"So..."
"So." You giggled as you mimicked Sherlock.

He smiled up at you, finding humor in your failed impersonation.

It was the last day of the school holidays and Sherlock had invite you, Megan and Jewels to come and spend the day at the Holmes estate. It had been great seeing them again. Jewels had been talking about her cousin coming up from Sussex's next week to compete in some kind of athletic competition (she had somehow managed to guilt trip you all into going to watch him).

Megan and Sherlock were still gloating over the successfulness of their most resent 'experiment' with Holly and Matt. Though you where still pissed at the fact that it was you who had got the brunt of Holly's rage.

This is also the first time you've seen Sherlock since Christmas. You were anxious to talk to him about it but you could hardly bring it up in front of Megan and Jewels. So you had to wait until after they had left.

So now here you are in Sherlock and Mycrofts tree house. Yes a tree house! Sherlock bloody Holmes built a tree house with his brother when he was young! You couldn't help imagine a four year old version of Sherlock, with curly black hair and long back coat, sporting a hammer and nails.

The tree house was small, about the size of a box room, cluttered with an assortment of beanbag chairs, pictures and other nicknacks. There was only one window, on the wall directly behind you, and a small trap door in the corner of the room that was the only entrance.

You and Sherlock where seated in the middle of the room. You were perched on a light blue beanbag chair with Sherlocks head in your lap, your fingers weaving their way through his dark, disheveled, downy curls. You loved the feel of his hair: silky but firm with a distinctive bounce to it. Sherlock thrummed in pleasure as your hands continued to card through his hair.

"Sherlock-" you started nervously.

"Hmmm?" He hummed, eyes still closed.

"C-can I ask you something?" Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.

Oh god! You were terrified at the prospect of asking Sherlock about what had happened on Christmas. Yes you's had kissed but did it really change anything, really?

Sherlock, obviously noticing your discomfort, sat up and looked at you.

"Anything." He said softly taking your hand.

The feel of his hand on yours sent your already erratic pulse into a frenzy. Okay focus! Sherlocks waiting on you to ask him, so just ask already!

"It's-a... It's about Christmas" Your voice cracked. Oh shit!

You couldn't bare to look at him. You could feel the heat on your blushing face.

"Oh..." Sherlocks voice was low.

There was a long torturous silence between the two of you before you finally looked up. Sherlocks face was downcast and somber. The usual mischievous gleam in his eyes was gone. Maybe bringing this up was a bad idea... Well you had done it now! Might as well lay the cards on the table,

"You see... I- I really liked it, I like you! But I don't know... I mean, did you? Did you... like it...?" Your voice trailed off as you lost your nerve.

Your eyes where, once again, glued to the floor. You couldn't stand this! All this uncertainty! It was driving you mad!

Sherlock hooked his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Sherlock face had morphed into a look that almost seemed... Hopeful?

"You...you like me?" Sherlock voice was tinged with disbelieve.

You just nodded, not trusting your voice.

Sherlock's face broke into the biggest grin you had ever seen and in that moment you knew Sherlock had to feel the same.

Your lips were suddenly crushed against his. One of your hands locked itself in his hair, the other was pressed flat against his chest. His lips were warm and hungry against yours. You melted into the kiss, the feeling of his lips on yours was just out of this world!

He very delicately took your bottom lip between his teeth and sucked. You gasped, giving Sherlock the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues collided in a sensual dance as sherlock hoisted you up so you where now straddling his lap. It felt like your entire body had been set alight with desire, scorching your skin, but at the same time you never wanted it to stop. You wanted more.

Cool hands slipped under your top, coming into contact with your burning flesh. Surly the cool hands should had brung you some relief from the heat but they didn't. Instead the heat rose to impossible levels and you wanted - needed more, more contact, more of him. Sherlock moaned beneath you and the heat continued to grow.

"Sherlock, (your name)!" You heard someone shout.

You and Sherlock jumped apart, startled. After realizing that the voice had came from the main house area you sighed in relief.

You caught Sherlocks eye, you's looked at each other for a moment before you both collapsed into a fit of laughter.

"Guys!" The voice shouted again, but this time you knew who it belonged to.

"Mycroft." You and Sherlock said in unison. You said it like an explanation, Sherlock said it like an expletive.

"Coming." You shouted down, before readjusting your top and raking your fingers through your disheveled hair.

Once you both looked presentable you held your hand out towards Sherlock,

"Come on, we better go." You said as he took your hand.

You and Sherlock made your way out of the tree house and up to the house hand in hand, Sherlock grumbling something about 'bad timing' all the way.

As soon as you opened the door the smell of tomatoes and oregano hit you.

Sherlock froze beside you, you looked over at him in confusion. What the hell was going on?

After a moment Sherlock gave you a small smile, his eyes alight, and led you through the house and into the kitchen where a woman in her late thirties was at the stove, the source of the smell. She had dark hair, that was starting to grey at the roots, tied up in a bun, and was wearing a pastel pink and blue floral shirt with a long flowing skirt.

"William dear grab the dinner plates." She said with out turning around.

For a minute you were confused as to who she was talking to but that confusion morphed into astonishment as Sherlock jumped into action. What the hell?

"Oh hello dear." The woman said when she turned around to plate up the freshly cooked food, "You must be (your name), right?

"Yeah that's me." You said smiling at the woman.

There was something about her that made you feel safe, something very motherly about her.

"You look so much like Lizzie." She cooed affectionately.

"Lizzie?" You asked confused.

"Lisa your mother," you jumped when Mycroft spoke from behind you, "Lizzie was our nickname for her." A soft smile adorned his face and he had a far away look in his eyes.

"When Mycroft was little he had a bit of a problem with his speech, so whenever he tried to say Lisa it would come out as Lizzie and it stuck." The older woman said with a laugh.

Mycrofts face was slightly tinged pink as he muttered a mortified 'mother!'

Ah, so this was Mycroft and Sherlocks mother.

"He was absolutely adorable, so cute!" Jill said entering the room and shooting Mycroft a warm smile.

Mycrofts cheeks were now stained a bright pink as he mumbled something about not being cute.

"Oh Mike" Mrs Holmes said with a fond smile as she and Sherlock set the table.

"Mycroft. Mycroft was the name you gave me if we could at least make it to the end." Mycroft grumbled as you all sat down at the table.

"Now, now Mikey." Sherlock, mimicking his mothers voice, smirked over at mycroft from his seat beside you.

"Oh shut up William" Mycroft said with a mock glare, emphasising 'William'.

"Mycroft, language!" Mrs Holmes said trying to hold back a laugh as you asked,

"William?"

Sherlock blushed slightly at your confused look and affectionately placed his hand on your knee.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes" Sherlock said, squeezing your knee lightly.

You couldn't help but smile at him, placing your hand over his.

"Hello all" came a male voice from behind you.

You turned to see a tall middle age man with greying hair and a kind face standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Hey dad" Sherlock and Mycroft said in unison.

Mr Holmes smiled over at them before rubbing his hands together and asking mrs Holmes,

"So love, what's for dinner?"