I woke up suddenly to the familiar buzzing of my clock. Looking out the window I see that its stormy and dark. Maybe the darkest I've seen in weeks. It seems the weather isn't letting up.
I've concluded that today i'm going to confront the man. I don't need another passive agressive moment between us. This matters. Not only because I don't even know his name, but because I want to. I want to know his name and I want to know his secret. But before I figure all this out, I need to know the motives, his reasoning, some sort of something backing up the fact that I can trust him.
Minutes pass and Im in front of the mirror watching my reflection carefully. My features are the least of my problems but I still feel a sense of shame. Freckles coat my cheeks and nose and my dark brown/black hair is always half between a curl and a mat. The only decent thing about me are my eyes, which I've always admired. Hazel, quite the contrast to the rest of the mess I am.
I pull over a sweater and skinny jeans with rain boots, hoping my clothes don't detract from anything else. After seeing this man a few days in a row, I gradually come to notice his handsome movements and expressions. Its hardly something you can pick up on at first sight.
The rain has stopped only to expose the darkness of the sky. Taking this opportunity I petal fast to our meeting place. As usual nobody is out on the cobble stone streets and i'm there within a minute.
The distant smell of stale bread drifts through the streets and small shops are crammed on every corner. At the very end of Casper street stands a shadow and I know from the turned up corners of the coat collar, that it's him.
I pull my bike along with me as we grow closer to him. He is leaning against a tree rapidly flipping through the pages of one of the books he bought from the shop. He looks determined and focused, his brows furrowed with such intense concentration. For a moment I stop. Just looking at him and all his dramatic movements. What a beautiful thing he is, if only I knew what I was getting myself into.
"Oh! Your here, took you long enough." He says catching my gaze with the shut of his book. He marches over, towering over me again and smiles quickly as he takes my bike from me and drags it behind the tree.
"What are you doing?" I ask, watching my bike being hidden under the brush.
"Concealing things that we don't need." He replies without a glance back up.
He starts striding down the road again without even turning back for me to follow. I rush up to his side with the distant thought that I was going to confront him. Keeping up is a battle, his legs are long and they walk like stilts.
"Uh-" I manage as I trip on a lose cobblestone, catching myself before I fall.
"Heavens keep up will you." He say's turning to see my disheveled array and continuing.
"Hey!" I yelp, standing firmly where I tripped. If Im going to confront him its now or never and I can't afford never.
He turns around a looks at me, not moving or sighing or even walking closer to me. Just watching.
"I need to know." I say weakly. I haven't thought over what I'm going to say and now I have no choice but to go on. My heart thumps harder.
"I need to know, why you are doing this. Why you are trusting me and what all of this is." I say gesturing to him. He knows so much and he explained why, but thats not enough. I need answers on a larger scale.
He doesn't budge standing there looking at me as I confidently look at him. Waiting, for an explanation.
Then he finally speaks up.
"I don't know. To be perfectly honest, you are looking for the answer that I'm searching for as well. Yesterday in the bookshop...I saw you and observed all those things. But something else made me feel like I could trust you. Like you were different from most of the ordinary robotics of the world. I took a leap of faith, and asked you a question. Depending on how you would respond I would then proceed to ask you to meet me."
"And how did I respond?" I ask.
He walks up to me and stands directly in view of my eyes.
"Fearlessly. Not like the rest." He replied. His voice of tender, deep and something inside me pricked as he looked at me closely. Its as if his eyes could see right through me, into my darkest secrets, the ones nobody knows. Except him.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Sherlock Holmes." He replies.