SHVoLB 4

(A/N: Thank you for all the lovely responses I've been getting!)

The Bed. It sat there with feigned innocence, silently mocking the two men who stood nervously at the foot of it. Watson cleared his throat for the second time in the last three minutes and pointlessly straightened the collar of the new pajamas that the Marsh's had so kindly gifted them with. They were still adjusting to the loose, silky garments that felt so foreign and decadent compared to their usual nighttime attire.

"Well…" Holmes started, chancing a furtive glance at his companion before climbing onto the bed on all fours, "Which side do you want, Watson?"

"Um…err…either side. Which do you prefer?"

"Hmm…I think I'll take the left…" Holmes muttered and started to pull back the covers. Watson watched him, privately enjoying the sight of Holmes in modern sleepwear.

"Well?" Watson jumped and realized that his friend was already in bed.

"Oh…yes…" he moved toward the bed, albeit timorously, and crawled in next to him. Holmes clicked out the bedside lamp and they lay there silently in complete darkness.

For attempting to sleep, Holmes couldn't help but notice that his heartbeat was irregularly fast and he couldn't ignore the faint heat that had risen in his cheeks. He sniffed, just to hear something other than his own pulse and flinched at its awkward loudness.

"Well…" Watson offered lamely.

"Goodnight then, Watson," Holmes replied after a moment and turned over onto his side.

"Goodnight." The doctor still felt quite awake and found himself staring up at the ceiling for a while until he heard Holmes's breathing slow and deepen. He chanced a look at his friend whose back was facing him. A small smile graced Watson's face as he watched the subtle rise and fall of his body and suddenly felt calmer. He allowed himself a quiet yawn before closing his eyes and drifting off.

Watson awoke to the sound of the door being slowly clicked shut. For a moment he thought that Holmes had gotten out of bed but then he realized with a rush of shock and embarrassment that he currently had his arms draped around said detective, properly spooning him. His heart thudded anxiously in his chest as he withdrew his arms and made to scoot back when Holmes made a small moaning noise and pressed himself back against Watson.

The doctor let out a noise that was almost a squeak and he lay perfectly still, barely breathing as his mind raced, trying to catch up with the situation. He wasn't sure whether he should try to wake Holmes or just stay there for he had to admit, he wasn't exactly repelled at the idea of being close to him. Almost as soon as he had that thought, Holmes turned so that he was facing him, his face level with Watson's chest and he let out a contented sigh, his breath ghosting gently across John's flesh.

He couldn't repress the odd shiver that wracked his body and he cautiously placed his arms in their previous position around the detective, deciding he would move should Holmes awaken. Sherlock did nothing of the sort but instead nuzzled closer to him, making a small and endearing sleepy sound as he placed one of his own arms around Watson's middle. His heart gave a sudden lurch at the contact but he told himself it was only surprise.

After a moment, he drew back far enough to look at the sleeping man's face. He felt a flooding of warmth through his chest as he did which thoroughly confused him. Holmes's face was perfectly serene with a bare hint of a smile curving his lips and his hair was tousled even more so then usual which all gave him a rather sweet and boyish appearance. For some reason beyond Watson's understanding, he wanted deeply to thread his fingers through that dark hair and he almost tried it before a blaring noise caused his whole body to jump so much that he nearly fell off the bed.

Holmes sat up and looked around frantically as the irritating noise continued, harsh and loud. He finally located its source on the nightstand, a small modern alarm clock, and yanked its cord from the wall. The silence that descended was a welcome balm to Watson's frazzled nerves as he eased himself back down onto the edge of the bed.

"Sleep well?" he asked as casually as possible.

"I was until that blasted thing interrupted," Holmes replied, raking a hand back through his delightfully disheveled locks, "You?"

"Mmm…" was all Watson could manage as his eyes were locked on the hand that brushed back the hair. Holmes raised an eyebrow at him and John looked away quickly, clearing his throat louder than was necessary.

"Well, what do you say we get dressed and go downstairs?" Sherlock finally asked.

Watson's eyes widened considerably as he remembered that someone had obviously been in the room that morning and seen them cuddled up together like…like lovers… He felt his face go red and nodded agreeably before he turned away to gather up his clothes.

Holmes eyed Watson strangely, wondering what on earth had gotten into him before he shrugged and went about recovering his own clothing. They turned their backs toward each other childishly as they dressed and then made their way down the stairs. When they arrived in the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Marsh were already sitting there, accompanied by a petite girl with short black hair that curved stylishly down over one eye and was highlighted with an unnaturally bright red. A small neon green bow stuck to one side matched her glittering and kindly smiling eyes.

"You must be Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Watson then," she said with a grin as she took a sip from her cup of coffee.

From the Marsh's angle, they had not seen the two of them come in and so they both turned around quickly to cast their tenants bright smiles.

"Morning, gents!" Harvey greeted, "I'd like you to meet our daughter, Monica."

Monica stood from the table and held out her hand in greeting, "I came home early to surprise Mum and Dad," she explained.

"Ah, what a pleasure," Holmes said and took her hand, kissing it. Watson followed suit and they both accepted the coffee that they were offered.

Mr. Marsh pulled two more chairs from the dining room so they could join them at the table. Once they were seated, Monica started to speak again, "So Mum and Dad have already told me all about you two," she said enthusiastically as she rested her chin in her hand, "I think this whole thing is very fascinating! I used to be fairly obsessed with time travel myself. I've read tons of books over it but I've never seen such solid proof as you two!"

Watson blinked, surprised, "So you're saying you don't doubt us?"

"Well of course not!" she said, sounding affronted at the very idea.

Both Holmes and Watson felt relieved at the fact that someone truly believed them, even though that person was a rather odd young woman.

"So how exactly did you manage it?" she asked, eyes shining with eagerness.

"Well it was not our idea, I assure you," Holmes began, "We were hot on the trail of our latest foe, Lord Henry Blackwood, which led us to the partially unfinished London Bridge. He ran straight over the edge and we toppled in after him. The next thing we knew, your dear parents were there at the bank of the Thames trying to rouse us."

Monica seemed awed by Holmes's brief anecdote, "Wow," she muttered, "Oh and let me just say, it's quite the unbelievable honor to be talking to the both of you right now. I've read all of your published works, doctor."

Watson smiled in appreciation, "Well I'm glad someone likes them," he said, giving Holmes a pointed shove.

Monica giggled, "You're just as I imagined," she mused and then something seemed to occur to her, "So wait, this Blackwood guy is just running around London somewhere?"

"Yes, and it is our mission to find him and demand how to get back to our time so he can be properly executed and we can go about our lives," Watson said, thinking back to Blackwood's first hanging.

"Well I just love your clothes," the girl started, "Very Victorian chic…and I hope you don't mind me saying but, you're really going to need to dress for the times if you want to be any kind of sneaky."

Holmes and Watson looked at each other and then back at her with lost expressions on their faces, causing Monica to laugh again, "Don't worry. I can help you with that."

She then inquired with her parents if it would be alright to take Holmes and Watson out shopping later and when they agreed, the family began to discuss other matters such as how Monica's studies had been and if she had made any new friends or romantic interests. Mrs. Marsh then prepared for them a rather large and delicious breakfast that rivaled even Mrs. Hudson's.

It was after they ate that Monica decided it was time for their little shopping venture. Watson groaned inwardly when she led them outside to the car. The two men climbed into the backseat as the girl started the car. Holmes felt Watson tense beside him as they slowly started to move and he took Watson's hand, pulling it into his lap.

The doctor flushed and sputtered, "Holmes…What are you…?"

Holmes shushed him and rolled up Watson's sleeve. He then pressed his thumb at the juncture of John's hand and wrist, igniting an obvious pressure point.

"Ah! But why…" he stopped short when he realized that his nausea had started to ebb, "Holmes…" He looked up at the detective who did nothing but smile pleasantly at him and keep a firm pressure on his wrist.

"Thank you…"

Neither of them noticed Monica watching from her rearview mirror, smiling knowingly all the while.

(A/N: Yay! Chapter four is done! I hope you all enjoyed the extra dose of fluff! Please review!)