"Everything I've said, it's not real. I was just playing the game."
"I know. And this is just losing."
Irene Adler fought an impulse to open her eyes. That wouldn't make things better. And she didn't want to give him an opportunity to wallow in complacency. But after a while, she decided to wake up properly. Irene simulated a yawn and squinted towards the figure of Sherlock Holmes. He met her gaze alertly and laid his hand gently on her cheek. She smiled hesitantly.
"Nightmares, again?" He murmured in a doubtful voice and scrutinized her exhausted, though attentive features. She instantly composed her expression.
"No." But the obvious vagueness in her reply betrayed her and she looked down, unwilling to meet his now slightly amused glance. She sighed tiredly.
"You don't have to be afraid." He ensured her quietly. She didn't immediately answer to his statement. He lingered his arms around her, lubberly trying to comfort her.
"I know." She groaned and hid her face in his swift embrace. He chuckled, sounding frustrated about the fact that he wasn't able to work her out. Though, he had to admit, it was one of her many appeals.
"Why are you having nightmares then?" Long pause.
"This." She gestured towards the two of them. "Feels… unreal." Sherlock tensed noticeably and cleared his throat unpleasantly.
"Why?" He demanded sharply.
"We don't trust each other." She murmured against his chest.
"What are you doing here then?" His eyes narrowed and he released her from their awkward hug. She threw him a disgruntled look.
"I love you?" She uttered the sentence with doubt, clearly not trusting her words. Though they were absolutely true.
"It would be rather strange if you didn't." He dryly pointed out. She smirked and finally met his piercing eyes. They simply stared at each other, conversing with their very visages.
"We have to live with the issue that we love each other." He suggested and grinned cockily. She snorted.
"Sure. I must be the only person in the entire world that can match your intelligence." Now it was his turn to scoff dissatisfiedly.
"I'm way smarter than you."
"You're not!"
"I am." He smiled confidently and kissed her softly. She kissed him back, promptly taking control over his actions. She teasingly pulled away.
"You're not smarter than me. Because brainy is the new sexy, and I'm sexier than you." He laughed briefly at her screwed reasoning. She interrupted him abruptly by kissing him again, eagerly and intensely, really showing her need. She could sense the corners of his mouth turn downwards.
"Again?" He muttered, though at the same time, pulled her considerably closer.
"Why not?" She breathed expectantly and responded to his touch by shivering with sudden lust.
"John's coming soon." He confessed and scratched his forehead with a sheepish look. She snickered and climbed clumsily out of the bed. She suddenly stood in front of Sherlock, who still gave the dull impression of slumbering, resting her hands on her hips.
"I guess I should leave then, considering that Johnny boy is coming home." She stretched for her jeans. "Why don't you want him to know about us?" She added in another, much graver, tone. Sherlock frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I don't know how he would handle it. Besides, I don't want anyone to know." Irene couldn't help to feel offended.
"Am I really that horrible?"
"No, it's just that… he will find out. Sooner or later. And then I don't know what to do." The ambience in the bedroom changed drastically. Sherlock never felt comfortable with showing emotions in front of another human-being, but with Irene was it different. He behaved more naturally and allowed himself to relax, even if just in the slightest. He leaned his face in his hands, groaning heavily. He could suddenly hear his own voice, echoing loudly in his own head. "Bitterness is paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivation."
"He will find us, Irene! Moriarty will find us. And then…" His already low voice had faded out into nothingness. Irene walked up to him, now fully dressed, and kissed his forehead gently.
"It's going to be alright, darling. Don't worry." She soothed him quietly and stroked his cheek, his hair and his lips.
"I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to you." He said in a rush and looked up to Irene, with an almost pleading expression shining through his eyes. He realized as he looked at her, that if Moriarty ever harmed her in any possible way, he would walk through hell and back again to get revenge.
"A clever man once told me that love was a dangerous disadvantage. I think he was right. Though, I think that love is wonderful." She said slowly, still looking into his eyes with the special, almost severe with emotion, expression that only a woman can wear. "If you find the right person to share the love with."
Their lips met and Irene sensed something wet on Sherlock's cheek, though she chose not to point it out. She wanted to spare him the embarrassment for once. Irene grabbed his shoulders tightly, pulling him forcefully towards her. As she took off her shirt, Sherlock sent John a grateful thought and hoped that he wouldn't come home for another while.
AN: Jesus guys, I'm so sorry. This chapter is completely rubbish. So am I, I have a cold and fever and it feels like I'm going to die. I may rewrite this when I'm able to microwave noodles again, without fainting. Anyway, review and have pity for me. I'm so extremely ILL!
Frida (Today I won't give you any kisses and hugs, because I'm certainly not in the mood.)