Alice in Baker street // Chapter 4

Up in the lab, Alice smirked at herself for ever criticizing Molly’s hormonal outbursts. She’d just beaten a personal record. She was usually hasty and disinvested in these things, yes, and rather quick to the point - but twenty four hours?  She shook her head at herself with the same bittersweet smirk. Oh, well ! Nothing she couldn’t take back at this point. 
Lost in thought, she slid a stool to the spot on the counter where she’d sat the day before.

Habit in formation...

With time, she could notice when it happened, the automatisms, the ease. It had been analyzed that it took about 21 days for a person to form a habit. Waste of time, Alice thought. She liked this spot. It was a good distance from the entrance, rather close to her office, all shelves and instruments within a few steps, between two neon lights – so the damn things wouldn’t blast their horrid light straight down on her – and from her stool, she had a nice, global view of the rest of the room. In fact, she liked this lab. She decided there and then: it would be her lab, where she’d work. She grinned at the thought.

However, when she extended her arm to pull the microscope closer to the box of slides she’d taken back out of the cupboards, she ticked, as she met nothing but the smooth tiles of the counter. It was gone, and so were a rack of test tubes she’d put aside and cleaned for today. Her nose wrinkled in annoyance and she tut to herself, wondering who the hell could’ve moved it out of reach between yesterday evening and this morning. Sure, there were other ones scattered around the labs, but she couldn’t be bothered and she wanted to get to work.

As she looked up from her immediate surroundings, she suddenly went pale and felt a shiver tickle her back; there, at the opposite end of the lab, huddled over – most likely – her microscope, sat a man in a blue shirt. He hunched so much over whatever he was looking at that all Alice could see of him was a disorderly mass of brown hair and the back of his shirt seemed about to rip. A long dark coat and a blue scarf where bundled on a stool next to him; a dark coat that she recognized from her encounter the day before. Passed the surprise of not having noticed him at all for a good five minutes, she clenched her jaw and strode angrily in his direction. As much as she stomped her feet, he didn’t give her the smallest peep.

“ You!” she hissed, finally up to his level.

“Ah. Finally noticed my presence, have you ? Brilliant. Took you long enough...” Sherlock murmured, words clipped and rumbling, whilst he half turned towards her, his gaze still fixed on the eyepieces of the microscope even as he continued to address her. “Staphylococcus, you said. Anaemia. A rusty blade. Not completely impressive, but you were accurate. Although, I don’t recall asking neither for your opinion on the state of the corpses or for you to hold Molly’s hand throughout a positively mediocre task as if she were a child, even if she obviously needed the coddling. Why did you interfere anyway? Ah. Curiosity. It is a very pesky thing, isn’t it? Can never quite put a cap on it. That and you are very qualified; some might even go as far as to say overqualified. I think that’s a little rash but you are smart, and quick.”

He paused and for that second,  Alice gazed at him with eyes wide as pinball beads, unsure if she should protest or inquire at this point. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear and it came so suddenly out of nowhere.

Curiosity, yes.

And obviously, he took a kick in tingling it; she almost forgot she was annoyed. He broke the shocked silence and continued with a slight quirk to his mouth, “Your craft lies in neurobiology. However, you are a physicist, a very good one, and yet you are here in St. Bart’s, a place not exactly suited for your skills. You have your own office too, not exactly what you’re used to, a little too small, a little too cold, not at all what you had in America. Your office was bigger there, wasn’t it? The weather not as crisp, and grey. So why have you come back? You were born here; that much is obvious.  Yet being back here is hardly a holiday for you. You weren’t forced, can’t have been. A woman like you? You’re stubborn. So why are you here?”

Taking a slow breath he finally turned to face Alice, his eyes strikingly silver grey in the light of the lab. He stared at her with an unwavering gaze and tilted his head faintly, his eyes barely moving.

“Something to do with a family member, that much is certain,” he mumbled and then suddenly lost all interest in her and turned back to the microscope. “Pass me that slide would you?”

The slide in question was barely a few inches away from his elbow. Sherlock held out a hand, apparently he had no intention of retrieving it himself.

Alice stood dumfounded, gawking at the outstretched hand, trying to process the burst of information that’d just hit her in the head like a fist replaying all that he’d spouted in her mind as her breathing grew heavier. But it wasn’t so much because of everything he knew about her when she knew virtually nothing of him that she started shaking and panting. She could feel anger, real anger, heat up her ears and crawl in her chest. She could have spat in that hand. She wanted to unleash all the gloom of her arrival at the arrogant man that sat so calmly in front of her. But nothing came out of her but a sort of raspy groan; the shock effect. Instead, she snatched the box of slides and the rack of test tubes near him and with a vicious, poisonous glare, spun around and trampled back to the other side of the lab, wishing she had at least told him he could shove that slide where the sun did not shine. No man had ever so condescendingly ordered her around, and it certainly wasn’t going to start today.

Too bad for the microscope... Then again, she was going to make sure he didn’t stick around this place much longer.

Behind her, the grey eyes shot up from the eyepieces and followed her trudging away with bewildered puzzlement.

“I need those,” Sherlock said after a moment of silence, his hand still outstretched.

Once again it seemed he had no intention of budging, expecting Alice to turn back around, to put them back and then give him the slide. When she did none of that he stood slowly, tall and elegant, and walked over to her. “And I was here first.” He added, somewhat childishly, his voice pinched in frustration, and reached over to take them back.

Alice swooped the box out of his reach just as he was going to take hold of it.

“Excuse me, I don’t remember catching your name, doctor...? ” she asked with as much honeyed professionalism as she could manage.

He looked at her and made a face like he doubted her intelligence, his eyes still strikingly pale and unreadable, “I was given permission to use these facilities whenever I pleased,” he replied, his voice a deep baritone, his lips twisted fleetingly in a smug and condescending grin and he reached once more, which stretched the shirt he was wearing until the buttons strained. “And that includes the equipment stored within them.”

Alice imperceptibly coiled to her stool has the man almost hovered over her now. He was definitely taller than he seemed when standing. For the first time, she got a clear, frontal look at his face. Cold. Harsh. Empty, save for two bullets of blue shot straight at her. It froze her, literally. Something like a bird of prey. Something marauder-like, also, in the low rumble of his voice, suddenly. Another shiver slid up her back. She didn’t like it. She held onto to the box of slides, securing it against her chest like a child would with his favourite toy. Yet there was nothing childish in the way she spoke:

“Well, not on my watch, you don’t... No credentials, no slides.”

Her words were curt and dry. She lifted her chin, her nostrils flaring slightly as a new wave of annoyance replaced the brief falter.

“What you do down there with Hooper is none of my business, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. Beat up as many corpses as you want, slice them, rip them apart, whatever rocks your boat. But, here...I work here. I work here. And I’ll say it now, I would advise you not to make me repeat myself : you can take your “experiments” elsewhere. I don’t care who you are or what you do, I won’t have you barging in here whenever you damn please ! You can show yourself out, surely.”

Slicing. She felt her heartbeat steady and calm. Her jaw clenched and the heat came back up to her cheeks. No, she wouldn’t let go. Damn the slides, now; it was a question of pure pride and whether or not she would allow open doors to madness. Alice intended to stand her ground, even if it meant mounting guard here every morning. One moment of weakness from her now and he would be flying in and out of the place like a mad professor with his rollerblades and war hatchets and god knows what else, shuffling around the equipment she was just getting used to and disturbing the peace and quiet she needed to work. Try to cut out pia mater from a brain with a circus like that going on...

He paused with his fingers barely inches from hers, from the slides, and looked at her. The glare he sent her way was withering, his eyes narrowed, his mouth pursed and one eyebrow arched.

“Hm,” he hummed deeply and cocked his head as he lowered his hands to the counter and leant in, invading her personal space; something like a smirk pulling at his lips. “ You work in this building, Doctor Woods, but that does not mean you own any little laboratory you fancy. This happens to be one I visit often, it is the perfect distance away from what I want, what I need, and I shan’t give it up just because a woman with parental issues and whom has a devastatingly pathetic need to mark her territory like some petulant child, wishes to keep it all to herself. You are not the only one whom works here.”

She stared blankly at him, unimpressed. Suddenly there was a chuckle making its way up her throat, the irrepressible nervous laugh of absurdly serious situations. It twisted the corner of her mouth. He narrowed his eyes again at this.

Oh shit !...He thinks I’m joking around, now...

Biting down on her lips, she rolled her eyes out of his gaze and, pushing the box of slides even further away from his reach, leaned on the counter with ironic determination, nudging away from him still. She’d been given that kind of lecture so many times, with her erratic roaming everywhere she went; an umpteenth time wasn’t going to break her back. And he could talk !

Big talking...And self-righteous with that !

She eyed him up and down :  no, he didn’t look like the violent type, and so long as he didn’t stand too close, she could manage. She checked if there were any scalpels nearby, just in case. There was also the matter of where he’d plucked all that information about her. The question itched her, but no more. She could see the paths he followed without really seeing the links. She thought about her little demonstration with the Watson bloke earlier. No magic tricks. There’s always a way. She stored the question away for later. With that, she leaned even more comfortably over her spot, waiting. She wondered what else he was going to come up with, since the treatment of silence was surely going to irritate the chatty character he seemed to be.

Sherlock took a breath and regarded her. He swept a discerning gaze from the top of her head to her toes and back again.

“It was your mother, wasn’t it?”

She ticked.

“Excuse me ? ”

“The reason you’re here. Well, partly the reason. Pushy, is she? Overbearing. Controlling. Wanted her daughter back in her home country, where she belongs. Father not present, left or…ah, died. He was your favourite too.”

The crystalline ring of the tubes shattering cut through the heavy atmosphere. Alice bit the inside of her lip and looked down, not out of shame but infuriated frustration. His last sentence was the last straw, sending her temper over the edge and her arm sweeping over the counter, knocking over the rack that came crashing on her feet and trousers. She saw the curious sparkle of the glass splinters in her trousers and the small cut on her clenched hand; but these were the least of her worries.  She drew in a deep breath to control the heat, the infernal heat shooting to her head, her limbs stiff and her mind a blur, blinded, literally, by the hate. There wasn’t anything faintly sarcastic about her anymore. Her whole figure was tensed in pure fury.

He seemed to gleefully enjoy the impact his words had on her for a second before shooting her a mocking smile. “Oh, and as for getting me to leave, I’m afraid I shan’t be going until I have finished what I set out to do here. If you want to make me leave, I’d very much like to see you try.” His expression sharpened with the challenge even as he shrugged, and the way he said it sounded like he knew from experience, as did the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

She was about to actually take things into her own hands, whether with her nails or the edge of a broken test tube, when she saw a shadow pass behind the far end window of the lab.

“Actually, I won’t have to...”

He frowned for a split second, a crease between his eyebrows and then he shut his face off blankly as the door opened.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock leaned back at the sound of John's voice and then slid his eyes over as John strode up, his face a mixture of trepidation and annoyance.

"She started it." Sherlock replied.

John's brows rose with incredulity and then lowered as he turned to Alice, "Are you okay? Sorry about him."

“You’re the second person to have had apologized for him. I can see why, now.” she snarled, dusting off the shards from her trousers. “Would you do me a favor and just get him out of here?”

"Good God," Sherlock scoffed, earning him a tight-lipped glare from John. "You fancy her. Of course you fancy her, why wouldn't you? Are you going to ask her on a date next? Take her out for coffee? Don't bother, she's not your type and you’re clearly not hers."

"Finished?" John asked brows lifted again, his expression hard as he blushed furiously.

"Yes." Sherlock said curtly and turned, swung on his coat, tied his scarf, stuffed his slides into his pockets, grabbed the microscope and walked passed John and Alice. He paused, dropped the microscope none too gently in front of her and then stalked off without a backwards glance.

John turned slightly to watch him go and sighed deeply out of his nose, “Sorry…” he apologized once more, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck when he looked back at her and smiled with a shy nervousness. “Just try and ignore whatever he says. He can be a right mean bastard.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Doctor Watson.”

She gave the poor man as warm a smile as she could, although her lips still stayed tight over her grinding jaw.

“In fact, you just saved something of an unpleasant situation. Not that I can talk for this poor microscope...”

She checked the lenses of the machine; the visor was wobbly, a screw gone lose, and the slide in it cracked, good for nothing. “Well, at least it’s...back where it should be, yes...”

She gathered a bit of composure, tidying the mess. Good doctor Watson had nothing to do with all this and it wouldn’t be fair he collected the angst of one twisted man’s wreckage. Plus, she could pretend she hadn’t paid attention that he’d left them in a silly, childish embarrassment, like two children in a school courtyard. John’s cheeks still had red in them and he darted his eyes about like he’d lost something.

“He’s always like that, then? It’s not just some contextual disorder; I could help out with that, if you need?” she asked playfully, trying to lighten up the mood.

John huffed out a laugh and then suddenly seemed to notice the splinters of glass and the blood on her hand, “You’re hurt,” he stated, as he swooped down to gently touch her wrist, examining the small cut with concerned and soft eyes. “May I?”

Alice graciously outstretched her hand, as much as she hated being examined. Like a photographer usually hates posing. But she would not trouble John any more today.

“You, may, doctor.”

“Thank you.  And yes, he’s always like that. Well, maybe not always, he can be…tolerable sometimes, and a glimmer of a decent bloke does often surface—Um, listen, whatever he said, don’t pay any attention to it. He’s not always right either…though, I...he was right about one thing. I do, in fact, want to ask you out, on a date, if that’s okay? If you…if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I mean, I’d understand…”

“Yes.” she cut. “Yes, coffee sounds good.”

John looked up at her, blinked and then beamed charmingly, “Oh! Brilliant. Fantastic! Right, good, when’s good for you?” he asked as he smoothed his coarse, warm fingertips over her hand gently.

Alice smirked. She wickedly loved how they always looked so surprise. Yes, the ice queen enjoys a cup of coffee once in a while! She felt the small lines on John’s fingertips run over the thin skin of her wrist; it sent her back to the creases of his face. This one could turn out differently, she sensed.

“Tomorrow, end of the afternoon. Take me some place nice, Doctor Watson...I need to refurnish my address book in this city.”