Ch. 44
Seeing that the coast was clear, Sherlock emerged from his room. He had never seen Norah so intense in his life.
"I like her, she's fiery."
"Don't antagonize her, Irene." He sat across from the dominatrix.
"It's delightfully fun, though."
"I mean it." He commanded, looking her straight in the eyes.
"What, is she important to you? I didn't think you were into that sort of thing," she commented, sipping her tea.
"I wasn't."
"What changed your mind then?"
"…She's different."
"Looks pretty average to me. What makes her so special?"
"I'm not discussing this with you," he jeered, shaking his head at her. "You're here for the case, not to infuriate my significant other."
Irene smirked. "You know, I'm different too, Sherlock."
Sherlock got up from his seat. "Never mind, we can discuss the case tomorrow," he said, trying to change the subject. "You can have my bed, I'll take the couch."
"I was going to take the bed whether you gave me permission or not."
"You're quite the house guest."
"Your girlfriend is quite the host." She finished off her tea and left the mug on the counter, letting her hair down and taking the bathrobe off as she went into Sherlock's room and closed the door.
…
Norah laid in bed above the covers, curled up in a ball. Though she could walk and move about fairly normally now, her abdomen still became very sore from the day's activities when she got into bed at night. The pain contributed to her silent rage.
When she heard her door creak open, she remained still.
"May I?" a husky voice murmured. She looked over her shoulder at Sherlock, who was asking permission to sit on her bed.
"…I suppose."
He sat down, but did not touch her. He knew better.
"Are you brooding because I lied to you?"
"You're the detective. Use your deduction," she said, monotonously.
"You know I can't do that with you." He leaned back so that he was resting against the headboard. "We're just going to have to talk about it like normal couples do."
"Don't worry about it. It's stupid."
"Norah, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Really I didn't think it mattered, and then suddenly it did once she showed up...well, exposed in my bed."
Norah turned to face him, not bothering to shield her glassy eyes.
"Do you understand how disheartening it is to suddenly learn that your boyfriend slept with a woman that looks like that, and then came crawling to you?"
Ah, so that's what this was about.
"Oh, I see why you're upset." He tried to prevent himself from smiling. If she saw him and thought that he wasn't taking her seriously, she might have snapped.
"How would you feel if you found out that I slept with...I don't know…Tom Hiddleston?"
"Who?"
"Never mind. Forget I said anything." She turned back around.
Wait, was she serious?
"You honestly feel inadequate? Really?" Sherlock couldn't wrap his mind around it. Norah was perfectly lovely to him, physically and especially mentally.
"You were right, I'm being childish. Just drop it."
Sherlock chuckled.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You're ridiculous."
"No, I'm not!" She sat up to look at him face-to-face. "She's got these jaunt cheekbones and big red lips and a jawline so sharp that I'm sure I would cut my hand on it if I actually did hit her, and her proportions are just right and-,"
"Norah, stop."
"AND if THAT wasn't bad enough, she's a bloody BDSM courtesan so the sex was probably the best of you life-,"
"Norah."
"And then there's mousy me, and I work in a stupid lab, and you probably find me utterly boring-,"
Sherlock had grabbed her lips between his two fingers to stop her rambling.
"As I said, you're being ridiculous."
"You may think so, but-,"
"I haven't finished. What makes you think I would choose her?"
"…I thought I just gave you a fairly comprehensive list."
"I don't care about any of that."
"If you say 'I care about what's inside' I will end you."
"No but honestly, after all we've been through you think I would select a femme fatal with a jawline over you, right now, curled up next to me?" He was legitimately amazed and puzzled.
"…Any other man would."
"Then you made the mistake of thinking me ordinary."
"It's not just the way she looks. She's just like you. You both think the same way. You're equals."
"I don't want someone who's just like me. I thought we had established that I didn't like myself." He pushed her hair out of her face. "I want somebody who's everything good that I can't be."
Norah's lower lip quivered as she looked up into his face. "Damnit Sherlock, I'm trying to be mad at you and you're making it very difficult."
"Right. Sorry." He smirked. "I could do insults if you'd like?"
She hit his arm. "No need for that, thanks."
"…That night with Irene didn't mean anything. It was purely…physical."
"…I believe you."
"And, for the record, do you want to know what the 'best sex of my life' was?"
"...What?"
"That first time with you."
"That's total bullshit, we both know that was awful," she laughed, covering her face with her pillow.
He kissed her forehead.
"Stay up here tonight. My tummy hurts."
"She's in my bed, so I suppose this is better than the couch anyway."
"SHE'S IN YOUR-,"
"Norah."
"Sorry. Sorry. Urrgh she irks me so."
"She does it on purpose."
They laid down together.
"I'm still angry with you, and you're still going to have to earn my trust back, but I love you."
"Yep."
"Sherlock."
"...Love you too." The words, once sour in his mouth, were beginning to taste more familiar and natural to him.
First big fight, check.
