Authors' Note: Those of you who missed the note from last post, a fair portion of this episode is going to be decidedly NSFW, rather more than any previous episodes, so we're giving it an 'M' rating just to be safe. We'll still rate individual scenes appropriately, though!
==Chapter 1==
Just Breathe
It's hard to let go. Even when what you're holding onto is full of thorns, it's hard to let go. Maybe especially then.
– Stephen King, Joyland
The TARDIS's twitter was one of relief as she re-entered the Vortex, Holmes wincing in empathy at the ship's audible weariness. Poor thing, she was exhausted, they all were after tonight's ordeal, Nikola and Beth looking almost on the point of collapse... but there had still been work to do before they could finally get the hell out of Torchwood, not least of which was dismantling Nikola's machine a second time...
The Doctor smiled up at the central column, then gratefully at Nikola, nodding at the console. "You could seriously take over my job, you know."
Nikola grinned back faintly, shaking his head. "I'd never dream of trying to usurp your place, Doctor – she wouldn't have me."
"Aww." The Doctor winked. "I wouldn't be so sure..."
"You should have seen Nikola in action, Doctor," Watson chuckled, "he makes flying her look easy!"
"Oi!"
Beth stood at the back of the room, holding hands with Sherlock... which didn't feel as comforting as it should have. She couldn't join in the banter; she couldn't even make herself look up from the floor. She felt as though some horrible, invisible weight was slowly pressing down on her, and she didn't know what to do about it.
Holmes squeezed Beth's hand gently, at a total loss for what else to do. His wife hadn't spoken a word since taking off, he shuddered to think of what those monsters had done to her that he hadn't deduced yet... and he hadn't the least idea of how to ask her, he wasn't at all sure he even wanted to know.
He saw the Doctor glance over at him and Beth, then at Watson, who nodded and came over. "Well, come along, you two. Next stop, medbay."
Beth looked up, then, and blinked in surprise. "Why?"
"Because I intend to record the Great Skeleton's current weight for future blackmail whenever he skips too many meals."
Beth couldn't help a slight laugh—it was funny and oh-so-true...
Though Watson's tone was light, Holmes read the look in the doctor's eye: Beth's faint laugh had been enough to make her wince. "Shall we, love?" he said gently, looking at her cut lips. "At the very least, you should have that seen to."
She winced again, reminded suddenly that her lips were still throbbing, and sighed. "All right..."
She'd never been to the medbay before. The walls were white, but the space had the same warm, organic look of the control room. Any other time, she would have poked around in fascination, but now... Now she silently headed over to the nearest cot and took a seat, folding her hands in her lap and waiting for John.
Holmes sat beside her as Watson washed up and retrieved his instruments, then began scanning the detective, tutting at the results. "And before you even ask, Holmes, you are going on a strict diet plan for the next two weeks. Any deviations and I'll set Mrs. Hudson on you."
Beth smirked slightly and shook her head. It was nice to watch someone else fuss at Sherlock, for a change...
Holmes sighed, but nodded meekly – he knew from experience that it was no idle threat. Watson raised a sceptical eyebrow, then turned to Beth, smiling kindly. "Beth, I'm sorry to have to ask... but are there any other injuries that I should know about?"
Beth paled, not ready for this. "Not—" she paused infinitesimally, remembering something—"really, no."
Holmes squeezed her hand again, heart aching at her obvious distress. I'm here, love... he can't hurt you any more...
Her breath hitched, something in her trying to stir at his touch. She hadn't wanted anyone but him to see it and only then because it would have been unavoidable... But maybe here in the TARDIS, there was something that could erase it so that it wouldn't haunt either of them until it healed naturally. She looked down and nodded. "Below my collar," she murmured. "It's not really an injury, but…" She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress and pulled her collar down.
Holmes's breath caught at the sight of the angry red bite-mark on Beth's skin... He had to forcibly keep his fists from clenching, gut roiling in fury and nausea. If only he'd had time to do more than put a bullet through the Colonel's head...
Watson's lips were pressed tightly together, his own eyes blazing, but managed to respond with commendable calm, "Not to worry, Beth, we'll have that taken care of in no time." He passed the instrument slowly over the mark, Holmes gratefully noting the care his friend was taking to not touch Beth directly.
Beth kept her head down and closed her eyes, shivering. Her skin felt decidedly odd, as if it was healing in the space of half a minute. That's probably what is happening. As he moved on to her bruises—or at least, some of them—she squirmed at the ticklish sensation.
"You should have seen Holmes the first time he came in here," Watson said lightly, "he was a right old mess."
Holmes nodded, wincing at the memory. "That'll teach me to do a stakeout on a yeti without back-up."
She frowned, opening her eyes and looking up in surprise. "Good grief, a yeti?"
"Has no one told you yet of how I first met the Doctor?" Holmes didn't mind telling a story against himself, especially if it helped to distract Beth from her thoughts.
She shook her head, and John smiled—almost a little wickedly, she thought. Thank goodness these two were falling back so quickly into their old patterns... "They ran into each other in Tibet," he said, "almost literally."
Holmes gave a pained grin. "Well, more like that yeti threw me at him – though it wasn't an actual yeti..." Poor Cheng Wei, he had been so brave...
Ouch. Beth smiled sympathetically but wanly.
"Head still now," John said gently. She obeyed as he moved the device towards her mouth, letting it hover over her lips. "And if I recall correctly," he said to Sherlock, "that led to you getting introduced to the TARDIS, from the inside out." He chuckled, and Beth thought fleetingly that she could certainly understand how Sally fell in love with him in the first place. "I wish I could have seen your face!"
Beth made small noises of discomfort for a few seconds as the device sealed up the cuts in her lips, then stopped as suddenly as the pain did. Wow, that really is incredible...
"There we are, good as new." Holmes was glad to see Watson looking visibly more composed by the time he'd finished – being able to actually do something must have helped. "And now, if you'll excuse me..." The doctor smothered a yawn as he put the instruments away. "I'll see you both at breakfast –" He cracked another yawn and grinned ruefully; "in about a week."
Holmes grinned back affectionately. "Sleep well, Watson." His friend had more than earned the rest, the last 24 hours had been brutal.
Beth's expression softened. Poor John looked so exhausted. "Goodnight... and thank you."
John smiled kindly, his concern only too apparent, and she looked down again. She didn't want his sympathy or his concern—she didn't deserve them. "Goodnight, Beth." He left them alone, taking the phone he'd borrowed from the Doctor out of his pocket as he exited. "...Sally? Yes, love, it's me, are you all right? Yes, sweetheart, everybody's all right here, too, I promise, please don't cry..."
Beth was still avoiding Sherlock's gaze. I can't believe I actually yelled at him for not wanting to feel. How naive can you get? All she wanted to do right now was to stop feeling. Well, that, and... "I'd like to take a shower," she said in a small voice. She desperately needed to scrub the last few hours off her skin.
"Yes, of course." It was a relief to have something he could do for her, however small. "Come with me." He drew Beth to her feet, and led her across the room to a door that he was certain had only materialised a few moments ago.
Beth blinked at the new door. She hadn't known that the TARDIS could do that... rearrange her own space so casually... She followed Sherlock quietly, knowing that her current state wasn't ideal: resting in her cocoon away from emotion and memory as much as possible. But it felt so much better than the alternative, and she didn't want to come out of it... I wish I could go full-out catatonic... For now, though, she needed to clean herself.
(Scene rating: S)
The door opened as they approached, revealing a Japanese-style bathroom, a large pool of steaming water set into the middle of the floor and a shower stall in one corner. Holmes hesitated, chiding himself for not thinking about this earlier. "Beth, if you'd rather be alone to bathe..."
"No, please don't go," she said hurriedly, then bit her lip. All the wishing in the solar system wasn't going to keep her emotional fallout from happening, and she didn't want to be alone when it hit. Not to mention the fact that his presence is getting to be as necessary for you as breathing? "Looks like that shower can hold two..."
Holmes looked at her uncertainly – did she really want him to stay? With no idea of what else Moran had done to her, he could so easily bring back memories she wasn't ready to deal with yet... But you don't know that – and how is Beth supposed to trust you if you won't do the same for her? Let her decide what she can handle. He nodded and squeezed her hand gently. "Whatever you wish, cherie."
"Thank you," she said softly, and let go of his hand to begin unbuttoning her dress. Yet another piece of clothing I'll never want to wear again...
He went over and turned on the water, making sure it wasn't too hot, then sat down to remove his shoes and stockings. God, that shower was going to feel heavenly, he hadn't properly bathed since Paris...
Watching Sherlock reminded her that she had to remove her own boots and stockings, and she leaned against the wall to do that. Then she returned to unbuttoning the dress, and pulled it up and off of her, clad only in a bra and petticoat and underwear now. "Oh, naughty girl..." She shuddered, unwillingly remembering Moran's delight in discovering that she hadn't been wearing a corset.
Holmes looked up at Beth in time to catch the shudder, and his eyes widened further in horror. Those livid bruises on her upper arms... Why hadn't she said something earlier? Maybe, you idiot, because she didn't want to undress in front of anyone else?
She met his gaze then quickly dropped hers, unable to handle the eye-contact. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve his pity. "You could yell at me, you know," she said abruptly, as she pulled off the petticoat. "I deserve it for being a hypocrite. Did the exact same thing you did…" She wished he would yell at her; maybe then she'd feel better. At least if he could be angry, she'd have something outside of herself to fight...
Oh, sweetheart... "Beth," he said softly, "do you honestly think I would? After my own experiences with Moriarty... after what he did to the Doctor... I can imagine, somewhat, what it must have been like for you."
She looked up, eyes wide with sudden, unshed tears. "I was still being stupid!"
He drew her down onto the bench beside him, her hands in his. "You were afraid, Beth, just like I was. And Moriarty was always adept at discovering a person's fears, and using them against them – even before he became Time sensitive." Dear me, Mr. Holmes. Dear me...
She leaned against him. "He was going to... he was already breaking the deal... with me... with you..." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "You weren't supposed to get hurt... I thought I could at least trust him to keep his word, even if he bent it a little... and then he proved he didn't intend to keep it... I had to stop him, as much as I didn't want to..."
He put one arm carefully around her shoulders, murmuring, "I know, sweetheart... Even Nikola didn't foresee his becoming a Time Lord." Who could have? The very notion was horrifying.
She closed her eyes. "Now I'm back to square one, where I don't know what to do..." At least surrendering to Moriarty took the choice from her, the one where she had to choose between this era and her original one.
"You don't have to, Beth," Holmes said softly, "just let it go for now." And you be sure to talk with the Doctor, soon. He kissed her hair, then nodded down at himself, still mostly dressed. "Now, if you'll allow me..." Smiling shyly, "Unless you'd rather...?"
Smiling wanly, she nuzzled at his shoulder, reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat and starting to undo them. "Unless I'd rather undress my gorgeous husband?" she murmured. "Yes, please..." No matter her mood, it was something she'd never grow tired of. Blushing, he let her work on him unhindered, never taking his eyes off her.
"I'm sorry I spoiled our date," she said softly. "I wish now I would have stayed..." All the way through, until Sherlock and John called it a night. Maybe Moriarty wouldn't have tried to get all three of them like that. She didn't even remember falling asleep in the cab, which she figured must have been sealed and gassed...
Holmes looked down at that, reddening further. "And if I hadn't upset you in the first place..." He made himself look back up at her, eyes full of remorse. "I'm so sorry, Beth – if I'd only escorted you home!" He'd known the risks – hell, he'd seen the Torchwood agents coming for him at Baker Street, and they'd still caught him flatfooted.
Her eyes widened—the last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty, especially over something he'd had no control over! "Sweetheart, it wasn't your fault! You can't… you can't be with me 24/7."
If only... "I-I know... but..." Damn it, he should have told Beth what he was considering... Raising her hopes at that point couldn't have made things any worse!
She pulled his waistcoat off and started on his shirt. "It all… it all worked out..." Moriarty and Moran were dead, and Torchwood crippled, and nobody else was hurt or killed. That was all that mattered.
"Mm..." But why should Beth have had to pay the highest price for that out of everyone?
Beth's attention was drawn to Sherlock's pale throat like a magnet, even though she was exhausted and absolutely unready to have sex. It was habit by now, and she couldn't help gently nuzzling him there as she finished with his shirt.
Ohh... His breath caught, a soft moan escaping, then blushed deeply, giving Beth a look that was half apologetic, half reproachful. In spite of everything, he was having a hard enough time keeping his hands off her, without her taking advantage of his weaknesses!
She echoed his blush. Oops. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.
Well, at least she's feeling bold enough to take advantage of you, that has to be a good sign. He decided to take a risk of his own, and nodded at her bra, gaze questioning.
She bit her lip. Would it hurt... his touch could never hurt. She nodded slowly.
He rose, drawing her up with him, then turned her around gently and carefully undid the clasp. "All right?" he murmured. This is for you, cherie, if you need me to stop...
Even as she shivered, she nodded, whispering, "Your hands are nothing like his…" Sherlock's were thin and careful and affectionate... nothing at all like Moran's large, rough, demanding hands...
...Holmes was suddenly very glad that Beth couldn't see his face just now. All right, take a deep breath, getting angry isn't going to change whatever happened... He managed to continue on, delicately slipping the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, though he couldn't keep his hands from trembling.
She felt his trembling and frowned. As the bra slipped off her arms completely, she turned to him, gaze silently questioning.
He met her gaze squarely, eyes sorrowful but gleaming with anger. "I wish I'd shot the bastard when I first came back." He felt sure Lestrade would have turned a blind eye, given the circumstances.
Her eyes widened. Oh. ...of course he's upset about Moran, idiot. All the same, it took what was left of her willpower not to squirm at the anger in his eyes, even if it wasn't directed at her. She took his hands and held them, for both their sakes. Yes, now I wish that "The Empty House" had gone differently, but... "At least… you shot him when I needed you to."
His hands tightened on hers, whispering, "I couldn't... couldn't let him hurt you again." He'd come so close to losing her a second time.
She gave him another wan smile—having just shot his precious Professor, she had no doubt that Moran had been about to kill her. "I think you and John saved my life."
Holmes shivered involuntarily, not doubting it for a moment. "Well..." He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, cupping it. "It was about time we returned the favour..."
She leaned into his touch, thrilling to feel it again, and turned her head to kiss his palm. Then she bent down to pull off her underwear, stepped into the shower, and looked back. "Coming?"
"Oui, cherie," he smiled, and quickly finished undressing, though he was dismayed to find that his body was already betraying him, which was impossible to hide as he followed her in.
Beth blushed when she noticed. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Maybe this wasn't the brightest idea."
He shook his head, grinning a little sheepishly. "I'll be all right." Just to be with her was enough. More than enough, apparently... Hush.
"Maybe," she started slowly, shyly, and blushed further. "Maybe I could help you with that..."
"Beth..." Holmes's eyes widened as he realised she was in earnest. "If... if you're certain, love... I didn't mean to..."
She tentatively touched his face. "Shhh… it's okay…" She let her other hand drift lightly down along his hip. "I want to, sweetheart…" She had no problems with pleasuring her husband—it still awed her, watching him fall apart beneath her touch.
A moan escaped him as her fingers brushed his skin, hips pressing forward. "Oh, Beth..." Trembling, he reached out to her unthinkingly, then stopped, uncertain what to do with his hands. She'd only asked to touch him...
Smiling sadly, she took one hand and directed it to the bar running the length of the shower. "You might need that…" He backed up against the bar hastily, grabbing it with both hands, and she reached down and brushed her fingers along his manhood.
His hips bucked as she touched him, crying out softly, head tipped back against the wall. Oh God, so good, more...
She bit her lip, skin flushing from more than the heat of the shower spray, and wrapped her hand around him, starting to stroke him. Oh zed, she wanted him... She leaned forward and kissed his throat, her lips caressing his skin.
He shuddered, thrusting involuntarily into her hand, eyes closed in bliss, groaning her name.
She hummed against his skin, feeling heady at his reaction and aroused by it. She began to worship his throat in earnest, her hand following the pace of her lips. I want him, I want him so much... But if you let yourself follow through, it could hurt much, much more than holding out would...
A whimper escaped his throat, jaw clenched. Oh, how he wanted her, to touch her, make her cry his name as he made her forget everything but him, his mouth, his hands... oh God, her hands...
She shivered at his whimper, still in awe that she could do this to him. "My beautiful Sherlock," she murmured against his skin.
"Beth...!" So good, oh God, so good, don't stop, don't stop...
She moaned against his throat. He was so close... "Yes, love, come for me!"
Ohhh, Elizabeth...! Holmes cried out wordlessly, neck and back arched as sweet fire surged through his body, knees suddenly buckling under him.
Raising one hand to help steady him, Beth groaned softly and a little bit despairingly, her own hips twitching with need. The sight of him coming, something she rarely saw while her head was this clear and not swept up in her own euphoria, was maddeningly exquisite. Even so, she simply continued to lavish attention upon his throat and hold him until his hips slowed.
He trembled as his body gradually subsided, panting for breath, then opened his eyes, gazing at her dazedly. He seemed to be having trouble letting go... which was probably a good thing, because his legs were about to call it a night...
She gave him a flicker of a smile—golly, that dazed look was doing things to her insides!—and put her arms around his waist. "It's okay, honey, I've got you. You can let go."
Breathing easier now, he managed to persuade his hands to open, wrapping his arms around her shoulders with a shaky smile. "Oh, Elizabeth..."
She managed a small smile in return and drew him slowly, carefully, down with her to the floor of the stall. "I take it that was good?"
Holmes rested his head against hers, breathing, "Mm, it was wonderful, cherie." He couldn't resist kissing her hair again, bejewelled with tiny droplets from the spray. "Thank you..."
Something in her finally broke then. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him again and sobbing softly.
Oh God, why had he let her do this, he should have known... Because she asked you to, now shut up. He tightened his arms around his beloved as best he could, heart breaking at the sound of her sobs, letting his own tears silently gather and fall without hindrance.
She clung tightly to him as memories began to surface... Moran's sadistic chuckle as his hands moved where they wanted, ignoring her pleas... the tendrils of ice plunging into her mind, so much pain that she thought her head would split open... Everything hurt too much. If it weren't for Sherlock, she'd be very tempted just to have done with it all... And you're still tempted, anyway...
He started to rock her, murmuring, "It's all right, Beth... I have you... I'm right here..." I'm never going to leave you again, not ever... "Just let go, sweetheart... let it go..."
"I c-caaaan'," she gasped between sobs, "Sherlock... I... oh, God..." Neither his hold nor his voice could possibly protect her from the demons in her head... How can I ever even be okay again? I couldn't even decide between my husband and my family in the first place because it would rip me apart... And now she'd had both her mind and her body violated by the two people she hated most, and she had no defense against those memories, and... and... She gulped for breath as the tears continued, her head spinning, almost feeling as if she was about to pass out from the force of her crying.
Holmes lifted a hand and stroked her hair. "I've got you, love... just breathe... you're going to be all right..." She had to be... Remembering the train, he started to hum 'A La Claire Fontaine' again, still rocking her.
"No!" she burst out. The song Moriarty had used against her... and she knew it had to have been him when she was trying to shut herself down. "I'm not... I'm not going to be all right! How... how can I possibly ever be all right?!" Her voice rose sharply and sounded shrill in her own ears. "Do you know what they did to me?!"
A chill ran through him, he really didn't want to know... But it's not about you. "What happened, dearest?" She was hurting so much, just like him after Mycroft... "Talk to me, love," he whispered, "please..."
Her face twisted for a moment at the concern in his voice. Oh, Sherlock... "He entered my mind," she said softly, still between sobs. "Moriarty. He... he just... went through my memories... I don't even know how many... I didn't even know I had some of them... And... he..." Her breath hitched. "I'd imagined... a few times... what it would be like to... to have... children... our children... and he saw that... he saw our son... And he t-took... took those images..." She shuddered, remembering seeing the boy off at the train station—and suddenly her mind supplied her with a much more gruesome image that even Moriarty hadn't thought to give her... "He took those images... and... just... threw them... into everything I knew about World War One... everything he knew... made me... made me experience that..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Until I was screaming at him to stop... and then giving in... giving him conditions that he couldn't even bother to keep..." She hung her head in shame. You're an absolute idiot for ever thinking in the first place that that kind of decision or that kind of future could ever be okay...
Holmes listened in mute horror, understanding deepening of what Moriarty had done to the poor Doctor, no wonder Nikola had chosen not to elaborate... "Oh, sweetheart." He held Beth tighter still, bracing himself, he knew there was more...
"And then he left… left me with Moran…" She shuddered and closed her eyes. "And… and Moran… just… touched me… everywhere…" She hiccuped a sob—by the time Moriarty had paged the Colonel, there was hardly a part of her body that he hadn't touched. "He wouldn't stop... just like before... He knew… knew… how to… make me… respond…" She hadn't thought it could be possible to be terrified and furious and desperate to get out of a situation right bloody now and still... still have your body betray you. Hers had. "...said I must want it or I wouldn't be... be... acting like... like a..." She heard Moran's voice in her head, saying it over and over—she wouldn't make herself repeat it, she couldn't. She shook her head, trembling. She couldn't ever repeat the things he'd murmured in her ear while he played her body like an instrument.
"Beth..." Holmes's gentle tone belied the boiling rage that seared his insides, remaining outwardly calm through willpower alone. "You know I could never think that of you, don't you?"
"Yes," she said in a small voice. "But, Sherlock, I can't stop… feeling Moriarty in my head… or feeling Moran's hands… I can't… it won't stop…" Her voice broke. "It won't stop…!"
"Oh, Beth!" Holmes's own voice was suddenly hoarse, tears welling up. "I'm sorry, love..." The shame in his wife's face broke his heart, how dared Moriarty let Moran use her like that! "I'm so sorry!"
She shook her head, crying quietly. "Not... not your fault," she whispered. ...there's only one way to make the pain stop... She calmed slightly, enough to speak more clearly. "Sherlock..." She wiped away her tears, heart beating rapidly. "What if… what if I wanted… wanted to die…" She couldn't help a pleading note entering her voice—she just wanted to not hurt anymore. She wanted just to not live any longer; the future certainly held no brightness for her that she could see. "C-could you let… let me go?"
Holmes felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him. No... God, no, she couldn't, not now... but the anguish in Beth's eyes told him otherwise. She'd suffered so terribly... Be honest, the voice in his head murmured sadly, could you have gone on if Beth hadn't given you a reason? "If... if that was your desire, cherie..." He took a deep breath, his own voice trembling. "Honestly, I... I don't think it would take me long to follow you..."
Her eyes widened—no, not him, too! "But you can't! You can't… you have to… stay…" He couldn't... couldn't be... that attached to her, that he'd rather die if she did—that was horrible! She'd never meant to do that to him! She never thought she could! She shook her head, unable to articulate any of that.
"Beth, love..." He cupped her cheek, wiping her tears gently with his thumb. "You've saved my life more times than you know. Before you rescued me from Torchwood... I had been thinking for some time about how best to end my existence..." Such stagnation had never deserved to be called living. "If you hadn't come..."
She stared at him in horror. No wonder he was so shut-down... "Sherlock..."
"You gave me reasons to keep fighting, Beth, gave me hope... and even when you were dying... you made me promise to get home. I never would have made it without that."
She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world once again settle on her own and not sure what to do with it. Was this what marriage was like, being strong for your spouse even when you felt as fragile as glass? "Sweetheart..."
He reddened as a sudden thought occurred: "You know, love, now I come to think of it... I don't think I ever thanked you, for coming back for me." Or anything else, either. How on earth she'd stood him all that time... His behaviour had been atrocious from the outset.
She managed a small, tired smile. "It's okay… you were miserable." Inadvertently setting him onto a second Hiatus... she hadn't been expecting gratitude.
He shook his head firmly. "Not half as much as I was at Torchwood. Beth, you were surprised, I know, at the luxury I was living in – but it was a gilded cage, at best. For the first few months, I could barely sleep..." His voice became a whisper. "Every time I closed my eyes... so many faces, staring at me..." All the people he'd failed...
She bit her lip and started to rub his back comfortingly—no wonder he'd wanted just to end it all... "Oh, honey..."
"At least on the TARDIS, after..." He cut himself off hastily. "Well, before getting stuck in 1969..." His blush deepened. "If music didn't work, I could ask her to play Watson snoring..." He hadn't realised how much he'd come to depend on that until he was living in a dump of a council flat with a Time Lord who never slept.
She frowned and tilted her head at his choice of words. "Before getting stuck in 1969?"
Actually... don't you think this might be a good memory to share right now, after what she's been through? Holmes nodded, taking a deep breath. It hadn't been all bad... Tarm, Dash, Frith adopting Noya, the two Doctors saving the day... "The Doctor took us to a space station in the 25th century..."
"...and when Moriarty entered my mind... I tried to use that memory to fight him. I'd been dreaming it for so long, I thought I could control it..."
Beth shuddered, unwillingly remembering Moriarty summoning the darkness to swallow her. "And you weren't able to," she whispered. The Professor's mental abilities were—had been—terrifyingly powerful.
Holmes shook his head, shivering at the memory of the ice-cold shadows wrapping around his mind. "Not without Watson and Nikola." So stupid of him, thinking that such evil would be daunted for a moment by its own kind. He smiled shakily as she began rubbing his back soothingly, grateful for the distraction. "And Watson chose far more wisely than I." Is it just me, or does a so-called 'genius' seem to spend far too much time having his hide saved by other people?
She smiled slightly back. "What did he choose, sweetheart?"
"A very special memory," he murmured tenderly, "one that we shared... of when we all came back together at Baker Street." "...Beth...?" "I'm right here..." His beloved in his arms, her beautiful hair soft against his cheek...
She blinked back sudden tears as she smiled more genuinely. "Oh, honey..." She kissed him softly.
Holmes took care to kiss her back just as softly, hoping fervently that it wasn't too soon for her. "And that is a memory, love, that I hope to dream of for the rest of my life."
Her smile faded—she knew from last time what memories awaited her in her dreams... And the fact that she was now comparing her husband's every touch to Moran's was maddening. Not knowing what else to say or do just now, she settled for nuzzling him gently.
Pretending not to notice her expression, he nuzzled her back. "When I saw you in the doorway... for a moment, I thought the drug was making me see things!"
Her face twisted slightly. "I couldn't believe it when I... woke up... but then I realised: you and John must have made up..."
"I'm so sorry we scared you like that." Of all the sights for her and Sally to come back to, it just had to be both their husbands bleeding on the floor.
She laughed ruefully. "Well, you couldn't exactly help that, love."
"I know, but still..." He dared to lean in again carefully and kiss her cheek. "Thank heaven for Katherine."
She hummed and nodded, eyelids fluttering slightly at the kiss—it felt so light and soft and nice... "Those wounds looked… nasty. " Had Kathy not been able to heal them, her father might have had a much more disabled left shoulder... and Sherlock might have lost most of the use of his dominant hand. Almost certainly enough to keep him from ever playing the violin again...
Holmes nodded grimly – the sedative had done very little to dull the pain of being shot at point blank range. He looked down at Beth's arms, remembering that she still had visual reminders of her own trauma. "Beth, if you'd like the rest of these taken care of..." It surely couldn't be that difficult to work the instrument Watson had used; he doubted very much that she'd be comfortable with anyone else seeing her in a state of undress.
She bit her lip and tilted her head. Doesn't matter to me so much—at least I'm used to being bruised. She'd been bruised enough times in her school days that she thought she could handle seeing the new marks. But... he has to see them, too... She nodded.
He kissed her forehead. "Well, shall we finish washing first?" Not that they'd actually started at all.
Beth hummed her agreement, feeling… calmer… Not better, but… okay. Sherlock got up slowly, using the bar for support, his knees obviously still a bit weak. She helped him steady himself, then rested her head lightly against his shoulder. "I want to…" Her murmur trailed off into a soft groan of frustration. As much intimacy as they'd already experienced, one would think she'd have been able to articulate her thoughts better when it came to sex. She nuzzled his shoulder and tried again. "I want..." Not knowing how to finish, she sighed.
He put his arms around her gently, smoothing her damp hair back from her face. "What is it, dearest?"
Her face still set against his shoulder, she murmured, "I want to not be afraid to make love with you, Sherlock." Because now that they were standing again and she was feeling ever so slightly better, her unfulfilled arousal had returned, and being so close to what she wanted and yet so far was maddening.
Holmes nodded in sympathy, hearing clearly all that she wasn't saying. "I want that for you, too, cherie. Whatever you need..."
She opened her mouth, then stopped, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not sure... " Not sure how to explain the idea forming in her head—not even sure whether or not she really wanted it.
He gave her a quizzical smile, it was obvious she had something in mind.
She blushed, looking down. "I... had a vague idea... I don't know..." If she guided his hands to touch her everywhere Moran had, would that make things better or worse?
"It's all right, cherie." Weeell... you could always try... Oh no, not that... And why not? I... I don't know! I just... I never even got the chance to ask her... Well, what better time than right now, then? If it puts her in control... "Beth... if it would help... I don't mind if you restrain me."
She looked up, eyes wide in complete surprise.
"I must confess..." Were his cheeks as red as they felt? "I have thought about us doing that before now..."
She raised an eyebrow then, eyes still wide and a smile creeping into her tone. "Sherlock Holmes…" Because, come to think of it, it was actually kind of funny.
He shrugged lightly, still looking sheepish. "It just... never seemed to be the right moment." Note that she still hasn't said it's a horrible idea.
She tried to chew down a grin, but it didn't quite work. "Actually…" She giggled slightly, blushing again. "That... sounds very hot..." Oy, the things they did to each other...
He smiled warmly, deeply relieved at the sound of her laughing, something he'd feared she might never do again. "Then perhaps we should finish showering."
She smiled back and reached for the soap. "Yeah, maybe."
Ria: *hugs the Holmeses* Next update: Chapter 2, along with Chapter 12 of 'Together'. Will Beth be allowed to stay with Sherlock? Stay tuned!