(This actually started with the question "How did Sherlock get that scar beneath the right side of his mouth?". There is second part to the story ("Some Scars Do Heal") that answers the question, though it takes us far from Romance and into his childhood memories, complete with a surprising turn by brother Mycroft. But for this I got to pondering the wonder of Sherlock's face, above and around the scar, and simply got carried along on the current of warm feeling.
If you haven't read my previous stories, a little background on my OC: Tessa DeMauro is an American actress, very gratefully making her living on the stages of London. She's no "star", but she's of the breed of actors that make enough to earn their daily bread while fulfilling the Artist inside. That she has found a place in Sherlock's life is a constant wonder to her. Treat with her patiently, Kind Reader, as she only means well.)
A Lesson in Geography
Despite the growing daylight through the window blinds, Sherlock and Tessa still lay abed, neither ready nor willing to leave the other's warmth. He had no pressing business and it was Tessa's day off, so wrapped in one another they could guiltlessly, happily remain.
Sherlock lay on his back, left arm crooked upon the pillow, his head resting on the palm of his hand, his other arm encircling Tessa, who lay facing him. His eyes were closed and he was attempting to doze; he believed she might be sleeping until Tessa gave a little sigh beside him and he felt her stir. He thought she might just be adjusting her position against him, but instead he felt her move off a bit. The shift of her weight and the movement of the mattress told him she was now leaning on her elbow, propped up beside him and presumably watching him, perhaps to see if he slept or was awake enough to have a conversation. She remained quiet for several minutes; he still felt as though she was looking at him and eventually his curiosity won out. Eyes still closed, he asked her "Tessa dear, what are you doing?"
Tessa sighed again, and in her drowsy voice replied "Studying the geography of your face." Silence again as she, apparently, studied him. He was starting to feel a little ridiculous. He opened one eye and squinted at her "Must you?" Tessa smiled her mischief smile at him "Uh-huh." He closed his eye again; best to let her get on with whatever little game she was playing. It might not, in the end, prove to be unpleasant. She did, after all, have quite the knack for surprising him in very…...satisfying...…ways. The corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly in anticipation.
"Here we have," she said in a voice just above a whisper, "the crease between your brows. The one that tells me if you're irritated or impatient". She barely traced the area with her fingertip, and in no time said "Ah, and there it is in action." Sherlock hadn't realized he'd given play to it; but then she was moving in to kiss the spot atop his nose, between his brows. He gave a little exasperated huff, mainly for show; his was actually growing more curious as to where she was headed with this.
"And then the flare of your nostrils. Of your oh-so-British nose," she crooned, trailing her finger along its length. This time Sherlock opened both eyes, challenging her gently, "And you're an expert on noses now?"
"Why yes I am," she answered with a slight dramatic flair, "Yours is Classic British. And I simply adore it." At that, she kissed the side of his nose. He was warming to her game nicely now, wondering how far down she intended to travel.
As she traced his cheekbone, Sherlock closed his eyes again, smiling at her soft touch. "These cheekbones, now. Any woman would love to dash herself against this shoreline. Wreck herself," Tessa paused for breath, her voice lowering huskily, "against these rocks. As I have, and do, and always will." She began to kiss along his cheekbone. Her movements had brought her closer to him and he felt her bare breast brush against his shoulder. He began to take rapid, shorter breaths.
Tessa's mouth was against his ear now "The wonderful plane of your cheek as in runs down to your jawline. I could wander that country for years and never cease to relish its wonders." Her voice was almost hypnotic now, but she, too, clearly felt the rising tide of desire. As she began to kiss along his jaw, Sherlock could feel her breath had also grown short, ragged with the spell she was weaving. He was very conscious of the warmth of all her skin against his, beneath sheets that now seemed entirely unnecessary. He began to wonder how long he might hold out against the insistent beat of his blood calling for her.
"And your lips," she said at last, "this bottom one so full at times I just want to make it entirely mine. Even that little scar underneath, I could kiss and kiss and kiss it just to see if it might heal." Tessa's lips embraced his bottom lip, sucking it gently until he moaned. Sherlock opened his eyes as she pulled back to look at him. "Someday you'll have to tell me how you got that scar.
"Nothing much, really," he said, his voice velvet low and deep with wanting her, "just a bad childhood fall." "Ohhh" she whispered in surprise, and, he sensed, a little disappointment. "What?" he asked her, not wanting to break the mood, but curious nonetheless. "Nothing" was her husky reply, "I'd only thought it might be from one of your adventures." She brushed her thumb against it, kissing it gently, " I love it all the same, no matter how you got it."
Sherlock cupped her chin in hand, running his own thumb along the smile lines on the side of her mouth. "You can be a silly woman sometimes, can't you?" he marveled aloud. Tessa smiled against his hand. "Yes I can. But one who is desperately in love with you. Does that redeem me?"
Sherlock's smile was languid with the desire that hung between them. "Always, my dear. Always." He moved above her, as she draped her arms around his neck. "What," she asked in mock surprise, "is my geography lesson complete?" He quieted her with a kiss deep enough to leave her looking dazed. Tessa moaned this time, softly, at the back of her throat. "Oh no," Sherlock growled from the back of his, "there is a lesson to be learned here I believe...…at length...…and in great depth."
"Oh show me, darling," Tessa murmured up at him, "show me your world. So long as this bed and this room are enough for now."
In the final estimation, both contentedly found that they were.
(the story continues in "Some Scars Do Heal", if you wonder as well how Sherlock got that little scar)