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As usual, I do not own BBC Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's cannon.
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Chapter 9: Making Out
Working undercover is something I never thought I'd do. Being Sherlock Holmes' constant companion, I knew that some challenges were going to be faced which may lead me to do things I wasn't use to. I've mingled with criminals, visited the morgue more times then I can count and have gone to more crime scene then humanly necessary. But to completely disguise myself and pretend to be another person, that's the hardest thing my love has asked of me. I mean, sure, from time to time while we were still dating I couldn't tell people I was Sherlock's girlfriend. Hell, there are times I can't even say that I'm his wife. But at least I'm still me, and right now, during this case, I can't do that. To be myself would mean endangering the case. I highly doubt it, but...Sherlock is rarely wrong.
He wanted us to adapt aliases so to make the investigation into Moriarty's plot easier and less of a risk. I really don't see the benefit in it; Moriarty knows that we are here, he invited us. Never the less, Sherlock doesn't want our true identity to be known...not like there's really anybody around who would recognize us. Actually, there aren't many people around period.
Why would Moriarty make us come out here? Easy to commit a crime when no one is looking, perhaps. And where is this house of his? As far as I can tell, Sherlock's old family home is the only place for miles. God, this is all so hour is late and we are both in need of sleep. We've been staring at that case board all day, trying to determine Moriarty's next move and what we should be prepared for. It was just a few minutes ago, I suggested that we call it a night. To my surprise, Sherlock complied and went straight to the bathroom to shower. I followed a few minutes after.
"It'll be fine, Fee," Sherlock says, now dressed in his pajamas and climbing into bed, "You're over thinking this."
"I don't have a name," I say as I run a brush through my hair, "I mean, you've got a name, albeit a strange one, but a name nonetheless."
"What? Shezza?" he chuckles
"Yes, Shezza. That is your undercover name isn't it?"
"Only in certain situations."
"Well, it's strange but it works."
"Is that what your worried about? Out of everything we've planed and the very real threat of Moriarty hankering over us, you're nervous about going undercover because you don't have an alias."
"...Well when you put it that way, you make me sound ridiculous."
"You? Ridiculous? Never," Sherlock says, reaching over to wrap his arms around my waist, "I could never think of you in that way." He places a quick kiss on my cheek then lays back down.
Deciding that this will be end of the conversation fro today, I give my long, wavy hair a few more brushes then decide to climb into bed as well. I set the brush down on the nightstand then turn out the wind has picked up outside and rain is beating against the windows; seems like that storm did decide to come in, how poetic. As I wrap the warm sheets around me, Sherlock reaches over and turns the lights back on.
"What about Marie?" he asks, gently turning me onto my back so that he can look into my eyes, "It's still you but not entirely."
"Marie and Shezza," I say, unimpressed, "Oh, cause those don't sound like fake names or anything."
"Okay, if you hate Shezza so much, I'll use a different one," Sherlock says with a roll of his eyes, "But what is wrong with Marie?"
"I don't know, I just...Can we talk about it in the morning?" I whine, "We've been talking about the case all day and frankly I'm tired of hearing about it...Sorry, sorry that was wrong of me to say."
"No it wasn't," he replies, "I can understand that you don't want to linger on the whole situation."
"Sherlock, I'm just not like you," I say, slowing bring myself to sit up on my elbows, "Your mind can focus on these sort of things for long periods of time and that's part of what makes you so good at what you do. But me? I can't do that. I'd drive myself mad."
"Mmm, perhaps that is why people think I've lost my mind then."
It is quiet between us for a few moments, Sherlock just smiling at me with that half mouth smirk of his. He's leaning over me, supporting himself on his right elbow while his left arm is draped across my middle. As I look up into his eyes, I can't help but feel a wave of calm come over me. For this moment, everything seems to come to a peaceful halt and there is nothing else in the world; there is only me and my Sherlock Holmes, nothing more is needed.
My body relaxes into his hold as Sherlock begins to place chaste kisses along my neck.
"What's this?" I whisper, reaching my hands up to tangle my fingers in his curls, "What's brought this affection on?"
"Can't a man love his wife?" he replies in a soft whisper in my ear, "You deserve it, my darling, darling girl." Sherlock then begins to nip at my earlobe and I can't help but giggle like a school girl. He hasn't been this affectionate in awhile; what can I say? He's caught me a little off guard.
"Sher-Sherlock, stop it," I giggle as my husband moves his soft, pink lips along my neck.
"Why?" he coos, "It's not like I'm distracting you from anything."
Letting out a small chuckle, I close my eyes and just let his lips explore. He continues his previous trail up my neck and then he makes a small path along my jawline ending it by gently sucking at my lower lip. I dig my fingers into his curls as our mouths collide together in a sweet kiss. All the troubles of our little world seem to melt away with this kiss. His lips gently pressed against mine bring such calmness and security to me that I urge him to deepen it; I want more. I need more.
Opening our mouths just a tad, I let out a content moan as Sherlock slowly begins to let his tongue wonder the inside of my mouth. I have never needed his lips as much as I do this very moment. I can feel my lips becoming swollen and pink but I can't stop myself; I want more and I need more. My body wretches upward, my back lifting off the bed just enough for my husband to wrap his arm around me. He then uses his free hand to cradle the back of my head as our kiss becomes deeper and much more passionate.
Cupping his face in my hands, I lick his lips and bring his face as close to mine as humanly possible. I don't want any space between us, not even an inch. Sherlock's hold on me tightens and I can tell that he feels the same way. Our bodies collide together very much like our lips and we can't seem to stop. I somehow manage to blindly wrap my legs around his waist and he brings me fully upward to sit in his lap.
"Sherlock," I breathe out once we briefly release for air, but I am quickly silenced by my husband's gentle fingers being placed over my swollen lips.
"My darling," is all he can say as we gaze into each others eyes, "My darling, darling girl." Nuzzling our foreheads together, we both whisper a soft I love you before going in for another round.
Our lips crash together once more, but this time there is nothing soft about it. This is hard action, full of desire; no sweet or tender moments are hidden in this kiss. I wrap my arms around him and let my fingers dig into his back. Sherlock lets out a moan, our tongues tangling together in some twisted knot of passion.
Sherlock lets his lips roam my neck once again and I close my eyes, taking in every soft detail of his kisses. "Turn out the light," he growls into the crook of my neck, "and let me have you, my darling." He then lies me back down on the bed as I reach out toward the bedside table. I fumble for a bit but eventually flick the light off. In the complete darkness, with the wind howling outside, we start to remove each others clothes. Everything is perfect and has ceased its existence in my mind and my heart feels as if it were to burst right out of my chest. Nothing, no form of worry or doubt, is running through my mind at this moment.
There's just him.
It's always just him.
Suddenly, just as things were about to escalate in the right direction, the harsh buzzing of Sherlock's cell phone ruins it all. I know it's his phone because mine is off. I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh; he's going to answer it, he can't help himself. Saving him the effort of telling me to he'd like to take the call, I release Sherlock from my hold and let my heart calm itself down.
"Elfie," My husband sighs, "I can just let it..."
"Get it," I sigh, curling in on myself, "could be important." I can tell his upset; I don't need to see his face to know that. Sherlock lets out another sigh and then reaches over to the bedside table on his side of the bed. He then flops down on his back beside me. He wraps a warm comforting arm around my shoulders and I curl up against his side, resting a head on his chest. The moment have left us in a flash, but my heart is still his.
"Hello," Sherlock sighs. Suddenly, his whole body tenses up and I can hear his breath hitch slightly. I sit up to get a good look at his face. His face is stone but his eyes tell the real story. Fear and anger; that's what's going on in his mind right now.
"Love, what is it?" I ask, gently rubbing circles on his chest, but Sherlock doesn't pay any attention to me. He just sits up straight and stares ahead. I do the same but keep my eyes glued on my husband.
"So, you've decided to keep in touch," Sherlock says, lowering the phone from his ear and hitting the speaker button. He looks at me, giving me a nod as if to wordlessly say that this is part of the case. All the pieces click in my brain; I know whose on the phone.
"Of course I've kept in touch, my dear," comes the venomous voice of Moriarty from the other end, "did you doubt me?"
"Going by your record, I could never doubt you." my husband replies, "You have yet to disappoint me."
"And I promise you I never will," Moriarty chuckles, "Oh, am I on speaker? Is your darling, little Fee there? Hello, Mrs. Holmes! Glad you could make it."
"Do not speak to her. She's..."
"What? Not apart of this? Oh, come on! You really believe that?"
"You invited both of us here and we both came," I snap, taking hold of the phone, "Where's this house you want to meet at?"
"Not so fast, my eager little flower." he taunts, "We'll see each other soon enough. Why do think I called?"
"To tease," Sherlock replies, wrapping his hand around mine so that we are both holding the phone, "You were always one to play with his food." The two of us exchange a look of knowing and for the very first time, I don't feel like I'm Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. Right now, I'm his partner-his assistant since John is unavailable. I'm not insulted, it just feels...different.
"Well, the fun is just beginning, my friends," Moriarty goes on, "Join me for dinner Friday evening."
"Where?" Sherlock demands
"I'll send the address and time, don't you fret." he replies, "Have you packed your fancy dress?The house by the sea is hardly a place to dress normally in."
"Will it be just the three of us?" I ask, trying my best to sound just as cold and harsh as my husband.
"No, no don't be silly," Moriarty giggles, "I did tell you there was to be a grand party. You've spent a week getting down here and now your only a few days away from the two week mark. I'm just giddy with excitement, aren't you? I've spent quite some time putting this all together so I do hope you enjoy it all. Shame the little ones couldn't make it. I'd love to meet them"
At that, I tense up and am about to scream at the wretched man, but Sherlock quickly takes the phone from me and turns off the speaker; "We'll be there," he snaps, pressing the phone to his ear.
"Wonderful," I hear Moriarty say, "I'll put the reservation under your names. Shall I put Shezza and Marie isn't it, or has Elfie picked a different alias?" Without even replying, Sherlock then clicks to end the call and tosses the phone back onto the bedside table.
"Son of a bitch," I hiss, running my hands through my hair, "that creep will never let us be, will he? There's never going to be an end to his twisted games and you're always going to play them, aren't you? Why, Sherlock, why? You are so much better than that monster so I just don't see what..."
I am suddenly silenced by Sherlock cupping my face in his hand and crashing his lips against mine. I want to pull away-the passion from before is ruined-but as his kiss deepens, so does my desire. I reciprocate the kiss and wrap my arms around him, pressing my body as close to his as I can.
"You're right. You're absolutely right," Sherlock whispers as our lips part, "This is all part of never ending game that I can't keep myself away from. I wish I could, but...Well, you'll be upset at me for saying it like this, but it's an addiction, a sick and twisted addiction that I share with that man."
"Then why not beat it?" I say, cupping his head in my hands, "If anyone can beat an addiction, it's you."
Sherlock gives me a small smile then nuzzles his forehead against mine; "With your help, I know I can." he replies, "But for now, let us solve this case, end Moriarty so that we can go home to our children. We are doing this for them, my darling. I will protect them with all of my being, please know that."
"I do," I coo, kissing the side of his neck, "Contrary to popular belief, you have a big heart Sherlock Scott Holmes. You have a lot of love in you that no one else seems to see. Just me."
My husband just chuckles and wraps his arms around me; "Let me show you how much love I can give, my darling," he says, pulling me down on top of him as he lays back down on the bed. I giggle as we kiss again and again, the passion picking right back up from where we had left off. Time melts away and just for this fleeting moment that phone call is forgotten.
'Save it for the morning,' I say to myself, 'No more case interruptions tonight.'
