The clouds were getting darker outside, a storm front was heading in. The heavy rain danced itself along the window panes. I had always liked the rain, and the dreariness of the cold weather, (you had to when you were living in London). Although lightning was a magnificent view, I just hated the sound of thunder, it reminded me of when I was stationed in Afghanistan, all those small pops in the distance then the sounds of the grenades and finally the Mark 82's doing the damage that I then had to mend. And ever since a kid I had always been afraid of the thunder, everything bad seemed to happen when thunder was around; the shed out the backyard catching fire, school cut because of a hurricane, even the death of my grandfather.
Thank god there wasn't any thunder now, I couldn't bear to go to Sherlock, I was still angry about the fight we'd had just a few hours ago, our first since being together. I was proud like that, I guess I didn't want to give in. Pride was definitely not one of my virtues, nor his. Especially now since a had heard there was definitely going to be thunder tonight, by the looks of the weather channel. Curse that middle-aged man with his well-groomed suit and obvious wig. Sherlock and I had always laughed at his fake tan, we suspected that most of the crew did too.
I don't know how it was possible, but it was getting even darker and the rain was pelting down, I could see lighting in the distance from my window, and suddenly -
CRACK!
The thunder had come, and it was so loud in the stillness of the night.
CRACK!
That's it! I couldn't stand this any longer, stuff the pride. I flung the quilt off of me and headed for the door, the door creaked open frightening me even more.
CRACK!
I ran down the stairs, almost slipping in my socks to the door on the left. As I tuned the doorknob, I wondered what Sherlock would say, thinking he'd call me out and say I couldn't live without him.
CRACK!
I didn't care, I opened the door and flung myself into the room, Sherlock was sitting against the headboard, under the covers, his shirt on the floor, it was freezing, how could he not be wearing one. His placid face was turned to the window, looking outside, and turned suddenly when I rushed in. The moonlight hit his face so beautifully, outlining his masculine features. Although he wasn't very buff, he was still attractive.
CRACK!
I almost screamed as I jumped onto the bed and buried myself beneath the covers. I heard a chuckle. I popped my head out just enough to see Sherlock staring down at me lovingly, a smile spread across his face. Well, the fight seemed to be over.
"Hey." He said very casually.
"Hey." I replied, sounding as smooth as I could"
"Pretty dark, isn't it?" He said as his face turned back to the window.
"Yes." I said as I put myself into a sitting position next to him.
"I'm surprised the dog isn't barking." He said casually. I wondered if he was still a bit angry.
"Yeah." I replied. I didn't want to fight any more, I know couples were supposed to fight constantly, at least the was my understanding of dating a few women. But it was horrible, I hated it, hated it more than thunder. "I'm sorry."
He looked back at me. "No, you shouldn't be saying that," he looked confused, and startled, "I'm sorry. I should have never said anything to upset you." Now it was my turn to be confused.
"Do you even know how the fight started?" I asked.
Sherlock looked suddenly deep in thought. "I think I left the toilet seat up again." He smiled. I chuckled, everything was back to normal.
CRACK!
I buried my head under his arm. "Come here." He pulled me up and put his arms around me, I felt a lot warmer now. I moaned. "What's wrong?" He asked.
"We were meant to have a picnic tomorrow, now the park will be drenched." I whined. It was his turn to chuckle.
"Don't worry, we'll have a picnic," he said insistently, "In front of the fireplace." I smiled, I loved how he could be so cheery when he wanted to.
I was surprised how nothing bad had happened as a result of the thunder now, maybe I was just being paranoid, just like my father, that was definitely not a virtue either. I was so glad I chose not to sit in my room, this was much better than being scared out of my wits.
Sherlock understood and held me tighter every time the thunder would crack, I loved him. I would happily stay here for the rest of my life. And then I was drifting off to sleep by the lullaby of Sherlock's heartbeat.
