Look at Mary go, flirting up quite the little storm. Though Holmes has seen this phenomenon of course, even been on the receiving end of it, he's always a little fascinated and a little put off when he's around a particularly flirty girl. She should probably leave the alcohol alone; he knows this isn't necessarily a part of her character, that the evening's going to her head.
Holmes raises a challenging eyebrow at Lestrade and sips from his drink, more amused than anything at Lestrade's jibe. He realizes that he and Lestrade are friends, and he shouldn't find that so strange, except when does he have friends"I'm sure you'll find someone who agrees, Miss Morstan," he answers smoothly, turning his somewhat lazy expression on her. "A mutual acquaintance of ours comes to mind. It really is a shame that Lestrade couldn't have helped us out on that case, rather than Athelney Jones
( ... )
It's Lestrade's turn to blush; his ears turn red, an unfortunate characteristic that he's never quite enjoyed in himself, but there isn't much to be done for it now. He takes her hand, feeling warm all over and pleasantly surprise at the turn of events. He figured he'd find a wife someday, but had been putting off the actual search, too... unsure of where to start it. He'd have to thank Watson and Holmes (though surely, mostly Watson) for giving him the push.
"I might have to thank them," he says, bashful suddenly.
Mary couldn't stop smiling, a slightly shy and bashful little smile. She was certainly in no hurry for this cab ride to end. "We both will," she said, and she hoped that this was successful enough that they would have reason to thank them.
"But perhaps it might not be wise to overestimate our luck?" she suggested. The last thing she wanted to do was assume anything and ruin this. She had thought she liked Dr. Watson, but she had a new perspective on that now.
"Right," he agrees, forcing a more sensible expression onto his face and nodding, trying to shake some sense into his head. He appreciates practicality and sense and realistic approaches, so she's absolutely right, but it doesn't help that her being sensible about this only seems to suggest that they'd be well-matched.
"Of course. Chickens and eggs, and all that. Maybe after another dinner, you'll decide I have a horrible sense of humor, and you can't abide that. Which would be completely fair." He smiles, a little playfully. "Can't live with someone who you can't laugh with."
She could already laugh with him. Oh, but she felt lucky.
"Is that an invitation for dinner again?" Mary asked, sweetly teasing. "If it is, I think I might accept. You ought to be careful, Mr. Lestrade. You don't want to give me the wrong idea."
She giggled a little, unable to help it, feeling positively light-headed.
"Right again. I don't." He grins at her, already enjoying the sound of her laugh, her sweet, giddy giggles. "That's why I'm inviting you out to dinner, so you'll get the right idea." He breaks off, chuckling, mostly from happiness, though also at his flirtatiousness.
"What will your employers think of all this? You go out with one bachelor and come home with another," he teases. Though Watson isn't quite a bachelor. That's still a bizarre thought.
Laughing again, Mary shook her head. "I haven't any idea. They're quite accomodating but this might be a bit much even for them. I shall have to see what, if anything, they say about it."
She tossed her head. "Let them disapprove. I know and you know that nothing untoward has happened. That's good enough for me." In a slightly softer voice, she added, "But I do accept the offer of dinner, gladly."
Lestrade is aware that he's staring at her, just a little, but the toss of her head and the daring of her words... Well, he appreciates a girl with spunk. He breaks off from looking at her with a self-conscious shake of his head, though he very lightly squeezes her hand.
"Good because I suspect even if you hadn't, you wouldn't be seeing the last of me."
"I'm relieved to hear it," Mary said, still smiling. She squeezed Lestrade's fingers back gently. She was aware that they were coming up soon upon the Forrester's home, and that this cab ride must end.
"Before I forget to ask," she said, speaking softly, "I don't believe I heard what your Christian name is. I think I'd like to know, before we end up going to dinner together again?"
"Oh," he says, with another little amused chuckle. He likes it when she speaks softly too, and he's beginning to realize he might just have a thing for her voice. "It's Guy. Guy Lestrade. Bit of a family name. It was my grandfather's."
"It's a lovely name," Mary said. Guy Lestrade. She liked the sound of it. She liked the sound of Lestrade in general, come to think of it. He seemed almost perfect, as far as she was concerned.
She told herself, firmly, to get herself under control. One evening did not mean true love. It didn't even mean general compatibility. It was, at least, a good start.
She sighed a little, peering to look down the street as the cab pulled up to a familiar house. "Well," she said, "Mr. Guy Lestrade, I believe this is my destination."
The little twinge of disappointment at that is a little embarrassing. She's only getting out of the cab, for goodness's sake. He'll see her again soon enough -- and he knows for sure that he'll be coming by as soon as he properly can, without being too unseemly. Well, maybe a second before.
"Ah, very well." He squeezes her hand lightly before he slips out of the cab, reaching up to help her out. "I thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Morstan. One of the loveliest I've had in a long time."
Taking his hand, Mary stepped out. The smile she gave Lestrade was warm, thankful, encouraging. "I agree," she said. "Perhaps next time we could have dinner without the extra company."
She gave a small laugh. Oh, she hoped he would call on her soon. "Escort me to the door, Mr. Lestrade?"
"With pleasure. And most definitely without the extra company," he agrees readily, warmly. He's already mentally rearranging his schedule to see where he can guarantee a proper evening off that he could take Miss Morstan out. Preferably within the week. Is that too eager? Oh well. He is eager.
"You'll see me again soon enough," he says, half a warning. "To be honest... I'm not sure I could stay away for very long." He stops at her door, feeling the pleasant tingle of infatuation. It'll be good to get away from her, to screw his head back on right, but he doesn't think that much of this feeling will dissipate once he steps back in that cab.
"I look forward to it," Mary promised, squeezing his fingers. "I hope you don't take so long to come visit me again."
She tried the door, and was relieved to find that it was open, that she was not locked out and would not have to wake the household up. Bless Mrs. Forrester for that. Still, she was reluctant to go inside, not now, not so soon.
"Good night, Miss Morstan," he says, and he's sorry to say it. He lingers, recognizing her reluctance to leave and mirroring it right back, but he has to leave at some point -- if only to come back and see her again later. Nodding, he draws his hand away and backs up a step, smiling goodbye again, until finally he turns and hops back up in the cab.
Oh, dear. He's really falling over his heels on this one.
Holmes raises a challenging eyebrow at Lestrade and sips from his drink, more amused than anything at Lestrade's jibe. He realizes that he and Lestrade are friends, and he shouldn't find that so strange, except when does he have friends"I'm sure you'll find someone who agrees, Miss Morstan," he answers smoothly, turning his somewhat lazy expression on her. "A mutual acquaintance of ours comes to mind. It really is a shame that Lestrade couldn't have helped us out on that case, rather than Athelney Jones ( ... )
Reply
"I might have to thank them," he says, bashful suddenly.
Reply
"But perhaps it might not be wise to overestimate our luck?" she suggested. The last thing she wanted to do was assume anything and ruin this. She had thought she liked Dr. Watson, but she had a new perspective on that now.
Reply
"Of course. Chickens and eggs, and all that. Maybe after another dinner, you'll decide I have a horrible sense of humor, and you can't abide that. Which would be completely fair." He smiles, a little playfully. "Can't live with someone who you can't laugh with."
Reply
"Is that an invitation for dinner again?" Mary asked, sweetly teasing. "If it is, I think I might accept. You ought to be careful, Mr. Lestrade. You don't want to give me the wrong idea."
She giggled a little, unable to help it, feeling positively light-headed.
Reply
"What will your employers think of all this? You go out with one bachelor and come home with another," he teases. Though Watson isn't quite a bachelor. That's still a bizarre thought.
Reply
She tossed her head. "Let them disapprove. I know and you know that nothing untoward has happened. That's good enough for me." In a slightly softer voice, she added, "But I do accept the offer of dinner, gladly."
Reply
"Good because I suspect even if you hadn't, you wouldn't be seeing the last of me."
Reply
"Before I forget to ask," she said, speaking softly, "I don't believe I heard what your Christian name is. I think I'd like to know, before we end up going to dinner together again?"
Reply
Reply
She told herself, firmly, to get herself under control. One evening did not mean true love. It didn't even mean general compatibility. It was, at least, a good start.
She sighed a little, peering to look down the street as the cab pulled up to a familiar house. "Well," she said, "Mr. Guy Lestrade, I believe this is my destination."
Reply
"Ah, very well." He squeezes her hand lightly before he slips out of the cab, reaching up to help her out. "I thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Morstan. One of the loveliest I've had in a long time."
Reply
She gave a small laugh. Oh, she hoped he would call on her soon. "Escort me to the door, Mr. Lestrade?"
Reply
"You'll see me again soon enough," he says, half a warning. "To be honest... I'm not sure I could stay away for very long." He stops at her door, feeling the pleasant tingle of infatuation. It'll be good to get away from her, to screw his head back on right, but he doesn't think that much of this feeling will dissipate once he steps back in that cab.
Reply
She tried the door, and was relieved to find that it was open, that she was not locked out and would not have to wake the household up. Bless Mrs. Forrester for that. Still, she was reluctant to go inside, not now, not so soon.
"Good night, Mr. Lestrade."
Reply
Oh, dear. He's really falling over his heels on this one.
Reply
Leave a comment