stlgeekgirl asked: I love you MizJoely! Thank you. Either one of these would be lovely. a hoarse whisper "kiss me" Or then licks their lips and says "please"
mizjoely answered: This turned into a Victorian Reichenbach AU because I was just rereading one of my other Victorian ficlets. Hope you like it (and sorry it took a whole year for me to get to the prompt)! Rated K+
"Kiss me," he breathed, his voice a hoarse whisper. He licked his lips and added, "Please."
How could she possibly refuse such a request, coming as it did from the lips of the man she'd longed to kiss ever since their first meeting at St. Bartholomew's hospital? How could she ever deny Mr. Holmes anything, anything at all? Certainly nothing so simple - and yet so fraught, she knew - as a kiss.
Not on this night, of all nights. The night before he left London in the company of Doctor Watson, all in the mad chase to bring Professor Moriarty - her one-time suitor, oh false man! - to justice.
Or, perchance, to his end. Either way she would not mourn his loss.
She licked her lips, realizing she'd spent far too many precious seconds pondering what would come on the morrow rather than concentrating on what was happening now, in her private chambers. The servants had been dismissed for the week, not unusual for her; they were alone and she was surely compromised should anyone happen upon them but even if such an unlikely event were to occur - even if her mother should suddenly appear at her door, back from her own recent sojourn to the Continent - she would not care.
Slowly, carefully, she raised herself up on her toes, balanced mainly by her hold on Sherlock's hands, and pressed her lips softly against his.
He let out a soft sigh, nearly a moan, and moved his lips beneath hers. Returning the kiss with hesitance at first, but slowly growing bolder, more desperate, as she opened her mouth to his.
When the kiss was finished she found herself in his arms, her head tilted back; she opened her eyes with a sigh and gazed up at him, daring to raise a hand and slide it tenderly along his cheek. "Be safe," she whispered.
His smile was close to its cheeky norm but she could see the underlying sadness beneath the curl of his lips. "Never," he declared, brushing away a few strands of hair that had somehow escaped from her night-braid. "But I will endeavor to return to you, if only to claim another kiss."
He released her, allowing her to step away as he strode across her room and opened the windows overlooking the bit of garden the townhouse had to offer. He hesitated on the sill; she clutched her hands beneath her chin and drew in a breath as their eyes met. "Be safe, Molly Hooper."
Then he was gone, and she sat numbly on the edge of her bed, with only one resolve in her heart and mind: to be ready to bestow that second kiss upon his lips as soon as he returned, no matter how much time might pass.