Sally is sitting at the counter drinking tea and Clara is pouring coffee when Sally says, 'Good job trumping Sherlock yesterday.' 

Clara raises an eyebrow at her. 'It wasn't that hard. I'm surprised Sherlock didn't figure it out first.'

'It's not as easy as you think, really,' Sally sips her drink, and glances over nervously at Ash, who is assisting an elder, like she's about to spill a secret. And knowing Sally, she probably is. 'Besides, I think he likes you if you know what I mean.'

'What--' Clara pulls a genuinely confused face. She gets interrupted by the door jingling, signalling Sherlock's entrance. Sally is suddenly very interested in the contents of her cup, and she blushes like she's done or said something she shouldn't have. Clara ponders what Sally had just said.

'Come along, Oswald,' Sherlock calls from the doorway, making Clara feel a pang in her heart, knowing that the Doctor used to say a similar thing. 'We have a case to solve.' and he walks out the door. Clara sets down her coffee pot and glances at Sally, slightly embarrassed.

Outside, Clara steps into a cab with Sherlock. They are halfway to the crime scene when Clara remembers something important, making her slap her forehead. My date with Riley! Oh, Clara.

'Um, where are we going?' Clara asks. Sherlock has obviously noticed her reaction to her forgetfulness.

'Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. Great place for a murder. Why?' Sherlock asks, because Clara has seemingly never wondered this before.

'No reason. Just want to know where a tall, strange sociopath is taking me.' Good. Clara thinks. That is close to Pinkberry. I think I can make it. Of course, she knew Sherlock would never willingly let her out of his sight since she was still under 'house arrest.' But she could still make it work...

It was silent in the cab while Clara thought out her plan. But unbeknownst to Clara, Sherlock was thinking of something too.

He clears his throat. 'Um, Clara. I've seen you conversing in a friendly manner with Sally lately... so I was wondering if you agree that I'm a...' he coughs and swallows, 'a freak?'

Clara stares at him, wide-eyed. Her expression transparently shows shock. She is now wondering two things:

1) How could Sherlock think that of her? She isn't that mean.

2) Why would Sherlock care what she thought of him? Usually, he is above everyone else, not giving a care what anyone thinks about him. So why did Clara make a difference?

Sure, Clara had her suspicions about Sherlock's feeling for her, be she had always assumed, and still did assume, that it was just all in her head. Like how it was back in Primary School (Elementary School). Kids would think someone would have a crush on then given a few small hints when usually that was not reality. But Sherlock had given a few hints, himself...

'Dear God, no! Sherlock, why on Earth would you think I thought that?' comes Clara's heartfelt response, eyes still wide. 

The idea of Clara thinking he is a 'freak' obviously hurts Sherlock, which makes Clara want to lean over and hug him. Of course, she would never do that, because, well, he is Sherlock and she is Clara Oswald. 

'Oh, alright then,' Sherlock breathes in, still visibly hurt. Clara tries not to show pity in her eyes, as she is also slightly hurt herself. He looks down and fidgets a little with his hands as Clara watches him intently.

The cabbie slows to a stop and Sherlock exits the car quickly, with Clara after him. She is about to walk off to the crime scene with Sherlock when the cabbie reaches out of the rolled down window and grabs her arm, turning her back.

'It looks like you are having a bit of trouble, Miss,' the cabbie says to her. Clara looks at him, slightly confused. 'I can tell you have feelings for him, so I want you to know that I can tell he has feelings for you too, maybe even more so. What I would do, Miss, is ask him out on a date.' the cabbie looks into her eyes patronisingly.

Clara gulps and forces a smile. 'Thank you for the advice, sir. I'll be going now,' she says. He lets go of her arm and she hurries off to meet Sherlock.

Lestrade and Sherlock are conversing when Clara reaches them. Sally is by herself, so Clara decides to put her plan into action. She pulls Sally aside by the arm.

'Hey, can you do me a favour?' Clara asks. 'I have some business to take care of, so if anyone wonders where I am, can you cover for me? Just make up a story or something.'

'Sure. Anything for my immortal friend!' Sally jokes, asking nothing more. Clara prays that no one heard Sally's nickname for her.

'Thank you!' she states and heads off in the direction of Pinkberry.

~~~~~

Clara's heels click on the wet pavement as she walks within view of Pinkberry. It had rained during her walk, washing away her attempt to re-apply her makeup and leaving her hair slightly damp. Thank goodness for her leather jacket.

She finds Riley waiting outside upon approaching Pinkberry's doors, and she trudges up to meet him, suddenly aware that she is at least seven minutes late.

'They won't let you save seats inside.' he explains, opening the door for her.

'Sorry about my appearance.' She apologises as she steps inside.

'Nah, it's fine. You still look gorgeous,' he says, smiling. Clara feigns bashfulness. Any other day she would have really blushed, but today she has had more romantically confusing moments than this. However, Riley's flirting is getting better, she has to give him that. He couldn't do it as well as Clara, though, who can flirt in French, Russian, and Spanish, as well as English.

Once the couple has gotten their customised yoghurt, they find a table and sit. Taking a spoonful of his yoghurt, Riley asks, 'So, tell me a little about yourself.'

'My name is Clara Oswald, I work and own my American style diner, and, well, that's about it.' Clara replies. Riley snorts like he thinks there's more to tell. 'So how about you?'

'For starters, my name is Riley Moriarty, I work as an employee of the Victoria and Albert Museum, and there isn't much to tell..."'

'Moriarty? I feel like Sherlock has mentioned that name before.'

'I wouldn't be surprised,' Riley hesitates before speaking again, returning his spoon to his bowl. 'Listen, I'm not supposed to tell anyone this but... My brother is James Moriarty, Criminal Mastermind. He recently has been out to get your friend Sherlock because of his intelligence. And when I say criminal, I mean criminal. He does things so bad, even you can't imagine. Sherlock can only do so much for himself, but I've read up on you, one of the immortal ones. And so I'm offering you to help me protect him, because, believe me, Sherlock isn't ready for what's coming his way. Being close to James, I could warn you of his plans, and together we could stop him before he gets to Sherlock. How does that sound?' Riley finishes. 

Now Clara knows she has to ask herself a big question. 

Would she do this for Sherlock?

'Yes. Of course,' she states, and Riley nods in approval.

'Perfect. Here is my phone number along with my brother's. I will text you with information as soon as I come up with something. I just need your number...' Clara writes her's on his napkin. 'Thank you. Remember, don't let Sherlock know. The less he knows about my brother, the better. Thanks again,' he says, handing Clara a slip of paper with the phone numbers written on it. Apparently, he had been ready in advance.

'Thank you,' Clara replies, looking down at her yoghurt.

Because now she is sure she really does want to do this for Sherlock, though she is not yet completely sure why.

She looks back up, only to notice that Riley has already left, so she follows suit and trudges back to the Queen Victoria Olympic Park, all the while thinking about how this hadn't really been a date, after all.

~~~~~

WC: 1383