John pulled her into his arms as she began sobbing. He pulled her gently to his chair and gathered her into his lap, petting her hair. "We've all done horrible things in our past Melaine. I've killed men."
"In the war," she looked up at him. "Its quite different."
"Yes and no," he sighed, not knowing what to say to her. "I don't judge you, just as I don't judge Sherlock for being a junkie." Then he leaned down and kissed her. It was a slow, deep, gut-wrenching kiss. Her tears were gone in a second and she was straddling him, her fingers running delightedly up his bare chest, under his striped jumper.
He grunted as she pulled it up over his head, mussing his hair. Melaine pulled away and began kissing his scars, running her tongue over them. "Oh Mel," he groaned softly, his hands in her hair, he tugged her back to kissing him. He would defiantly not be writing about this in his blog.
She bit his bottom lip playfully and pulled back, she slowly began unbuttoning her blouse, teasing him. She was down to the third top button when he couldn't take it anymore and ripped it apart, throwing it to the ground and trailing his fingers down her back. She arched her neck as he began trailing kisses over her shoulders.
"Did you get the milk?" a mildly amused Sherlock asked from within the doorframe.
Melaine shrieked and slammed her chest against Johns. He let out a rush of breath and glared up at Sherlock. "Yes! Yes I did get the Bloody milk!"
"And apparently you picked up a little tart along the way!" Sherlock smirked at his sister. She glared daggers at her older brother.
"If I weren't…"John trailed off. "I would punch you in the face for saying that! She's your sister Sherlock."
"No need to get up on my account," Sherlock drawled and sat down in his own chair, then grinned. "She is my sister, and I love her dearly. And you John, are trying to defile this lovely specimen of womanhood!" He jumped up and shot over to them, his arms placed on either side of John chair. "What are your intentions to my sister Watson?"
Melaine looked up at her brother and grinned. "His intentions were to have a fantastic shag all over this flat!"
John sunk lower into his chair, his face and ears turning a scarlet red. "I'm so sorry."
"Who are you sorry to?" Sherlock asked, backing off and going back to sit in his chair.
"No one! Everyone!" John looked up into Melaine's eyes, she swooped down and kissed him gently, pulling on his lower lip again, God how that turned him on.
"I'm a very good shag," she whispered, her cool breath tickling his ear, he groaned softly, and then she turned to her brother. "Can you hand me a shirt?"
"Your shirt is ripped to shreds," Sherlock glanced down at the floor, then flicked back to John. He picked up John's jumper and handed it to her. Quickly she put it on, and twisted in John's arms so she was facing Sherlock. John grinned, because Melaine looked adorable in his clothing.
"Melaine, you have to go to him," Mycroft sighed and exited the room. "Both of you, out of my office in five minutes or I'm calling security. Give him the key to the house flat. I'll have some men escort him there."
Melaine looked at John, worry seated deep within the frown lines around her sparkling eyes. "Are you angry with me?"
"Of course not," John sighed. "Remember, I thought something had happened to you as well."
She paced, never taking her eyes off of him. "Hopefully I can be rather quick about it. I just have to get him to say the words. So we can make sure everyone knows that Sherlock Holmes was real, and Rich Brooke was a fake!"
"Calm down Mel," John stepped forward and grabbed her. "I understand!"
"I know," she sighed, her voice muffled because her face was pressing into his chest. "John, I can't breathe!"
He held her at arms length. "Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?"
Melaine bit her bottom lip and squeaked. "Yes."
"When all of this is over," he began, throwing his hands in the air. "When all of our sodding problems have been solved. Will you marry me?"
She laughed, or cried. You couldn't really tell, but the range of emotions that played across her face were tantalizing and sweet. She stepped forward and kissed John on the cheek. "Yes."
"Right then," he nodded and then kissed her. "Do I need to ask Mycroft for permission?"
"Defiantly not," Melaine whispered as she kissed his neck. She slipped her keys to the family flat into his pocket, perhaps grazing him a bit to long. She longed to utter the words, But you'll need to ask Sherlock. But she couldn't.
"Stop that," he huffed. "Or I'll just have to have you here in Mycrofts office!"
Melaine giggled, then pulled her hand out. "I guess that wouldn't be a good idea. When you get into the flat my room is the one at the end of the hall." She bit his bottom lip and tugged. "Make yourself comfortable Sailor!"
"I wont be," he griped her in a hug. "Until you're there." He paused, trying to figure out how to say what he was about to say. "Please don't sleep with Moriarty."
"Never," he felt her shake her head, then he let her go and put his jacket on, then helped her into her own jacket. He didn't want to let her go. Not after what happened to Sherlock, he didn't want her to go to that man, he was so afraid he would lose his heart all over again.
She went to the hidden back door, then turned and looked at John. "Do you love me John?"
"With every fiber of my being," he nodded, they both exited at the same time, closing the doors softly. Both were being led into the darkness, one to the Devil, the other to Sanctuary.
Melaine's hand flew up to her mouth, she forgot that the one place Sherlock might be right now is at the family flat. Neither she nor Mycroft had thought of that, but they also hadn't planned for any of this to happen.
"Melaine!" she heard her brother yell, he had opened the back door.
"I know," Melaine sighed. "Make sure your men take him the long way. I'll get there first."
"I'll have them take him by 221B," Mycroft sighed. "He needs to gather some things I'm sure. We wouldn't want him walking around the flat with nothing on."
"I'd like that!" Melaine smirked, her brother sent her a glare that would freeze the Thames. She turned and left quickly before he could say anything.
It didn't take her long to get to the family flat, Mycroft enjoyed having it near incase he needed to stay there overnight instead of going all the way his own home. She opened the door quietly, not really knowing what to expect.
The flat was as it always was, large and open. Much more modern then you might think. Very open floor plan, with high vaulted ceilings and exposed brickwork. They had bought the whole top floor and turned it into one flat. This is where their mother came to when she came to call on them.
There he was, staring straight at her. They just stared at each other for a moment. Both speechless. And then she was flying across the room into his open arms. His face was cut, right above his eyebrow, and along his neck. She knew they were probably self inflicted, so he would bare the scars later.
"You've been with John," Sherlock said mildly, as Melaine got up and walked over to the kitchen. She pulled out the first aid kit and wetted a washcloth. She sat down beside Sherlock again and began cleaning his head, he grimaced.
"John's on his way here," She looked straight into those aquamarine eyes of his. She noticed him flinch, but it was well hidden.
"Why the hell is he coming to this flat Mel?" his voice was steady, but she could see how angry he was.
She wouldn't back down to him. "Why did you jump?" she asked simply.
He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, pursing his lips. "That's neither here nor there."
"We don't have a lot of time," she continued to clean him up. Putting a bandage of the cut above his eye. "I don't know what you have to do now Sherlock. Where this path leads. But know that I will take care of him."
"You're always taking care of other people Mel," Sherlock took her hand as she was dabbing at his neck. "Who will be there to take care of you?"
"Taking care of those I love is what I was meant to do," she tried to give him a happy smile. "I'm the Consulting Caregiver."
Sherlock touched her face lightly and she moved into his touch, a tear rolling gently down her cheek. Sherlock brushed it away and pulled her into a tight hug. "When I come back, when all of this is over. I'll take care of you. Like you did for me."
Melaine laughed and pulled away. "Will it ever truly end?"
"Most likely not," they heard a key slide into the lock. A look of pure panic crossed Sherlock's face. "He can't know."
Together they both jumped up and scampered into the hallway, John caught a glimpse of short dark curls and a turned up coat collar. His heart stopped, it couldn't be. Sherlock was in the morgue, he had seen him. Molly had been there, she was so much stronger then they all gave credit. He had no idea how she had kept it all together.
"Sherlock?" his voice was hopeful and tragic at the same time. He heard nothing, maybe it was all in his head. Yes, it had to be. He was overtired, he dropped his bag on the floor and began walking towards the hall way.
"Be careful Sherlock," Melaine whispered as he sat crouched on the steps outside of her window, she kissed him on the check and shut the window. She quickly tore off her dress and grabbed her short black silk dressing robe that lay on her bed, it would have to do. She gathered her hair up so it would look short and then opened the door. John stood on the other side, blinking.