Muse

While in the hospital, Bell had a lot of time to reflect, to muse on his life.

The tremors in his hand would change everything. He could never go back to work - and it was all Sherlock Holmes' fault.

Bell's blood boiled whenever he thought of Holmes. Somehow, though, it wasn't all anger. He found Holmes was on his mind often, whether in fury or... otherwise.

He knew how Holmes felt about him - he called half the precinct 'Not Bell,' for God's sake. The thought of it wasn't terrible; he just wasn't ready.

Give him time, though.

Wrong

Marcus Bell was hardly ever wrong. His intelligence and his gut ensured that. Which was good, because you had to be right often to date Sherlock Holmes.

It was difficult, keeping up with him. He jumped around, going from "Green hair" to "From Queens" before Bell could speak.

It was nice when they were on the bed, Bell on top of Sherlock. Frankly put, Bell was better at sex. This led to Sherlock constantly introducing new things in an attempt to one-up Bell. But no matter how many ropes he acquired, nothing could beat Bell, his hands, and his mouth.

Key

"What's this?" Bell asked, looking at the key Sherlock had dropped in his hand.

"The key to the brownstone," he explained. "I know Joan already gave you a copy for emergencies, but I believe we have reached the point in our relationship where one partner gives the other a key to their home, as a symbol of trust and devotion."

Bell stared for a second. "Oh. I - thanks. I can get a copy of my key made-"

"No need. I can pick your lock in under a minute."

"Right."

"But thank you. Your trust means the world to me."

Trap

Of all the strange things Bell had seen in the brownstone, this took the cake.

Mouse traps and snares lined the floor. Bell stopped short in front of a box, his eyes quickly falling on Sherlock. The man was setting up yet another trap.

"Bell! Careful there - I'm setting this up for Joan, testing her reflexes. Just make your way through," he called.

Bell picked his way across the minefield. "Hey, Holmes, I just wanted to see how you're doing on the MacArthur case."

Sherlock nodded. "I'm making progress... that's the only reason you came?"

"Not really." Bell smiled.

India

"Joan!" Sherlock exclamed as she walked in. "India? Really?"

"How-"

"Brochure, purse."

She sighed. "I need a vacation, Sherlock. We could use some time apart." He started to protest. "No. Besides, you're neglecting other relationships that could help you."

He deflated at her glare. "You mean Detective Bell. I've told you-"

"I know when you're lying. Look, I leave next week. At least have dinner with him." Sherlock almost stomped his foot.

The doorbell rang. He started towards it, yelling, "I'll ask him. But don't expect wedding - Bell!" He dropped off, seeing the man in front of him. "Hello."


I have enough prompts for six weeks, so I don't need anything else for now. I'm also doing this for a variety of ships, so check around. Updates Saturdays, starting 2/15.
Review with feels, rants, suggestions, or anything else you feel I should know.