Chapter 8: Confusing Words

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Warm lighting was filling the small bar with a cozy atmosphere along with the music played, it being a sort of jazzy but classic melody. Perfect for discussion or simply for relaxing after a long day of hard labor and obstacles.

That was what Sherlock Holmes had been doing for the previous hours. Not the talking, obviously the man was much of a loner and not very keen on socializing. No, instead he was drinking and thinking about his case and... Amongst that a certain woman who happened to be the one playing that soft jazzy music.

His light blue eyes, turned almost a cloudy gray on a snowy day, had been fixed either on her form or on his drink... Or the void when he couldn't decipher either. The drink from the void, I mean, not the girl.

No, he had met the girl exactly here and had simply greeted her before sitting down, yes, in front of the bar, but a tactical place where he could keep an eye on her.

Laughs and numerous discussions were heard all around him as he tried to slump his confusion and frustration under drinks changing from whiskeys to rums and wine. Wine being the choice of liquid he was fixating on.

His eyes wandered the room again before his gaze peered again at y/n. She was dressed with an elegant concert black dress. It complimented her s/c skin tone perfectly, making him more entranced upon her.

A frown drew itself on his face when he was met with the image of a rather well dressed and charismatic man approaching y/n, a confident smile adorning his annoyingly good features. He had light brown hair along with a piercing dark gaze and a surprisingly cool olive skin tone for London.

Sherlock watched as the unknown man spoke up, unable to decipher what he was telling to the young woman. She had continued playing on the piano, but her gaze had left the tile to meet the man's dark eyes.

They talked for a bit, with what seemed to be a light conversation, though Sherlock didn't feel happy to see y/n smile because of something someone else, a man at worst, had said. Finally, for his sake, the man had moved away from y/n, coming to order a drink.

Unfortunately for him, Sherlock wasn't particularly taking pleasure in what he had just witnessed. Also the play of alcohol in his body had probably altered his rational thoughts, making him act more on his emotion than on the reasonable side.

The mysterious man ordered a glass of wine before turning his attention to, again, y/n, not knowing that he was being observed by a rather annoyed and, dare I say, drunk Sherlock. The glass of wine had arrived quickly on the counter and without thinking, the detective took it upon his hand under the disrupted look of the light brown haired man.

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Sherlock was thrown on the ground as the owner got out of the pub, throwing beside his body, his cane.

"Be away with you, boy." The owner spoke angrily before closing the door of his saloon, leaving Sherlock on his own.

With a grunt, the famous detective had managed to get on his two feet, holding in a crab like position before swaying his arm a few times and fully standing up.

"Sherlock?" Enola's confusion and surprise resonated in her voice as she looked upon her rather... drunk? brother.

"Enola?" Said Sherlock and another feminine voice.

"Y/n?" Added Enola, even more confused as she watched her friend getting out of the liquor-filled place where Sherlock Holmes had just been thrown off. A small wave and a smile was sent her way by y/n before the older woman gave an unimpressed look to Sherlock.

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