The hot water didn't last as long as I hoped it would. I could hear the third person talking, who I assumed was Sherlock's mysterious brother Mycroft. I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't want to submit myself to any more questioning today. In truth, I just felt like having a good mope. To just let my situation consume me, and drown in the depths. I didn't even know if this was my typical behavior. It didn't feel like something I normally let myself do, but how was I to know? I still couldn't remember anything.
When the water eventually ran cold, I stepped out of the shower, glad that I was steady enough to be able to use it. I still had to wear my clothes from yesterday since I had nothing else, but since I didn't do anything but sit about the flat, I figured it wasn't that bad. I lingered in the bathroom even when I had finished with my morning routine and packed my toiletries back up into the shopping bag that currently held all of my worldly possessions. This was an even more depressing thought.
Finally, I had no more excuses and stepped out of the bathroom, glad to see that the infamous Mycroft had already left. I felt like I had interrupted a conversation, because when I stepped into the sitting room, it was awkward. I looked at the two men, who were watching me, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. It was a bit childish of me, but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction, so I merely turned to the kitchen, finding a glass and noting that there was some milk in the fridge, got myself a small amount. I stood there, at the counter, my back toward the sitting room.
I didn't see the worried glance the two men gave each other when I didn't say anything to them, but I had a lot going on in my own mind.
I heard the shifting of furniture and then one of them clearing their throats. John, I discovered, when he started speaking. "I'm glad to see you're moving around a little easier today, Sophia. We thought.. we might bring you by the shops, get you some proper clothes. Detective Inspector Lestrade found your apartment, but I'm afraid there was a fire... so.. you'll have to start from scratch. Might not be bad. Since you can't remember anything, you can invent yourself all over again, not try and fit yourself in with who you were before." he was trying to be cheerful and turn something bad into something good, but my mind wasn't in the mood for that.
Finishing my milk, I rinsed out the glass and set it in the sink, sighing a little. "Yeah. Clothes would be good." Even to myself, my words sounded half-hearted and distracted. What was wrong with me today? Was this all just because of what happened earlier? It was hard to think that I might have let myself be so delusional as to think the two men might have any feelings other than obligation toward me. I imposed myself on their flat, when I should be finding my own place to live, they should have brought me to a hospital, instead kept me at their flat during my withdrawals, they were still taking care of me, making sure that I recovered properly, and now they were talking about taking me out shopping. Probably paying for everything as well. How could I think that they felt anything for me, I was just a burden to them in the end.
I wasn't sure how long I was standing there in the middle of the kitchen, my back to the living room area, staring out the small kitchen window. I didn't hear the conversation going on behind me in hushed tones which were occasionally more emphatic than others. Finally it seemed some sort of consensus was reached.
When warm, strong arms slid around my waist, I nearly jumped out of my own skin. "W-Wha-?!" I squeaked out, trying to turn around and see who it was, though the jumper-covered arms should have been a clue. But Sherlock was stepping in front of me now. So it was John behind me, and his strong arms tightened a bit around my waist. Sherlock took my face in his cool, dry hands, looking into my eyes. "Stop it." He says in a firm tone.
I didn't understand, and surely the confusion showed on my face. Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you were thinking, stop it." he says in a firm tone as he stared into my eyes, into my soul. One thumb stroked my cheek. "You are not an obligation. We are merely trying to.. provide you with an environment which would be conducive to your recovery, and your future happiness."
A small sigh was given from behind me, and I could feel the puff of air across my ear. "What Sherlock is trying to say, is that... We want to take care of you. We /want/ to be doing what we're doing. No expectations, no demands on you." John reassured. Sherlock nodded a little, then he shifted and moved close to me.
It was a very odd thing, Sherlock's left hand sliding into my hair and holding it against his chest gently, his right hand not sure what to do, at first resting at my hip, then with his long limbs, he shifted to put his hand on John's hip.
I couldn't help it, my body was starting to tremble with the emotions. I didn't know what to think or feel, when had they coordinated this sneak attack, what did it mean? No, I couldn't think about that now, I needed to just relax and enjoy this, imprint it on my memory. I was still trembling, but I tried to relax, resting my head on Sherlock's chest, not sure whether I should lean forward or back. John, more than Sherlock, seemed to understand this, and he shifted his right hand to put it on Sherlock's waist. I could feel him shift behind me, and he pulled us all closer together, pressing me into Sherlock more as he pressed into my back.
My breath caught as I felt the warmth from both sides, the comfort, and John's face closer against mine for a moment. It was comforting, relaxing, and perfect. My trembling finally stopped, and I let my brain stop worrying, stopped its masochistic cycle, my head dropping onto Sherlock's chest. The tension slid out of my body as I took a deep breath and then sighed. I still felt a little awkward, not sure what to do with my hands, so I lifted my left hand to clutch lightly at the lapel of Sherlock's jacket, while my right lifted to rest over John's arm.
Nothing else needed to be said, the doctor and detective figuring that I must have needed the silence because nothing was said, and we just stood like that in the kitchen. I hadn't even realized that I had started to silently cry until I heard Sherlock's nervous tone. "Sofia?" He asked, a simple, soft question. Confused and clearly nervous about my reaction.
John shifted, presumably looking at me to figure out what had Sherlock so spooked. Instead of letting me reply, he just smiled at his friend. "Shh, Sherlock. Just.. Let her. It's been a rough time, and she's still processing everything. She needs this." He spoke softly in a soothing tone, his thumb stroking lightly across my stomach a few times, soothingly, before he stopped. The detective seemed to accept this because he nodded, and his log, talented fingers continued to move through my hair and stroke the back of my head.
The tears continued down my cheeks, and I clutched at the sleeve of John's jumper as much as I clutched at Sherlock's lapels. Vaguely, I felt a soft kiss dropped on my forehead, and then another placed against the back of my shoulder. I could feel both of them breathing in the silence, the dual heartbeats, John shifting his stance and his weight, while Sherlock remained still, save his hand stroking through my hair.
"Th-thank you.." I finally managed to get out as my tears slowed, and I sniffled a little, shifting my hand from Sherlock's lapels to my cheek, wiping them dry before I shifted enough so I could look up at Sherlock. "I.. I'm not sure I understand.. any of this though.." I didn't have enough room to gesture, so I just looked up at Sherlock first, then glanced over my shoulder at John.
"It is what it is for now. It is what we want and what we need. All of us." Sherlock said quietly, and even though he was quiet, I could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
John noticed this, shifting his head to look at my profile, placing a kiss on the outside of my shoulder. "Sherlock is right. For now, it's just.. This." he gave me a soft squeeze, and then smiled a little. "Come on.. you need some breakfast, and for that matter, so does this one.." He jerks his head toward Sherlock. "Then we'll go shopping, yeah?" He offers, slowly starting to extricate myself from the embrace, and immediately I mourned the loss of his head against my back.
Slowly, I started to move back slowly as well, and Sherlock reluctantly released me, but not before dropping another soft kiss on my head. I didn't miss the way that he could tuck me under his chin so comfortably, and how the three of us could mesh so well together. But I was strangely cold once I moved away from Sherlock, leaving the kitchen to find a tissue, cleaning myself up a little.
"I did some research. Neither John nor I know a great deal about women's fashions, but there are several stores with.. personal shoppers, I believe they're called. Salespeople whose jobs it is to help you pick out clothes. Assuming they have any intelligence at all." Sherlock adapts easily back to being himself, the easy affection gone, as if he's not sure how to let it carry on, or he doesn't want me to be uncomfortable. Either of which could be true, from what I had found out about him so far.
"That.. that's fine." I stuttered out, coming back from cleaning myself up in the bathroom. John was already busy in the kitchen, seeming absorbed in his own thought as he put some bacon and eggs on the stove, tea going and bread in the toaster.
"I don't even remember what sorts of clothes that I liked to wear.." I had to admit, tucking my hair behind my ear a little as I looked at the two, not sure exactly what was going on, but I was willing to go with it since it was oddly comfortable in the intimate moments, even if it became a little awkward afterward. In fact, I felt a bit like I was ambushed by them earlier, or like it was some sort of intervention. But that was alright. It all ended up well. I tried to help John in the kitchen but realized I knew where nothing was, finally sitting down in a chair at the kitchen table with a little huff.
Sherlock smirked a little, and he moved behind my chair, his fingers resting along the side and back of my neck for a few moments. It was an oddly intimate and comforting gesture. "It's alright. I'm sure you'll be keeping us both in line rather soon." He leaned down to say this closer to my ear, sounding highly amused about that idea.
John couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "You? Sherlock, /I/ can't even keep you in line, God knows that I try sometimes. Are you saying that you would listen to Sofia more than an ex-army doctor?" He asks, surprised a little as he glances at his friend. Friend? Was that the right word? They would have to discuss that.
Sherlock just smirked at John. "Of course. Isn't that how relationships usually work? Men like to think they're in charge, but women are more devious, they control the situation without anyone even knowing they are in control. Quite manipulative and ingenious. Of course, this is just what I've been able to observe in the few living relationships I've been privy to. Even Mycroft is not exempt from that. You should see him and his assistant together, she's more manipulative than you might think." he points out, to the amusement of everyone.
I couldn't help but giggle a little at Sherlock, shaking my head. "I don't think they're /all/ like that, Sherlock. But you are right about women being more devious and manipulative in general. I.. I don't think I had many female friends, because of that." I said thoughtfully as I considered that problem. It was more of a feeling than any real knowledge, I couldn't remember if I had a lot of female friends or not. I got the feeling not.
Sherlock's fingers moved away from my neck and he moved around to sit down, making John roll his eyes since his timing was perfect, and a plate was put down in front of Sherlock, then one in front of me, and finally, after the stove and everything was turned off, John sat down, completing our little triangle.
"Thank you, John." I said quietly, starting to eat and glancing up at Sherlock. His face was a little pinched as he looked down at his food, as if considering whether or not it was worthy to be eaten by him.
"Eat, Sherlock." John said in a firm tone, pointing his fork at the detective's plate, frowning a little at him.
Considering our previous conversation, I considered the next steps, and I had to smile a little, looking at Sherlock for a few moments. "You really should eat.. John went to all the trouble of cooking, and I'm sure I'm just going to add more stress to your lives by being here... I don't want to see you get sick." By the end of the sentence, I wasn't even faking the sadness in my tone as I thought about anything happening to either of them, and remembered how thin Sherlock was when I was pressed against him just a few minutes prior.
Sherlock just stared at me for a few moments, and then he looked pointedly at John. "See?" He grumped, but it got him to start eating, and surprisingly once he started, he cleaned his plate, innocently sipping his tea afterward.
John looked a little shocked to see him eating that much and he just shook his head slowly, clearing plates once I was done. "Alright.. shopping it is." He said reluctantly with a little groan, but everyone got up, getting their outerwear together.
It was my first time out of the flat since being rescued, and I had to admit I was more than a little nervous about it. John gave me one of his spare jackets to wear, since I didn't have one and Mycroft's assistant didn't give me one either. Eventually we all made our way downstairs, Sherlock in front and John following behind to lock up the flat. I got the feeling that they were flanking me to try and make me feel more protected. And damned if it wasn't working.
-oOo-
A/N So another cute, fluffy chapter. I seem to be full of them. Reviews welcome, please let me know what you think! And thank you to anyone who's stuck with me so far! I have written so much more on this, that I'm really sorry if I repeat myself, or if there are any inconsistencies. This story is running away with me, but I adore it. I hope you all enjoy it!