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Barok van Zieks had a dinner date. And Barok had done an excellent job of not being quite so flustered at the thought until he returned to his office to stare at the flowers that were currently on his desk.
There was no card, but according to Kazuma, who stood at the other end of the desk where Barok now sat, Herlock Sholmes had told him a rather long-winded story about how they were given to him as a thank-you for the case that he’d just solved; though apparently, he thought they were too bright of a red, and so he had decided to give them to Barok to “spruce up his dreary office.”
Not quite what Barok had in mind in regards to a romantic gesture, but now he was stuck with these flowers as well. He actually found them pleasant to look at, but there was no place for them in his office, and he wouldn’t be able to keep them alive for more than a week, and that's if he were lucky. And they were quite…loud, he thought, as he struggled to focus on finishing up his paperwork for the evening before heading out to meet Herlock at the restaurant.
“They smell good,” Gina Lestrade said from his desk, where she sat swinging her legs back and forth. She leaned over to get another whiff of them.
“They’re roses, of course they do,” Barok replied. “And must you sit on my desk?” he added, punctuating his words with a frown. Gina had arrived not long after he’d returned. He had no idea why she’d come in the first place until he’d learned that she’d been tasked to deliver Scotland Yard’s police investigation report for his latest case. After that, she decided herself that she would take a break – and for some reason that break needed to take place in his office specifically, for the third time this week.
“What will you do with them?” Kazuma asked.
“I don’t know. Don’t the two of you have other work to be doing?” he said.
“Nope,” Gina replied.
“Not really,” Kazuma said.
Barok sighed. It had been a week since Iris’s birthday, and it felt like everything had shifted since then. He was still getting used to both Gina and Kazuma being in his office for no other reason than to chat with him, and he thought about the change in his and Herlock’s relationship more often than not. He hadn’t seen Herlock since that day either, with some case having turned up that led him to Hampshire until he’d apparently returned this morning, coinciding with Ryunosuke and Susato leaving to return back to Japan. They’d come to see him and Kazuma one more time before they’d left.
“Well, I have work to do,” Barok said. He sipped at his wine, hoping that before he left, he’d get a gentle enough buzz to calm his nerves down. He had no idea what to expect. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out to a romantic dinner – had he ever, really?
“Say, can I try some ‘o that?” Gina asked, already reaching for the chalice. Barok snatched it back, nearly causing some of it to slosh over and onto the desk. Gina’s face pinched into a scowl.
“Have you had wine before?” Barok asked.
“No, that’s why I just asked if I could try a bit ‘o it,” Gina rolled her eyes as though she were trying to scold him.
“No,” Barok said.
Gina scoffed. “That’s not fair. Mr. Asogi gets to ‘ave some,” she said, gesturing to the other chalice that was in front of Kazuma on the desk. “I ain’t a kid,” she continued. “And it ain’t like I want it all. I said just a bit.” And that…was true. She was 19, though this wine was particularly strong and Barok was almost certain she wouldn’t enjoy it. There were much sweeter wines that would likely suit her taste.
“…You won’t enjoy it, but fine,” Barok said. He slid the chalice towards her. Gina took it with a self-satisfied smile.
“It’s quite strong,” Kazuma warned.
“Yeah, yeah,” Gina said, unbothered. “Should we toast or somethin’? Eh, maybe not.” Then she took a rather large sip of it.
Barok was wholly unsurprised when she spat it out and then started to cough. “Blegh, wot is this? You really drink that?” she said, disgusted. She set it down, scrunching up her nose and mouth in displeasure. Kazuma snorted, and Barok sighed further. He reached into his drawer to pull out a cloth, and before he could stand to clean it, Gina snagged it from his hands. “I got it, I got it,” she said as she hopped off the desk to clean up the wine from the floor. He watched her, surprised for a moment, then settled back into his chair.
“Thank you,” Barok said. “Now, would you two mind giving me a moment’s peace? I have a lot to do before I go.”
“Are you sure you’re not just nervous about your dinner?” Kazuma said, and Barok frowned at him. Kazuma gestured to his paperwork. “You been staring at the same page for the past ten minutes, and all you have to do is sign it and write today’s date.”
“Eh? Are you nervous? You don’t look it,” Gina said.
“You learn to see the signs,” Kazuma said to Gina. Gina nodded in understanding as she narrowed her eyes at him in a scrutinizing manner, while Barok’s scowl deepened. He wasn’t sure if he liked the two of them ganging up on him as a way to get a read on the things that he wasn’t saying. “What are you so nervous about? You already kissed him.”
Barok’s felt his cheeks start to burn. “You don’t need to remind me,” he said. He’d already thought about it enough.
“Is it because of, well…” Kazuma gestured in the air as though he were trying to find the right words. “Are you nervous someone might find out?” he settled on saying.
“No,” he said. Though that was a genuine concern, a prosecutor and a detective meeting for dinner wasn’t anything that would cause heads to turn. The reality of it was that his self-esteem still had much to be desired. Ever since that dinner, he’d been almost anticipating something to happen – for him to wake up and realize it’d all been a dream or something equally as disappointing. “It’s simply… not something I am used to,” he said. Kazuma chortled with laughter, and Barok glared at him. “I am trying to be sincere,” he snapped.
“I know. I don’t mean to laugh,” Kazuma said, humor lingering in the crinkle of his eyes. “It’s just… I don’t know Mr. Sholmes as well as you,” Kazuma started, and though it had just been a casual remark, Barok thought about how true that really was. Kazuma had somehow become someone he’d readily place high up on his list of trusted companions. “But I would hedge more than a few bets that he’s not exactly used to it, either.”
Could that be true? He wondered if Herlock was the type to be nervous about something like this. It seemed almost unfathomable. Even still, he regarded Kazuma with amusement at his ready wager that Herlock had little to no experience in these matters. “I wonder if I should be insulted that you’ve basically insulted him,” Barok mused, and Kazuma chuckled.
Gina made a few more displeased sounds as if to remind them of her irritation. Her face was still pinched together from the taste of the wine, and Barok went to pour her a glass of water. She chugged it down, still unhappy, but then hopped back on the desk. “If that’s ‘ow wine tastes, no wonder you throw it ‘round like that.”
“I do not throw it around,” Barok tutted with a frown. “Must you be so needlessly dramatic?”
Kazuma rolled his eyes, teasing clear in his expression. “He calls others needlessly dramatic, and yet the last time I watched him in court, he slammed his leg against the table for no reason at all except to show us his flexibility for the third time, I suppose,” he said with a burdened sigh and shrug.
Barok glowered further. “It is not to show off my flexibility.”
“Then it is because you are needlessly dramatic. The judge is always confused by it, as am I,” Kazuma said.
Barok sighed, though there was humor tugging on his lips. “Right. How silly of me. Perhaps I should blatantly laugh at the defense’s arguments instead.”
As if on cue, Kazuma laughed in good humor, and it was so contagious that Barok huffed in amusement as well.
Before they could speak further, there was a knock at the door. Barok frowned. He didn’t normally get unexpected visitors aside from the two people that were present in the room with him. Gina hopped off of the desk, and Kazuma straightened up.
“Come in,” Barok called.
The door flew open, and Herlock strolled in as though he were walking into his own office. Barok’s heart lurched. He wasn’t sure what the weather had been like in Hampshire, but the sun had kissed Herlock’s skin until it gave him a warm glow, and he seemed to be in good spirits. “Why, it looks like I’m late to a party,” he said. His eyes lingered on Barok for just long enough to make Barok’s skin prickle with warmth. “And my flowers have a new home.”
“What are you doing here?” Barok blurted instead of the plethora of other, much kinder, statements that would have been appropriate in that situation. “I thought I was to meet you at the restaurant.”
“Yes,” Herlock said, then hummed. “But I thought it better to come to visit you here so that I could greet you properly.” It took a moment for Barok to realize what he meant, and before he could respond, Kazuma cleared his throat.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Kazuma said.
“Eh? Why?” Gina said. Kazuma shook his head, guiding her by her shoulders towards the door. He turned his head back to Barok. “Enjoy your evening,” he said, and Barok gave him a half-hearted wave with a lift of his hand.
The two of them left, and then it was just Barok and Herlock. He felt silly to feel so nervous, but it made his mind go blank, and words once again failed him. Herlock didn’t seem to mind it. “I see my flowers were well-received.”
“You mean the ones given to you by someone else, and then re-gifted to me?” Barok reminded him.
“Yes, of course,” Herlock said. “But I gifted it with you in mind, my dear,” he added with a grin. Barok sighed, unable to stop the fondness from lacing into it.
“I take it your latest case went well then?” Barok said, placing his papers back into his file and slipping them into his second desk drawer. He stood and made his way over to fasten his cloak on.
“It did, indeed. And I might I say the weather was quite lovely. Why, it was as though I were on vacation!” Herlock said. Barok paused in his movements. He was almost certain that Herlock had been there on a murder investigation. Yet, to refer to it as a vacation? Well, Barok supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I see,” Barok said. “I’m glad that it proved fruitful for you—in many ways then, I suppose.” He finished fastening his cloak and went towards the door. “Shall we?” But when he looked back, Herlock was sulking as he followed after him. The whiplash of it was jarring. “What’s wrong?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? I did come here for a certain reason,” Herlock pouted as he stopped next to him. “You’ve not greeted me yet.”
Barok tensed momentarily. He gave a put-upon sigh, mostly to deflect from his own nerves, and leaned in to kiss him lightly. “Better?” he asked before putting his hand on the doorknob.
Herlock sighed dramatically. “I suppose. It is my fault, after all, for choosing a lover so chaste. Yes, let us be off,” he said and Barok’s hand slipped from the door as he turned back to Herlock with a disbelieving look.
“I beg your pardon?” Herlock raised an eyebrow, and Barok frowned at him. He realized at once that Herlock was hoping to challenge him, but his annoyance got the better of him, and he was filled with a sudden rush of boldness. Barok stepped closer, resting his hand at the base of his neck, and he kissed him, again.
Gently, at first, and then more so as he tilted his head further and Herlock matched him with an eager hum. His breathing quickened, and before Barok could lose his nerve, he nipped at his bottom lip, relishing the moment that Herlock gripped him tighter as a result. Unable to stop himself from smirking before he fully pulled away, Barok stopped abruptly.
Herlock blinked a few times like he was waking himself from a daze. There were few things that Barok knew were a rarity, and catching the great detective off-guard was one of those things.
Victory could be sweet, indeed.
“Are you quite alright?” Barok asked, fighting against a self-satisfying smile at Herlock’s disheveled state. “You seem a bit…out-of-sorts.”
After another moment, Herlock recovered. “Now—” He cleared his throat before speaking again, and Barok could hardly contain his smile from spreading further. It was a bit thrilling to know that he could have such a disarming effect on him. “That certainly wasn’t difficult, now was it?” he said, back to his usual self. He strolled past him for the door, then turned with a softer, somewhat teasing, smile. “I suppose I should be glad, at least, to have chosen a lover so easy to nettle.”
Barok clicked his tongue and pushed him forward without any actual force behind it, huffing his muted laughter as he shut the door behind them.
***
Herlock did like to take him to the most romantic of places, Barok thought sarcastically, and, somewhat bitterly, as he watched Herlock rummage through garbage bins on their supposed “date.”
It had started out simple enough. They had at least made it to Samson’s restaurant, but Barok had not even had a moment to take more than two bites of his meal before Herlock turned and told one of the patrons not to eat the steak that had been placed in front of him unless he had a desire to be poisoned. He did, in fact, say it just like that, out of nowhere, startling both Barok and the two at the table next to them.
Moments later, Herlock then accused the head chef at this rather famous restaurant and the wife of said patron of having an affair and that they had conspired to poison the man. Apparently, he must have disposed of the bottle with the food waste tossed out back. Inspector Hopkins was called to the scene not long after.
And that was how Barok ended up in front of the garbage on his first date with Herlock Sholmes.
Inspector Hopkins stood off to the side with the couple and the head chef, likely because of the rancid smell. Herlock had gotten a pair of rubber gloves from Hopkins, and now he was very meticulously sifting through the trash. There were two other officers going through the other receptacles.
Barok rested his index finger under his nose to cover his nostrils and mask the smell as best as possible, then stepped a bit closer. “…Any luck?” he said. Herlock did not respond, but he did keep muttering to himself. He’d been at it for about thirty minutes. They would likely not be able to continue with their dinner after this. Barok sighed thoughtlessly. He never thought he’d be upset at something like this.
“Mr. Sholmes is incredible,” Hopkins said as he stopped next to him. Barok glanced back, where another officer was keeping an eye on the three others. “I mean, to be able to make this kind of deduction.”
Barok hummed a half-hearted affirmation. It was certainly something. He listened to Hopkins prattle on about one of Herlock’s past cases for about two minutes before he could take it no longer and excused himself to return at Herlock’s side. “The other officers can handle this,” Barok said.
“Oh! Barok, how nice of you to join me,” Herlock said without turning to look at him. Barok’s mouth twitched downwards. “Now, it must be here somewhere.”
“You know, this is not quite what I had in mind for the evening,” Barok said, turning his face away as a wave of the trash smell hit his nose. Honestly, he wasn’t even quite sure why he remained, rather than rescheduling to leave him to it.
However, his words seemed to give Herlock pause. “You are upset,” Herlock deduced, as though it weren’t obvious.
Taking in the almost puzzled look on Herlock’s face, Barok resisted the urge to retort with a bitingly sarcastic remark. He wasn’t necessarily upset, per se; perhaps annoyed was more appropriate. Then again, he should have expected that something unexpected like this would come up. After a moment, he sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple. “You would not be you if we didn’t somehow end up in a place like this. And I suppose if I were to help you, perhaps we could finish faster.”
Barok went over to Inspector Hopkins to procure another pair of rubber gloves, much to Hopkins’ shock. He didn’t blame him. Barok himself certainly wouldn’t have ever thought that Herlock Sholmes (or anyone, for that matter) would lead him to dig through trash, and yet, as he went back to Herlock, he opened the bin next to him, albeit somewhat grudgingly.
Barok prepared for Herlock to make some sort of joke about a noble sifting through garbage, but when he looked at Herlock, the man regarded him with what looked like… awe. Whatever it was, it caused Barok’s face to heat up at the intensity of it. “You don’t need to look at me like that. I’m not doing this because I want to,” he grumbled, because it was true. Perhaps it was a bit blunt, but he was already regretting his decision to help as the putrid smell wafted outward.
“You need not trouble yourself for it, my dear fellow,” Herlock said, acutely aware of Hopkins and the others within earshot. He smiled lopsided and proud and lifted a tiny vial up towards Hopkins. “For I have found what I need right here.”
Everyone gathered around Herlock, and as expected, there was just a thin layer of a powder-like substance on the bottom. It was all that would be needed to test for poison. “And, Mr. Jackson, I wonder if someone in the restaurant kitchen could attest to seeing you use this very bottle,” Herlock mused with a grin.
“Incredible,” Hopkins said, and Barok also couldn’t help but be impressed. Now that things were actually coming to a close, Barok allowed himself to be properly amazed. It had been quite lucky that of all tables, they’d been seated next to theirs, allowing him to see the subtle movements of the chef who brought the food out and the wife’s movements when she got up under the guise of going to the washroom. Herlock had saved the man’s life, really.
However, this also meant that the restaurant needed to close early so that it could be properly sealed off and investigated by the police. Herlock prompted them for all of the spots where evidence could be found, and by the time it was finished, it was far too late to go to another restaurant.
Barok’s stomach quietly rumbled, and honestly, he wanted nothing more than to relax and eat something. Samson’s had been quite close to 221B Baker Street, so Barok easily fell into step with Herlock to at least walk with him back to his home. As they walked, Herlock recounted his case in Hampshire while Barok told him about his week and complained about Kazuma and Gina’s constant visits to his office, to which Herlock’s amusement only grew. They returned late into the evening, and though the date had not at all been what Barok had been expecting, it was certainly interesting, if nothing else.
“I hope next time we can actually have a proper meal,” Barok said.
Herlock regarded him for an achingly long moment. “Would you like to come in?” he asked. “I should like to make it up to you. Perhaps over a bottle of wine and a small meal?”
Though he had been a bit disappointed at how the evening had gone, Barok shook his head, still. “You don’t need to make it up to me. You saved a man’s life,” Barok said.
“I must insist. After all, upon further reflection, I completely failed at following my dear friend Mikotoba’s most important piece of advice,” Herlock said, though he sounded quite chipper about it. “Which was to not get distracted and end up sifting through garbage on a case.”
Barok blinked at him, rather perplexed. “That was his advice?” he said disbelievingly, and Herlock affirmed it. Perhaps Mikotoba still did know him best, after all. “Quite…specific. This happens to you often, then.”
“More often than one should think, for certain,” Herlock said with a brief stint of laughter that tapered off into a mirthful expression.
Then Barok went back to the other part of his statement. “Wait a moment. You told him…about this?” he said. Barok wasn’t sure what to think of that. It was a bit strange to think of yet another person who was aware of this relationship – or whatever it was to be called, but at the same time, it was strangely…nice to know. It gave more credence to Barok’s hope that perhaps Herlock was in the same boat as him, despite his apparent confidence.
“Naturally. We do regularly share correspondence,” Herlock said. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” Barok replied quickly. “It’s simply unexpected. Did he give you any other advice then?”
“Why, certainly. And it was that I will have to find a way to make it up to you when I fail at following his initial advice,” Herlock declared, and Barok couldn’t help the huff of disbelieving laughter that escaped his lips.
“You may give him my gratitude,” Barok said, somewhat amused at the thought. “Though, I was sincere. I admit that I was annoyed at the time, but your actions were for good cause in the end. You need not make anything up to me.”
Herlock’s gaze softened as he took in Barok’s statement. “Then to at least allow for a proper goodbye,” he replied. He leaned forward just a bit, not close enough to draw any unwarranted attention (though there was no one around them at this late into the night regardless), but just enough to cause Barok’s pulse to quicken.
“…For a moment, then,” Barok relented. Herlock smiled, opening the door for them both. He led him into the apartment, which was completely dark save for the sliver of light from the streetlamps outside.
“Iris is asleep?” he asked as Herlock lit a fire in the fireplace and turned on a dim lamp. Barok checked the time to see that it was nearly ten. Herlock nodded. Barok truly did only mean to stay for a moment, but as the firelight framed Herlock’s face perfectly, he allowed himself to be drawn towards him like a moth to a flame.
Quirking a slightly amused smile as Herlock leaned into him, Barok spoke before he could properly kiss him. “You smell like garbage,” Barok commented.
That sparked a bark of laughter from Herlock. “Ah! A romantic statement, indeed. You do know how to swoon a man,” Herlock said. “If you should like to stay, I’ll run to the bath. The shower system we’ve installed is quite efficient.”
“I am only staying for a moment,” Barok protested, but Herlock had already stepped away from him to go rummage for something.
“And while you wait—” Herlock continued, finally finding what he was looking for. “You can read the latest published tale of my exploits,” he said, shoving the magazine into Barok’s hands. Barok frowned down at it, but Herlock continued to smile expectantly before Barok relented and took it from him, sighing as he plopped down onto the couch, trying to relay a feigned sense of exasperation.
As Herlock went to the bathroom, Barok settled further on the couch. He would only stay for a bit longer after Herlock came back. He flipped mindlessly through the magazine, feeling an odd sense of calm as the only sounds were from the fireplace and the faint sound of water running. It was all strangely…domestic. Barok was quick to temper his thoughts. This was only the beginning of whatever had grown between them, and it wouldn’t do so let his mind get away from him in such a way. Perhaps the end of the evening would come and Herlock would change his mind about this entire arrangement.
Deep down, he knew the thought didn’t have any evidence to support it, but insecurities were a funny thing, weren’t they, in how they could take hold without any evidence to anchor on.
Barok distracted himself by trying to focus on the magazine and had just finished reading through it when Herlock returned to the living room. Looking up quite casually, Barok tried and failed to mask his affection when he saw him.
Clad in his nightwear, a striped blue-and-white button-up pajama top and matching bottoms, and fluffing his hair with a towel that made him look a bit like a downy chicken, Herlock approached him. Barok’s mouth went dry and his thoughts no longer formed coherently. He’d never seen Herlock so casual and at ease. “I must say, that was quite refreshing. And I believe that lingering odor is no more. Would you like to check?” Herlock said, wasting no time in tossing the towel to the side to enter Barok’s space. He sat next to him on the couch, looking towards him with a boyish grin.
Without thinking, Barok reached up and rested his hand against the side of his neck. Herlock’s grin grew, yet became softer at the same time. “You are…” Barok started, then hesitated when his words failed him. Herlock rested his hand over his own, the warmth of it rapidly welling up inside of him like a hot air balloon. Suddenly overwhelmed at the surge of emotion, Barok turned away.
Gently, Herlock moved his hand from over Barok’s hand to his face, turning him to meet his eyes again. Barok could feel the rapidness of his pulse on his neck – or maybe it was Barok’s own, pounding through the pulse points of his fingers – he couldn’t tell anymore. “I am quite some many things, so I’ve heard,” Herlock mused as he urged him closer. “Would you care to specify?”
“I shouldn’t,” Barok said, teasing clear in his tone, though he felt nervous still. “Lest you let it get to your head.”
“Ah, but that statement alone is enough to do just that,” Herlock said, but Barok was too entranced to even feign annoyance. “And I suppose if you cannot speak it, you can always show me.”
Barok didn’t hesitate to take him up on it, and Herlock keenly met him halfway. Truly, it was that he couldn’t find the right words for what he’d wanted to say, so he tried to convey it all into the kiss. Herlock adjusted himself on the couch so that he could deepen it. Barok was pliant against him, unable to think of anything but him and this moment, and it wasn’t long until the upper half of his body was nearly horizontal against the couch.
“Would you like to stay the night?” Herlock whispered from above him when they broke apart for air.
Barok jerked back and stared at him as the implications of it set in and he was grounded back in reality. “I—Beg pardon? That—I’m not certain—” He flexed his fingers where they rested at the back of Herlock’s neck, letting the feeling of his hair tickling his fingers calm his nerves. “I do not mean to appear prude, but…ah.” He finished lamely.
However, Herlock’s grin only softened further. “To sleep, my dear. Nothing more, unless you want it.”
“It is not a matter of not wanting it…” Barok muttered, exasperated more with himself than anything else. He pushed himself back into an upright position, and Herlock mirrored him. “I am…a bit anxious,” he admitted, then immediately cursed himself for saying it. He likely sounded quite childish, to be so anxious after all of his other moments of confidence.
Herlock took one of Barok’s hands into his. “My dear, do not mistake my bravado for a lack of trepidation,” he said, and Barok gawked at him. Kazuma had hinted at that too, hadn’t he? It seemed almost impossible to think of Herlock to be nervous about anything, but he was human too, after all. Barok once again felt the speed of Herlock’s heartbeat, seeing it in a new light.
Hopelessly charmed, Barok leaned in to kiss him again, less intense but no less sweet. “It is a shame London does not know,” Herlock said against his lips. Barok hummed his curiosity, pausing as his lips brushed against Herlock’s. “How gentle the man once thought to be the Reaper truly is.”
Barok lifted his head to stare at him in surprise. He glanced away for just a moment before returning back to his face. “I don’t know if anyone else would use the word gentle. Either way, it is not for everyone to know. A prosecutor should not hold a reputation for being gentle. Besides,” he raised an eyebrow. “It is a shame London does not know that their celebrated great detective has such a soft heart himself.”
Herlock kissed him once more on the lips, then trailed down to kiss his cheek and to his neck, just at the base of his ear. “Will you stay for a while, then?” he whispered against Barok’s now-rapid breathing.
“A bit unfair to ask like this, don’t you think? Perhaps conniving was a more apt description,” Barok said unsteadily, and he felt Herlock smile against the skin under his ear. “…I’ll stay. For a little while, at least.”
When Herlock leaned back, he was still smiling. “Shall I get that wine, then?” he asked as he let go of him to stand.
Barok prepared to answer when they heard the sound of a door opening. It could only have been Iris’s bedroom, and Herlock’s brow furrowed as he turned to look in the direction where she’d approach.
Iris appeared at the edge of the living room, in a nightgown and clutching onto a large stuffed rabbit. Her shoulders were tense, and her bottom lip quivered as she regarded them. Herlock wasted no time in walking over to her. “Iris, what’s happened?” he said, looking her over as he approached. He knelt down in front of her so that he was eye-level.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice was so quiet that it stabbed at Barok’s heart. He'd never heard her speak in such a way. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
Herlock opened his mouth to speak, but Barok beat him to it. “You’re not interrupting,” Barok assured her. Then he paused, uncertain if he should excuse himself or not.
“I…I’m sorry,” Iris said again. She threw her arms around Herlock, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “I…I had a nightmare, and I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t.” She quivered against him.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Herlock asked. She shook her head without lifting it from the side of his neck, and he nodded.
“Could you…play me the lullaby you used to play, on the violin?” Iris said.
“I’ll play it tenfold,” he replied, patting her back once before he let go and went to get his violin. Iris rubbed at her eyes, then brought her arms around the rabbit to hug it as she waited.
“I-I’ll leave you to it, then,” Barok said, somewhat awkwardly. There was no elegant way for him to announce his departure, but he still felt he’d done it too clumsily nonetheless.
“Huh?” Iris said, turning to him. “You’re not staying?” Barok wavered uncertainly, and Herlock also seemed to pause at her words.
“…Would you like me to stay?” Barok settled on saying.
Iris walked over to him and hesitated for a moment before she sat on the couch next to him. “Daddy…can’t sit next to me while he plays, and I don’t want to sleep alone,” she admitted, somewhat sheepishly. Barok’s heart swelled with affection. “But you don’t have to—”
“No, no,” Barok was quick to say. “It’s alright.” With a smile, Iris leaned against him as Herlock lifted the throw blanket from the armchair so that Iris could put it around them. He saw Herlock smiling to himself as he handed it to her. She lifted her feet up and onto the couch, resting them away from Barok so that she could snuggle up to him more comfortably. “I—” he started, and Iris tilted her face upwards to look at him. “There’s a bedtime story that Klint used to tell me when I had nightmares. I could repeat it for you.”
“Your brother?” Iris said, wonder and something else in her voice. Then she nodded. “Can I hear it?”
The beginning strings of the violin started softly, and Barok cleared his throat. Iris closed her eyes against him. “Once upon a time, there was a young girl who wanted to play with the stars in the sky…” he began. He told the story as well as he remembered it until he heard her quietly snoozing against him, and he could feel his own exhaustion tugging at him until the sounds of Brahm’s lullaby lulled him to sleep as well.
Barok wasn’t sure when he woke up after that, but he could hear the fireplace still and there was very little light meeting his eyes, so it must not have been that close to morning. His side was aching from how he was uncomfortably sprawled on the couch – his feet on the ground but the top half of him had fallen sideways and rested against the couch. He meant to move when he heard voices.
“Given everything, it is appropriate to ask again,” Herlock said, his voice quiet. Barok stilled in his almost-movement.
Iris chuckled from next to him, though it was also muted. She must have still been on the couch. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but his curiosity got the better of him. “I’m happy for you,” Iris said. “I’m happy for both of you.”
For a moment, there was only the sound of the crackling fireplace. “I fear my affection for him is growing exponentially,” Barok heard Herlock say. Were they talking about him? His ears began to itch with interest. His arm had also started to fall asleep, and he fought against the urge to move.
Iris giggled again. “I know. You’re not that subtle, Daddy,” she added, chiding him as though she were the parent.
“…I do adore him, Iris.” Barok had never heard Herlock say anything so softly. He nearly jolted at the words, but just barely managed to stop himself. It was becoming difficult to steady his breathing.
Barok would have given anything to be able to take a peek at their expressions. What did Iris think of that? Despite her kindness, perhaps she wasn’t ready for this. Thankfully, before his thoughts could spiral, Iris spoke. “I like him. And I like having him around, so if he stays with us forever, I’d be happy with that too.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” Herlock said seriously. “It is okay to speak forthrightly about it.” The pressure on the couch left, meaning Iris must have gotten up. A moment later, he heard a soft ‘oof’ sound from Herlock, then a fond noise.
“I promise, Daddy.”
Herlock hummed. “Well, it will be a long way before we’ll need to think about such things.” There was silence for a moment. “Are you ready to go back to bed?” Iris said yes, and soon the footsteps retreated and he heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Barok didn’t hear any more movement, so he presumed that Herlock must have laid with her for a bit to help her get back to sleep.
Barok drifted back to sleep, too drained to fully process what he’d heard. As he was pulled back to slumber, he heard movement again, and then there was a blanket laid over him. He felt something brush his cheek, though it was so feather-light that Barok wasn’t certain if it was just an itch from the air or fingertips.
He could hold on no longer, then, and fell asleep once more.
Barok woke to sunlight piercing his eyes and the smell of bacon. He blinked a few times to get rid of the last vestiges of sleep. His joints ached with the uncomfortable way he’d slept and having slept in the outfit he’d worn while out, and he rubbed at the back of his neck as he blearily regained his surroundings.
On the armchair, Herlock was asleep. His head lolled back and slightly to the side, and his mouth was open as he slept. The blanket he had over him had half-fallen to the floor. Barok frowned, confused at why he hadn’t returned to his own bedroom to sleep. Barok sat there a few seconds longer before standing. He re-adjusted Herlock’s blanket, then walked towards the kitchen.
Unsurprisingly, Iris was there, cooking bacon. She was not in the same pajamas as last night but was still in casualwear, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail rather than styled as he normally saw her. There was a plate of sausages already off to the side and a bowl of baked beans, and there were eggs off to the side not yet cooked. She grinned at him when he entered, as though him entering the kitchen in the morning was completely normal.
“Good morning, Barry,” she said. “We have tea and coffee if you’d like.”
Barok was momentarily stunned before he recovered. “Ah… Good morning. Tea is fine, thank you. I can brew it.” His movements were a bit stilted as he tried to adjust to someone other than his staff being in a kitchen with him and seeing him in his morning state. Iris shifted so that he could stand next to her and set to brewing a pot of tea for them.
“Did you sleep well?” Iris asked.
“I did,” Barok said, despite his muscles still aching. He wasn’t certain if he should ask the same, considering she’d had a nightmare. “Do you usually cook breakfast?”
“When I have a deadline, Hurley will make breakfast. But it’s really just dry toast and insipid coffee,” she said. Barok was unable to stop himself from making a face at that, and Iris smiled. “Oh. Thank you for staying last night,” she added.
Barok shook his head. “It was no trouble at all. I was… glad that you asked me to,” he admitted.
Iris brightened. “I was glad that you said yes.” Then her gaze softened, and she looked off to the side of him. “It was nice to hear that story too. Did…he tell you that story a lot?”
“He did,” Barok said, somewhat fondly. The familiar ache that usually came when he thought of his brother was just a little lighter this time. “Why?”
Iris quickly shook her head. “Oh, I was just curious,” she said, back to her cheery self as she looked back to the stovetop to slide the bacon off onto another plate. “It’s a lovely tale,” she added quietly. Then she busied herself with cracking the eggs into another skillet.
Barok had only a second to consider her statement before the water finished, and he then finished with brewing a full pot of tea. As soon as he did so, he heard a thud from the entrance, and when he looked, he was startled when he saw Herlock run into the side of the kitchen opening.
Herlock did not even appear to have his eyes open, but he stumbled into the kitchen nonetheless. His hair was even more out of place, and his head and shoulders were slightly hunched with tiredness as he continued walking and bumped into the countertop. Barok glanced down at Iris. “This is how he is sometimes in the mornings when he first wakes up. Good morning, Hurley, your coffee is at the table,” she said brightly.
Herlock apparently had no sense of where the table was, because he walked forward and bumped into Barok’s shoulder in his sleep-addled state, and Barok steadied Herlock as he blinked blearily. Well, perhaps blink was too strong of a word since his eyes didn’t open completely. Herlock’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and then after that, he appeared to be mumbling something. “…the viola…elementary…” he muttered.
“Your coffee is that way,” Barok said, like he was speaking to a child. Herlock stumbled away from him, seeming to understand, and Barok was about to turn back when he was startled at movement pulling his arm forward. Herlock had somehow latched onto his hand as he walked in an uneven direction for the table. “What are you doing?” he said. He, of course, received no answer.
Sighing, Barok allowed himself to be pulled until Herlock was about to bump into the corner of the kitchen table. Then he quickly adjusted Herlock’s trajectory and turned him around so he could sit into the chair where his coffee was. Barok tried to carefully extract his hand from Herlock’s so he could return to helping Iris, but he stubbornly clung on. “Herlock,” he tried to speak gently, hoping it would make a difference.
It didn’t.
Instead, Herlock leaned the top half of his body against Barok’s arm in lieu of drinking his coffee, as Barok stood there. Iris looked at them and laughed. “You should sit too, Barry. This is almost done, and I can bring everything over.”
“Are you certain?” Barok said. He once again tried to step away, but then Herlock made no motion to push himself upward, so Barok quickly returned to standing next to him before Herlock plummeted to the ground.
Iris nodded. “He usually rests his head on the table itself when he gets like this, so at least he’s got a better pillow.”
“…alright,” Barok said. He reached for the chair to the side, having to strain for it when Herlock continued to cling onto him, then finally was able to pull it over so that he could sit down next to him. Of all the things Barok imagined, it was not the fact that Herlock was clingy when he was tired. He felt a bit embarrassed, but as he sat there with Herlock leaned against him, Herlock’s warmth helped to dispel some of it.
Iris placed a full English breakfast in front of him and another in front of Herlock. She brought his tea a moment later, then settled with her own plate and tea.
“That was the curious incident!” Herlock said suddenly, jumping awake and causing Barok to jump as well. Iris began to eat as though this were nothing out of the ordinary. Herlock looked around, settling on the breakfast. “Why, Iris, this looks delicious.”
“I thought I’d make a special breakfast for us this time,” Iris replied.
Barok gaped at Herlock. He seemed…completely awake, just all of a sudden. Herlock turned to him, completely unsurprised at the sight of him as though he were perfectly coherent in the moments leading up to this. Then he tilted his head, confused. “Hm? Is there something on my face, my dear?” Barok’s face burned at his endearment in front of Iris, but it caused his chest to flutter as well.
“Your ability to render me at a loss for words is uncanny,” Barok said, and Herlock quirked a smile as Iris laughed sweetly. He released Herlock’s hand now that he was fully awake, but Herlock continued to stay the same distance. “And yes, that does appear to be drool on the side of your face.” Barok couldn’t hide his amusement as Herlock reached up to wipe it, only to sulk at him afterward.
It had been a long time since he’d eaten breakfast with others. It somehow felt more intimate than dinner. As he ate, the memory of the conversation he’d overheard last night entered his memory.
I do adore him, Iris.
His throat again felt dry, and he reached over to sip at his tea. Herlock had sounded so sincere about it all, and he’d even spoken to Iris about it again.
If he stays here forever, I’d be happy.
An image of the future – a future where this was as normal as Iris had made it sound when she wished him good morning – flashed through his mind, and the serenity of it all quieted each of the nerves that danced along his skin and against his heart.
He was completely full by the time he finished his plate, and, reluctantly, he knew that he needed to return home. Firstly, though, he helped with the dishes as Iris went to get dressed for the day.
Once again, he found himself washing dishes with Herlock at his side, as he did all those months ago when he’d taken the first step into their lives. Though things were a bit different now, he thought somewhat affectionately, as Herlock attempted to kiss him as he took the dish from Barok’s hands and set it the side instead of drying it off.
“I volunteered to actually help with the dishes, you know,” Barok said. “You’re getting the countertop wet.” He clicked his tongue, empty of any scorn.
“Counters can be dried,” Herlock said with a pout.
“So can dishes. And with the towel in your hands, no less,” Barok pointed out. Herlock sighed, lamenting to himself about ‘the woe of it all’ as he picked it up and dried it again.
The two of them washed dishes like this for a while, with Herlock only trying to distract him half of the time, and it didn’t take them long before they finished. “Allow me to express my gratitude. Thank you for sitting with Iris last night,” Herlock said.
"You don't need to thank me. I'm glad she is alright. I didn't expect her to want me to sit with her," Barok admitted. "I'm not often considered a comforting presence."
"Come now, Barok, you would still presume this to be true, at this stage?" Herlock said.
Well... things had perhaps changed in that sense, much to his continued disbelief. "I suppose I shouldn't." He handed Herlock the last of the dishes and exhaled. Though he ached and wanted to change out of his clothes, he felt a pang of disappointment. "And I suppose I shouldn't overstay my welcome as well."
"You will always be welcome," Herlock replied.
"You sound very certain of that," Barok said. He had meant it to be teasing, but some of his insecurity had worked his way into it, causing his own uncertainty to slip in. "After only one date, if one could call it that."
Herlock smiled. "And what a thrilling date it was! One could argue that it was truly one of a kind. It’s not every day one saves a man’s life over dinner,” he said, punctuating his words with a guffaw.
"Perhaps our next one should take place at the landfill itself to save us the time,” Barok mused.
"Our next one, you say?" Herlock repeated.
Barok fidgeted where he stood. He had never felt less unflappable than when he was at 221B Baker Street. "I would like to," he said, opting for boldness. "If you feel the same."
Herlock ghosted his fingers across Barok's hand. "I should hope that your powers of deduction are strong enough that you need not even ask," Herlock teased, and Barok half-smiled.
"Hm," Barok began. "Though perhaps it should be at a more private location, lest we truly do end up at a landfill thanks to your deductions."
Herlock grinned. "It has been a while since I've been in the presence of your manor," he said. "I'm sure your staff will be thrilled to see me again. And how is the good fellow Geoffrey?"
"Gerard," Barok said, clicking his tongue. Herlock waved it off as though that's what he'd said. "Your proposal though... I would not be opposed to it," he said as he linked their hands together. "Though if you are like this in the morning, I fear you will end up injuring yourself navigating the place," he said.
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Herlock said, sounding genuinely puzzled despite the light red mark that had, over the course of breakfast, formed on his forehead from when he walked into the wall.
Barok shook his head. "You completely baffle me at times," he said, once again utterly charmed as he tugged Herlock gently forward by the hand to kiss him since the dishes were officially done. He heard the sound of a door, most likely Iris, and let the kiss linger for a moment longer before releasing him.
Iris came back completely dressed and her hair styled, and Barok then went to properly get ready to leave. He’d done his best to muss his hair back into a presentable manner for going outside, and they walked him to the door.
Iris wrapped her arms around him in a hug before he opened the door. And as soon as she released him, she looked up at him with wide, expectant eyes. “Will you be back soon?” she asked.
Barok stilled. “Ah…If you’d like, then of course,” he said. Iris nodded once, resolutely, and then stepped back, as though this was the only answer that would have made her do so. “You will have to let me host you both at my home as well,” Barok added, glancing briefly at Herlock.
She gasped excitedly. “That sounds wonderful, Barry. Can we?” she said, turning to Herlock, who nodded with a tender expression on his face.
Barok regarded Herlock, uncertain what the proper way was to say goodbye to him with Iris there. He didn’t have to think long, because Herlock leaned in to give him a quick kiss. Iris smiled, easing his worries before they could even form in his mind. “Until next time, then,” Herlock said.
I do adore him.
The words flitted into his mind and settled there, as though he’d said it himself and would say it many more times, behind closed doors and both heard and whispered against his skin.
One day, he would have the words and the courage to speak them, but until then, he would settle for the words he did have, and actions for the ones he didn’t: “Until next time,” Barok agreed, and he leaned in to kiss him lightly once more.