I was a little ticked off at this. I knew he needed someone to buy into his practice or even an assistant and I was more than qualified. "Thank you for your time," I said, holding out my hand. He looked at it like he was discussed at the thought of touching me. I took the hint, nodded curtly and walked out the door. Well, that's another one to scratch off my list.
I walked down to the front desk, leaned on the counter and sighed. "You didn't get it," the receptionist said. Savannah Backer was a tall, African American woman who proudly displayed her black heritage all over her desk. "I'm sorry you didn't, your the most qualified person who's applied, most education, most skill, I'm just wondering why you don't have your own practice by now."
"It's just that I'm a little different then most, and that unnerves some people," I said. It was true, ever since some kid reve
He walked on your left, sheltering you from the open road, something you noticed by now he’d always do.
“I don’t do dates,” you kept your expression impassive.
“Neither do I. This is a first,” he put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you slightly to the side as a bicycle passed.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” neither of you made eye contact as you spoke. This type of conversation made you feel at ease, and they only existed between you and Sherlock.
“Marrying John off.”
He paused, and his lips were pressed into a line, “he’s not mine to marry off.”
“Are you okay with this?” he questioned back.
“You have a family gathering on the day of John’s wedding,” he stated