Once they were both clean and dry, Natasha slipped into a pair of silky black pajama shorts and matching camisole, and stole one of Sherlock's dressing gowns.

She'd promised John she'd search for Sherlock's stash, and she would, but she was still experiencing something of a dilemma. Sobriety wasn't the sort of thing that could be forced overnight. Natasha knew that. Staying clean was an everyday struggle for Sherlock, from what she'd gathered. Getting rid of his stash would eliminate easy access to it and perhaps, to a point, the temptation to seek another hit, but that only worked if he was determined to stop using altogether. And even though she knew Sherlock loved her and regretted hurting both her and John, she also wasn't convinced that was the case.

Natasha was no stranger to destructive habits, and she understood the fleeting comfort of them perhaps better than most. She knew screaming and fighting and pushing wouldn't help. What he needed was understanding and support, and yes, maybe a strong hand to pull him out if he got in too deep—and she could give him that in spades.

There were no hesitations and no second thoughts. The decision was made. Fiercely and wholeheartedly, this was the only way Natasha knew how to love.

Of course, finding Sherlock's stash wasn't quite so easy. For one thing, Sherlock was a genius, and he'd been hiding his habit for years now. He knew someone would always come looking for his stash, whether it was John, Mycroft, or Lestrade.

Natasha was a frequent visitor too and she had a habit of snooping. Sherlock would've made sure she didn't stumble onto it while she went through his things. He would've also split it between hiding places.

Whatever the case, Natasha's search didn't immediately turn anything up. Tired, jet-lagged and maybe a little fuzzy from her pain meds, she resolved to search again in the morning. She set the alarm on her phone, tossed it onto the bedside table in Sherlock's room, and sat heavily on the mattress.

Sherlock was already curled up under the blankets in his old pajamas. His eyes were open and staring at her as she sat down. It wasn't too much longer before he silently tugged on her shirt and pulled her close. Their arms wrapped around each other and no words were spoken.

He wasn't particularly fond of copious amounts of conversation anyways, and he didn't have anything else to say. Nothing that couldn't wait until the morning. Natasha was a good partner for him, because she didn't talk when there wasn't need to and understood the silence better than most. It was a rare trait.

Sleep found him shortly thereafter and he slept hard, lost in a world that wasn't plagued with boredom and the call of old habits. Unfortunately, it never lasted, for the alarm sounded in the dim light of his bedroom. He made a small noise and stretched. "Mmorning." His sleep heavy voice was very low as his brain came out of the fog only to a headache.

"Morning," she answered sleepily, with her face still buried in the crook of his neck.

Pulling away, she reached behind her until her hand bumped against her phone on the bedside table. She resisted the urge to throw it against the wall and shut it off with a swipe of her finger, dropping it back on the mattress once she'd checked the time. She didn't want to get up and leave the warmth of his arms just yet.

With her eyes closed, she rolled back to Sherlock's side and snuggled up close, throwing an arm around his chest and twining one of her legs with his. "How do you feel?"

"Heavy and foggy, but I'm fine." Sherlock rumbled, unsure how to describe the sense of crash that accompanied a high. "Need coffee. And a case."

"I'll get the coffee. You check your e-mail, see if there's anything interesting." Natasha pressed a sleepy kiss just below his jaw. "John's coming by today too."

"Yeah, I remember," he replied, obviously nervous about the wrath off his best friend. "Who knows, maybe there'll be a case and I won't have to bother with that. We'll just be…back to normal."

Natasha opened her eyes and tipped her head back to meet his eyes. "You will be," she assured him in hushed tones, matching the quiet atmosphere in the room. "Eventually. You'll both be back to normal and working cases, but this is always going to hurt him and he's always going to worry." She slid a hand underneath his t-shirt and pressed it over his heart. "If you can't find a case that interests you, I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

"Probably." Sherlock said, his mouth twitching into a curious smile. "But yes, I think I do."

Smiling in return, Natasha leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, the first since she'd arrived. "I'll go make coffee," she said once she'd pulled away, reluctantly extricating herself from his arms.

Sherlock was left and he definitely planned on kissing her again as soon as he was up and caffeinated. He climbed out of the bed, pulled on his blue dressing gown and followed her out to the kitchen. He skipped the coffee maker and headed to his laptop, plopping down in his chair like any other day.

A minute of scanning the options, checking his phone and the news, he was left with nothing. No global catastrophes, no murders, nothing above a five on his scale. Not surprising, but very disappointing and he shoved the laptop aside with a huff. He eyed her and stood up again, all floppy hair and disheveled dressing gown. "Coffee then?" He said as he snagged the sugar from the pantry. "Anything else?"

"I've got the toast." Natasha had been sending texts and making arrangements while he checked his emails, but set her phone down now with a quick smile. She slid a mug of black coffee his way and eyed him appreciatively. She'd missed him, and it was evident in both her expression and demeanor. "Nothing interesting, then?"

"Nothing, zip, nada, zero." He replied just a bit dramatically as he dumped his usual sugar into the coffee and stirred with a delicate hand. "I'm losing my mind. I need a case. I need something." He glanced at her, softening just slightly. "Not that I'm not grateful you're here…I might have missed you. But I'm bored."

Her smile grew. "I've already made arrangements to fix that for you," she said. "You'll have to wait until after John pays you a visit, but I think you'll like it. Can you handle the suspense until then?"

"Probably not." Sherlock answered without a beat. But he tried a smile in return. "We'll play deductions. John will be here in exactly forty-eight minutes. I believe I can figure it out by then."

"You've got yourself a deal." Natasha winked and lifted her coffee to her lips for an experimental sip, lowering a moment later. "And for the record," she added, taking a step closer, leaning against the counter, "I missed you too."

"I'm not surprised, it's only logical." Sherlock returned. "You did have me for over a month last time you were around. Frankly it's been too quiet with you gone. Though, for the record, I'd rather you not hurt when you visit."

Natasha smiled softly. "It's not so bad," she assured him. "Pain, I can handle. I promise I'm fully functional, I just didn't feel like waiting until I'd healed to come see you." Her brows pulled together uncertainly. "Is that okay?"

"I meant…" Sherlock swept over to pull her closer to him, to wipe the uncertainty off of her face. "When you were last here. I like it when you stay with me, but not because you need a month to heal from nearly dying in Russia." He stared her her, unwavering, coffee forgotten. "I can't lose you either."

"Oh." Natasha softened completely in his arms, reaching up to curl her fingers into the silky softness of his dressing gown. "In that case, I'll do my best to stay alive and unhurt. You won't lose me. I'm yours," she promised. "Kiss me?"

"Yes ma'am." Sherlock did as asked and pressed their lips together in an actual kiss. He cupped the back of her head with his hand and allowed himself another type of high.

John came sometime later, both checking on Sherlock's health as well as catching up with Natasha. There wasn't any shouting, but there was a serious discussion about Sherlock's health and the chances of him not coming back from the next doss house he crashed in. John stayed about an hour before he had to leave again, with a kiss on the cheek for Natasha and a pointed but affectionate look at Sherlock.

Afterwards Sherlock and Natasha readied themselves for the distraction she had planned for him. He hadn't been able to deduce it yet, and it was slightly frustrating. But he was anticipating it. He pulled on his coat and held out his hand for Natasha to take. "We're taking a cab though, to get there."

Natasha laced their fingers and pulled him down the stairs. "Yes we are," she confirmed. "It's easier than stealing Mycroft's car. Although maybe not as fun."

She'd pulled a few strings, called in a few favors and brokered a deal with Tony Stark, but she'd gotten what she wanted. They'd be taking one of Stark's quinjets out for a spin for the whole evening.

She'd already filed a flight plan and everything, and that was really the only complication. Tony's security system was top of the line, but Natasha was still perfectly capable of bypassing it to steal something if the whim took her.

She spoke again as they stepped outside. "Maybe next time," she added, while Sherlock flagged down a cab.

"Not sure it'd be advisable after…well you know. He's probably extra vigilant with me today. I doubt we could get in and out without being caught." Sherlock held the cab door open for her.

Natasha climbed inside. "If he protects his car like he protects his MI5 database, it shouldn't be a problem," she said in humor, squeezing his hand reassuringly once he was settled in next to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He answered dismissively. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You know exactly why I'm asking," she said. "But if you say you're fine, I won't push. I'm just checking. Concern comes with the territory."

"I know." Sherlock said with a careful but gentle tone. There was an understood silence the rest of the cab ride. Sherlock had decided to simply act like nothing had been the matter. He'd deal with this struggle another day, another time, when he wasn't the sole concern of everyone's worry. He'd missed every deduction about where they were going and when the cab pulled up at the proper location, he squinted his eyes slightly out the window. "I'm assuming this is the place."

"Yes." Natasha paid the cabbie and climbed out of the cab, sliding her hand back into Sherlock's once they were walking again. "Tony's private hangar," she explained.

Given that it was private and rarely used, the place was small but heavily secured. Natasha led Sherlock to the front gate, where they were admitted and escorted into the hangar itself. A quinjet was already waiting, with its ramp down for them to climb up through.

Natasha was given paperwork to sign, and she let go of his hand to take an offered pen. She peeked up at him when she was through, meeting his eyes. "What do you think?"

"I think it's something I've never done before." Sherlock had his hands clasped behind his back, rigid posture and impassive expression. "And I think it has the possibility to be interesting. A good possibility, of course, it is your idea."

"Well I need a co-pilot, which means I need you on your toes." Natasha winked and tipped her head towards the quinjet, leading him inside. "Come on, I'll give you an overview."

His reaction when stepping into the high-tech jet was subtle, but not surprised. Slowly calculating and attempting to decipher what each component did. He loosed his scarf and took a seat where he was supposed to. "I take it back, I think this is going to be fun."

"I'll try not to disappoint. We do have the whole night." Natasha settled in and closed the hatch, reaching for her headset. She slipped it on with a faint smile, issuing a few straightforward instructions for take-off. "Just follow my lead," she concluded. "Ready?"

There was something very alluring about her here in this space, doing what she did while saving the world. He fell in love with her all over again in the strangest places. And it was here, where she was trying to keep him busy and away from the distractions and struggles he faced. He was definitely keeping her. Sherlock smirked, nodding once. "Ready."

Natasha's smile grew in response and she stole an eager peek his way as they eased out of the hangar, out into the open. Clearance for takeoff came in through the radio a moment later, followed by a quick weather forecast. Together they lifted the jet off the ground and disappeared into the night, bright stars twinkling amidst sparse grey clouds.

Once they veered away from the sprawling sea of lights that was London, the view changed into something else entirely but no less spectacular. Natasha took a moment to appreciate it once they'd reached their desired altitude, but eventually relaxed and allowed her attention to drift back to Sherlock.

"How do you feel about taking control for a little bit?" she asked after a few seconds of quiet contemplation.

"How do you feel about putting your life in my inexperienced hands?"

"I'll walk you through it, don't worry," she assured him. "I've got you. And you'll like the rush."

"As much as it pains me to admit, you are right." Sherlock deadpanned. His long fingers reached for the controls in the co-pilot seat and settled into place just how he'd watched her do it. "Let's go."

Natasha turned her eyes ahead and sat up straight, itching to share another kind of rush with Sherlock to distract him from everything they'd left down below. Up here it was just the two of them, untouchable and unreachable if only for a moment. Up here there was freedom.

Flicking a switch, she issued another series of instructions, quick and to the point. She stole another peek at him when she was done, intense and anticipatory. "All yours," she said meaningfully.

Sherlock took control carefully, meticulously following her instructions to the letter. Wouldn't do to go plummeting down into central London. "Yes, I am." He said, even thought several minutes had passed. "You're stuck."

"You're stuck with me too," she replied, laughing quietly into the emptiness of the cockpit. "I love you," she said after a short pause, earnest and soft.

"Let's hope you still love me after this." He turned the quinjet sharply, angling upwards to ascend again. There was a smirk on his face and his eyes were fixed on the sky that stretched around them.

Natasha was pressed back into her seat by both the angle and speed, and this time there was nothing quiet about her laugh. "My ship and my heart are yours to command," she paused for dramatic effect, flashing a rogue smile, "Pirate."

Author's Note: Thank you so much to our reviewers, and those who have favorited and followed, we appreciate you all!