A Sign Of Two

22 - Reconciliation

"Darling, what's wrong?" I heard my mothers shocked voice on the other end of the phone.

I stifled back my tears as I thought of what to say.

"It's Sherlock, he-"

"Eliza"

A voice I didn't think I'd be hearing again for a long time.

I looked up, my vision blurred by tears. I saw a tall figure with brown curly hair, a long dark coat and a scarf.

"Sherlock..what" I sobbed, wiping tears from my cheeks with the sleeves of my coat.

"Please...I...I didn't mean what I said" Sherlock replied, guilt riddled in his expression.

"...What?"

There was a huge pit in my stomach.

"I didn't mean it, Eliza" Sherlock repeated.

Before I knew it, I was crying out before I lunged at Sherlock and punched him in the face.

I recoiled, hissing in pain. It seemed that in punching Sherlock all I had hurt was his ego and I had injured my hand in the process.

My ex-fiancé brought his hand to his face where I'd punched him, as if to make me feel better in the knowledge that I'd at least injured him a little bit.

It did not make me feel better.

"Is your hand alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Fuck you" I hissed, more teas running down my face. I was in a state of shock. "How could you do this to me?"

"Eliza...I panicked" the dark haired detective confessed. "I love you"

"Don't make me hit you again" I scowled. "You left me homeless, you bastard"

"I never would have let you fend for yourself like that"

"Oh really? well that's not how it felt" I replied angrily before turning on my heels.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock's voice chased after me, panicked.

"Back to the flat" I replied.

When I arrived back at 221B, John at least seemed happy to see me.

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you safe" John breathed.

"Thanks, John"

"Do you want a cup of t-" John paused. "What happened to your hand?!"

The doctor picked my hand up gently before examining it. I heard the door downstairs click shut softly. I knew who it was.

"Sherlock happened" I rolled my eyes. "Why would he do that to me, John? After everything he said..."

"It probably means nothing coming from me" John sighed in response. "But he was under a lot of stress, Eliza"

"You're right. That means nothing to me" I retorted. "This is what I get for allowing myself to fall in love with the worst people person on the planet"

"We're all letting out our feelings today, are we?" Sherlock said as he passed through the doorway, tucking in his shirt at the back as he walked.

"No need to be an arse, Sherlock" John shook his head as he continued to look at my hand. "I think you've broken a knuckle"

I looked over at Sherlock who seemed visibly distressed.

"I'll be alright, John"

"No, you need to go to a hospital and get an X-Ray just in case" John ordered.

"No, really I-"

"I'll take her" Sherlock spoke up.

"No way" I replied.

"Please Eliza, let me explain myself"

Sherlock and I sat in the hospital waiting room in awkward silence, we had checked in at the reception and now we had to wait for an X-Ray to confirm my knuckle was, in fact, broken.

"So much for trying to explain yourself..." I muttered as we waited. I was aware that I was being a bit of a bitch, but as far as I was concerned, I was allowed to be.

"I made a mistake" Sherlock admitted, looking at me. I looked into his blue eyes. I knew he was telling the truth, so why was I still so heartbroken?

"After all that happened with Eurus, all that I put you through...I thought sending you away would be the best thing for you. A life without me"

"That's the last thing I ever wanted" I replied, feeling tears prick the corner of my eyes.

"I know that now, I can't tell you how sorry I am" Sherlock moved his hand over to rest on mine as part of his apology, but I winced and moved my hand away.

"Ouch, wrong hand" I hissed in pain.

"Oh, god, sorry"

I laughed softly. "You're such a dork"

"A dork?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"So..." I trailed off, changing the subject. "What does this mean for us?"

He sighed. "I love you Eliza, I'll tell you that until there's no air left in my lungs. I want you to be my wife...but I understand if I've messed things up. I tend to be good at that"

"You did mess up" I agreed. I saw Sherlock's face fall at my comment. "But that doesn't mean I don't love you. You just have a lot of making up to do"

"That can be arranged" my fiancé smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, again"

"Can we both agree to stop saying sorry now?" I asked. "Please?"

"I think I'd like that too"

We entered the X-Ray room, and Sherlock didn't take my eyes off me the whole time we were in there, it was as if he was trying to memorise the way I looked exactly, detail by detail, as if I had almost slipped through his fingers. I felt comfortable under his gaze, although I was still shaken up by the events that took place over the last few hours.

My hand turned out to be nothing more than a bad sprain, so Sherlock and I decided not to get a cab back to the flat but to walk instead. He put his arm around me as we walked through busy central London.

I realised I had not lost everything I loved, and I smiled.