Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century.
He had been contemplating his next move all day long. He paced by the window at every chance he had found and still could not stop thinking about her. There was something about the way she shined every time he saw her and he found that he wanted to return to her more and more often. He always felt whenever he penetrated her that they were a perfect fit and afterwards he felt charged and ready to face the day. Yet even though he had left her only hours before he already felt a longing to return. There was a certain kind of electricity between them that no one else would ever understand. And though their relationship at times seemed static-y, he would never even think of trading her in for the world.
However, he had heard the news that morning as he walked down the hall of the Yard. She was going to be replaced and she didn't even know it yet. He knew he should feel guilty for not telling her, but he was afraid she would lose that shine, that glow, he always saw when he looked at her.
His mind raced back to the night before. He had walked into the room…their room. The pale moonlight, peaking through both the clouds and the tall buildings of the inner city, illuminated the room in such a fashion that she seemed to glow like angel. He stared mesmerized by her naked beauty, leaning up against the wall staring back at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, each caught in their own places. Slowly he tiptoed over to her, and caressed her side. Her eyes lit up and her arms opened to hold him closer. His clothes fell to the floor at their feet only a moment's breath before he spun into her open arms and leaned his body into hers. She felt cold in the night's air but as her arms closed in around him, he found he really didn't care. He had only a few hours before he'd be expected up again to start the day, and he really just wanted a quick romp with the object of his deepest affections. He shifted in her arms that held him close, but not uncomfortably and as he moved his hands up and down her sides speaking soft words of devotion they became one.
It was like an addiction he just couldn't overcome but at this point he didn't want to. He just wanted to go back and do it all over again. Another person strode into the room, breaking his thoughts as he spoke. "Watson," Holmes said as he strode towards the window to stand by his old friend. "Could you go upstairs and write up that report for last case for Yard for me? I'll look at it later tonight, after my meeting."
"Of course, Holmes." Watson replied, his mind suddenly shooting forward into multiple scenarios. "How long will you be gone and whom will you be meeting tonight?"
Holmes adjusted his trench coat and turned towards the door. "Oh, just a few hours. I'll be dining with Miss Lestrade this evening. She insists I meet and take up the case of some man who continues to pester her at the Yard about a ghost. Perhaps I can convince him his troubles are no more than pesky children playing without having to go down to his pad." Holmes continued out the door. "I'll read that report when I…" His final words were cut off by the slamming door and Watson stood stunned by the window as his mind chopped up the time it would take to do the report.
As Watson climbed the stairs he looked towards her room and thought to himself. 'Maybe just a quickie.' Smiling devilishly he left his clothes in the hallway as he entered her room, his metallic skin reflecting the setting sun as her chrome body glowed a yellowish-red. In the light, he could see her interface point and her socket and he knew he couldn't turn around and walk back out the door now. 'Oh, how I missed you Margaret.' He raced over to his charging station and traced a single finger down the sides of her clamps. She opened her clamps and he rested his head on her interface just as a soft click sounded.
Author's Notes: Let me know what you think. It popped into my head one day and I couldn't help but write it down.