When Riley opened her eyes, she was still laying in a bathtub and was momentarily convinced that she had just regained consciousness in the abandoned factory; yet when she observed her surroundings, she knew she was in a different place…
Yes. She was definitely in a different place… A strange place… The bathtub she was in was filled to the brim with water, and a thin layer of purple carnation flowers lined the top so she couldn't see her body below. And she was in the middle of Sherlock Holmes's living room, on the very spot that they'd almost…
Riley quickly lifted her wrists from the water and glanced at them; they were unscathed, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Was this a dream? Riley wasn't a lucid dreamer, and she'd never been in a dream in which she knew she was asleep, but maybe because she was dying and unconscious it was different, and she had an heightened sense of self-awareness… Or maybe this wasn't a dream at all… And maybe she was dead already…
The living area of Sherlock's flat looked exactly the same as it had when she'd visited, minus the Christmas tree and decorations- and there was also a plethora of purple carnation petals scattered across the floor. It was bright outside, and white light burst through the windows, casting long, pleasant shadows across the floor and the bathtub. She found herself almost laughing at the overhyped sensuality of it all, but she couldn't deny that it was beautiful, even though it felt very intimate, and normally that would scare her…
"It's okay," a voice cooed softly, "you're safe."
Riley's head snapped towards the doorway, where Sherlock stood. He was dressed in his overcoat, looking amused at her current state in the bathtub. She shuffled uncomfortably and some of the water spilled over onto the floor.
"I'm dreaming," Riley said matter-of-factly. "Or am I dead? In Heaven?"
Sherlock smiled at her. "Last time we were here, you left in a state of anxiety and misery. And now you think this is Heaven?"
She folded her hands underneath the layer of flowers, trying to conceal as much of herself as she could. Sherlock took off his coat and hung it on a hook near the doorway. He took off his suit jacket, too, and rolled up the sleeves of his white collared shirt. He looked… good. His hair was tousled as always, and he was wearing a suit- again, as always- but something about him looked much different than before… Maybe she was just looking at him through a more experienced set of eyes…
"Do you even believe in Heaven?" he added suddenly. Riley considered this as he took a step towards her, his hands in his pockets. She remembered the conversation she'd just had with Peter: I'm going to hell so they don't have to suffer, he'd said, and they can go to Heaven themselves…
"I don't know," Riley said weakly. "Where else could I be? I don't really think this is Hell."
"A few weeks ago you probably would've said otherwise."
Riley considered this. He was right. She was naked and vulnerable in front of a man- a man she cared about, which almost made it worse, and certainly made her more nervous… But she knew Sherlock… She… She really liked him…
Sherlock moved closer now, the bright light from outside illuminating his face. He knelt down next to the bathtub, smiling gently.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"I feel… whole," Riley said. "But strange."
"Whole?" he asked.
"I don't know how else to explain it."
"Well, you're not scared."
"No," she agreed, "I'm not."
"And you're not running in the other direction."
"No," she said. "But I suppose that's because I'm not scared."
"Dreams are a place for you to be naive and free," he said plainly. "It must be wonderful."
"Don't you dream?" Riley asked him sadly.
"If I do, I don't pay much attention to them."
"You ought to," she said. "Dreams can be quite telling."
"Says the psychologist. Calm down, Miss Freud."
He smiled at her, and Riley felt no incentive to hide her own wide smile. She cocked her head to the side, slinking further into the water. Sherlock rested his arms on the edge of the bathtub, leaning a bit closer to her now.
"You're different," Riley said. "You're… being very honest. Open."
"You really are a psychologist, aren't you?"
"And there you go," Riley said with a sigh, "slinking back behind your defensive walls."
"I'm in your dream," Sherlock said. "And since you decided that this isn't Hell, and because you and I both know this isn't a nightmare, I'm a projection of your subconscious desires, not your fears. I'm a version of who you wish I could be, not who I am when I'm actually around you. I suppose you have to decide if you like this version of me better, or if you're willing to put up with the real Sherlock Holmes- the person I am when you're awake."
He was right. This Sherlock wasn't authentic- he was just a part of her mind, a figment of her imagination and a manifestation of everything she wished Sherlock could be… A representation of how their relationship might be, should both of them quit their games and decide to be up-front about their feelings and completely unguarded… They'd tried that once already, and it had failed…
I ran away before I had the chance- I ran quickly, painfully, begrudgingly…
"You say 'put up with' like it's a chore," Riley said.
"I'm told I can be quite difficult," Sherlock answered plainly.
"Well, you can be," Riley admitted.
For a brief moment, he looked heartbroken- not offended, but genuinely upset by the fact that he had ever made life difficult for her in any way. But she smiled warmly at him to let him know that it was alright, and he couldn't help but smile back.
"But I've been told that I'm the same," Riley said.
"So maybe this will work."
He leaned forward more towards the tub, his long fingers dipping into the water. He flicked a few petals away and ripples formed at the surface. His gaze was unwavering from hers.
But now that I think on it… and even though doing it made me uncomfortable…
His hand slowly disappeared in the water and she felt a soft touch brush against her knee. He hesitated to gage her reaction. But all she could do was stare at him. A chill ran down her spine as he continued, his hand moving further up her leg.
"I know I'm dreaming," she said quickly, "so that means I can wake myself up whenever I want, and-"
"But you haven't yet," Sherlock interrupted softly. "And you don't want to."
She slunk into the water a bit as his hand reached the top of her thigh. His rolled-up sleeve was getting wet now, and flower petals clung to it. He was smiling at her as his hand groped between her legs…
I know if I had a second chance, I'd run back towards my fears and stare them down until they were silent, until they went away…
"How do you feel?" Sherlock whispered.
He had a gentle and soft touch now- it was much different than it had been the last time they'd tried this, and it was certainly much different than any man's touch she'd ever experienced. Could it really be this… enjoyable? He moved slowly, and Riley found herself involuntarily slinking down into the tub, her hair clinging to her shoulders and covered in the purple flower petals, and her legs widening as Sherlock's hand submerged deeper into the water.
"You don't seem to mind," he answered for her with a small, nervous smile.
"Touching and feeling… aren't often correlated for me," she said, finding it hard to accurately describe how she was feeling. Whole… She felt whole... She closed her eyes momentarily, enjoying herself as the water sloshed a bit around her while he moved his hand…
"And which of those two do you fear more?" he asked.
Until they weren't fears fears but something I… I don't know, enjoyed…
Sherlock shifted his position and leaned over the bathtub closer to her face. Her head was rested on the rim of the tub, and gazed up at him through wide eyes as he leaned closer...
"Neither," she whispered. "I fear neither. And I want both."
This time when he kissed her, it wasn't like a car crash. It was something Riley saw coming from a mile away, but she knew it wouldn't end badly. She knew she couldn't avoid it- but she didn't want to. She didn't pull away. She lifted herself up out of the water, twisting her body to face Sherlock, her wet hands wrapping around the strands of his hair as his did the same. They were both covered in the purple carnation flower petals, but Riley's upper half was out of the water now, pressed against his as he moved one hand to the small of her back…
This was not a car crash. But his hands were moving down the roadmap of her small, whole body, this time at a leisurely pace. She was in no rush to wake up.
"You could stay here, you know," Sherlock offered, before he started kissing her again, slowly and passionately. She leaned into him, shivering now that she was out of the cold water and relying on h
"I want to," she said quietly.
She felt an electric shock pulse through her as he cupped her face in his hands, still kissing her before he pulled away, leaving her momentarily heartbroken and lonely, even in his embrace…
"Or you could come me back to me," he said, holding her body close and looking straight through her. "The real me."
"How do I know you'll be like this?" she whispered. She felt another shock run through her body, this time more aggressive. "I can't- you won't let me have you, you wouldn't before… All I wanted was…"
"You know I won't be the same," he said quietly. "And I did let you have me. It'll take work. If you play your cards right- as you often do- you know I can be honest. I was already, but you ran away. Be patient with me like I was with you." He hesitated, smiled, then added, "but you know all this already, don't you, Miss Freud?"
Another shock hit Riley's body, and this one hurt her badly. She felt a sharp pain in her heart. Someone was trying to wake her up… She closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to remember the softness of his hand on her face and the warmth he felt when he touched her… But when she opened her eyes, she knew he was gone- he had slipped right through her fingertips, much like silk did, and she was kneeling in the bathtub, half in the water and half out of it, alone.
The shock hit her again and she slunk back down in the tub, ready to go. She submerged herself in the water completely, feeling out of breath as the water swirled around her. And in the swiftest of a moment, she was opening her eyes to another blindingly bright room. She was wrapped in a blanket, not in water; she was alive, not dreaming or dead. She heaved a deep breath, missing the feeling of air in her lungs.
The first thing she saw was a large bouquet of purple carnations resting at a table in front of her. On the table behind it were a few more bouquets of other various kinds of flowers, along with cards and balloons.
She looked down at her hand- it was warm… Her wrists were bandaged with white gauze, and various wires came out of her chest and hooked up to a plethora of beeping machines. But in her hand was another hand… Keeping her warm…
Her eyes followed the shape of a long arm over to a chair at her side, where she saw Sherlock, fast asleep and looking peaceful. She watched him for a moment; she didn't want to wake him, but she wanted to ask what he was doing there- and how she'd managed to get out of the factory alive… Had he gotten her call? Had she actually heard his voice- I'm going to carry you out… Please, no silence. Not now… Had he been there as she felt like she was dying? Had he really been saving her as she'd been bleeding out in the bathtub, convinced that it was the end of her life, only to be saved by the one person who had saved her in so many different ways already?
She wanted to tell him she was going to be patient, and she was going to try, and that she wanted to try… But for a moment, she just watched him fast asleep, looking peaceful, and she was thankful that he was there, and that she was alive.
I felt SO bad with all your comments about cliffhangers and wondering if she was dead and I ended up changing the end of this chapter… Did you really think I'd kill her!? I'm not that cruel! Sorry! -FLB
