Chapter twenty-one:Meeting the parents

Mycroft had thought of everything. The limousine had everything from heated seats, down to champagne and strawberries. As for music, he'd selected Julian Ovenden, how he knew I liked him I don't know. Sherlock and I didn't talk much for the hour ride; he was glaring the entire time like an unhappy child. The atmosphere, had changed between us, it wasn't comfortable anymore now, thanks to Moriarty and John's big mouth. It was awkwardly smothering.

When we arrived at his house, I was somewhat surprised. It was a beautiful, simple, brick residence. It held all the traditional charm of an English cottage. Sherlock said. "Marvelous piece of junk isn't it?"

"It's…beautiful Sherlock. Amazing." I noticed Mycroft waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. "Mycroft's waiting."

Sherlock huffed. "I bet." He took off his seatbelt. "Crawl over me."

I stared. "Why?"

"Because I am not going to let Mycroft get the door for you."

I did as he asked. "He all ready knows that you got in first, not me. After all, to let anyone in before you, would be beneath you."

Sherlock tilted his head and looked at me. "That's not true."

"Really?" I suddenly snapped at him. "If you'd had opened the door for me and let me in, you would have had the privilege of helping me out of my seat!"

Sherlock frowned and studied me. The car came to a stop and Mycroft opened the door for me. "Hello Sherlock." No response. "For God's sake, stop pouting and get out of the car."

Sherlock got out and yanked his coat into place. Mycroft held the door open, but I didn't move until Sherlock came around. When he realized that I'd waited for him, he immediately held out his hand and I took his hand. I kept my legs closed as I got out of the car carefully, so as not to expose myself. Nevertheless, both men's eyes went to my legs. Now, I was questioning the wisdom of picking such a dress. But I'd fallen in love with it the moment I'd seen it.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned," Mycroft said. "that Mummy is very conservative."

I frowned. "Thanks for telling me. Shall I fly back to London and purchase a new dress?"

"Ignore him Tammy," Sherlock said taking my arm. "you'd look fine in a burlap bag."

I stared at him as he tugged me up the stairs. "I'm not sure if I like that compliment or not."

"Take it anyway that you like it. Mother will be looking at you, not at your dress." he stated as he opened the front door and let me in first. I frowned slightly, then stared as I eyed the house. It was a charming estate. The moment I entered, the scent of pine needles and cinnamon hit me. 'Home' was written all over this cottage.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said stiffly. "why don't you help Tammy out of her coat?"

Sherlock huffed and reached for my coat. "Let me unbutton it first Sherlock."

I said it quietly, but Mycroft still heard it. "You must forgive him, he doesn't have much experience with this sort of thing."

"That's good. A man who has experience must have had a lot of women to practice on."

Mycroft's face soured, but only for a second. His eyes widened as he studied my dress and me. "Conservative or not," he didn't even dare to hide his appreciation. "mother cannot deny that you are a stunning girl."

That surprised me. Mycroft was noticing me and I wasn't sure I was happy about that. Sherlock turned around from where he'd hung my coat up and he paused. It was only five seconds, but those five seconds under the heat of his gaze, felt like five minutes.

Then, he turned to Mycroft. "Stop drooling Mycroft, she's my date."

"I am?" The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"You asked me, remember?" Sherlock snorted as he took my arm and guided me down the hallway. "I believe your exact words were that I was the lucky devil who was taking you out. Am I right?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Don't follow us Mycroft, find something else to do for a few moments." He led me in the living room. It was exquisitely decorated, but Sherlock didn't allow me time to admire it, for he immediately started snapping at me. "Unless you want Mycroft developing a crush on you, stay away from him."

"I can talk to your brother Sherlock." I stared at him. What had gotten into him? "I'm not interested in Mycroft! I won't lead him on, he knows where I stand."

"In that dress, what man thinks about a woman's feeling when his brain is pounding madly?" He spat the words at me. I realized he was angry with me. No woman, other than me had made him react like this. His words, harshthough they were, still warmed and chilled me to the bone. I stiffened as heat flushed down my body.

"Sherlock." Next thing I knew, I had my back against the bookshelf! I gasped as Sherlock, grabbed my hands and pinned them over my head, with one hand, his long fingers digging slightly into my wrists. "Sherlock?"

"You have no idea," he bit out. "how desirable you look at this moment, do you?" I gasped as he leaned forward; his hot breath swirled around my ear. "You look like a goddess in black. But just because we are both brothers don't assume that you're safe from Mycroft's advances."

I stared at him. "You're…jealous."

He tilted his head slightly to the side, breathing into my hair. "Jealous? Me? Never!"

"Then what, why are you-

"Possessive?" His other hand slid down to grip my thigh. I let out a quiet cry. "Yes! I am possessive. I dislike people who mess with my things."

"Sherlock, what are you," words died as he kissed the pulse point on my neck. I whimpered as his lips reduced me to a stuttering, pile of clay in his hands.

What had gotten into him? Was he on drugs or something?! Had he forgotten that we weren't going to be a couple anymore in a month? Why was he doing this? Moriarty wanted us to become attached so that when we broke up, the pain would burn and smart. Sherlock, was playing directly into his hands, literally. His hand slowly crept up my thigh and I twitched against him and the feelings that were burying me alive in waves of pleasure. He released my other hand so he could cup my hips in both his hands. Sherlock then yanked me hard against his body, allowing me to feel his desire.

"Sherlock," I croaked as I looked upwards, my eyes tightly closed. "we can't. Please-

He kissed me, smothering me inside this kiss. I can't breathe anymore, I can't even think! I forget everything, where we are, what we're doing here. There's no one else, except for us two. His lips move to my neck and he latches firmly onto the skin there. Kissing, tasting and sucking the skin, marking me as his. I let out several moans, not caring that this situation is spinning rapidly out of control now. One of his hands slides down to cup the back of my knee before firmly grasping it and bringing it up around his waist. I weakly shook my head in protests as Sherlock moved closer to me, if possible. My skirt had inched up very high around my thighs, allowing Sherlock to feel more skin than I felt was proper. But I couldn't fight him. How could I? Why couldn't I?

"Sherlock?" At the sound of an approaching, female voice he stepped away from me. With shaking hands, I pulled my skirt back down around me, all the while he watched me with those burning eyes of his. "Where are you?"

I step away from him and turned my back to him, I couldn't look him in the eye. Sherlock inhales deeply a few times before responding. "We're in the library mother." Mrs. Holmes hurried into the room. She was a sweet-looking woman with gray hair. She was dressed conservatively and I wished that I had thought better of my outfit. "Hello mother." Sherlock said, walking towards her to give her a dutiful kiss on her cheek.

She hugged him. "Hello Sherlock."

He glances over her shoulder, avoiding her. "Where's father?"

"Speaking to the kitchen staff over the drinks." She looked at me, a smile on her face. "And this is the Tammy Taylor I've heard so much about?"

I smiled nervously. "Yes, but please call me Tammy."

Sherlock suddenly placed his arm around my waist, I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Isn't she beautiful, mother?"

Now I was certain I was going crazy. He'd never ever, said I looked like anything more than fine. Now, he'd called me a goddess and beautiful all within a minute. Maybe it was an act for his family. But then, why'd he pin me against the wall like that? Probably so when Mycroft came in the room, he'd see my neck and deduce that Sherlock and I'd been up to something.

"Yes, but she doesn't appear used to your terms of endearment." She shook her head disapprovingly with a teasing smile on her lips. "I've told you before, women like to be told things."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and again, I spoke up in his defense. "Actually, I am used to Sherlock's terms of endearment…and abuse." I smiled at him. "It's just…his voice unravels me every time."

"Ahh," Mycroft said, coming in from behind us. He smiled, that sickening smile of his. "defending my brother's short-comings again. Very noble of you, but I assure you, he can stick up for himself."

"Indeed. But Sherlock makes it a living of his to stick up for people when they're in trouble. In fact, I've rarely seen him stick up for himself, so I think I'll make it my living, when necessary, to stick up for him."

Mrs. Holmes smiled and hugged me. "Good!" I was a little thrown off by her actions and I stared at Sherlock in surprise. He rolled his eyes at me. "I think you're perfect for him!" She pulls away and studies me. "You know, you're the first girl that Sherlock's ever brought home to meet us?"

I flush. "No, but I certainly can't be-

"You are Tammy." I jump at Sherlock's voice, so near my ear. "So, no need to worry about any ex-girlfriends or any of that rot popping up."

"Thank you….that's…nice to know."

Mrs. Holmes smiles. "We'd almost given up hope about having grandchildren." I flush red. "Sherlock was never interested in anyone and Mycroft thinks everyone's an idiot."

"Er, uhm, I can't…promise grandchildren. We're still…sorting things out."

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock stifled a groan and turned around to face his father. He was a little taller than Sherlock, but he favored Mycroft in looks. A little heavy seat, but he didn't have Mycroft's thinning hairline. "Father, this…is Tammy." Again, he was using that voice. And when I mean that voice, I met the voice that never failed to make me tremble. Honestly, he said my name as if I was a chocolate resting on his tongue.

I stepped towards Sherlock and extended my hand to Mr. Holmes. "A pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes."

"An honor…Tammy." He was a kind man, a little older than Mrs. Holmes. He's actually rather quiet and somewhat…nervous. "I trust I may call you that?"

I nod. "Please do."

"Pardon me sir," all eyes went towards the butler who had my overnight bag in hand. "which room shall I place Miss Taylor's bag in?"

Mrs. Holmes started to speak, but Sherlock cut me off. "In my room. Where else would it be going?" The blood drained out of my face and I couldn't look at him, in fact I didn't know where to look. Everyone in the room was staring at us and I rubbed my forehead in embarrassment. I wondered if I should say something, but I couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Congratulations Sherlock" Mycroft says with a slight sneer in his voice. "you've created an all new record for the definition of awkward."

"She's my girlfriend, why wouldn't she be staying with me in my room? Where else should she stay, in yours?" Mycroft glowers at him as Sherlock takes ahold of my arm and guides me out of the room. "Tammy, you were wondering what the view is like from the back. Since dinner is going to be 10-15 minutes late, why don't we go see it now? You look like you could use some fresh air."

I nodded and forced a smile. "Please, excuse us."

Mrs. Holmes nods nervously. "Of course."

I could only imagine the looks that everyone was giving our backs. Sherlock guided me towards the back door and I held my breath, uncertain of what to say or do.