He slowly inhaled, enjoying each note, separating out the light scent of her citrus shampoo, the warm vanilla tones of her body lotion, the acrylic and medicinal odors of her deodorant, her facial cream and makeup, the hint of mint from her lip balm, mixed with the faintest whiff of garlic from the pizza they'd had for dinner - all independent of each other yet all intertwined. And underneath them all was the essence of her ... Something unique... Something he could not define or isolate but without which... without that something ... all the top notes of fragrance dropped away as meaningless. She was so much more than the sum of her many parts.

He luxuriated in the sensations. The relaxed weight of her body against his comforted him. The top of her head, her hair at his jaw line, felt soft, glossy, obsidian warmed from within and radiating outward. Cautiously, he drew his cheek across her hair until his lips made tenuous contact and lingered. And he took another breath full of her. His eyes closed; he was fast approaching sensory overload.

His fingertips felt the knobby redness of her cardigan; by increments they traversed the peaks and valleys of the soft knit revealing the strong curve of her shoulder and the gentle power of her upper arm.

He took another breath, taking her in one more time before she awoke and doubtlessly pulled away. Their current physical closeness was a rarity, a once in a lifetime occurrence and he wanted to absorb and remember as much of her as possible.

Her breathing changed and he knew she was awake ... yet she didn't pull away. She stayed knowing he was awake; she stayed where she was and breathed him in.

His was a heady scent of wool and tea and sweet honey that permeated his being; mixed with the fragrance of ivory soap and mint, the essence of him ensconced her and she felt content. She felt the heat from his chest radiate outward through the blue cotton of his shirt, and spread like the warmth of sunshine across her cheek. Her face slid in a tiny movements across the soft fabric, feeling the strength of him beneath.

She heard his heart beat quicken when he realized she was awake. She did not move. She did not want to. The thump thump thump against her ear slowed as he relaxed, regaining its strong, rhythmic beat.

Without premeditation, her hand moved to his waist and held on tightly. Her heart now beating faster against his chest. Her action caused an equal and instant reaction in him and he squeezed her tight to him.

The ancient atlas on his lap, the one they had been studying when their bodies had yielded to exhaustion, chose this moment to travel from his lap and fall crashing to floor.

Sherlock and Joan jumped, separated and turned their attention to the retrieval and examination of the rare old book.

The moment passed.