A/N: Warnings: NSFW, slash smut (yes more). Also, I know there's a lot of controversy over top vs bottomlock. I alternate regularly and did at least suggest the possibility of switchlock, but if you're not a bottomlock fan I'd just skip the smut scene.
Her heels clicked as she walked, marching over the pavement, heading into the night. If only it could swallow her up. What she wouldn't give to disappear now.
It shouldn't take much normally. But now was anything but normal. She didn't have her tools. No phone. No backup information. Nothing to bargain with beyond a little sex here and there. And of course, no Kate. How could she be expected to function?
Every person in the streets was a potential enemy. As she scurried past another woman she did her best to look down, thinking how possible it could be that someone had already sent a killer after her. They had nothing to lose now. She was a sitting duck, and it was open season now.
Whatever she did, she needed to face the reality now. It was only a matter of time.
Just as she was moving onto the tube her phone beeped. She frowned and pulled out the burner she still had. The message flashing on the screen was almost enough to make her drop the mobile.
Incoming message from Sherlock Holmes
Could it be real? Was it a taunt of some kind? She hardly dared to hope as she pressed the buttons necessary to open the thing. And was presented with three words she hadn't imagined she'd see.
You were right. –SH
She frowned and studied it. A trick? Did she dare respond?
But without any options there really wasn't a point in ignoring it.
About what, Mr. Holmes?
She sat and waited. Nothing came. With a sigh she settled back in her seat. A game then. Even though she'd been informed it was over.
It wasn't until she was off the tube and boarding her train that she finally had a response. Another beep as the sun's rays began to peek in through the windows.
I might have tested your theory last night. Quite the results. –SH
It took a moment, but after some thinking she realized what he had to be talking about. She typed out her response and sent it, turning to smile at the window. Well, there were some good things then. Even if her own happiness had been denied, at least Sherlock's had been found.
Congratulations Mr. Holmes. I hope you'll be very happy.
When he returned from his night out, John found the flat empty. One glance at Sherlock's bedroom door thankfully confirmed it was open and unoccupied. Well, that was a relief at least. Good to know that he and that bitch weren't screwing each other senseless. But then again, if they'd gone out…well God only knew what kind of possibilities there were outside of the flat.
He poured himself a drink and settled down in front of the telly. No point going to bed. Not when curiosity about Sherlock and his whereabouts would keep him up.
Mrs. Hudson interrupted him a few minutes later.
"You seen Sherlock?" he asked.
"Oh he and that…woman went out ages ago," Mrs. Hudson said. "Some friends of his brother turned up here and asked him to go with them. She left a little after all dolled up and everything. Not sure what it was about."
She sighed and shrugged, leaving John's stomach sinking as a sense of foreboding crept over him. Nothing good then. No, this didn't sound good at all.
"She's a rather odd duck isn't she, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, moving over to dust over the table. That was Mrs. Hudson for you, attempting dusting when Sherlock wasn't there in hopes he wouldn't notice…which he would.
"A bit," John said. "Yeah, I suppose so."
"And is she…" Mrs. Hudson paused. "Well I'd always thought Sherlock must be…with never having any women over. There's that Molly Hooper you know, but other than her I've never seen any. But is she…?"
John sighed. Just the question he wanted to answer.
"I don't know, Mrs. Hudson. I've never been able to wrestle any answers out of him," he said. "But he and Adler do seem to be close, I'll give them that."
She went back to her dusting, and John closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. With any luck Irene Adler would be back off gallivanting about the country soon and he wouldn't need to worry about her.
He let himself pay attention to the telly for a bit, drifting in and out of real awareness of the flat. He sipped at his drink, pouring another whenever he finished one. He was well on his way to getting thoroughly pissed when the door downstairs opened.
"Oh, is he home?" Mrs. Hudson hissed. She pushed a few stacks of papers back into place and shuffled nervously towards the stairs, meeting Sherlock just as he reached the landing.
"If you're quite through with your dusting, would you mind giving John and I a minute?" Sherlock said in a crisp tone.
Mrs. Hudson gave a little sigh and a quick scolding before heading to the stairs. John waited until he heard her door close before speaking.
"What happened?"
"Solved the case," Sherlock said with a frown.
John expected him to go sit in his chair, but he didn't.
"Er…the case?"
"The Woman. I cracked the phone code. Returned its contents to Mycroft. England is safe once more."
Oh, well that was a surprise then. John shifted and sat up a little straighter, setting his drink aside.
"That's fantastic."
Sherlock's expression didn't change. He might not be an extremely positive man, but John knew he normally expressed more happiness in light of a solved crime.
"Er…isn't it?" he asked, eyeing the other man carefully.
"I suppose," Sherlock said. "Information is secure. Further problems have been stopped. Mycroft has a smaller headache to deal with. And The Woman will likely be killed within a few months, the world at peace again."
Ah, so that was it. John frowned. Of course, Sherlock would be disappointed she was going to be gone soon. Upset that the one woman he'd cared for wasn't a possible person for him to love.
"I'm sorry if things didn't go right," John finally managed. "Well, with you back I'm heading to bed. Have a good night."
He rose and tried to move past Sherlock, only to have his arm caught in one slender hand.
"What?"
Sherlock's eyes locked on his.
"The Woman…before we parted…she said you were lying. She said you…you have feelings for me. Is it true?"
His heart jolted even as his stomach seemed to twist up in knots. Why would she say that? One last power play then? One last chance to try to screw up things between him and Sherlock? Of course, such things were too hard for her to resist.
"Er…I…"
"Be honest," Sherlock said, eyes flashing. When he noticed this wasn't getting him answers he seemed to visibly soften. "Please, John. Tell me. I want the truth."
"The truth? You mean you can't just look at me and tell?" John scoffed. He let out a long sigh. "Fine, yes. The truth is yes. I have…feelings for you. I…I didn't want to ruin this. You're my friend, Sherlock. This was the last thing I wanted…but somehow in the midst of all the teasing and the crimes and the time together…I developed a rather strong sense that…that you were the one I wanted."
Sherlock was frozen, face still stony. "You said you weren't gay."
He sighed. "That's because I'm not. God, people just want to make it straight or gay always don't they?" He let out a humorless laugh. "I'm interested in both I guess. Have been for a while. Hate people assuming one way or the other. I'm interested in men and women and that's that. I always have been."
There is no movement save for Sherlock's eyes. They flick back and forth, probably searching for the lie. John's entire body tenses as he awaits the response. Sherlock said he knew it was all right that night at Angelo's when they'd first met. But was it? It was one thing not to be straight, it was another entirely to be…in love with Sherlock.
"So…you…are in fact…" Sherlock broke off, brow furrowing some.
"Yes," John said without hesitating. He reached a hand out and laid it on Sherlock's shoulder. "Yes."
"After all this time? How…how long?"
John swallowed and willed himself to speak calmly. "Ages. I think I've had them all along, but that kiss…it opened my eyes. Made me more willing to see it."
Sherlock blinked a few times, but still kept his gaze focused. John wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He needed to be ready the moment Sherlock spoke.
"You said you didn't," Sherlock pointed out. "After you told The Woman that you loved me you denied it…said it was to get her to act and help me."
"Yes," John said. "I lied. I…I didn't want to ruin things. I've never wanted to ruin things."
One of Sherlock's long fingered hands came up to caress his cheek. John jerked a bit at first, stilling only when he saw Sherlock smile.
"Oh John, you could never ruin things," he said.
John felt his breath catch. "Then it's all right? We'll just…work through it? I'm sure I'll move on eventually you know. I'll find someone else and we'll get married and it will all be fine."
Sherlock shook his head, and again his eyes seemed to be surprisingly warm, a half-smile still in place.
"There's nothing to work through," he said. "I'm…I'm yours, John. If you want me."
It felt like his heart had stopped beating. John blinked a few times and took a step back, trying to ground himself in reality. Was this another of his dreams? Would Sherlock pull his shirt off in the next minute and demand they have sex? Because that sure would confirm it. No, this couldn't possibly be real.
"But you're…" John broke off hesitantly.
"I'm what, John?" Sherlock asked.
"Well…you don't…work that way," John said. "I mean, when I've asked you about boyfriends or girlfriends or anything you just…" he cleared his throat, "you said it wasn't your area…that you were married to your work."
"I was," Sherlock confirmed. "At the time. I don't generally consider matters like this to be important. I've had dalliances of course. Experimented quite a bit in uni actually. But I soon found there was very little that really interested me. People were so boring, sex was so…dull."
John felt his heart sinking. So it was too good to be true.
"But it's not like that with you," Sherlock said. His eyes seemed practically luminescent. John tried to remember if he'd ever seen them like that before. So full of life. So full of feeling.
"It's not?"
"No," Sherlock confirmed. "You make me…different. Better. You understand me."
John opened his mouth to protest, but one of Sherlock's fingers pushed to his lips before he could.
"No, not completely," Sherlock agreed. "But you care about me, John. Very few people ever have before. I've built something with you…a connection I suppose. And through it I can find a means of feeling…a means of loving. All that I've tried bottling up before comes flowing out of me through you." He paused and gave a wry smile. "In the interest of not sounding like I'm writing a blog post extolling your virtues, I'll simply say that the rules don't apply to you, John. I care for you. I want you. I…love you."
His throat was closing up. A few tears pushed at his eyes, and John was helpless but to let them roll one by one down his cheeks. Sherlock's eyes widened, and he drew back some.
"I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…I…" the detective stammered, clearly horrified by the display.
"No, you prick," John said, voice coming out choked. "God, you're so clueless. I'm…I'm happy Sherlock. I…" He reached up to brush away a few tears, smiling as best he could. "I love you too. It's more than I ever could have hoped for."
Sherlock's expression lightened, and he gave yet another rare half smile. One of his hands moved to trace John's cheek, brushing aside a last lingering tear.
"May I kiss you, John?"
He felt like his heart might truly stop. God, could this be possible? Sherlock Holmes asking to kiss him?
John licked his lips and managed a nod, waiting breathless as Sherlock leaned forward. One of those hands had his chin gently tilted, the other hand moved to press against his back. For a moment, John let his eyes linger on Sherlock, but as soon as their lips pressed together he let them fall shut, surrendering to darkness in favor of just letting sensations take him.
As he remembered from before, Sherlock's kisses were addicting. Soft at first and then more passionate. Starting with a little lip and some teeth, before throwing in the addition of his tongue. John pressed a bit closer as it deepened, enjoying the way his body moved to rest against Sherlock's.
"John," Sherlock murmured when they broke apart, panting for breath. He smiled again, fond and tender. "I am so incredibly glad…I never imagined…"
"Me neither," John said with a sheepish grin. "But Christ that felt good. I'm just…I'm so relieved."
"As am I," Sherlock murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss against John's cheek and then a few more at his neck.
"Shall we…ah…move this to the bedroom?" John managed to grit out.
Sherlock pulled away, eyes wide. "Is that your desire? That we…"
It was difficult to keep the incredulity off his face. "Are you joking? I've been wanking to thoughts of you for months now. If I don't release some of this tension I'll explode."
Sherlock gave a light smirk. "I'll ensure you explode…but in a way I think you'll find much more pleasurable."
But it only took a moment for the mirth to leave Sherlock's eyes.
"What is it?" John asked, moving to snatch up one of the man's hands, clutching it tight in his own. "What's wrong, Sherlock?"
"It's just…" Sherlock broke off.
"Do you not want to do this?" John finally asked. "Shit, I've messed up haven't I? You don't want to have sex and here I am pressuring you to do something you don't…" he broke off with another curse.
"No," Sherlock said. "I just was thinking about Christmas Eve…"
"What about it?" John asked.
His thoughts went racing back to that night. But all he could come up with was how upset Sherlock had seemed to be over Irene's death. Surely there was nothing about it that should cause him so much distress in the moment.
"I…I thought I'd practically assaulted you," Sherlock murmured. "When you said you didn't remember the next morning…I thought…" He broke off, voice coming out choked. "All this time I could have been with you, and I didn't even know it."
"Wait…you mean…" John trailed off as he thought about that night and his ridiculously erotic dream. "That was…real? What happened? Was…"
"Yes," Sherlock said.
John's eyes closed as he worked to keep his emotions under control. God, why had it happened like this? Why not like any other couple falling in love?
But in a moment, he knew the answer. This was Sherlock after all. Nothing would ever be simple or normal with him, and that was what John loved about him if he was honest. His eyes opened and he stepped forward to smile at Sherlock.
"Don't think about that now," he said. "Now…would you like to take me to bed?"
Sherlock's eyes ran over him, clearly considering it.
"As long as you're certain we're not moving too fast?" Sherlock said. "I'm…still rather new to all this."
John grinned. "We've had months of taking it slow, Sherlock. I can handle things speeding up a bit. Now, are we ready? Or do we need a few more months to consider the implications."
Sherlock's eyes glittered. "No."
It was a sort of mad scramble towards the bedroom. They had an unspoken understanding that Sherlock's would be easier to reach. And without further ado they were moving through the door, mouths still trying to kiss, hands grasping where they could.
John almost tripped as he moved towards the bed, gathering his bearings as he pushed Sherlock forward. He watched in a mixture of amusement and arousal as the detective fell onto the bed, arms still wide as he beckoned John to come lie down with him. John felt himself harden just at the sight of Sherlock stretched out on the bed.
"God, you're so…so perfect," he managed to gasp.
"Please," Sherlock managed to mutter as he pulled John closer, "tell me this won't result in some awful drawn out blog post?"
John smirked and shook his head. "You're all mine. I'm not sharing you, Sherlock. Never. Now come here."
His fingers worked to undo the buttons on his shirt. He thought back to earlier when he'd done this for Irene's little games. But this time it was for his own pleasure, and he couldn't deny how much faster his heart was beating as a result.
It felt like ages before he finally wrestled Sherlock's shirt off. By that time the detective's fingers were working at the bottom of his jumper, pulling it up and over his head. John took a moment to admire Sherlock's toned chest before he fell back on him for more passionate kisses.
"John," Sherlock muttered. "I believe we might find more satisfaction in removing our trousers and pants. Or had you planned to simply rut upon each other while clothed?"
"Impatient wanker," John said, reaching down to quickly pop the button on Sherlock's trousers. "We'll have to get you out of these then."
Sherlock squirmed beneath his hands, but John couldn't say he faulted him. It was so easy to be impatient after all they'd been through. His breath caught in anticipation as he wrangled the pants down around Sherlock's knees. Sherlock looked up at him, licked his lips and then began reciprocating by pulling his own trousers and pants off.
John fell upon him again, moving to kiss him deeply, tongue sliding in as his fingers threaded into Sherlock's curls. He moaned slightly, moving so that his entire body was pressing along Sherlock's.
"John?" Sherlock managed to murmur, just as he was pulling away.
He dove back in for another kiss and then a few softer ones on Sherlock's neck, settling on an earlobe to give it a satisfying nip.
"Yes?"
"I hate to…interrupt," he panted. "But do we have any of the necessities? Condoms? Lube?"
John froze and stared at him. "What?"
"I'm only…only enquiring before we go any further," Sherlock said, chest rising and falling rapidly. "We might want to…be prepared."
"Do you not have anything?" John asked, voice rising in his surprise.
"Some lotion that has served its purpose for the occasional session of masturbation," Sherlock said. "But I certainly don't keep condoms. I've never really had a use for them other than the possible odd experiment."
John groaned. "Fuck. All right, stay here. I'm going up to my bedroom to grab things. I'll be back in a few. Don't you move a muscle, you hear me?"
Sherlock frowned. "I must breathe and allow my heart to beat—"
John gave him a slap to his thigh that had him gasping, staring up with a half accusing half aroused look.
"Wait for me," John said again. And then he was out into the hallway like a shot, going for the stairway and then up to the bedroom upstairs.
It took him only a few seconds to locate the bottle of lube and condoms he kept on hand. With the items he needed safely in hand, he started back down the stairs, only to run into Mrs. Hudson on the landing.
"Christ!" John gasped, doing his best to cover himself, and finding all he had to do the job was the lube. It did a pitiful job of it, but it was better than nothing.
Mrs. Hudson took a moment to process, but the second she did she went red in the face and let out a shriek before finally covering her eyes.
"So sorry, Mrs. H," John managed to shout before making the rest of the dash back towards the bedroom.
Sherlock had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking at the doorway with amusement.
"I dare say Mrs. Hudson won't be forgetting that sight anytime soon," he said with a smirk.
"Probably not," John muttered, thinking of her horribly shocked face. Poor woman. Well, if she'd wanted them together she'd gotten her wish. It wasn't his fault she'd seen a little more than she probably wanted to.
"Come 'ere you," John said, sliding back into the bed and moving to pull Sherlock close again, lips finding a place on his collarbone easily and then moving back up to his mouth.
"I love you, John," Sherlock whispered.
He thought his heart might have stopped. Those words, so simple, yet so lovely. So full of meaning. He stared into those stormy blue gray eyes and was unable to keep a smile from his face.
"I love you too," he whispered. "Now, how about we finally have a good shag, what do you say?"
Sherlock smiled. "I would love to. Though…I do believe most men have an understanding of…who will top? Do you have a strong preference?"
It took John a minute to resurface from images of himself fucking Sherlock, and Sherlock fucking him.
"Cor, I…I suppose more often I've fantasized about top," John said with a shake of his head. "But were you to want that I'd be more than happy—"
Sherlock put a finger to his lips. "That's not necessary, John. For tonight…start on top. We can negotiate other possibilities in the future. But for now let's keep it simple. Would you do the honor of taking me, John Watson?"
He grinned. "I'd love to, Sherlock Holmes. Now, if you're quite finished running that smart mouth of yours, I'd rather put it to better use."
Sherlock's eyes glittered again, and he pulled John close to plant a more tender kiss. "Then by all means, proceed."
John[E1] groaned and obeyed, leaning forward to kiss Sherlock before moving down his body, easily settling between his spread legs. He swallowed, doing his best to calm himself down before he began. No need to rush this. They had all the time in the world.
He coated his fingers, moving to press one in with a kind of hesitance he'd never employed in sex before. Sherlock was gazing down at him, his mouth partway open as he fought to catch his breath. John held his breath for a moment as he began, pushing in, and stretching lightly.
"Is that all right?" he asked cautiously.
Sherlock let out a groan even as he threw his head back.
"If you ask that again we're stopping now," he said. "I'm not going to break. And if I'm the slightest bit uncomfortable I will be letting you know. Now, if you wouldn't mind focusing we might actually enjoy this more."
John grinned. He was always such a smart arse that Sherlock Holmes. Not that he minded, at least right now. It was somehow endearing in the moment.
"I'll take good care of you," he went ahead and added, before adding another finger. He sought out Sherlock's pleasure, unable to contain his own sigh when he saw Sherlock's entire body arch into his touch.
He's so perfect, he thought to himself, not daring to add it aloud in case Sherlock again commented on the ludicrous possibility of him writing a blog post about this event. It was tempting to the let the whole world know he was the one Sherlock had chosen. But never in this kind of detail. No. He couldn't share this with the world. It was his and his alone.
Another few seconds of preparation, another finger, and John finally accepted that they were ready. He thankfully didn't have to ask Sherlock's permission either as the man let out a low groan.
"Please," he said. "I want you, John."
He moved up to claim Sherlock's mouth in a kiss before breaking to grab a condom. After sliding it on and lubing himself he looked at Sherlock again. The man spread his legs a little more.
"Love you," John murmured, sliding back on top and kissing him.
God it was heaven. He groaned and clutched at Sherlock's shoulders as he eased in, looking down into those startling eyes that were staring up at him in pleasure. He pushed his hips a little harder, watching every expression on Sherlock's face before moving to claim his mouth in yet another kiss.
"God John," Sherlock muttered, his body moving to match the thrusts in some capacity, hands scrabbling at John's back.
"Yes," John panted, moving faster. It hadn't been like this in months. All those women. The few men. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be with someone he cared about. To look down into someone's face and feel his heart wrench with desire and longing and…love.
Sherlock let out a harsh cry as he angled his hips a little better. John wasn't able to contain his grin at the thought of making Sherlock come undone. With another harsh thrust he watched Sherlock's entire body fall into the throes of ecstasy. He reached a hand down to stroke him in time with his movements.
"Close," Sherlock panted.
John nodded, agreeing that he too was almost finished. There was a pang of regret at not keeping the pleasure going longer. But he knew there would be much more of this in the future. The thought warmed him considerably.
It only took a few more thrusts before Sherlock let out a loud cry and climaxed. John could hardly contain himself. With a groan, he canted his hips a little faster. In a matter of seconds he was coming, moaning Sherlock's name.
They lay together for a moment, chests heaving, hearts pounding. It was John who finally pulled away, groaning as he eased himself over to the other side of the bed, pulling off the condom to toss it into the wastebasket at the bedside.
"Is it always that good?" Sherlock managed to say, eyes still closed.
"Yes," John said with a smile, leaning over to peck his cheek. "It is. God, you're amazing, Sherlock. I'm…I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"Hardly," Sherlock snorted. "I believe that would be me."
His eyes opened again, and John did his best to not let his emotions overwhelm him. This still seemed like some kind of dream.
Sherlock groaned and sat up, reaching onto the ground and pulling his trousers up, rifling through the pockets.
"What on earth are you doing?" John said, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone.
"Searching for my phone," he said. "I need to send a text."
"To whom?"
Sherlock raised a brow and didn't answer, simply tapping something onto his phone with a rapid pace before setting it to the side.
"I'm not in love with her," he said calmly. "I never have been. But I can't deny she gave me you."
John smirked. "So what are you going to do about that then? Just going to let her die?"
Sherlock shook his head. "I couldn't. Not after everything. No. I believe she deserves the same consideration she gave me."
John chuckled and leaned over to plant a few more kisses before snuggling up against Sherlock's chest.
"You do what you have to," he said with a sigh. "I won't fault you for helping her if it's because of me."
With a smile, Sherlock leaned his head in closer, arms wrapping around John's waist. John made a noise of contentment and closed his eyes.
John did his best to maintain a straight face while Mycroft told him all about Irene Adler and her recent "demise." Honestly it was altogether humorous watching the older Holmes make a fool out of himself in thinking how good he was fooling his little brother to protect his heart.
"He'll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. He'll be fine," John said, knowing all too well how fine Sherlock would be.
Just yesterday he'd smiled and said that he couldn't imagine life ever being more pleasant than this. High praise from Sherlock Holmes John supposed.
"I agree," Mycroft frowned. "That's why I decided to tell him that."
John did his best to feign surprise, especially while Mycroft explained about the terrorist cell and the beheading.
"I was thorough this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don't think he was on hand, do you?"
John shook his head, hoping his poker face was working. Sherlock had run it all past him. The best ways to fake a death. The means of procuring a body similar enough to work with. Methods of changing records. Between him and Molly Hooper it apparently hadn't been all that hard to put together. The only thing John was really lacking details on was what had happened to The Woman after Sherlock had helped her. He'd brushed off questions by saying it wasn't important. John let it go pretty quickly.
"Oh, and John?" Mycroft said as they headed to the door.
"Yes?"
"Do be sure that if you hurt my little brother, you'll never see the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?" Mycroft said, pursing his lips.
"Er…" John said, staring at him.
"Please, he's been unusually happy as of late. And you have a bruise on your neck with no girlfriend's to speak of."
When John stared at him, he waved a hand.
"You do realize I maintain surveillance on both of you whenever I can? It's not always easy with how clever Sherlock is, but I have my ways. Now, why don't you go break the news to Sherlock gently and then make it up to him with whatever carnal pleasures he desires."
John found himself flushing, but he nodded and bid Mycroft good day before he headed back upstairs.
Sherlock was at the window, playing his violin. He set it aside as John entered, glancing up with question in his eyes.
"Your brother," John said. "Wanted me to tell you about her and her death and all. You were right, your plan worked."
"Of course it worked," Sherlock scoffed. "Mycroft will always be an idiot."
"Also wanted to wish us well," John mentioned, coming over to slide a hand onto Sherlock's shoulder before kissing him, "Seems he's figured out we're together now."
"Well, that's Mrs. Hudson and Molly and my brother who know now," Sherlock said. "I still think we should just go ahead and shag in Lestrade's office and see if he or any of the morons who work there finally figure it out."
John smirked and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist.
"God, you're ridiculous," he said. "I'll just go ahead and kiss you at the next crime scene, what do you say?"
With a nod, Sherlock turned to deepen the kiss. "I quite agree."
"I promised your brother," John managed to say between kisses, "that I'd give you some sort of pleasure so you could forget about what happened to The Woman."
Sherlock sighed. "Don't mention my brother while we're like this," he ordered. "But if you're intent on following his instructions, I suppose I'll allow it for once. Make me forget her, John. Erase her from my mind and body. Make me yours."
He was hardly able to contain his grin as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock a little tighter.
"Oh, Sherlock. You're already mine. And in every aspect I'm yours. Now, come and remind me of it for a little while."
That was all it took. John thought to himself that he'd never found a better way to shut Sherlock up. But by all means, this seemed to be the key. With a grin he allowed himself to be escorted into the bedroom, and with the door shut he let himself go in Sherlock's more than capable hands.
She had to admit this was going to be an adjustment. Going from her high risk lifestyle and regular kinky sex and running from the law to this…this would take time.
She settled back in the armchair, eyes on the light of the fire, watching it crackle and burn. So domestic and simple. As a child, perhaps she'd thought this might be life. The images her parents had tried to instill into her as a matter of principle. But she would never have chosen it on her own.
Still, Sherlock had spared her life. And when it came down to it, there were plenty of worse ways her life could have turned out.
So, she'd settle for the domestic lifestyle. Relax and enjoy the time she had thanks to the help from Sherlock and John.
"And what has you so wrapped up in your thoughts again?"
She looked up to see Kate in the doorway, arms crossed.
"Just reflecting how life will go now," Irene said with a sigh, looking back at the fire before she could start staring at Kate dressed in that silky dressing gown Irene had given her three years ago for her birthday. It had always made her look lovely, that dark blue shimmery fabric. Irene felt warmth settle in her belly at the thought of Kate's soft pale curves beneath the garment. What she wouldn't give to see them again.
Sherlock had brought her here after the rescue in Karachi. She'd been startled when they'd been welcomed into the house by Kate at first, though she quickly discovered that Sherlock had contacted her a month before, and he'd done some kind of miraculous job at explaining the circumstances.
Though that still didn't mean Kate had forgiven her.
It had been a month. A month of sleeping in separate bedrooms and practically avoiding each other. Kate was working at a law firm, spending much of her time at her office instead of in the house. The few words they'd exchanged had been curt. And Irene knew it might take more time to ease the rift she'd created between them. But that didn't make it easy.
"And how do you see life going?" Kate asked, resting against the door frame.
"I'd like to try to find some work," Irene said. "Nothing…indiscreet," she said, with a glance in Kate's direction.
Kate snorted. "You're a dominatrix at heart, it's what you do. What else could there be?"
Irene shrugged. "I'd find something. Besides…I've…begun to realize I don't know that I want to live that life anymore."
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Screwing as many people as you can get your hands on? Why on earth not?"
"Because I know you never liked it," Irene said quietly.
Kate tried to speak, but Irene interrupted before she could.
"No. You pretended for my sake. And you supported me…but you hated it," Irene said. "And I always knew, but I always…I ignored it. Because I was afraid."
"Afraid?" Kate asked, staring at her.
"Yes," Irene said. "Afraid of…of the things you made me feel. With having sex with others I could distance myself from you. Make it just about the sex… but…I always loved you. I knew I did. I just didn't want to face it…didn't want to think about what it meant."
There was a long moment of silence. Kate's expression was difficult to read. She kept her arms crossed as she studied Irene.
"This isn't just manipulation, is it?' Kate asked warily. "It's not just your way of knowing you can weasel me back into caring for you if you apologize and make an effort is it?"
"No," Irene said. "I…I know I could at least find the means of bringing sex clients back into my life. But I don't think I want that anymore. Or even if I do, I'd rather learn not to want it…learn to only want you."
Kate was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening as she looked Irene over once or twice for any signs of deception. Irene just turned back to the fire, unable to look Kate in the eye.
She'd said it. Finally. Those words had escaped and she'd told the truth about how she felt. But it seemed so unlikely that her feelings were returned.
"All right," Kate said after a long moment.
Her head snapped up as she looked towards the door.
"What?"
"All right," Kate repeated. "You're forgiven. If you behave, that is. Will you behave for me, mistress?"
Irene felt that familiar heat curling in her belly.
"I suppose I must," she said with a light smile.
Kate pushed away from the wall, moving her hands to the dressing gown and untying it. Irene felt her mouth dry up as the fabric fell away to reveal smooth creamy skin only covered up by tantalizing black lingerie.
"Will you have me then, mistress? As a sign of my forgiveness?"
"Yes," Irene managed to whisper, clearing her throat. She smiled as best she could. "Come here my naughty girl."
Kate's eyes lit with fire. "Yes, mistress." She came to sit in Irene's lap, arranging herself over Irene's knees.
"I did mean it, you know," Irene whispered, looking up into her eyes. "I love you so much, my beautiful lovely Kate."
"I love you too," she said, reaching a hand to cup Irene's face.
Irene felt as though her heart might stop. She sat there hardly able to believe this was happening, letting Kate take the lead as she processed.
"Never thought I'd say it," Kate whispered as she leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Irene's mouth.
"What?" Irene managed to ask before letting out a sigh, hands smoothing down Kate's thighs.
"Thank God for the consulting detective," Kate said with a grin.
Irene smiled at that before relaxing into Kate's attentions. She was right, though. Her naughtiness in that respect had paid off quite well in the end. She thought of the remaining cameras in 221 B and smiled. Well, perhaps she'd keep an eye on the two of them then. With the ambiguous future ahead, she'd do what she could to keep those two men as happy as she was.
And with that last though she refocused on spending time with her lover, content in knowing her work was done.
A/N: Well that's a wrap folks! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sad to see this done, but it's a relief to know I have one project finished. Now I'm off to finish my two WIP's plus work on a few other ideas I have brewing (plus some lovely requests to fill). Hope to see some of you again in the future! Feel free to drop me a PM if you ever want to talk.
Thanks to lover-singer, French Fabulousness of France, and Insane . Whovians . with . legacies for reviews! Last posting thanking reviewers, so the rest of you who review after this is done thanks so much!