A discontented sigh slipped through a young blonde's lips as she reeled back against the uncomfortable woven-wood back of her chair, her lower lip caught easily between her teeth as her gaze flickered about. Rose absolutely detested working late, particularly on Friday evenings. Friday evenings were the days she met with her closest friend's family for dinner, and tonight was a dinner she was certainly looking forward to. Well, perhaps it wasn't exactly the dinner she was looking forward to, but the conversation she could have with Cassandra once the dinner was over.

She leaned forward a little, fingertips tapping idly against the keys of the typewriter set before her on the desk. As a secretary, it was her job to type up any and all notices that left Mr. Dennison's or Mr. Hart's office or to type up any reminders for either of the two highly demanded lawyers. She had to serve as the memory for three people, and while she felt it wasn't in the least bit fair to her since she was only twenty six after all, it wasn't her place to complain. The law firm of Dennison and Hart was the only reason she was able to get by, the only reason she could afford what little she had.

As she finished typing up the reminder that Mr. Hart had a meeting with one Dr. Watson bright and early Monday morning, she inspected her work a final time before gingerly removing the crisp sheet of paper from the typewriter. Creasing it neatly, she folded it over twice, and then set the letter on the desk. Opening a clearly worn brass container, pliant fingers moved to pinch out a tiny amount of wax, which she then rolled between her fingertips before pressing the round shape against the final fold of the letter. Lifting her metal seal—a seal that had her initials engraved on the bottom—from where it rested beside the container, she then pressed it firmly against the wax and held it there for a few moments.

While she was doing so, she heard the faint sound of the front door to the firm opening at the end of the long, fairly empty corridor just adjacent to her desk. Peering up through now slightly tousled hair, she waited expectantly, both for the visitor to arrive and for the wax to mold around the engraved R and H. When footsteps finally slowed to a pace that was no longer audible, she huffed gently, blowing messy bangs back out of her eyes as she looked over towards the man standing before her. She wobbled a little as she let the seal fall from her hand, her eyes brightening as she took in—perhaps "gawked at" would be better phrasing—the man's appearance.

Her lips suddenly felt very parched and her heart was racing a mile a minute. From the smile on the visitor's thin lips only slightly visible from beneath his mustache, to the gleam present in his blue eyes, to the fine clothing he wore, Rose found herself finding this kindly looking stranger too good to be true. She cleared her throat to compose herself and set the seal aside, scowling inwardly at the messy imprint she'd left on the wax. Regaining her sense of what her job was, she stood up straight, almost like a soldier at attention, and smiled easily, good naturedly, while her heart tapped out a rhythm resembling one of Mozart's concertos. "How may I help you, sir?" she asked sweetly, words she'd spoken far too many times to count.

"Yes, well, you see, I'm Dr. Watson. John Watson, actually. I have—had a meeting with Edgar on Monday morning, but you see, I've just learned I have a patient to tend to, gravely ill, and the family is more than concerned. So I won't be able to make it in for tea Monday morning, so I was wondering if I could reschedule," John spoke smoothly, albeit nervously, as he smiled at the younger girl. She was stunning, like nothing he'd ever seen before, and he could only describe what he felt in his chest as something comparable to a hummingbird's wings flapping.

Rose couldn't contain the giggle that slipped through her lips as she looked down at the messily sealed letter resting on the desk. Almost as if it were an afterthought, she carefully slipped the letter off of the desk and allowed it to fall into the small trash bin at her feet. Looking over at the unexpected visitor, she smiled and nodded her head. "Would Wednesday morning work for you? I believe Mr. Hart is free then," she offered, her hands already busy with opening the leather bound book before her. Her eyes scanned the page for the following week and she lifted one of her pens from where it rested on the desk, ready to write down Dr. Watson's appointment.

"Yes, I do believe Wednesday morning should work quite nicely. Thank you, Miss…" Dr. Watson trailed off, not seeing any name evident anywhere on her fairly cluttered desk.

"Handler. Rose Handler," she finished with an easy smile after writing down the new appointment. Closing the book delicately, she then set her pen back down on the desktop and stood up straight, allowing two fingertips to twist some of her hair back behind her ear nervously. She unthinkingly shot a glance towards the large grandfather clock on the opposite side of the office, smiling when she noticed that her workday was officially over. "I hope you do realize, Dr. Watson, you made it here just in time. My day just ended," the blonde stated almost coyly as she carefully moved around the chair she'd been seated in previously, tucking it into its corresponding space within the desk.

A warm chuckle passed through John's lips at her statement and he merely shot her a somewhat sheepish grin, one hand moving up to tip the brim of his hat towards her. "Timing truly is everything, is it not?" he asked, almost rhetorically as he allowed his gaze to trail after the blonde as she made her way towards a coat rack near the grandfather clock. Once the blonde had stepped out of the limits of his peripheral vision, he hesitantly turned and pretended to busy himself with glancing about the office, even though his gaze was transfixed on the simply dressed blonde slipping her arms into the sleeves of her woolen coat.

Rose moved her hair back from underneath the collar of her coat once she'd managed to pull it on all the way, and then hazarded a look in the young doctor's direction, a sweet smile present on her lips once again. "It certainly is," she whispered, more to herself than anything else, while distracting herself by fumbling to button her coat up at a painstakingly slow pace.

John smiled to himself, having caught her brief response, and then cleared his throat a little. "I had best be going, then, I suppose. Considering the fact that I'm sure Edgar and Nicholas are eager to close up for the week's end so they can head home to be with their families," he mused, brushing invisible specks of dust from the breast pocket of his jacket before looking back over at the petite woman standing a few meters away. "Would you like me to walk you out, Miss Handler? I don't mean to alarm you, but my colleague and I have been investigating a rise in crime, in this specific area of town, targeting beautiful women like yourself," Watson added almost shyly as he gazed over at her.

Rose blanched a little as she listened to him recount what he and his colleague, whoever that may have been, had been pursuing, and she did not hesitate in the slightest to nod her head and grab her small purse from where it hung on the coat rack. Gripping it tightly to her side, she looked up at the young doctor with worry evident in her eyes, her fear placated a bit as Dr. Watson offered her his arm. She slipped one of her arms through his daintily, smiling thankfully up at him as she did so.

"Don't worry, Miss Handler. As long as I'm around, you'll be just fine," he assured her, giving her small hand an assuring squeeze as they both set foot out of the small office, descending the front steps with ease.

Cassandra let out a whine of annoyance as she leaned back in her carriage, legs crossed naturally as she waited to arrive back at her home. She was jobless as of this evening, since the director of the play she had been working so hard on for the past few weeks had decided the cast he'd chosen was simply not up to snuff with what he had been expecting. Reeling forward, she brought one hand up and pushed aside the black, almost velvet-like curtain that concealed her from the outside world. Eyes half lidded, she glanced around the darkened streets warily, wishing she could have been anywhere but here at the moment. She sighed and released her grip on the curtain, leaning back against the uncomfortable seat once more as she attempted to come up with a way to let her dearest parents know she was without a source of income…again.

Once the carriage pulled to a stop just outside of the spacious house she called home, Cassandra smiled at the kindly family chauffeur, James, she had become accustomed to all these years, then carefully climbed out of the body of the carriage. Pulling her white silk shawl shut around her shoulders, Cassandra headed up the familiar walkway that led to the front door of the Paine household, the heels of her shoes clicking softly against each stone they came into contact with. Upon reaching the front door, she nearly leapt out of her skin at finding the front door opening and her father promptly ushering inside.

"You're late, darling. Rose has already arrived, along with a guest, and they're both already seated with your mother at the dinner table. Your mother's not going to be happy with you about this," Edward murmured in a gently chiding tone as he escorted his daughter towards the dining room.

"I'm sorry, father," the brunette sighed, her tone lacking any signs of remorse. Maybe Rose had just been early; did her parents ever consider that? And who was this guest her father was talking about? She felt her head swimming with questions and before she could ask any of them, she was practically being shoved into the dining room, smiling nervously at the three people already sitting at the well decorated dining room table.

"Cassandra. How nice of you to join us." Mary Paine's voice was full of condescension as she looked upon her daughter's fatigued form. Cassandra had never been enough for her, but she'd had to settle. At least that was how the youngest member of the Paine family felt about her mother. Her father, she got along swimmingly with. But with her mother, never would her lifestyle be enough. She didn't approve of Cassandra's interest in acting or the fact that she seemed less than interested in men, or the taverns the young actress now visited regularly. Perhaps if her mother knew the reasons behind these frequent tavern visits she would have been more accepting of the fact, but Cassandra would never admit that she was continually visiting tavern after tavern in seemingly pointless attempts to find the one man who'd struck a chord within her that night in the fighting club.

"My apologies, mother," the brunette murmured unenthusiastically as she bent down and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek, before taking her seat across from her blonde best friend and the mystery man seated beside her.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Cassandra, this is Dr. John Watson. He's one of the up and coming doctors down at the hospital, and he seems to have run into our dear Rose here on the way over. Isn't it marvelous how things like these play out?" Edward commented with a lopsided grin, before raising his wine glass in a mock toast and sipping shortly afterward.

One of Cassandra's brows rose easily as she noticed not only the sudden redness forming on Rose's cheeks, but the oddly rosy complexion that this Watson character had taken on as well. She fought hard to suppress the smirk threatening to break free from behind her composed exterior, and she then shook her head a little and lifted her fork from where it sat, pushing some of her salad around on her plate before taking a small bite of lettuce. Once she'd swallowed, she held back an eye roll as her mother cleared her throat, and she then smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson. Hopefully my father keeps his behavior in check around the hospital better than he does outside of it," Cassandra teased lightly before once again taking a bite of salad.

"Nonsense, Miss Cassandra. Your father is a very fine gentleman, and the hospital is exceedingly lucky to have a doctor of his caliber there. And thus, I am also extremely lucky to have someone like him take an interest in me when no one else did," John replied with an easy, appreciative smile as he glanced over at the older man. He then lifted his own wine glass in a somewhat mock toast as well before sipping, glancing at the blonde seated next to him out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh! Pardon my outburst, but Cass, how is the play going?" Rose asked after swallowing a bite of her salad. She blushed slightly when hearing the young doctor seated beside her chuckling under his breath, but she acted as if her cool had been kept, then sipped her water slowly. Rose was not by any means a drinker, and since she was so oft at the Paine household, it had become easy for the staff to recall this fact.

"Oh, yes, about that. The play's been cancelled, I'm afraid. Lefevre decided he didn't want to pursue such 'mindless drivel' with a 'spineless cast' any longer," the brunette sighed, mimicking the man's French accent as best as she could as she set her fork down on her plate, and then carefully wiped the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin folded neatly beside her salad plate.

Rose's lips curved downwards into an easy frown, and she cast a glance at Edward, before returning her attention to her food. Edward's gaze, however, was transfixed upon Mary's visage, which only furrowed and creased ever more with disapproval and almost shame as she heard their daughter's tale.

"Enough of this down talk, I say. Shall I inform the staff we're ready for the main course?" Edward suggested after a moment of tense silence engulfed the entire dining room.

"I don't think I'm all that hungry anymore, so tell them that's one less serving for them to prepare. Excuse me," Cassandra declared as she rose to her feet and promptly headed for the stairwell at the end of the nearby corridor. She quickly took the stairs in stride, feet barely touching the surfaces of each individual step, and she was soon both out of the limits of sight and audibility.

Rose stared after her friend with a frown evident on her features, before glancing from Mary to the clearly perplexed John and finally at Edward. When he shook his head to signify that Cassandra would be best left alone, the blonde nodded solemnly and bit her lip before returning to consuming what was left of her salad.

As soon as Cassandra set foot inside of her room and shut the door behind her, however, everything became too much for her. Had she really gotten everyone wrong for all these years? Rose hadn't even bothered to come after her, nor had her father. She bit down on her lower lip as she slowly slid down into a careful crouching position, and then her emotions took over her. As she cupped one hand over her mouth, she let out a quiet sob and allowed the tears to flow. Everyone thought she was happy with her life, but behind closed doors, she was anything but that.

"Thank you for another wonderful dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Paine," Rose commented with a gentle smile as she and Dr. Watson stood by the front door, their hosts standing opposite them with pleasant smiles on their features.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mary. Your husband's constant praise of you is indeed well deserved," John added with a complacent smile of his own, bringing the older woman's hand up to his lips in a formal sign of gratitude.

"Likewise, Dr. Watson. Surely you must dine with us more often," Mary replied with a warm smile, her cheeks reddening with every passing moment.

"Now, now, John. Control your wooing, if you'd be so kind. I believe we've had enough of your charm for one night," Edward commented with a crooked smile as he allowed one of his arms to encircle his wife's waist in an almost protective manner.

Rose couldn't contain her quiet laughter at this statement and she shook her head a bit. "I shall see you next Friday, then," she stated after a moment, smiling sweetly before heading out of the household, Dr. Watson in tow after tipping his hat to his colleague and his wife.

"Shall we share a carriage again, Miss Rose?" John asked with a warm, somewhat hopeful smile as the two wandered down along the sidewalk outside of the luxurious Paine home.

"That sounds quite delightful to me, Dr. Watson. Which way are you headed?" the blonde asked curiously, moving some of her hair back behind her ea as she shot him a sideways glance.

"Oh, I live but a few blocks from here. So I suppose we could walk, if your place is within such a short distance as well. If not, a carriage we shall take," he responded after a moment, trying his best to conceal the hope and ulterior motive behind his words.

"I live a few blocks away as well, so perhaps walking would be for the best," Rose commented with a gentle smile, tugging her coat around her fragile frame a bit. When he merely smiled and nodded in reply, the two continued to walk onwards, allowing the serenity and silence of the night to surround them.

As they reached Rose's building, the two came to a stop, John going so far as to walk the younger girl into the lobby. Even though it was against her better judgment, Rose offered him a cup of tea if he came up to her apartment, but John politely declined, insisting it wasn't within his character to accompany a woman he'd only just met into the most intimate quarters of her life so soon. Rose had told him she understood, even though she was slightly disappointed, and they parted ways soon afterwards, John walking back in the opposite direction since he'd strayed past his home just for a few moments more with the blonde who already held such a strong grip on his heart.

When Cassandra shifted in her bed and glanced at the elegantly crafted clock that resided there, she was slightly startled to find it was only ten o'clock. It felt as if she had been in her room for much longer than only an hour. Why did time like to torment her so? It wasn't fair, in her opinion, but perhaps it was all in her mind. Maybe there was something wrong with her, like there had been with her childhood friend Clarissa. Shaking these thoughts aside, she was brought back to reality when she heard the monotonous buzzing noise of the electrical doorbell the family had installed only a few weeks prior.

Figuring her mother would be too lazy to answer it, and that her father would be engulfed in his reading, and since the staff was already off duty for the evening, the brunette sighed and wandered out of her bedroom. Descending the stairwell sluggishly since the day's events were beginning to wear upon her, she stopped briefly at the small mirror near the door and fixed her hair, which seemed to have fallen out of place while she'd been relaxing.

Shaking her head ever so slightly, she moved over to the door and opened it, eyes widening as she viewed who was standing before her.

"Good evening, miss. I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I'm here to inquire about the whereabouts of one Edward Paine," the older man rambled, his gaze averted until he finished speaking. It was only then that he looked at the girl before him, and with their minds both wandering down the same path, they spoke in unison.

"It's you."

A/N: And there we have it. Somewhat cliffhanger, but I apologize. I also apologize for taking so long to update, but if you know me, you know how my life is. So where are things going for Rose and John? And what does Sherlock want with Cassandra's dad? Read and review to find out soon. ;)