Authors Note: Hark! Who goes there? Could it be? Is it really? Did she return? She did... after a very looonnnggg hiatus from writing the prodigal writer has returned... And what does she present to you? Why it is a 221b drabble! In fact it is her very first 221b drabble! Yay!
It was hard to resist a man like that.
Equal parts deadly, devastating, and beautiful.
Greg had learned that the hard way.
Denying himself of his presence could make him physically ill. An ache in his chest. A feeling of guilt nudging at the back of his head. "Don't forget him, don't leave him. Do not lose him."
It was irrational. But so were most phobias. So was love. If it was that.
L.O.V.E. He couldn't convince himself it was love. Nor was it only lust. It was somewhere in the middle ground, somewhere between undying devotion and soul destroying desire. A space that only he and Sherlock occupied.
It wasn't that he was unhappy where they sat in the middle, skirting both ends of the spectrum of devotion and desire, it was just something he thought about, when the dawn was grey and black feathery hair tickled his nose.
He's asked Sherlock once, in a very non-commital way. A throw away comment after a late night and early morning spent in bed. "Where do we go from here?" He had chosen the words semi-carefully, convinced if Sherlock didn't want to discuss it he could fob it off as a general enquiry now that they were finished.
Naturally Sherlock knew exactly the game Greg was playing. Smiling impishly he replied. "Breakfast?"
Authors Note: Well there it is my pretties... It's just something to get these old typing fingers typing again. R&R if you would so please as I would be ever so grateful.