Summary: Strange little one shot
Disclaimer: Call the Midwife belongs to Heidi Thomas and the BBC.
Author's Note: Very short story. Not beta'ed. Apologies for grammatical and/or typographical errors.
Silent fingers pushed through the chink in the curtains, a silver white beam of light cautiously moved across the bedroom.
At first it illuminated silvery white satin, draped over the arm of the chair. Had the peignoir been carefully placed there or thrown, discarded as an unwanted encumbrance in the heat of passion, there was no way of knowing, the light moved on.
On the bedside cabinet, an alarm clock came into view. As the light slid past, the numbers gleamed, faintly luminous against the white face, displaying the lateness of the hour. Nevertheless, the light moved steadily on.
Next a few scattered silvery strands were caught in the glow, normally unnoticeable in daylight, hiding as they did in the red hair. Their owner's head was resting peacefully, snuggled against the shoulder of the other occupant of the bed. Slowly, without disturbing the sleeping people, the light moved on.
Silver white tracks appeared disrupting the progress of the beam, causing it to distort as it crossed the otherwise smooth white skin of the exposed back. The scars disappeared from view, giving way to snowy linen as the light moved on.
Finally, the light came to rest on a shiny ring, gleaming on the finger of one of the sleeping women. The light wavered as it caught in the diamond, miniature rainbows springing into life in the gem's depths.
As a cloud drifted across the face the full moon, the moonlight ceased its exploration and the room was plunged back into peaceful darkness.