Orphan on Baker Street

Forty Ninth: Townhouses

》Mickey's POV《

It's the Sunday after the trial, and I sit in a surprisingly comfortable chair at the movie theater. Rickey is on my left; the armrest looms between us like an overprotective parent. His cup of Pepsi is in it.

"Which school did you enroll to?" he asks me.

"Graham Berkely, over on Braxton Avenue. I have to take a few 'catch up' classes so I can take my GCSE's and then get into a decent college." He laughs for some reason.

"A ketchup class?"

Then I laugh. "No! No, it's two words."

"Oohhhhhhhh," he says, raising his eyebrows. "That makes a lot more sense."

"Are you still going to school this coming year, or are you off to college?" I ask, crossing my legs. The lights dim slightly as a preview for a new TV show plays on the wide screen; note this is still just the pre-previews.

"I'm actually going to take this year off so I can work more. There's a townhouse - it's actually close to Baker Street - and it looks just perfect for, uh, for me." Rickey smiles fondly, and I can't help but smile back.

"I'm happy to hear that," I tell him before glancing at the screen in front of us. We're in the top row, and I can see the back of everyone's heads. There aren't many people in here, but it's enough to let you know that this should be a good movie.

My eyes take in Rickey's profile as he looks intently at the screen, and the lights go down completely. Most of his face is engulfed in darkness, but the light from the screen shines brightly enough that I can make out his beautiful silhouette.

I turn to the screen and watch as the camera pans over a city, a common beginning for films these days.

+

"That was fantastic," I exclaim as he holds the door open for me. We step out onto the wide sidewalk in front of the theater, and I slip off my jacket. It's a good day to travel by car.

"It was, wasn't it? All of those references were spot on; I doubt I could create a movie as, um, as..."

"As accurate? Thorough? Interesting?"

"As detailed," he laughs before kissing me on the forehead. I grin happily, and we walk down the sidewalk with our arms around each other.

"You could, though," I say after a moment. "Make a movie that magnificent."

"I love your vocabulary," Rickey says genuinely. "I don't think I have that sort of creativity, though, or patience."

"Patience... that's a good point," I tease. The theater isn't too far from 221B, and I see my street corner off in the distance.

Both of us are quiet for a while, basking in each other and the walk and the other couples around us. I've started to realize how different an authentic pair looks in comparison to people who are just doing it because they're lonely or want to make someone else jealous. Rickey and I are one of the authentic ones, definitely.

"The house is down there," he tells me as we stop at an intersection. His hand gestures to a street across the road on our right. There's a sign on the meridian that says "Bensley's Grove". Vibrant plants surround the sign, and there's a single lane on either side of it.

"Can we go see it?" I ask, glancing up at him. "Or are you in a rush to get home?"

"You know I never am," he says with a forced smile. Then we walk to the other side of the intersection and disappear into Bensley's Grove.