And here it is. This is the last chapter.

This story has been a joy to write and I am so grateful for you taking the time to finish it up with me. Before you get to it, I just wanted to let you know that this is the first fic I've written and the sensation is kind of addicting. So is your very generous feedback and readership. So thanks. A lot.

It happened again, and then again, and then a pattern began to form. It wasn't obvious at first, but then Posy began to make the connections. Tuesday and Thursday. Then Monday and Wednesday. Then Friday. The week following went back to Tuesday and Thursday.

He hadn't forgot his coffee again, but the days he appeared always came with an excuse. Going to see Lestrade; on his way back from Bart's; getting away from Mrs. Hudson; John needed the flat for a date. The cafe was miles away from Baker Street, with dozens more scattered between, yet he would show up at this one on those specific days. Sometimes he wouldn't come to the table, he'd simply nod and take off again. Other times he'd already be there when she arrived, forcing her hand to approach him instead.

After a few weeks, she decided to push back. He was there, at her usual table, fingers steepled below his chin. He was deep in thought, coffee steaming beside him. She didn't know if he saw her or not, but sat directly in front of him, throwing down her bags and he blinked, waking out of his mind-trance and dropping his hands to the table.

"Why do you come here?" She asked, before she lost her nerve. The corners of his mouth frowned slightly.

"Hello to you too, Miss Taylor." He took a sip of his coffee and she shook her head at him.

"You never came here before."

"That's impossible for you to know. As a matter of fact, I helped the owner of this shop with a problem a few years ago and have frequented ever since."

"I would have noticed you."

"Hardly probable. People don't usually remember strangers in a place like this unless they've been previously acquainted."

"I know I would have noticed you," she said firmly, causing his brow to arch at her. She arched her brow back and he changed the subject.

"You are a freelance designer, correct? Contract basis?"

She sighed in defeat and smiled. "Yes, sir, I am."

"Well, I believe I may be in need of your services. You see, my website-"

"Nope."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock almost looked offended.

"No, thank you. I will not take on a project for you, Mr. Holmes."

"I don't understand, you clearly need the money."

At this, Posy's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

"You know I know that you're looking for a new flat because of money. It's nothing to be self-conscious about. Now, I guarantee you I pay quite handsomely for work-"

"Wow. It's remarkable how you can such a bloody genius and simultaneously so ridiculously unaware. No, Sherlock, I am not broke. Although you may find it difficult to believe, I actually do quite well for myself, thank you very much."

"If that's true, then why are you looking to move?"

"I told you I was only thinking about it, and mostly because I'd like to find a place that's a bit bigger so that I could have a flatmate."

"That can't be right. You've lived on your own for years, why form an attachment with someone else when you don't have to?"

Posy smiled and kept shaking her head. "That's it, isn't it? You seriously can't understand. Again, why do you keep coming here Sherlock?"

Sherlock took a moment to respond, gingerly taking a sip of his coffee and placing the cup back down. "Would you prefer I didn't?"

"If I did, would you stop coming?"

"If that was your wish."

Posy laughed in frustration. "It would be that easy wouldn't it? You would stop coming because I said so. Except that doesn't answer my question."

Posy noticed Sherlock's demeanor change from indifferent to slightly alarmed and almost-angry? She could have dropped it but something within her kept her going. "You have no obligation to me Sherlock. The case is over. We all went back to our lives, but you're the one coming here and acting like it's all just some major coincidence. I just want to know. Why?"

"Why do you have to make everything so difficult!?" Sherlock exploded, his eyes like slits. She had never seen him like this. Before she could respond, he decided to answer himself. "Why do you take the smallest, most menial things and build them up into something more? Are you aware that you complicate everything? You are exceedingly talented in mucking up simple situations. You couldn't keep walking the first day we came here, could you? No, you had to get involved. And then you got yourself attacked and shot, dragging us back into this mess you call a life. You didn't even THINK about checking the door, you have this functioning mind and you refuse to use it!"

His voice was no louder than a whisper but every word was crystal clear. She felt pressure begin to build within her and her eyes began to burn with the promise of tears. She inhaled, ready to defend herself, but he continued before she had a chance.

"And then you get involved with your ex," he spat the word as if it was poisoned. "Throw yourself into his business without understanding the severity of it. You allow someone you hardly know to take you away under the notion that maybe some good will come of it and nearly get yourself killed!" Posy knew that he was referring to the experiment they ran themselves. "And when you walk away unscathed, as you somehow always manage to do, you try to create some greater meaning and sentiment around what happened. You ask me why? Well, why is it that now, during something as simple as coffee, you are trying to fabricate something deeper? This, Persephone, is someone getting a hot drink and indulging in polite conversation. Why do you always have to build your ridiculous fantasies around reality? The reason why I come here is irrelevant. It is objective. I prefer their formula for coffee. Why can't your simple, diluted mind just accept my company and leave it at that?"

She was unable to answer since all her strength was focused on preventing the drops of water from leaking out of her eyes. She could feel her lower lip tremble, and the more she tried to steady it, the more aggressively it shook.

She saw the flash of anger in his eyes subside into something resembling regret. He noticed her tears before they fell, it was useless to try and stop them. She nodded, collected her things and pushed away from the table. His breath hitched as he collected the air to pronounce her name but she interrupted him.

"This is me...making it simple." It was painstaking to try and keep her voice level, the result was something that was barely audible. She held his gaze for just a second, and as she stepped out of the cafe the tears found their way to the pavement.

Posy stopped going to her cafe. Instead, she took the tube to a small place on the other side of the city. It wasn't as good, but she refused to go back. After their conversation at the cafe she received texts from John, and although riddled with guilt, she left them unanswered. She felt that for the time being it was best if she left all of Baker Street behind her.

He never texted. She wondered if he continued to go to the coffee shop but scolded herself for even caring. She convinced herself he really went only for the coffee.

After a while at the new shop she made a friend with the barista, a nice guy named Jim. He'd often ask her out for a drink, anything but coffee or tea, and she'd refuse. Part of her felt like she was betraying Sherlock, and when she realized this, she became furious. The next time Jim asked her for a drink, she said yes.

He was exceptionally polite and well-spoken, but as she swirled the wine in her glass, she found herself taking a tally between him and Sherlock. Something in his eyes was striking, but everything else fell flat. Not as handsome; not as tall; not as captivating; not as infuriating. She'd wrapped up the evening early and gave Jim a peck on the cheek, feeling lonelier than before.

Posy slipped the key into the deadbolt and walked into the dark house. She felt around in the dark for her lamp and switched it on. The soft light flooded the room as she took off her coat and leaned against the door. Tonight was going to end with ice cream.

She sighed and made her way to her bedroom when she saw the silhouette from the corner of her eye. It was so familiar it didn't even frighten her. She spoke without turning to face him. "Hello, Sherlock."

He didn't bother to get up from her chair and replied, "Didn't go well, I take it?"

She finally turned and plopped onto the sofa beside his chair, making every effort to show him just how exasperated she was that he was here.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your date," he said simply. "You're back before 10 so I assume it wasn't very good."

She was going to protest but couldn't find the point in it. "No, it wasn't. Actually, I was about to get myself some ice cream. Do you want any?"

"Yes."

"Didn't think s-wait, what?" She turned to him in surprise.

"I would love some ice cream, except you didn't buy any."

"Oh. Crap."

"But I did."

Posy looked at him in surprise. Was this a peace offering?

"OK, well, thanks. I'll go get some then."

She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with the carton and two spoons. She dropped the icy box onto the end table and handed Sherlock his spoon. He eyed it warily as she dug in.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Posy asked between spoonfuls of the sinful dessert. "Oh wait, am I not allowed to ask?"

"I came to apologize," Sherlock began, not touching the ice cream, "for my behavior at the cafe."

"You don't have to apologize."

"In any case," he continued, "I was uncouth and you did not deserve it."

"Sherlock, it's fine. It's what you do. Since when do you apologize for it?"

"Since it affects someone who's opinion I hold in high regard."

Posy continued to shovel the ice cream into her mouth, trying to keep his words from manipulating her mind into thinking he was saying something he wasn't.

"Well, fine then. No big deal."

"Do you fancy him?"

She eyed him and tapped his spoon with her own. "I don't do girl talk unless both parties are involved."

He looked into the carton and collected some of the ice cream on his spoon.

"He's OK." She mumbled through a mouthful. "He's very vanilla."

"And that is a bad thing?" Sherlock asked, slipping his spoon back into the carton.

"It's unexciting. I'm more the mocha-chunk type."

"Will you be seeing him again?"

"Why are you asking? Oh, my God. Is he a serial killer or something?" Posy asked with genuine concern. "Are you here because he's a serial killer?"

Sherlock looked confused and took her spoon. "Hey!" she protested. He collected the carton, walked it back into the freezer and came back with two tumblers filled with a finger of amaretto in each. He sat back down and handed her the tumbler.

"What is this? My...ice cream?"

"No, Persephone, he is not a serial killer- not to my knowledge, anyway." Sherlock added. "You are much more talkative with a drink than ice cream."

"Is that so?" She scoffed at his audacity. "You're an enabler to my very bad habit."

"As are you."

She was genuinely confused. "I feel like we're talking in circles here."

"Very good observation, Miss Taylor. Let's get right to the point." Sherlock took a sip of the liquid and put the tumbler down. He looked at her intently and she became very self-conscious.

"Persephone, I would prefer it if you didn't see Jim anymore."

"What?" She looked at the tumbler and swished around the liquid, wondering if the drink was making her hear things.

"I know I have no right to demand that of you, and you probably won't listen. But," Sherlock sighed, searching for the words. Posy had the feeling her brain had completely stopped working.

"When I first met John, I was convinced I didn't have any friends," Sherlock began, speaking slowly and emphatically. "Over time, I was proven otherwise. I did not feel I was capable of friendship, but John changed that. Although, I'd never admit it to his face."

"OK," Posy murmured.

"I am married to my work, Persephone. I don't have relationships. I don't have the desire or patience for anniversaries or dates or flowers and chocolates. I've pushed all of that so far out of my mind that I have no idea how to approach anything remotely resembling a relationship."

"And you're telling me this, because...?" Posy emptied the contents of the tumbler.

"Because you were right to question my intention that day. I don't care about the coffee. I went there to see you."

Posy kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

"I find myself wondering how you are, and remembering what you like. I'm upset that Morris' case was resolved so quickly, because that gave me an excuse to be in your life-"

"My mess of a life," she whispered, repeating his words.

"Your life...that's made a mess of me." Sherlock admitted. "I wanted you to work for me for as another excuse, and now I'm out of excuses, but I still want to see you. And that is a problem for me, because most people would think that I am seeking a relationship but...I don't do relationships, Persephone. I don't do...whatever this is."

"You said there wasn't any this," she moved her hands between the both of them.

"I lied." Sherlock responded simply. "It's easier if there isn't. I've always kept things simple, being alone is a way to protect myself."

"And what about the other person? Who protects them?"

"I'm not denying that I'm selfish. But I also know that you feel something, too."

"What do you want, Sherlock?" She was staring at him, unsure of what was happening or where this was going to go.

"I don't know," he said, frustrated at himself. "I only know what I don't want."

"OK, well, what don't you want then?"

"I don't want you to see Jim, or find a flatmate, or move. I don't want you to frequent another cafe."

"So what then? Where does that leave me?"

"I don't know. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I want to try something...more...with you."

She inhaled sharply at his admission, knowing full well the strength of character he needed to communicate that thought to her.

"More?" Her question was reverential.

"More than this."

She saw the opportunity so clearly it practically had glowing lights and fireworks that exploded over a blazing "DO IT NOW!" She smiled a real, genuine smile at her luck. That this man, who was so strange and cold and yet so wildly complex, wanted more of this with someone like her. It was now or never, she thought, and leaned into him slowly.

"Prove it."

He looked slightly confused until his mind connected the dots and he smirked. "As you wish," he muttered in that velvet voice, drawing her closer to him. He reached out, placed a hand on her freckled cheek and let it slide slowly to her chin. He leaned in, bringing his face inches from hers, and noticed how her eyes fluttered closed. Once again he left his open, savoring the details of her face, before closing the gap between them.

What their first kiss held in sloppiness, this one made up for in tenderness. It was short, and when Sherlock pulled away he noticed that Posy stayed in place, eyes still closed, breathing placid.

"You kiss quite well for a tin-man," she muttered, slowly allowing herself to return to reality.

"I'm sure I can get better," he said jokingly, assessing the girl before him, wondering how she managed to worm her way into his mind palace and beyond. "You'll make me better, my ridiculous girl."

So, there you go. A happy ending. But after Reichenbach, a happy ending was something I desperately needed.

Anyway, I wanted to know if you would like to see more Sherlock and Posy? I've got some ideas about a series of one-shots that follows them through the ups & downs of their relationship. I still have a lot of story left between these two, but before committing I want to know what you think! Thanks again!