had a lot of time together, which had been why he'd taken her out last night.

Sherlock finally emerged from the bathroom, lipstick free and fully dressed, and looked at the clock, "Susanna's late. She's never late." This nagged at John, who thought Susanna had texted Sherlock. The doctor cleared his throat.

"Has she texted you?"

"My phone got crushed on my last case and I haven't replaced it yet. She knows that," Sherlock fixed on John's phone, "So she must have texted you. Why isn't she here on time?"

"Oh um, well, she said she needed to take a personal day." Sherlock grabbed the phone and opened Susanna's recent messages.

"Mental Health day? John, she's being deliberately vague. Why didn't you ask her why she needed a day off?"

"I thought she might need a breather because of the past few weeks."

"She was absolutely fine last night, John. I would have known if she was going to take a day because of exhaustion." Sherlock marched to the coat rack and threw on his coat and scarf.

"Sherlock, she may not want company-"

"Something is wrong, John. Susanna would not have been so vague if something hadn't happened. I'm going."

"Alright then, mate. Just be careful- I know you've matured but you're still a bit too brash."

"Good day, John. Do not tell Susanna I'm coming, I want a straight answer from her." And the detective was gone.

When he entered Ainsworth Rise, he noticed that Zella was nowhere to be found. Another woman, a tenant, manned the desk. Sherlock spared her a short glance and boarded the lift.

When he finally got to flat 48, he knocked five times. Fast, urgent, and bold. His mental timer began to count down sixty seconds, at which point he would use his key.

At twenty five seconds, the door opened and revealed a distressed, stricken Susanna in bedraggled pyjamas and her red dressing gown. Sherlock paled as he registered the glistening residue from where tears had been streaming down her cheeks, the redness and inflammation of her eyes and cheeks, and her ragged breathing. Her peach-gold curls were haphazardly tied back, with several stray wisps sticking to her face, "Sh-Sherlock..?"

"What happened, Susanna?!" He cupped her face, mind running a thousand miles a minute. She took a raspy breath and her eyes welled up, "Has someone threatened or harmed you?"

"No, Sh-Sherlock. N-Nothing like that."

"Then what?" Susanna shuffled her feet and sniffled.

"Barney passed away in my arms this morning. He's dead."

Thank you for reading!