The day of the wedding began like any other, but was soon moving at an express pace. Charlotte had to arrive early to the inn where John and Mary were hosting their reception to get hair and makeup done. Mary and her party were crammed into one of the inn's rooms, the largest, by the insistence of the innkeeper; used for "this sort of thing" all the time.
There were two stylists between the five of them, so there was ample waiting time involved. Diane and Abigail volunteered to go first, which left Mary, Charlotte, and Janine, the maid of honor, seated on the bed side-by-side in their complimentary robes. They picked at a fruit plate as Charlotte and Janine passed a bottle of champagne back and forth—Mary had insisted she didn't want to peak too soon at her own wedding.
"So, let's get down to it then," Janine said after a few pulls on the bottle. "What kind of talent will be at this wedding, Mary?"
"Talent?" Mary mused, popping a grape into her mouth as though she had no idea what Janine was talking about. "I'm not about to have fire throwers and jugglers at my wedding, am I?"
Janine rolled her eyes, knowing full well Mary was taunting her. "I'm talking about the guest list," she confirmed. "You know…preferably the male part of the guest list."
"Well, if you had helped with invitations, you might know…" Mary teased, putting another piece of fruit in her mouth and bobbing her eyebrows at her friend.
"You know I was tied up with work," Janine replied, unapologetic. "Come on, out with it. What have I got to work with?"
"You'll just have to wait and see," Mary sing-songed, grinning. "Only hours away now."
Janine scowled at Mary as she handed the bottle to Charlotte. "What's the story on Sherlock Holmes?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I've seen him in the papers—he's very fit. Is he attached?"
Mary snorted, almost losing her grapes. "No, very single. Extremely," she choked out, giggling slightly. "And…I'm not sure he's your type, love."
"Man is my type," Janine corrected. "Especially successful ones. I can't be going 'round with any slouch off the street."
Charlotte sipped out of the bottle of champagne and barely heard Mary's pithy reply. She wasn't stupid enough to think that Sherlock was a diamond in the rough, a little-known secret that only she was privy to. She knew plenty of women found him attractive—Molly, Irene Adler, scores of mega-fans. Yet, somehow, hearing Janine ask after him made her bristle. Jealousy was not a welcome guest, but she knew it when she felt it.
"Yoo-hoo, Charlotte?" Mary waved a hand in front of her face.
Charlotte shook her head and looked at her friend, dazed. "Sorry," she apologized. "Bubbles are going straight to my head." She chuckled quietly.
"Don't you peak too early now," Mary cautioned, giving her a look. "I don't want you falling asleep at the reception."
Charlotte laughed genuinely. "Aye, aye, captain," she said, saluting. "No more champagne for me this morning."
Mary snatched the bottle from her and handed it sideways to Janine. "Now, up you get. It's your turn for hair and makeup."
Charlotte heeded her friend's instructions and scrambled out of bed and into a makeup chair.
Charlotte had never been professionally done-up before, and it was fascinating to watch the stylists work. She found it rather funny that they asked her opinions, as if her input was somehow more valuable than a professional's:
"How would you like your hair, dear?"
"Shall we try for a smoky eye?"
"What do you think of this twist?"
After a couple hours of flurrying movement around her head and face, she was turned toward the mirror to behold their handiwork. At Mary's insistence, they had kept the bridesmaids' hair simple—for her, this meant her chestnut hair had been pulled back into braided bun, with some tendrils loosed to frame her face. Her makeup was lightly applied and natural looking; whatever a smoky eye was, she supposed she liked it.
"Finishing touch," her stylist said, approaching her with a lip crayon. "What do you think of this color?"
Charlotte chuckled softly and shook her head. "What do you think of it?" she returned, grinning.
A few hours later, they were all congregated at the church, dressed and ready for showtime. Charlotte hurried down the corridor toward the groom's suite, at Mary's request that she check on John and Sherlock.
She knocked tentatively at the door. "Everybody decent in there?" she wondered.
"Charlotte, come in," John's voice beckoned from the other side of the door.
She opened the door to find John pacing. "Sherlock hasn't showed up yet," he fretted. "He was supposed to be here an hour ago."
"Yes, he has," Charlotte lied smoothly, not wanting him any more worked up than he already was. "I saw him out in the courtyard. I don't think he knows he's allowed back here. I can go get him."
"Oh, thank God," John exhaled. He scrubbed a hand down his face and then stood looking at Charlotte, smiling weakly. "I suppose I've got a bit of the jitters."
"That's natural," Charlotte reassured him. She walked closer and put her hands on his shoulders, brushing them off. "You look very smart," she told him. "And wait till you see Mary."
This brought a more relaxed smile to John's face. "See, this is why I needed you on my side of the church," John joked. "You're very cool under pressure."
The corners of Charlotte's mouth turned up. "I'll go get Sherlock, all right?" she offered. "May take a minute. I saw him speaking to one of the guests very intently. Probably trying to prove a point." She rolled her eyes.
"Right," John replied, shaking his head. "Well, don't take too long, okay? We're on in ten."
Charlotte nodded and slipped out of the room, then ran as fast as her heels could take her toward the entrance. She scanned the car park and the various taxis pulling up to the curb, taking her phone out of the bodice of her dress simultaneously. "Sherlock…" she growled, typing in his number urgently.
Just as she was lifting the phone to her ear, she saw his cab pull up. She hung up and approached at a fast clip.
Sherlock helped Mrs. Hudson out of the back seat and turned just in time to receive a very flustered Charlotte.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, stopping in front of him with a look of disbelief. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago! John's stressed to the gills!"
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly as he beheld her, eyebrows lifting.
"Oh, Charlotte," Mrs. Hudson greeted, either not understanding her urgency or not caring. "Don't you look nice."
"Hi, Mrs. Hudson," Charlotte greeted, pasting on a smile as she touched the woman's shoulder affectionately. "You look lovely, too. Would you mind if I stole your date for just a moment? He's needed in the church."
Charlotte grabbed Sherlock's hand and flew back toward the chapel's open doors.
"I was working on my speech," Sherlock explained hurriedly, trying to keep pace. "It took to the last minute."
"It had better be good, then," Charlotte told him as they climbed the steps.
"Is John really that worried?" Sherlock asked in a hushed voice as they pulled up at the door.
"Yes, he is. He's got wedding jitters," Charlotte answered in just as hushed a voice, turning to face him with her hand on the doorknob. "If he asks, you've been here the entire time, got it?"
"Crystal clear," Sherlock responded, pursing his lips together to avoid an amused smile.
"What?" Charlotte demanded, looking up at him exasperatedly.
"I was entertaining the idea of telling you how nice you look, but I rather like having all my teeth," Sherlock teased, now fully grinning.
Charlotte smiled despite herself, turning her head so as not to give him the satisfaction. "I suppose I'm a bit wound up," she allowed.
"Like an elegantly dressed spinning top," Sherlock quipped. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm late."
"Don't say it to me," Charlotte insisted. She opened the door. "Delivery!"
"Sherlock, where the hell have you been?" John demanded, looking peeved.
"Best be going," Charlotte told them. Smiling and waving before making her way back to Mary.
The day passed in a glorious blur, even despite the debacle at the reception. By the time evening fell, everyone was in high spirits. Libations flowed and music played throughout the venue, everyone happily swaying along. When the deejay was paused so Sherlock could play John and Mary his composition on the violin, Charlotte found herself in line at the drinks table beside Janine.
"He's something else, isn't he?" Janine commented in a hushed voice, staring at Sherlock with rapt attention as he played.
"Mhm," Charlotte responded, tipping her head in agreement.
"You know him, right?" Janine questioned. "How am I supposed to get his attention?"
"I think you've gotten it," Charlotte replied honestly, having noticed Sherlock's interest in Janine throughout the day.
"Have I?" Janine wondered, looking puzzled.
"Sherlock's subtle," Charlotte informed her. "But he seems at least intrigued." She shrugged her shoulder. "Shoot your shot. See what happens."
"Well, all right," Janine said with an air of excitement. She picked up her drink as Sherlock's song came to a close, set to make a beeline for him. "Thanks, Charlotte." She sauntered away.
"She's a bit of a go-getter, isn't she?" Molly commented with a nervous titter.
Charlotte hadn't even noticed her standing in line with them. "Oh, er…yeah," she answered. "I mean, she knows what she wants. You have to hand it to her."
"He'll never go for it," Molly replied, sounding very sure.
"You don't think so?" Charlotte questioned, raising her eyebrows interestedly.
"No," Molly responded, shaking her head. "She's not his type. Honestly, I've always thought you were." She shrugged a shoulder stiffly and sipped her drink.
Charlotte gave Molly a sideways glance. She had always wondered why the two of them hadn't clicked. Now, it had become glaringly apparent.
"Did you two ever…?" Molly wondered, after a pause.
Charlotte nearly choked on her champagne. She slowly lowered her glass from her lips and gave Molly another sideways glance. Was there a point in lying anymore?
"Yeah," Charlotte replied in the affirmative. "A long time ago."
Molly cleared her throat and looked down into her drink. "You know, I always had a hunch…" She laughed in that nervous way she had.
Charlotte blinked a few times, surprised at what she had just admitted—and to Molly, of all people. However, it was only a moment before she had forgotten the feeling. As time went on, it seemed, what she and Sherlock had shared was becoming less a dirty secret and more a point in time. She let the silence stand.
"Who else knows?" Molly wondered, giving Charlotte a curious look. "I-is it pretty much common knowledge?"
She was wondering if she was the last to know. "Mary knows," Charlotte reported. "My ex knows. That's about it."
"So, probably shouldn't mention anything to John," Molly responded with a tight chuckle.
"I think it might be better coming from me," Charlotte admitted with a slight grimace. "Or…" She shook her head. "Never mind. That would never happen."
Another lull of silence overtook them. "So, you're happy with Tom, then?" Charlotte blurted out, needing to pivot the subject. "I don't know if I ever said congratulations."
"Oh, er, yeah," Molly replied, surprised by the quick switch. "Yeah, we're very happy. Thank you." She nodded and smiled the way someone should when talking about her fiance.
"Good," Charlotte said, returning her smile.
"I'm not sure where's he's gotten to, actually," Molly excused herself, even though Tom could be seen easily from where they stood. "I should go find him."
As Molly walked away, Charlotte scanned the room. She saw John and Mary dancing close, no doubt basking in their happiness. She saw Janine swaying not with Sherlock, but with one of the other wedding guests. She watched as Molly and Tom took the floor not long after. Even Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson had caved. Charlotte smiled faintly, knowing that the majority of people she loved were in that room, having a great time—but someone was missing.
Her brow furrowed as she noticed Sherlock's absence. She glanced over the room more carefully, but somehow she knew he wouldn't be there. She downed the last of her champagne and set her empty flute down on the table before making her way toward the entrance.
When she stepped out into the night she saw him, just as predicted. "Where do you think you're going?" she called, watching him make his way down the drive. His steps were slow, almost somber.
The sound of high heels on the flagstones made Sherlock pause his stride. He turned to see Charlotte coming toward him. She had her arms crossed in front of her, bracing against the slight chill of the evening.
"Home," he answered, as if it were obvious.
"So early?" Charlotte wondered, her steps echoing through the courtyard as she closed more distance between them.
"I'm no longer needed here," Sherlock replied simply, shrugging a shoulder.
"Nobody gets invited to a wedding out of necessity, Sherlock," Charlotte reasoned. Then, upon further consideration: "Okay…maybe some people. Distant cousins and your mum's least favorite sister—people like that."
"Have you lost your point? Excellent," Sherlock concluded, nodding at her curtly before attempting to continue his departure.
"You're the best man," Charlotte reminded him. "You certainly weren't invited out of necessity. Mary and John want you here."
"Mary and John are too busy to notice," Sherlock countered, not turning around this time.
"Sherlock, things are going to change," Charlotte reasoned empathetically. "Some things already have."
Sherlock slowly came to a halt, his back still to her. "If you think I'm unaware that things have changed—"
"You didn't let me finish," Charlotte interjected. "Stop thinking you know everything I'm going to say." She placed her hands on her hips. "I was going to remind you that some things will stay the same, too. Your friendship with John. Solving cases together."
"Will you stick around?" Sherlock wondered, glancing over his shoulder at her.
"I will if you will," Charlotte responded, raising her eyebrows at him in a sassy sort of way.
Sherlock turned fully around to face her, cracking a smile despite himself. "I suppose I'm never going to live that one down," he stated.
"I don't suppose you will," Charlotte confirmed.
"Are you still angry with me?" Sherlock asked, meeting her eyes.
Charlotte shook her head. "It takes a lot of energy to be angry," she admitted. "You've paid your dues."
Sherlock brightened at this. "Really?" he wondered.
Charlotte nodded. "I watched how hard you worked to win John back," she explained. "If he was so willing to welcome you back, I wondered why I shouldn't be."
"I wasn't trying to…"
"I know you weren't," Charlotte told him. "You never pushed or tried to force yourself back into my good graces. You gave me the space I asked for." She smiled knowingly. "Which I know was probably near impossible for you."
Sherlock chuckled reservedly, as if hesitant to let his guard down completely. "It's been agony," he responded, more earnestly than he was accustomed.
Charlotte rubbed her upper arms, feeling the goosebumps from the cold. "Have I convinced you to stay yet?" she wondered, cocking her head to the side.
"Dunno," Sherlock mused, mischievous. "What else have you got for me?"
Charlotte feigned looking unamused. "Dance with me," she proposed.
"What is this now?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows. "Pity?"
"Yeah, self-pity," Charlotte countered, laying it on thick. "I've just been watching everyone dance and it's a poignant reminder that I was dumped not too long ago."
"Please," Sherlock snorted. "Where did you say the poor bastard moved to again?"
"Dublin," Charlotte informed him.
"Dublin, Ireland?" Sherlock questioned.
"Yes," Charlotte said, looking exasperated. "Would you like me to point it out on a map?"
"Hm," Sherlock hummed noncommittally.
"What?" Charlotte demanded.
Sherlock shrugged a shoulder. "Just isn't that far, is all."
"Thanks for that," Charlotte snorted, shooting him a look. "You know, usually when someone tells you they're enacting a ploy of self-pity, you don't try to make them feel worse."
"You're better off without him," Sherlock stated with certainty.
"And how do you surmise that?" Charlotte wondered, almost daring him.
"Because it should take more than the Irish channel to keep a man from you, Charlotte," Sherlock informed her. "It should take oceans, ice caps…"
"Funny…" Charlotte responded, looking thoughtful. "I hadn't realized there were ice caps between here and Serbia." She looked him square in the face, almost taunting—two could play at that game.
Sherlock stared at Charlotte, slack jawed, wondering whether now would be a good time to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
After an impregnated silence, Charlotte let out a soft peal of laughter. "You're so easy," she teased. She let out a breath and rubbed her arms once again, staving off cold. "Are we dancing or not?"
Sherlock smiled, surprisingly humored. He snorted as he offered her his arm. Wordlessly, Charlotte accepted the gesture, looping her arm in his. "You're ruthless, Green," he told her as they processed back toward the building.
"I mean, come on," Charlotte beckoned. "You walked right into it."
"I suppose I did," Sherlock forfeited, still smiling as he shook his head. He walked beside her in silence for a few paces. "To my credit, I did come back," he murmured. "Even though I didn't have to swim oceans and scale ice caps, I came back."
"I know you did," Charlotte responded, bobbing her eyebrows. "You came back for Mycroft and a terrorist plot. Absolutely irresistible." She turned and smiled at him.
Sherlock stopped to open the door for her. "Yes," he mumbled. "Irresistible."
The dance floor was just as crowded as it had been when she had left. Charlotte and Sherlock made their way to the periphery of the wedding-goers.
"Now, I must warn you," Sherlock told her as the song changed to a mid-tempo song. "I'm one hell of a dancer."
"So I've heard," Charlotte responded, looking impressed. "Mrs. Hudson says you're quite—" She squealed in delight as, in one fluid motion, Sherlock snaked an arm around her waist and clasped her hand in his, dipping her smoothly.
"Quite what?" Sherlock asked, pressing his face as close to hers as he dared, aware of the other guests' proximity.
"Talented," Charlotte gasped out, her chest rising and falling in an exhilarated way.
Sherlock snapped them back upright and went on dancing with her, showcasing his moves.
By the time the deejay played a slow song, Charlotte had worked up light sweat. She let out a sigh of relief and leaned her head against Sherlock's shoulder in exhaustion. Sherlock smiled to himself and swayed with her. "Impressed?" he wondered expectantly.
"Very," Charlotte admitted. "I would not have suspected that dancing was one of your talents."
Sherlock bobbed his eyebrows. "Not many people would, I expect," he replied.
"Where did you learn all that?" Charlotte wondered. "And who on earth did you practice with?" She pulled her head off his shoulder and gave him a scrutinous look. "It was John, wasn't it?"
Sherlock chuckled. "That's for me to know," he answered obscurely.
Charlotte smiled at him, accepting that she might never know. She felt his hand clasped around hers and his other on her waist, her cheek nearly touching his; realizing this is was the closest proximity they had been in in nearly three years. She knew that back then she would have been self-conscious, worried about people seeing them like this. Now, however, she felt nothing of the sort.
"Why is it that Molly keeps looking over here?" Sherlock murmured discreetly.
"I told her about us," Charlotte confessed openly.
"Oh," Sherlock replied, stumped by her admission. He was quiet for a few seconds. "Have you…have you told others?"
"Just Mary," Charlotte admitted to him.
"Mary?" Sherlock questioned, his eyebrows shooting up. "Mary Watson?"
"No, I told Mary Morstan," Charlotte corrected.
"Ah," Sherlock responded, nodding as if taking it in stride.
"Is that…okay?" Charlotte wondered, glancing at Sherlock with uncertainty.
"Of course that's okay," Sherlock answered her, nodding. "I just…I guess I'm so used to keeping it a secret. I never realized that it doesn't have to be. Not anymore."
"I've begun to feel that way, too," Charlotte told him. "It's just our past, you know? No reason to hide it."
"Does John…?"
"God no," Charlotte responded, snorting out a laugh. "No, I definitely haven't gone there yet."
"Nothing to hide, eh?" Sherlock teased, grinning at her.
"Well, be my guest," Charlotte invited.
Sherlock's face betrayed his cowardice.
"Yeah, exactly my point," Charlotte replied.
"Do you suppose he'll just find out?" Sherlock wondered. "That way, neither of us would have to tell him."
"Maybe he's known all along and isn't bothered," Charlotte proposed.
Sherlock snorted, giving her a look. "Likely."
They ceased talking, moving to the slow melody in comfortable silence. Charlotte felt Sherlock's cheek brush hers and, soon, they were temple to temple.
"You ever wonder about those two?" John asked Mary as they danced, looking over her shoulder at Sherlock and Charlotte.
Mary looked over her shoulder at the pair and then back at John. "No, not really," she answered, shrugging a shoulder.
"Be a bit weird, wouldn't it?" John wondered.
"Weird bad or weird good?" Mary asked, grinning at how cute her husband was in his oblivion.
"Dunno," John responded honestly. "Just weird, is all."
"Now that you might mention it, I think they could make a good pair," Mary shared. "Don't you?"
"There's a bit of an age difference," John brought up. "I mean, he's quite a bit older than her."
"Yes, but Charlotte's so mature. And Sherlock's…"
"Got remedial emotional skills, at best?" John joked, chuckling.
"You said it, not me," Mary stated, arching her eyebrows and smiling mischievously.
"I don't really think Sherlock thinks in that way, do you? I don't think he has…attractions." John looked uncomfortable just implying it.
"I don't know," Mary replied, smiling as she looked again at Sherlock and Charlotte as they danced closely.
John stared for a moment longer, then lost interest. He stared down at his now-wife, completely enthralled.
A couple songs later, John and Mary broke apart and headed for Sherlock and Charlotte, who were both panting slightly after coming off of a fast-paced song. "Switch up?" Mary proposed.
"Sure," Charlotte answered, nodding readily. John offered his hand and she took it, following him a few paces off.
The song had switched to a slower one, saving both of them from having to figure out the footwork. John smiled at her drunkenly, feeling both the alcohol and the overwhelming merriment of the night. "Having fun?" he asked.
Charlotte nodded. "So much, actually," she answered, breaking into a smile. "It's been a wonderful day."
"Not missing Jeremy then, eh?" John wondered.
Surprising even herself, Charlotte realized she hadn't thought about Jeremy all day, albeit during her conversation with Sherlock in the courtyard. "Not at all," she admitted.
"Good," John replied, nodding and looking pleased for her. "I always liked Jeremy very much," he told her. "But I don't think he was your Mary."
"I couldn't have said that better myself," Charlotte agreed. "I'll always be grateful to him for getting me through a tough time, but it hit me the other day that we had an expiration date from the beginning. We wanted to lead such different lives. He wanted to live in the Irish countryside, I didn't want any part of that. He wanted someone to stay home with the kids—I don't even want them."
John's eyebrows lifted. "Really?" he questioned.
Charlotte nodded.
"Well, that's probably for the best," John figured. He tried to fight a proud smile but failed miserably. "Wouldn't want you to have conflicting responsibilities. Seeing as you'll soon be someone's aunt rather soon."
It took Charlotte a second to work out exactly what John was saying, but when it clicked she let out a loud, excited shout: "What?!"
John was smiling ear to ear.
"How long have you known?" Charlotte gasped, smiling uncontrollably.
"Sherlock diagnosed Mary a couple hours ago," John joked.
Sherlock and Mary glanced over at Charlotte's exclamation. "Looks like John shared the news," Sherlock surmised, smiling coyly.
"Looks like it," Mary responded, unsurprised. "I knew he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself for long."
"Certainly not," Sherlock snorted, shaking his head. He cleared his throat and was quiet for several seconds. "I've recently found out that you've become privy to…a lesser known fact about me."
Mary didn't catch Sherlock's meaning initially, looking deeply confused. When she caught him glance at Charlotte, understanding washed over her. "Oh, yes," she replied. "Charlotte told me some time ago, now."
"I appreciate your discretion," Sherlock told her genuinely.
Mary snorted. "You think I'm going to deprive you and Charlotte of John's reaction?" she asked amusedly. "No way."
Sherlock smiled, looking over her shoulder at John and Charlotte dancing.
"Although, I must say I will never understand why you would want to keep it a secret," Mary admitted.
"I wanted to scream it from the rooftops," Sherlock confessed candidly, his voice quiet as a secret. "When it first happened, I felt like I finally…understood. Like I had made some grand discovery I hadn't known I was looking for." He grew quiet.
"But then I had to consider the stakes for her. She was in a vulnerable position and I couldn't be the one to deprive her of all she could become."
"All she's become," Mary corrected. "She's done it, Sherlock. Everyone who's anyone knows she's worth her salt and then some." She gave him a searching look. "So, what's stopping you now?"
Sherlock averted his gaze. "That was years ago, Mary. I hardly even—"
"Oh, come on," Mary interrupted him, actually laughing. "Don't give me that. After what I just saw out here? No way."
"I disappeared for two years," Sherlock reminded her, a slightly pained look overcoming him. "Nothing I do is redemption enough. What is it they say? The moment has passed?"
"Yes, that's what they say," Mary answered. "But that's not what I see."
Sherlock looked slightly sullen, having none of the optimism that Mary had.
"If you were to find out—"
"Yes," Sherlock interjected, sensing her question before it had come. "In a heartbeat."
In the later hours of the night, the music finally ceased to play. John and Mary said their goodbyes and headed for their room. The guests dispersed slowly at first, collecting discarded shoes and searching through piles of coats to find theirs. Once engines were started and taxis began arriving, the crowd thinned considerably.
There was a sharp chill to the night by this point; Sherlock shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it around Charlotte's shoulders. "Thank you," she replied, wrapping it more fully around herself.
"Want to share a cab?" Sherlock asked as they waited in the queue. Mrs. Hudson had departed earlier, claiming tiredness. "Too much wine with dinner," Sherlock had joked slyly to Charlotte out the side of his mouth.
"Sure," Charlotte answered.
They were some of the last in line and by the time a car arrived for them, Charlotte felt as though she couldn't stand on her heels any longer. She plopped herself heavily in the back seat of the taxi, finally unburdened. Sherlock slid in beside her and closed the door, reciting her address to the driver. They sat shoulder to shoulder as the car rumbled down the gravel drive.
"Did you have fun?" Charlotte asked, angling slightly in her seat to face Sherlock.
"I did," Sherlock admitted, smiling tiredly. "I actually did."
"Good," Charlotte responded. "I told you you deserved it, after all you went through for your best man's speech—which was incredible, by the way."
Sherlock inclined his head humbly. "Well, if it weren't for you, I would be long asleep right now," he reminded her. "Thank you for saving me from my own…you know."
"Anytime," Charlotte responded. She kicked off her heels. Then, leaning a lot of her weight into Sherlock, she folded her long legs up onto the seat beside her so she could rub her feet. The car lurched to a stop and she almost fell face first off the seat.
Beside her, Sherlock wrapped an arm securely around her so she would stay in place. Charlotte leaned her head back against Sherlock's shoulder, sighing out in relief. "I could sleep right here," she murmured, feeling his heart beating against her back. At that point, she knew it was inevitable.
"Be my guest," Sherlock invited, softly chuckling.
As he spoke, his breath tickled Charlotte's ear and sent shivers down her spine. Wordlessly, she sat up, her legs unfurling back toward the floor of the taxi. She twisted around and took his face in her hands, pulling herself closer until their lips were pressed firmly together.
Sherlock stiffened for the briefest of moments and then his arms ensnared her, wrapping, groping, feeling every bit of her he possibly could.
Charlotte ran her hands through Sherlock's hair, forgetting where they were. She could have forgotten her own name in the rush of endorphins that descended upon her. She kissed him with a vigorous hunger, their breath mingling to form a hot, writhing electricity between them. His fingers wove through her hair, pulling it loose of the hairstylist's trappings.
It came as a shock to both of them when the cab driver took a sharp turn toward the curb and stepped on the brakes. "Here," he barked.
"Th-thank you," Sherlock babbled as he came up for air. He fumbled in his pockets for the money he owed the cab driver, luckily procuring it and slapping it into his palm. As he did, Charlotte collected her high heels, clutching them in her hands as she climbed out of the car after Sherlock.
"Have a good night," the driver snipped, pulling away from the curb practically before they had shut the door.
Without the hum of the engine or the soft murmur of the radio in the background, the silence engulfed them. They stood on the sidewalk facing each other, soft plumes of breath rising into the night; it struck Charlotte that it was rather cold for August.
"Should I hail another taxi?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence. He looked at Charlotte with such longing that it was hard to believe he had anything else on his mind.
Charlotte shook her head. "No," she answered, clear as a bell. "No, I don't think you should."
Sherlock approached her more slowly than she would have thought possible. He touched her face gingerly, his forefingers on her jawline, thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones.
"I want you to stay with me," Charlotte uttered, all the breath gone from her lungs. "I want you tonight. I'm done pretending I don't."
Sherlock bowed his head and kissed her softly, nothing like the way she had sprung at him in the car. She closed her eyes and savored the warmth of him, the intensity with which he held her. When finally he pulled away, she reached for his hand.
Together, they walked up to her third story flat, both silent in their anticipation. It had been nearly three years since the last time—and it was clear this was present on their minds. Would it be different? Would they be different? Or was it possible they would still know each other, as if no time had passed at all?
As soon as they were inside her flat and the door was bolted against the world, they were at each other. Charlotte's dress fell away, the bobby pins wrested from her hair by Sherlock's deft fingers. His shirt and tie, his trousers were gone in moments.
Charlotte was on her bed, flat on her back with Sherlock's hand between her legs, pleasure emanating from wherever he touched. His breath was hot on her neck as he kissed her, drawing soft sounds from the back of her throat.
"Charlotte," Sherlock breathed, face inches from hers, his expression questioning. Her thighs gripped his waist, muscles quivering in anticipation. "Do we have a condom?"
Charlotte shook her head, panting. "I have an IUD implanted. We don't need one," she told him. "As long as you don't…"
"I've been with no one else," Sherlock assured her, knowing she wasn't asking, but that it would answer her question. He gazed down at her, gently brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Is there more I can do for you first?"
"There will be plenty of time for that," Charlotte murmured back. "I don't intend on sleeping tonight." She smiled before craning upward to kiss him. He kissed her back passionately as his hips glided forward.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thought about putting a disclaimer at the top about the ~M-rated~ scene, but didn't want to spoil anything. Sorry if anyone was offended. Whether you were or weren't, tell me what you think! Did you see this coming? Did you think you would have to wait longer? Did you think that was truly the end of Sherlock and Charlotte? Thanks for reading, as always. xx
