As I walked into the morgue, two cups of coffee in hand, I could see the tall figure of Sherlock Holmes, standing over a corpse and carefully examining its wounds. How he managed to stay alert enough to continue his investigations, after a night with absolutely no sleep, was beyond me, but as I got closer, I noticed his face was as focused and alert as ever.
"Coffee" I said as I reached Sherlock's side and held out his mug.
"Black with two sugars?" he asked, never bothering to look up from his work.
"Yes." I replied, surprised he would even think that I did not have his order memorized by heart by now.
"I'll be done in two minutes. I almost have enough evidence on which to prove my theory true."
"Alright, then." I shrugged, as I headed over to a lab table, set his coffee down, and began slowly sipping my own coffee.
After a few minutes, Sherlock finally looked up from his work and set down an instrument he had been using to prod the corpse's wounds down.
"I need to send a text." Sherlock said bluntly, looking at me briefly, before going to a sink to wash his hands.
"Who am I texting?" I asked as I pulled out my phone, knowing that when Sherlock said 'he' had to send a text, it meant I had to.
"Text Lestade. Write 'Man in jail innocent, murderer is dead in St. Bart's morgue.'"
After I'd sent the text, Sherlock came to my side and retrieved his cup of coffee. "So, we can go back to Baker street now? You're done?" I asked sluggishly, excited at the thought of being able to go home and get some rest.
"Almost. I still have some other corpses I want to look at for another case." Sherlock replied, then seeing my disappointment, added "But if you want to go home now, I understand."
"No, it's fine." I assured him "I'll wait for you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes"
There was a brief moment of silence, as we both stood sipping our coffee.
'Maybe now is a good time.' I thought as I watched Sherlock drinking and looking in the direction of the corpse he had finished with. At this point in time, Sherlock and I had been dating for a week. It had been a strange week, and we had actually had a relationship for far longer than the week, but our official 'dating' status had begun with a date to a coffee shop that Sherlock had surprised me with.
While I couldn't be happier with the idea that I was dating Sherlock Holmes, it did have its drawbacks. One of which was that I was never sure where we were when it came to intimacy. Sure we had kissed a few times, cuddled, and the like, but Sherlock Holmes was not a very intimate man. He never cared much for anyone to touch him, and I wasn't completely sure that I was the exception yet. Sherlock could be a bit intimidating at times too. I was often worried that if I went too far, I was more committed to our relationship than him, and he might end it.
Deciding it was now or never, I stretched out my right hand, and placed it on the counter behind Sherlock. Then, slowly, I began to move my hand closer to his waist, so that I would have my arm around him. My arm was almost touching Sherlock's back when he calmly said "I don't mind."
Pulling my hand back in surprise, I looked at Sherlock, who was now staring at me. Seeing my startled expression, Sherlock continued. "I know I am not a very intimate person, John, but I don't mind when you touch me. I thought you would know that by now."
"I wasn't sure." I mumbled back as Sherlock reached back and wrapped my arm around his waist, himself. "This is good." I replied, as I moved a bit closer to Sherlock and tightened my grip around his waist a little, my sleepiness almost completely gone.
"I agree" Sherlock responded, bringing his head down for a moment, and lightly kissing me on the mouth, his lips wet with coffee.
Stepping out of the shower on the morning of our one-year anniversary, I smiled at this memory. I had been so confused as to what our relationship was then, but now, I knew, and I looked forward to spending the day with the man I loved more than anything in the world, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.