This fanfic now has over 200 reviews! *throws confetti* Thank you all so much!
On a side note, people always seemed very interested in me writing Doctor Who smut, so what about Sherlock smut? Is that something y'all be interested in?
~0~0~0~
Sherlock watched her whole body tense as Moriarty walked in, picking up an apple from the coffee table. He wasn't sure if she was actually afraid of him, or the fact that he'd called her Mary, but either way she needed to leave the room before Moriarty also worked out which.
"It's... It's Faye, actually." She corrected with a stutter. Moriarty shrugged.
"It could be Henry for all I could care." He glared up at her, "Run along. Daddy's are talking." She shivered.
"Eugh, that's all kinds of wrong." She exclaimed before shaking her head, "I'm going to wait for John. Let me know when you two are done." She headed to the door, making sure to give Moriarty a wide berth.
"You should go to the bedroom." Sherlock told her in warning.
"I think I'm more in danger up here with you two locking heads then down there, wouldn't you agree?" She snapped, leaving them to it. Moriarty watched her leave before turning back to Sherlock with a grin.
"Oh, you're in the dog house." He taunted, "Although, I can imagine how entertaining she is to calm down." He chucked the apple in the air, catching it with one hand.
"Of course, you wouldn't know, would you?" Sherlock retorted, stopping playing his violin, "Kettle's just boiled." He declared and Moriarty frowned angrily. He wanted to continue to talk about Faye; fascinating.
"Must have been annoying." Jim pressed, before glancing around the room to find a seat, "May I?"
"Of course." Sherlock motioned to John's chair but Moriarty took his place in Sherlock's instead.
"All that time and she was right under your nose. Being fooled by someone so painfully ordinary." Moriarty continued, "That's why you shouldn't meet your heroes, I suppose. Always let you down." Sherlock didn't reply, just set about pouring the two cups of tea, making sure to strain each one, "You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end ..."
"and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it." Sherlock finished quickly, handing the man his cup.
"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody." Jim told him as Sherlock sat across from him.
"Neither can you. That's why you've come." Sherlock replied, "Because I'm still here, and she said no."
~0~0~0~
Faye sat on the step outside the front door, refusing to think about the two men upstairs. The world walked on by, a couple of people sparing her a second glance but they were more interested in the flat and the two men it contained, even if they only knew one of them was there. The fact that the street seemed to empty was her first warning, and she wasn't surprised that it was almost completely empty when the front door opened and Moriarty joined her on the ground.
"You said I wouldn't see you again." She told him and he rolled his eyes.
"I'm a criminal, we lie." He mock-whispered at her, as if he was letting her into a secret, "We're not very nice people." She shook her head.
"Why are you even here?" She asked, "If you're done tormenting Sherlock, shouldn't you be getting back to being a supervillan? Surely I'm not worth wasting your time on."
"Ordinarily, you would be right." He told her, "But, you disobeyed me and now I'm really mad." He pulled an over-exaggerated frown, "So you are going to make it up to me." She looked at him, incredulous before snorting and shaking her head.
"Yeah, sure I am." She replied sarcastically.
"Is laughing at me a good idea?" He asked in warning and she waved her hands in the air, illustrating the world around them.
"Is any of this a good idea?" She retorted, "Nothing that has ever happened has ever been considered a good idea." He chuckled at her pessimism.
"All I want is for you to do one teeny, tiny thing." He assured her.
"And I really don't care." She snapped in reply, "Please go away." He held his hands up in defeat before standing up, stretching dramatically.
"It doesn't matter if you agree or not." He told her, bending at the waist so he was looking directly into her eyes, "You will end up doing exactly what I want. Everyone always does." He stood up straight again, placing his hands in his suit pockets, "You'll make him cry, I can laugh and we can all go on our merry way." He shot her a wink, "I'll see you around, Mary." He started sauntering off and she jumped up, thoroughly confused.
"Wait, what do you mean by that?" She called after him but he just shot her a wave, disappearing around the corner. She shook her head, 'make him cry'? She sighed and took off in a jog, going around the corner and bumping into John, who looked surprised to see her as she tried to spot Moriarty, but he'd gone.
"How did you manage to get Sherlock to let you out of the flat?" He asked with a laugh before seeing she was otherwise distracted, "Faye, are you okay?" She looked back at him, as if realising he was there and she grinned, linking her arm through his.
"Yeah, of course I am." She replied, "Well, you know, except the fact that Moriarty is out and on the rampage, but that'll be fine." John shook his head, glancing down and double taking.
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?" He asked her and she shrugged.
"Why would I?" She retorted, "I'm not allowed outside anymore, remember?"
~0~0~0~
Faye switched the hair-dryer off, her hair a suitable dryness. Well, it wasn't exactly dry but she was getting a very warm head and she couldn't be bothered to finish it off properly. She jumped off Sherlock's bed and headed to the door, frowning when she couldn't open the door. She tried again, shaking the handle as she tried to fight her way out of the room. Panic flared in her chest.
"Sherlock, open the door!" She shouted, rattling the door again, "John? What the hell is going on? Let me out!"
"Calm down." Sherlock's voice snapped from the other side and she paused her movements to glare hard at the door.
"Why the hell am I locked in your bedroom?" She hissed angrily, rattling the handle extra hard to show him her anger.
"So you don't come out until everything is ready." He replied and she frowned.
"Ready? What are you doing out there? Please tell me you've not brought another body home because Molly promised me she wouldn't let you do that anymore." Her mind drifted back to poor Mr Erikkson, who had been dressed up in one of Mrs Hudson's dresses and left in the bathtub. She'd screamed bloody murder at the sight, after all she'd only nipped to the toilet.
"No, she's hidden the keys again." He grumbled and she couldn't help but smile at the pout she knew was on his face, "Are you smiling?" He asked and she laughed. He always asked her that, as if he needed to keep checking she was happy.
"Yes, you arse." She told him, leaning against the door, "Can I come out now?"
"John, can I let her out now?" Sherlock shouted at the third person living in the flat.
"I don't know." John shouted back, sounding like he was up in his bedroom, "Did you follow the list?" 'The List?' she mouthed to herself.
"Not everything. Some of it seemed cliché and I'm positive she wouldn't fall for such manipulative sentimentality." Sherlock explained.
"You know I can hear you, right?" She called out and the pair fell silent for a moment.
"Just let her out, Sherlock!" John told him, coming down the stairs she guessed by the way his voice rose in volume. The sound of a bolt lock opening came from the other side and she opened the door, blinking in surprise at the table laid out with a white table cloth and candles. She turned to look at the door, seeing the lock he must have put on whilst she had been in the bath, then at the man in question who looked absolutely gorgeous in a black suit and white shirt.
"What's going on?" She asked quietly.
"It has been pointed out to me that for two people in an exclusive romantic relationship that we haven't been participating in normal activities that couples tend to participate in." Sherlock explained.
"Who said that?" She asked, confused because she'd never said anything of the sort. Had she?
"I did." John appeared, buttoning up the cuffs on his shirt, "I'm going out with Greg for some drinks, won't be back until later." He nodded at Sherlock, "He's under strict instructions to not insult or be condescending at any point, and to keep the murder talk down to a minimum." She frowned, looking from John to Sherlock.
"I'm confused. Why are you doing this?" She asked him.
"Apparently it is romantic." Sherlock told her. John patted her on the arm.
"Have fun." He told her, disappearing out the door. She watched him go, still confused before shaking her head and walking up to Sherlock.
"Right, now he's gone, tell me the truth." She told him, "Why are you doing this? I mean, it's sweet of you, but it's like, you know, a date."
"Are we not dating?" He asked her and she nodded.
"Yeah, we are, I suppose." She replied, "Okay, I'll try and rephrase that. It's all very normal for you." She settled on and he nodded.
"It does seems rather mundane." He told her bluntly, "But it is an appropriate way for me to ensure you do not run into the arms of a sexy Irishman." Her face broke out into a grin that seemed to confuse him more, "Why are you grinning?"
"Because, for someone who has such an extraordinary brain, you can be a right moron sometimes." She replied before placing her hands on her hips, "Right, here is my counter proposal. We play Mario Kart, and I promise not to run off with any other sexy men, Irish or otherwise?" He nodded.
"Deal." He told her, walking off towards his bedroom, but she stopped him.
"But," She drawled, "You have to keep the suit on."
"Why?" He exclaimed in annoyance. He hated the suit, made him feel like a child at a wedding.
"Because it makes me smile." He narrowed his eyes at her and she smirked triumphantly, her tongue behind her teeth as she pulled her ace out.
"Fine." He muttered, storming into the living room, "Your dress is hanging in my closet." She frowned.
"Wait, what dress?" She cried.
~0~0~0~
John came home to find the pair on the sofa together, Sherlock in his suit and Faye in the blue and white dress Molly had helped him pick out of her. Faye was curled up against his side, eyes closed and Gamecube controller grasped loosely in her hand. The television had been wheeled over and Sherlock had his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, stopping her from potentially slipping onto the floor.
"Did she enjoy dinner?" John whispered, not wanting to wake her up and Sherlock shook his head.
"She suggested that we should play Mario Kart instead." He explained, "It was a much more preferable idea than having a candle lit meal whilst making small talk."
"I told you she'd prefer that." John pointed out, "I don't know why you didn't just listen to me in the first place."
"You said I should be more romantic. Dates are supposed to be romantic." Sherlock reasoned.
"Yes, but she's going out with you." John replied, "If she wanted something normal and romantic, she wouldn't be." Sherlock glanced down at her again.
"Why is she, John?" He asked and John sat on the coffee table, surprised at how much of a vulnerable question that was. Sherlock would ask him about human behaviour, something he was still getting to grasps with.
"Me and Greg have been asking that all night." John told him and Sherlock shot him a dirty look, "But if you question it, it'll never work. She's happy, you're as happy as you can be. Just roll with it."
"Just roll with it?" Sherlock repeated, "Thank god you're not a psycologist. That's terrible advise." John rolled his eyes in exasperation, standing up.
"Look, she's not going anywhere anytime soon." John told him, "Just enjoy it." He stormed off to his bedroom and Sherlock tightened his grip around her waist before gently shaking her awake.
"Mary, wake up." He murmured into her ear and she shook her head.
"No." She protested and he chuckled deeply.
"I want you to sing for me." She sat up, slightly groggily to stare at him in confusion.
"Why?" She asked. He'd been acting strange all evening, and it was starting to concern her.
"Because singing makes you happy, and I want you to smile again." He told her. She smiled warmly at him, not even trying to be romantic and succeeding at it.
"Fine." She told him, settling back down into his side.