This new, compassionate side of Sherlock oozed into the surrounding atmosphere and seeped under my skin. Small, shy and reassuring kisses continued to scatter across my lips. A few minutes later, a sigh liberated itself from his lips. A sound that I would never tire of. Attempting to flutter my eyelashes, I gazed up at his bottomless eyes.
His hands that were still grazing the skin on mine, unexpectedly began tugging me out of the cafe. Moments later I found myself in a taxi heading towards Baker Street. Now I know this is the moment that has been the object of many late night fantasies yet now the moment was there, ready and waiting for the taking, the courage that had filled me earlier was quickly dissipating into the air in the confined taxi.
With my thoughts being so wrapped up inside my head, I didn't notice the stray hand that had crept onto my thigh. Rigidity dominated me. I could not react or reciprocate. Old fears of failure and embarrassment flooded through me once again. This couldn't happen yet, I wasn't ready! Month after month I had dreamt of the time this would happen, and now it was happening I was not prepared. One evening after work with no thought or preparation.
With new found resolution, I had decided that if this was going to happen than it wasn't going to happen this way. I had spent too long dreaming of the perfect night with him. It would be special and with mutual understanding and respect.
When I had finally reached this conclusion we were just about to pull up outside his flat. With my plan in mind I flashed him the most confused and conflicted look I could muster. In return I received a similar expression of unease and distraction. That's when I knew, knew that we both wanted the same thing.
In a moment of soundless communication we had decided to wait. Out of sheer British-ness, I was still offered a nice warming cup of tea, which I of course accepted. Any opportunity to could spend time with this wondrous man I would gladly take.
As the tea began to flow, so did the conversation. For the first time, I felt that we were both allowing ourselves to relax and to be at ease with each other. Laughter became second nature to the both of us. Laughing away any fears of awkwardness between us. Conversation never ceased and never dulled. Topics ranges way out of work related issues and I felt that I was really beginning to witness the real Sherlock Holmes. What a pleasure. To see the precision that he usually applies to work related cases, applied to humour and storytelling. The satisfaction that appeared across his face when telling these fascinating stories. The pleasure of hearing of all the cases he had worked on, the excitement kept me on the edge of my seat all evening. We spoke of our time in University, family life, life outside of work and countless other topics.
Before long, light had disappeared from outside. The evening had closed in discarding the fact that we had plenty more to discuss.
With living in London you can walk to any part if you were willing to put the effort in and with Sherlock accompanying me I would happily stroll the edge of London and back again, reluctant to bring an end to the evening.
Eventually I found myself in my bed, head swimming with the events of the day. The effects of the tiring day became apparent as I fought with my eyelids. I couldn't remember the last time I preferred my reality to the fantasy I created within my imagination. In the last moments of consciousness a text alert flashed across the screen of my phone which only showed three words. Three words that filled me with joy, "Thank you Molly"
