Chapter Text
The sudden onslaught of rain had taken me by surprise. I hadn't brought an umbrella with me when I went out this morning, and the rain showed no signs of letting up as I stared out the window of some cafe in the middle of my morning route. The tea in front of me was still too hot to drink, and I restlessly stirred it with my spoon, wishing that it wasn't going to be bitter and that I had some honey to put in it. The milk that'd been offered sat untouched, and I felt like I shouldn't cause a fuss about asking for honey. In fact, I would probably get a confused stare from the waiter if I even asked.
No, that wasn't going to be an option.
The door to the little cafe chimed as another patron came in from this torrent of rain. I glanced up for a second, taking in a tall man with a long coat, raindrops sticking to his curls, before I turned my eyes away.
Staring for too long was not something I could do. Staring called attention to yourself. Made people anxious. Made people question your actions.
I went back to stirring my steaming tea unenthusiastically, vaguely wondering if it was cool enough to drink now -if I even wanted to drink it- when I realized the man that had just walked inside hadn't moved from where he was standing. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he hadn't. I also hadn't heard the sound of his coat shifting or his shoes on the floor, making that odd wet-shoe-squeak sound from the rainwater. He wasn't staring at me, was he?
Of course not. Why would he be? I was just a random woman in a random cafe, looking out the window and obviously alone.
I certainly wasn't watching him from the corner of my eye. Normal women don't do that.
But I can't say I'm normal.
So when the man continued to just stand there, slightly out of view, unmoving in the little cafe that was full of movement, I couldn't help but think he was staring at me. Irrational, I chastised myself. Completely and utterly irrational.
That didn't stop me from suddenly controlling my breathing to keep it even. Didn't stop me from thinking of at least three different ways to get out of plausible situations if that man decided to come towards me or cause a scene.
I forced myself to take the corner of my eyes off him and keep my ears trained on him instead as I blatantly stared at the window. See? I'm not paying attention to you. Nothing to see here. I'm waiting for someone. A glance at my watch to help solidify that notion before adding a small sigh and another glance out the window. I'm just slightly annoyed. Obviously waiting on someone. That's why I glanced up, just to see if you were who I was waiting for.
But you're not. So of course I'm not paying attention to you anymore. Not at all.
But in fact I am. Of course I am.
So I notice when I can hear the swish of your jacket moving as you finally decide to move. Your strides are sharp, posture firm in the way you walk. I can hear it through the movements of your jacket and the squeak of your shoes.
I can also hear that you're getting closer to the table where I sit. I unconsciously hold my breath, forcing myself not to look at you. The table behind me is empty. You're going to go sit there, of course. Yes. Obviously.
But then suddenly you're too close -so close-, sliding into the seat across from me, forcing me to look at you, my body stiffening as my mind rotates through those escape plans I figured out a minute ago.
"Calm down. It's not like I'm going to do anything to you." The man tersely said as he folded his hands together on the table. Sharp cheekbones, sharp clothing and hair, this man was everything that word was and more. His eyes -grey-blue, uncommon coloring- glanced at me, looking at me in a way I would rather not have a strange man do. The look was calculative, a mirror of the look I was probably giving him, though my own expression was mixed with a small bit of defiance.
I didn't know how to respond to his words. I realized that after I noticed I had left too much space between his question. I should have responded by now. Should have said something, or got up and left in annoyance or disgust. Or maybe even fear.
But instead I just sat there, leaving the silence go too long. Now I couldn't say anything. Time stretched out as I stopped my eyes from taking him in and just stared at his face. I sat up straighter, waiting for his eyes to stop glancing over me and to look back at my face.
It took longer than I would've hoped.
"Not going to say anything?" The man asked, the question not quite reaching his eyes, though something else was. Curiosity? No. But maybe...?
"I'm not exactly sure what you want me to say to a man who decided to just sit with me out of the blue." I retorted, remembering to keep my voice steady and level. Show no fear, no wavering in my actions.
Oh right. I'm waiting for someone, aren't I?
I let my eyes flick down for a second to the watch on my wrist before flicking outside to the window. Obviously I'm waiting and nervous now that a strange man has suddenly decided to sit with me. I was waiting for someone. I should ask you to leave, shouldn't I? Yes. I should. A normal person would.
I allow my eyes to look back at you, a bit of annoyance coloring my look. I should look annoyed. Yes.
"Perchance, could you leave this booth?"
I blinked in surprise at the question. I was about to ask him to do the same, I'm 'waiting' after all. And yet, he's asking me to leave?
I smirked. He narrowed his eyes.
"May I ask why? I do believe that I was sitting here, enjoying a nice cup of tea first, before you even walked in.” I'm playing around with the conversation. Keeping this polite. Don't want this man angry. That would be bad. Though I figure I should find him rude for even asking. I can't bring myself to look angry at his rudeness though. He's different in a way. His face in expressionless, but I can see the gears grinding in his mind. It's like watching a finely-tuned machine. In a slightly terrifying and fascinating way.
"If your brother was even going to show up, he would've been here ten minutes ago." The man said quickly, frustration coloring his gaze. "Waiting here any longer is unnecessary, and so I want this seat. John will be confused if we suddenly changed seats."
"How did you know I was waiting for my brother?" I hesitantly asked, my own curiosity getting the better of me, overriding the part of my mind that was shouting dangerous as I looked at this man. The man rolled his eyes, and then his words followed like lightning.
"It's obvious. It's 9:53 at the moment. You're constantly looking at your watch, which means that whomever you're waiting for is late. Most likely very late, you planned to meet at nine. You're new to this area. If you were meeting your mother, she'd have been here on time. No ring on your left hand; you're not married. Not waiting for a partner or a potential one. They wouldn't have been this late without calling you to tell you why and nine in the morning is hardly the most common time for a date. No. That leaves you waiting for a sibling, who is obviously your brother because you haven't texted him to ask where he is. Older brother then. You look up to him too much to question his lateness. Obviously." The man finished with a small flourish that consisted of a nod of his head and a glance of his eyes.
I sat there silently as he finished, eyes wide as my thoughts scrambled into something cohesive. A grin managed to snake its way across my face as I forgot about being afraid of this man. He was entirely too interesting.
"Well. What else can you tell about me?" I asked, not trying to hide the curiosity in my gaze or tone. I didn't even realize that my elbows were propped up on the table now and that I was resting my head against the tops of my knuckles.
"You moved to London recently. You've taken a job as a librarian, and you weren't expecting the rain today. The necklace you're wearing is your father's -who died at least five years ago- and you wear that watch facing the inside of your wrist because it's less obtrusive that way to others when you check the time. You're paranoid, most likely from a sexual assault that involved a weapon. A gun in fact. And you've had knee surgery on your left knee years ago that still bothers you at times when it rains." The man finished speaking with another one of those flourishes that I just pictured him doing with his hands even though it only showed in his eyes.
He started at my sudden laughter.
"What's so funny?" He asked, narrowed eyes and confusion written over his face.
"Nothing. I was just laughing at myself because I thought that you'd be able to magically guess everything about me after that first bit." He stiffened at this, his gaze flicking on a warning in my mind that I decided to ignore in return for an enjoyable laugh.
"I was wrong? How could I be wrong?" He sharply asked, his eyes piercing into mine as I pushed down my laughter.
"That depends, how did you come to your conclusions?"
"Was I right about anything?"
"The necklace, my father, and the watch. So explain how you got to the others." The man visibly sat up straighter -if that was even possible- and flicked his eyes over me again.
"You're not wearing any make-up and your nails are unpainted, clipped short. A bit dry, you work with your hands and your job isn't one that you need to get dressed up for on a normal basis. The smell of musty books is clinging to you enough to show that you're around them often. But you're new here judging from the lack of preparedness for the rain and that you didn't know this was my usual spot. Which means you're newly hired, a librarian, taking the job offer that was in the paper a few weeks ago."
He paused, looking for a confirmation or disapproval from me. Truthfully, I was so engrossed in his 'explanation' that I almost didn't notice his pause.
"Brilliant, but I'm not a librarian." He narrowed his eyes and continued.
"You noticed immediately when I entered. Most people alone would, but you kept me in your peripheral view and in fact know where every man in this cafe is sitting. Paranoid. Attacked by a man, a stranger at that. Must have been violent to cause that level of paranoia, a weapon was used in the attack. Most likely a knife or gun, but it was a gun because you didn't try to slide the knife on the table here away from me."
Again, another slightly informal pause in the explanation caused me to respond.
"I'm paranoid yes, but not for that reason. But continue, please." His frowned deepened and his next words came out tersely, anger lacing them.
"There's a scar on your left knee on the side, straight and large enough to show you've had surgery on that knee. Most likely from a running related injury. And it still bothers you judging from the way you were rubbing at it before I moved over here to sit down."
Had I been rubbing my knee? Really, it was my shin that normally bothered me but I could see where he was coming from.
"Impressive, but the scar on my knee is from a very intense game of football in which I found myself tackled and spiked by a much larger than me girl. Rattled up my knee and made me limp for a few days, but I was fine after a week or so."
Did he just curse under his breath? His eyes had darted away from mine and I saw his lips move and heard a soft whisper. But truthfully, I couldn't make it out.
"Can I give it a go on you?" I suddenly found myself saying, my smile returning. His eyes snapped back to mine, focused and intense. "I mean, you had a go at this game and I want a turn, though I won't be as good I think."
"This is not a game."
"I know, but that wasn't a 'no' was it?" I said with a grin, already starting to try and figure things out about this man. I spent the next few minutes coming up with things I could plausibly figure out by looking at what I could see of his body and hands as he huffed and waited without much patience. I held up a finger just before he started to speak again, knowing now what I was going to say.
"You're right-handed, judging from how you fixed your jacket twice with your right hand instead of your left. You play the violin and you don't mind the rain. You're not used to someone reacting the way I did to you sitting down here, and you're normally not wrong about your deductions. Also, that John you're waiting for means a lot more to you that you let on. No ring, but your eyes lit up when you said his name. You're miffed about switching seats in some cafe because of what he'll think, you don't really care yourself. And it's probably not a long shot to say that you haven't told him how you feel and he hasn't done the same. Good luck with that." I added for good measure, glancing up at his eyes to try and judge how I'd done.
The deeply confused expression said it all. "How?" He snapped, making me flinch only in the slightest before I coughed hesitantly and explained.
"You seemed surprised when I didn't just leave after you finished telling me what you thought you'd figured out. You're used to people hating that, though I'm not sure why. I love stories."
"They are most certainly not stories, they are facts-"
"Well, maybe most of the time. Your annoyance shows me that you normally are correct. I guess I'm just an exception. You play the violin."
"Yes. How did you know about that?" The curiosity was sharp in his gaze and voice. I calmly pointed to his hands and he followed my gaze.
"Your hands. You keep your nails clean and well-managed but your left hand has small calluses on it. Specifically, the fingertips. Those are from playing a stringed instrument. It's one that's played with a bow too because otherwise both of your hands would have calluses. Also how I knew you were right-handed. That leaves only a few instruments to pick. It's not the bass or cello because of how you tilt your head slightly to your left out of habit. You're doing it now."
He froze and straightened himself as I continued.
"That leaves the viola or the violin. The violin is more common, so I made a good guess there. And you care more than you let on about that John of yours because of how-"
"Sherlock?"
I froze at the sudden sound of a new male voice. The man across from me -I'm guessing his name is Sherlock- jumped at the sound of the other guy's voice and we both turned to look at him at the same time.
Short in comparison to the man across from me, and very homely. The man I found myself taking in now was entirely less severe than the Sherlock across from me. This new man glanced at Sherlock with visible confusion and a touch of concern before looking back at me, questions written all over his face.
"John." Sherlock said without color, short and to the point as he gestured to the space on the seat next to me. I surprised myself by sliding over to make room for this complete stranger. My mind couldn't stop thinking about less pressing things. Oh, so you're his John.
"Who are you?" John warily asked me as he sat down beside me, his eyes flickering over to Sherlock as if I wasn't capable of giving him an answer.
"Yes he has a gun. Self-defense purposes only. Stop looking at him like that." Sherlock surprised me by almost snapping out the words and I felt myself tense and watched John do the same. It was true though, I had noticed the gun tucked into the back of John's pants, hidden under the jacket he was wearing. I had been giving him a look.
I am not fond of guns.
"How did you..?" John's uneasy question lingered in the air as he turned his full glance on me, his posture softening slightly. He was trying to make himself less of a threat. Oh. Well, that was nice, despite how Sherlock narrowed his eyes at this movement.
"I'm Alice. Alice Parker." I said with a smile, properly introducing myself as I extended a hand. John returned the offer, his gaze still quizzical.
"Dr. John Watson." He looked like he was about to say more, but I interrupted by dropping my hand and pointing across the table.
"And that's Sherlock, right?" John's eyebrows rose in surprise, and we both broke out in a soft laughter that Sherlock seemed entirely unamused with.
"I hardly see how guessing my name from John saying it is funny." Sherlock said from across the table. I reigned in my giggles and shook my head. I couldn't explain it, it was a situational thing. John mimicked my actions before looking back at Sherlock.
"So who is she? Another client? Because here I thought I was just meeting you for some tea."
"Client?"
"Of course she's not a client."
Sherlock and I had spoken at the same time, which caused me to snicker as John turned a confused glance to me, then back to Sherlock.
"Then why is she..?"
"She happened to be sitting in our seat when I entered and I attempted to make her move. Obviously, she didn't and proceeded to ridicule me with her 'exceptions'." I could easily picture the air quotes around that last word. John gave me a startled look.
"I am so sorry, if I had known that he...Sherlock this is not our table. We could have sat anywhere." John said, turning back to Sherlock with a stern expression. Sherlock huffed and dismissively waved a hand at John before John sighed and looked back at me. "Forgive him. He's a toddler with no manners. We'll get out of your way now."
Despite my better judgment, I waved my hand and shook my head.
"I really don't mind. I wasn't waiting here for anyone anyways. I just came in to get out the rain and quite frankly, you two are more interesting than sitting here staring at my tea as I wait for the rain to let up."
Sherlock sharply looked at me. "But you're waiting on your brother-"
"Well, to be exact, I do have a brother. He's currently not even in this country at the moment." I added with a laugh. Sherlock glared at me as John glanced between us.
"Sherlock is wrong?"
"Yes. On a few accounts. He got two things right. Still doesn't know my job or why I'm paranoid." John laughed, much to Sherlock's apparent anger, and shook his head.
"That doesn't happen often."
"I gathered as much." I said with a smirk before I glanced outside again. "Okay John, let me out. I'll leave you two alone. He obviously wants me gone." John shot Sherlock a withering look before he turned a softer gaze back at me.
"Really, you don't have to leave. We'll switch seats-"
"Nah. The rain's letting up I think. I'll be fine. Come on." I said with a nudge. John reluctantly let me out of the booth and I stood, brushing myself off.
"Nice meeting you two though. Good luck." I added with a glance at Sherlock that made his eyes widen and John glance at him in confusion. I grinned and pulled my jacket tight around me in preparation for the weather.
I didn't look back as I left the cafe and stepped into the stinging rain.