*Hello lovelies! Sorry for the delay. It's another long chapter it looks like and I will put a warning here that there is smut up ahead. I mean, it's Valentine's Night, who didn't see this coming? I will say that this is the first ever time I've written this sort of scene, so if it's awful I'm sorry! I'll need to practice it. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. As always, feel free to chat with me, leave reviews, whatever you'd like. Thank you again for reading!*

Chapter 9: Valentine's Night

I walked out of the class with Mary, shaking my head. "I really don't understand how you all can do something like that. I mean, seeing someone collapse must be horrifying."

"Well, you've done it before. Didn't even freeze it sounds like. You have to realize that at that point in time, nothing you can do to help will hurt them, as they're dead." She gave my hand a squeeze. "Now, what are you doing tonight for Valentine's? Going down to the pub to see if you can meet someone?"

I shook my head, feeling the blood rushing to my face. "No, actually. Sherlock...well, he had something planned for us."

Mary covered her mouth with her hand. "Wait. You and Sherlock...are you serious?! Does John know?"

"I'm not sure. Please don't say anything. It's embarrassing enough without him knowing. I'd rather not be teased about it."

"Oh I highly doubt John would tease you. In fact, I think it would make him happy to know that Sherlock will have someone once we're married and he's gone." She and I began to walk down the street together arm in arm. "Are you going to do your hair?"

"I was going to brush it, yes. There's not much I can do with it."

"Well, the clinic should be closed at this time. Why don't we stop by there and I'll do your hair and make-up for you?"

"I...well, I'm not one for make-up. In fact I've never really worn it unless I had to make a presentation for court. Even then I tried to keep it to the bare minimum." I felt embarrassed to confess this to another woman. "But, I wouldn't mind if you tried."

Mary giggled. "We'll have fun together. Oh, I can't wait. You're going to look gorgeous."

We walked the four blocks to the clinic and she produced a key, unlocking the door. "I'll call John, tell him I'm going to be a little late. I wonder what Sherlock is planning. John hasn't told me he's doing anything out of the ordinary."

She sat me down in the office chair, rummaging through her purse before producing another, smaller bag. "Here we are. Now, your skin is beautiful as it is. I may put on a bit of moisturizer, just to make your skin look softer. Really I want to focus on your eyes. A bit of liner, a bit of mascara and you'll look like a completely different person."

My leg began to jiggle up and down. "Mary, I don't want you to be late meeting John."

"Nonsense. Stop bouncing your leg. There's no need for you to be nervous. You haven't seen Sherlock all week, right?" She was grabbing things from her bag, setting them out on the counter.

"Right. He has been with Molly and Lestrade studying that contraption and I've been getting all of the certifications I need so that I can start next week." I paused, looking at all of the things Mary was setting out on the counter. "It was nice of you and John to get me this job. I feel bad having lived at the flat without paying anything."

"Well, your ribs are nearly healed and your leg hasn't been bothering you, so that time is coming where you can pay them back. John said that you've been cooking and cleaning when you can, as well as helping Sherlock with the case. I'd say you're fine doing what you're doing. Money isn't everything you know." Mary pulled my hair down from the ponytail, running her fingers through it. "Would you prefer your hair up or down?"

"Either or, although up would probably be more practical."

"Very true. And I've got my curling iron in my purse, so we can always curl your hair."

"I didn't think you were into make-up and hair."

"Well, in my younger years I liked to get dolled up, go out to the pub, and drink. I was a bit of a wild child when work was done. I've definitely calmed down since then." She tilted my head back, coming towards me with a mascara wand. "Now hold still and don't blink."

I did as she asked, fighting the urge to blink, my eyes watering. She handed me a tissue and I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. "So how did you and John meet?"

"Working here. We connected over his blog and eventually I convinced him to go on a date with me. We had a lovely time together. After a few dates, he finally began to open up to me about Sherlock. We grew closer and now," she smiled down at the ring on her finger, "now I'll be marrying the man of my dreams."

"You two are a wonderful couple. I'm glad you found each other. John has been so kind to me since I showed up." I watched as she grabbed an eyeliner pencil. "Let me guess, I need to hold still."

"You got it!" Mary laughed.

After almost twenty minutes, my face was finally done. Mary held up a mirror and I stared in awe of her handiwork. She'd made my lashes longer and my eyes brighter. I could see, instead of it being only a dark brown, the various shades of brown and gold. My skin looked soft, dewy, with a healthy glow to it. Mary had been right. I looked like a completely different person.

She clapped her hands with glee. "You look gorgeous! Please let me take a picture and send it to John. I won't tell him who you're going out with and I'll tell him not to show Sherlock as you're worried he may humiliate you."

"I, erm, alright. If it would make you happy." I straightened my back, staring at Mary as she took out her phone. "Is this pose alright?"

"Perfect." The flash went off and I blinked a few times before I could see once again. "I'm sending this to John now. Sherlock is definitely going to be surprised, that's for sure. Now, if he's rude to you, you walk away and call me and then I'll give him a stern talking to."

I felt a shudder run down my spine and my stomach started flip-flopping. "I don't feel so good."

"You'll be fine dear. Here, let me do something with your hair. We'll tie it into a loose bun and then curl some of the loose strands. It'll only take a few minutes." Mary plugged her curler into the outlet. "Why are you so worried?"

I looked down at my hands sheepishly. "I...well, I've been on dates before. But I've never been...intimate." The last word came out as almost a whisper and I felt my ears begin to burn. "And I think that's what Sherlock has in mind. I'd rather not disappoint him. I mean, Sherlock isn't shy about pointing things out that don't please him."

"It's perfectly normal. I was anxious my first time with John and I wasn't even a virgin." She took my hand in hers. "Being nervous is normal, but I promise you, if it's meant to happen it will happen. And if not, well, you tried and you should leave and go down to the pub and find someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

I was comforted by her smile and her touch. "John's a very lucky man. He had better realize what he has and take care of it or else I'll be giving him a stern talking to."

We both laughed. Once Mary had composed herself, she began to do my hair, leaving me to my own thoughts. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I pulled it out, sliding it up so that I could see the message.

You look gorgeous Delilah.

You wouldn't happen to know why Sherlock's cooking, would you? Or why he bought flowers and has candles all around the flat? He said something about having company later, so I wanted to see if he'd told you anything about it.

Hope you and Mary are having fun and I'll see you when she stops by before we go to dinner. She didn't tell me who the lucky man was. Said I'd have to ask you. Who is it?

-JW

I smiled at the message. So Sherlock was actually going through with planning out a romantic night for us. Well, that was a start. I figured that he would have forgotten or been too preoccupied with the case to care. I began my reply to John even as Mary began to curl my hair.

I've no idea who he plans to have over at the flat. Do you think he could have been seeing someone without our knowing? And I'll introduce you to him after our date tonight. It's a trial period at the moment for us. -DM

You've seriously got no clue as to who's coming over? I mean, he's making lasagna. Lasagna for Christ's sake! The man doesn't even eat! She must be important to him if he's going to all this trouble. Do you have a place to stay tonight if he won't let you back in the flat? -JW

Don't worry John, I have a place to stay. -DM

Seriously, who is the guy you're going on a date with? I need to know in case something should happen. Is it someone I know? - JW

I'm not telling you John. As I said, it's a trial period at the moment. I promise you I'm in good hands. You'll find out soon enough. Have fun with Mary tonight and stop worrying. I think she's almost done with my hair and then we'll be on our way. -DM

Fine. I'll find out either by you or Sherlock. Oh Jesus, he's putting on instrumental music. God save us all. -JW

I laughed, showing Mary all of the messages even as she turned the curling iron off, finger combing my hair to soften the curls. She giggled. "He's very curious. I'm guessing that that's why my phone has been vibrating since I started doing your hair. But you're done and you look beautiful. Like I said, if he says even one wrong thing you let me know and I'll be over there, damn the date with John."

"I...think we'll be okay." My heart began to race in my chest. "Do you really think he'll like it?"

"Darling, if the man doesn't then he's blind. Now, I think we've kept them waiting long enough, don't you?"

"I suppose." I pulled my jacket closer around my shoulders. "Let's go and meet our dates then."

We arrived back at the flat a while later, the sun starting to set. I'd gotten a couple of texts from Sherlock asking where we were, but I hadn't responded to him. I felt like I was going to vomit butterflies all over the sidewalk. Mary and I walked arm in arm, entering the flat and going up the stairs. I stood behind her even as she knocked on the door.

John opened it and I saw his eyes widen as he looked at myself and Mary. "Wow...you both look stunning."

"Thank you John," I murmured, feeling the blush rising in my cheeks.

"Thank you dear." Mary gave John a peck on the lips before stepping into the flat. "Sherlock? Oh Sherlock, where are you?"

"In the kitchen woman. Why are you shouting?" Sherlock stepped around the corner with an irritated look on his face. He froze when he saw me. "Hello Delilah."

"H-hello Sherlock," I stammered, looking down at my feet. "How's the cooking going?"

"Good. Our supper should be ready in about thirty minutes or so. I grabbed us a bottle of vodka earlier. I wish I'd known you were coming, I would have been a bit more prepared."

"Wait. Sherlock, she's- Delilah, your date is- hold on just a minute!" John looked between the two of us incredulously. "You mean to tell me-"

"No time dear!" Mary said quickly, grabbing his hand. "We're going to be late for dinner and I'd rather not miss our reservation. Have fun you two! I'll see you in the morning when we go dress shopping Del!"

They left, John still trying to form a coherent sentence even as Mary shut the door. Sherlock brushed past me, locking it. He turned to look at me and I could feel my face turning bright red. I did my best to not squirm under his gaze even as he looked me up and down. He nodded.

"You look stunning Delilah," he said simply and I looked up at him, smiling.

"Thank you. You look handsome yourself. Although, hold on." I approached him, reaching out to wipe a smudge of flour off of his face. "John wasn't joking when he said you were cooking today."

"I made the noodles and sauce from scratch."

"I didn't think that you knew how to cook."

"I don't. It seemed an unnecessary thing to burden my mind with. But I decided to look up a few recipes online and I asked Mrs. Hudson for some help at one point. I wanted to make you a home cooked meal instead of going out." I could see the apprehension in his eyes.

"I'm sure it's going to taste wonderful. That means that I'll have to cook you something soon for our next date." That word sounded so foreign coming out of my mouth and I saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips. "What?"

"You're already planning our next date when we haven't even gotten through the first one," he replied, resting his hands on my hips, pulling me close. "I wasn't joking when I said you look stunning. You're wearing make-up."

"Yes. Not my choice. I normally don't, but Mary insisted that I-"

"I like it," he interrupted, reaching up to stroke my cheek. . "Your hair looks nice as well. What did you do to it?"

"I'm not sure what Mary did. I'll have to ask her next time. When did you say that dinner would be done?"

"Another twenty to thirty minutes. Would you like a drink while we wait?"

"Sure."

"I read this recipe online using pear vodka and mixing it with cranberry juice and seltzer water. I thought we could try it." He let go of my hips, heading into the kitchen. I followed, watching as he grabbed two glasses from the cabinet before filling them with ice. "It's supposed to taste very good as a mixed drink. If you don't like it we could always drink straight vodka."

"I think that the cocktail sounds wonderful," I replied, feeling my nervousness fluttering around in my chest once more. "So, besides cooking and lighting candles, what else have you done today?"

"Well, let's see. I went down to the market as soon as I knew you were going to your class. I bought all of the supplies there. And then I came home, spoke to Molly for a little bit about our findings. Apparently not only was it an antibiotic resistant strain of meningitis in our canister, but there was also shingles and mumps in there." Sherlock paused as he looked up at me. "Your leg is jiggling and your face is pale. There's a very faint sweat on your brow. Why are you nervous?"

"It's nothing really," I replied, forcing my leg to be still.

"What are you nervous for? Has something happened that I don't know about?"

"No, not at all. I'm…not used to this sort of attention."

Sherlock poured the vodka and cranberry juice into the glass, adding a splash of seltzer water. "I'm trying to focus on you and making this night special. Does that bother you?"

"No. This is very sweet of you and I'm enjoying seeing this side of you."

"Then what on earth could be the matter?"

"I…I'm worried about disappointing you."

He carried my glass over to me, setting it down in front of me. "Disappointing me? Why, if you were going to do that you would have done it already. People disappoint me when I first meet them. It's why I try not to keep them around." Sherlock took a sip from his glass as he sat down across from me, watching me. "You're nervous about tonight. After dinner."

"Yes. Because I'm sure you've been with plenty of women and I'm so inexperienced. I was always so focused on my career and family. Then I was focused on surviving. Now…now this is a completely different realm that I'm not used to." I took a gulp from my glass, trying to look anywhere in the room but at Sherlock.

"How many women do you think I've been with?" He questioned, leaning back in his chair. "I'm honestly curious."

"I don't know. A half-dozen, maybe more?"

Sherlock chuckled. "If I were John, maybe. But I've only been with two women. You would make a third. I'll be very honest with you Delilah, the thought of being intimate with someone or of being with someone is not at the top of the list. People get in the way, significant others make for wonderful hostages, and I really have no use for feelings." I could feel my heart sinking with disappointment. "That being said, you've proven to me that you're not a normal person and that you would be beneficial to me on cases. And that you won't be a hostage, you'll be a fighter. And that feelings perhaps aren't as bad as I once thought they were, at least when it comes to you."

"You've only been with two women?" I felt a little less nervous now. "When? Were you in long term relationships with them?"

"Well, the first girl was back in secondary school. I was sixteen, she was seventeen, and I wanted to get it out of the way. I'm pretty certain that she didn't enjoy it, but I only wanted to know the mechanics of it and how it felt so that I could disregard those feelings and urges when I got older." Sherlock took a sip from his glass. "The second was a woman I met in the library while I was researching a case. She...intrigued me. She was from Italy, studying at UCL for her degree in criminal psychology. Her name was Alessandra and she and I went on a few dates before we became intimate. I ended things when I grew bored with her as she turned out to be a shallow woman."

I could tell that Sherlock was far away from our table, no doubt back in a library seeing Alessandra for the first time. Before I could stop myself I asked, "What did she look like?"

Sherlock turned to me, raising an eyebrow. "Why does it matter?"

"Curiosity."

"Curiosity or jealousy? Or do you want to compare yourself to her and ponder for hours on end why I like you when you're nothing like her?"

I looked down at my glass, cursing myself for being so obvious, especially with him. "I suppose it's a mixture of everything."

"Do you really want to know?"

I was taken aback by his asking. He'd never done that before with anyone, at least not from what I had seen in his interactions with people. I slowly shook my head. "You know, now that you've mentioned it, I'm not that curious. It doesn't matter. She was in the past."

Sherlock gave me a small smile. "I'm glad you decided otherwise. Now, I think-" The timer above the stove began to ring and he rose to his feet. "Ah yes, right on time. Let me see." He grabbed a pair of oven mitts off of the counter, sliding them onto his hands. "Here we are. One homemade lasagna."

"What if I don't like Italian food?" I asked, wanting to give him a hard time.

"Impossible unfortunately, as I heard you discussing with Mary on the phone that you were craving Italian food and hadn't had a good lasagna since you visited Italy for your twenty-fifth birthday. " Sherlock turned to place the dish down in the center of the table. "I doubt mine will be as delightful as what they serve in Italy, but I can guarantee it won't give you food poisoning."

I chuckled, watching as Sherlock cut the lights off in the kitchen, leaving us with only the light of the candles, violin music floating in from the living room. I swayed with the music as Sherlock served the pasta. "Well, go ahead. Take a bite."

I did as he asked, cutting a small piece off the corner with the edge of my fork before taking a bite. It was actually very well made. He hadn't been overzealous with the sauce, the noodles were cooked to perfection, and the cheese was evenly distributed through every bite. Sherlock was staring at me and I could tell that he was waiting for my feedback.

"It's good Sherlock. You did a wonderful job considering this is your first time cooking. Thank you." I watched as he settled back into his chair, not moving to fix himself a plate. I looked at him curiously. "Are you not eating?"

"I don't eat while I'm on a case."

"The way I see it, you're not on a case right now. You're on a date with me. Please, at least have a small slice."

Sherlock sighed. "I'm not hungry."

"You're not hungry or you're not giving in to what your body is telling you? I heard your stomach growl earlier."

"Those were the normal sounds of digestion."

"Digesting what, your own stomach? Sherlock, you're drinking. Have a little something. Please?"

He reached over, cutting himself a small slice of lasagna before putting it on his plate. I watched him until he took a bite. "Are you happy now?"

"Very," I replied, taking another bite. "Have you heard anything from your brother yet?"

"No, not since I spoke to him about finding you a safe place to stay next month. He said he would do the best he could, but we would need to go and visit him at his office one day next week."

"Well it will have to be one of the days that I have off. I'm starting at the clinic on Monday."

"You're not going to do well there. You won't fit in."

I glanced up at him, trying to hide the hurt. "What makes you say that?"

"You're too adventurous, too hands-on. You'll want to be helping patients, not answering the phones and booking appointments. You'd do better as a nurse I think. Or a police officer. I'm sure they could use you down at Scotland Yard." Sherlock took another bite of his food. "You're not cut out for desk work Delilah. Will you really be happy stuck in the same building three to four days a week doing nothing but staring at a computer waiting for the phone to ring?"

I frowned. I hadn't considered that aspect. I'd been excited about getting the job in the first place. "I think I'll do fine. It's a job and I can pay you all a bit of money each paycheck for letting me stay here."

"You don't need to pay us. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Save your money."

"Sherlock, I can't stay here rent free. I'll give you money each week."

"I am telling you no. I will burn it before I accept it."

"Then I'll give it to John."

Sherlock let out a huff of impatience. "Would you stop being so stubborn all the time? We are not taking your money. John and I have already discussed it. Save your money, put it towards getting a flat of your own if you must."

I sat there, shaking my head. "You want to talk about someone being stubborn...fine. But I'm still going to clean the flat and cook for you all. And buy groceries from time to time."

He rolled his eyes, but chose not to argue with me. We finished our meal in silence and I helped him clean up, putting the leftover lasagna in the fridge and washing the dishes. I went into the living room with my glass of alcohol, sitting on the couch. Sherlock followed, something tucked behind his back as he stood in front of me.

"What have you got there?" I asked, raising my eyebrow as I leaned back, looking up at him.

"A present for you. Close your eyes."

I set my glass down before I closed my eyes, hands outstretched. I opened them when I felt something pressed into my hands. "Oh! They're beautiful! But how did you know that I liked stargazer lilies?"

Sherlock looked at me, a smirk on his face. "You commented on them one day when we were out at the market with John two weeks ago."

I couldn't help but give him a genuine smile. "Thank you so much Sherlock. These are absolutely beautiful. I...didn't even think you'd been paying attention. I'm surprised you remembered."

"I remember a lot of things, Delilah. Now, would you care to dance with me?"

I set the flowers on the table before rising to my feet. "I'm not a good dancer, but I'd be willing to try. You can dance?"

He took my hand, whirling me out into the middle of the living room. I hadn't realized that he'd moved the chairs out of the way and cleared a space. I giggled even as he closed the gap between us, placing one hand lightly on my hip, the other taking my hand. I rested my free hand on his shoulder and away we went. I found that he was actually very easy to follow and I only had to glance down at my feet a couple of times.

I looked up into his eyes, finding myself once again enchanted by them. I smiled and he looked down at me, slowing our pace even as the music began to slow. I recognized the song. "Wait. Sherlock. Is this-"

"My music? Yes. I recorded a few of my songs onto a disc when I was younger. I thought that since you seemed to enjoy my playing so much, I would put it on for us to dance to." Sherlock brushed a stray curl away from my face. "You know...you are the last person I thought I would be dancing with or speaking with on a more intimate level."

"Why do you say that?" I murmured, reaching up to stroke the side of his neck, watching as he tried to hide a shudder from me.

"Well because you are the complete opposite of me and everything that I stand for. You are made of passion and emotion and questionable decisions. You are kind and caring. Brave even. You carry the entire world on your shoulders and care about everyone except yourself." Sherlock shook his head. "I can't wrap my mind around you and I think that is your most intriguing quality."

"So there is a romantic side to you," I said softly. "Everyone I've met kept telling me how cold you were, how uncaring, unkind, and uninterested you could be. But...when you pulled me in off the street, nearly dying of an asthma attack, I knew you were different. A man who was cold, uncaring, unkind, or uninterested wouldn't have helped a complete stranger. And now you're proving it to me. Sherlock, tonight is wonderful and I can see how much effort you put into all of this. Thank you."

He rolled his eyes, but I could see the smile he was fighting to hold back. "Always thanking people for silly things."

I laughed. "It's a bad habit I know. I swear, I would thank my enemy for letting me live if I was given the chance."

We both laughed at that and then Sherlock's eyes met mine. "I've never told you how beautiful you are, have I?"

"Oh God. How much have you had to drink?"

"As much as you," he replied. "I'm not drunk. I...want to tell you how I see you. If you'd let me."

I blushed. "If you'd like. But, if we do that then I'd like to tell you how I see you. Fair is fair."

He pulled me tighter to him, swaying to the music still. But I couldn't pay attention to it when I was so close to him. I shuddered even as he leaned down to murmur in my ear. "Your eyes are the loveliest shade of brown. Dark. Mysterious. Captivating. And when the light hits them just right, they turn the color of whiskey with hints of a dark chocolate melted in. I noticed this when we were out shooting and you glanced over your shoulder at me to see whether or not I approved of your marksmanship. Your hair is so brilliant, a testament to your fiery temper and unbroken willpower. When I picture you in my mind, which happens more often than you think, it is the first thing that appears. Those long, soft waves of fire cascading down your back."

"Then, after I've pictured your hair tumbling down your back, I picture your porcelain skin with the kiss of freckles across your nose and cheeks. I can see how soft and smooth it is and how I'd love to brush my fingertips down it, watching you tremble at my touch." To prove his point, he ran his hand down my back and I couldn't help but shudder. "I want to kiss every scar on your body, those physical testaments to how much you've endured in your life and I want to replace those bad memories with the touch of my lips. Speaking of lips, all that has consumed my brain when I'm not working on this case, is the feel of your lips against mine. How pliant they are, how willing to accept my kiss they can be." He moved his head, his lips now hovering over mine. "Do you want me to kiss you Delilah?"

Without a word, I pulled his head down towards mine, our lips touching. My entire body felt as though it were electrified by the kiss, even as he pulled me close to him. I stood on tip-toe, arms wrapped around his neck. His hands ran down the front of my body before going around to the back, cupping me right under my bottom, lifting me up. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his waist, delighting in the low groan that came from his throat. He pressed me against the wall and I gasped as his body pressed into mine. My fingers buried themselves in his hair and I gently pulled his head back to look at me.

"Make love to me Sherlock," I whispered, the nervousness fading from me, replaced by a heat and a need like nothing I had ever craved before.

He pulled back and in one movement, I was cradled in his arms, my arms wrapped around his neck as he carried me back to the bedroom. I kissed his neck, nibbling at his earlobe, enjoying the fact that I was making him shiver and moan. Sherlock set me down on the bed, laying down next to me. His lips met mine once more even as he began to unbutton the front of my shirt. He pushed aside the material before leaning back to look at what he'd revealed.

"Very nice," he murmured, fingertips brushing over the tops of my breasts. "I wonder what it looks like underneath."

I began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, managing to get them undone. I pulled the sleeves off, throwing the shirt onto the floor. I looked at him, unclothed, and the nervousness came back. He was no body-builder, but there was some muscle and definition to him. I rested a hand on his chest, watching as he looked down at me with a smile on his face.

"Everything as you expected?"

I looked up at him. "More than I expected. I didn't think you were so fit. I mean, you don't look like you'd have any muscle on you."

"I could say the same about you." He lifted me up, pulling the shirt away to expose my entire torso to him with nothing but the bra on. I shivered. "Are you cold?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Sherlock...kiss me."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, one hand cupping my breast even as his other gripped my hip. He began to press kisses to my jawline, working his way down my neck and chest. Sherlock unfastened the bra deftly, tossing it to the side. Before I could even say anything, he was taking one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking it gently. My hips jerked up against him and he moaned again, his own hips pressing into me. I felt the hardness against my lower abdomen and I felt my heart begin to race.

Sherlock's mouth continued to suckle my breast even as his thumb brushed against the other nipple. I let out a moan, my head falling back onto the bed, fingers digging into his back. He pulled away, pressing kisses to any part of skin that was exposed. He lingered on the bullet wound scar on my stomach before going lower. I shuddered as he kissed my hip bone, nipping at it lightly. Slowly, he unbuttoned my jeans, tugging them down and tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. I felt my body flush as he looked at my nearly naked form.

"Everything as you expected?" I asked, resisting the urge to cover my breasts with my arm.

"Better than I expected," Sherlock murmured. "You...are perfect."

I gave him a gentle smile, scooting back on the bed so that I was laying in it properly. "Is that so? Well, I'd rather not be the only one nearly naked if you don't mind."

He pulled his own pants off and I couldn't help but stare at the bulge barely concealed by his underwear. I felt my face grow hot and he joined me on the bed, tracing my body with his fingertips as if trying to learn every centimeter of my body by touch. It was as if his fingertips were sending little jolts of electricity through my skin and my body was converting it into a heat that was growing in the pit of my stomach. I gasped as his hand travelled lower, rubbing gently at my clit through the flimsy material of my underwear.

"Do you want me to touch you? Bring you pleasure?" He continued his gentle rubbing even as I groaned, kissing the side of his neck. "Well?"

"Yes. Please Sherlock. I want you."

In one quick movement, Sherlock lifted my hips up and pulled my underwear down tossing it to the floor. His fingers brushed against my now exposed skin before his thumb pressed against my clit, rubbing it in slow circles. I'd never felt anything like it before even as the heat shot up through me. I couldn't hold back a moan and Sherlock looked up at me, a grin on his face.

"Does that feel good?"

I could only nod, moaning again as his thumb pressed a little harder and he quickened his pace. My hips lifted up against his hand and I grabbed fistfuls of the bedding, writhing under his hand. He was beside me in an instant, still rubbing in circles, pressing a kiss to my lips, tongue dipping into my mouth. I felt as if I was going to burst into flames or melt into lava. I let out another moan as he slowly slid a finger inside of me. I didn't even acknowledge the small pain, I was so focused on his lips against mine, his thumb and the pleasure it was bringing me.

I could feel it building inside, climbing somewhere that I had never gone before. I was getting closer and closer to that edge. When he slid a second finger inside of me and his free hand cupped my bare breast, it pushed me over the brink, falling into a delightful world that I had never been to before. I barely even heard my cry of pleasure as the waves of ecstasy washed over me. Sherlock's kiss brought me back to a breathless reality and I looked at him, eyes wide, a smile on my face.

"That...was amazing…" I panted out, watching as a smug smirk appeared.

"Was it now?"

"Probably the best thing I've ever felt." He stroked my cheek with his knuckle and I smiled. "Now I suppose it's your turn."

"What do you-"

I was already shoving him onto his back, straddling him. I had no idea what I was doing, but it felt natural. My hair had fallen out of the loose bun and now cascaded down around us. His hands gripped my hips even as I ground them against his. He moaned and I watched as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. I teased him, learning quickly how to move my body in rhythm with his thrusts, slowing down when his breath began to come in ragged gasps.

He let out a growl before he flipped me onto my back. His eyes burned into mine, one arm propping him up, the other wrapped around my waist. "Are you ready Lila?"

Slowly, I nodded my head. "Let me...let me look first. Please."

Sherlock leaned back and I tugged his underwear down, doing my best to not be surprised. I found myself unable to look away as I got the underwear fully off. He rolled a condom on even as I stared. "Y-you're...ummm...you're very well endowed...I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, but I-"

"It's alright. I won't force you if you're not ready."

"It's fine. Sherlock, I want this. And I want it with you."

He leaned down, kissing me softly before resting his forehead against mine. "This will hurt, but I will be gentle."

I nodded, feeling his tip at my entrance. "I'll be alright. I don't think you would hurt me on purpose."

Slowly, he pushed into me and I felt a sharp pain for a split second before it became a dull ache. He stopped moving, looking down at me. I could tell that he was restraining himself from moving again. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Aye. I'm fine. Show me what this world is like Sherlock. Teach me."

We began a new dance, one with a different, more basic rhythm as old as time. There was nothing more important than each other in that moment. No case, no trouble, nothing but the two of us. I felt myself soaring once more as Sherlock's hand slipped between my legs to rub at my clit. Even as I tightened around him, he let out a hoarse cry, spasming once, twice, before lowering himself down on top of me, burying his face in my neck.

I ran my nails lightly down his back, feeling him shudder. He slowly pulled out of me, rolling off and laying next to me. I stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving for air. I glanced over at him, seeing that he was doing the same as I was, one hand on his stomach, the other resting by his side. I reached out for the hand by his side, intertwining my fingers with his. He turned his head to stare at me and I was delighted to see that he was relaxed. He rolled over, pressing a kiss to my forehead before getting out of bed, going to the bathroom.

I stayed in the bed, still staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. Had I really just been intimate with Sherlock Holmes? Had I shared a bed with him, lost my virginity to him? Judging by the ache in my lower abdomen and the shakiness in my limbs, yes, I had. And I had enjoyed it too.

'To think, two and a half months ago, I was out on the streets, struggling for my next meal, hiding from people who wanted to kill me. And now, now here I am in the bed of the greatest consulting detective in the world, staying under his roof.' I sighed. 'Things do seem to change. Perhaps my luck has changed, but for better or worse, I won't know.'

I got out of the bed, Sherlock walking out of the bathroom. I could tell that the magic of the moment had been broken as he stepped out. "Did you need to use the bathroom?"

I nodded. "Yes. I need a shower and then I'll more than likely go to bed."

"Well, could you wait? I need to clean up in there first."

My curiosity was piqued. "What do you need to clean up? I cleaned it yesterday."

"Well, you missed a spot."

"Missed a spot? How is that possible?" I pushed past him, gently pushing the door open. I gasped when I saw the mirror.

In red lipstick on the mirror was a message, written in curly handwriting that I recognized from our years of living together. I felt the rage building my chest as I read the four words scrawled across the glass.

'She will die Sherlock :)'

I let out a snarl of rage, resisting the urge to punch the mirror. She had ruined it, all of it. I wiped my hand across the mirror, streaking the words, making it look as if they were bleeding on the glass. I looked at my hand, watching it tremble at the sight of the red on the palm of my hands. A hand reached around me to cover mine and close it.

"Ignore it," Sherlock whispered in my ear. "Ignore it and her."

"How can I? How can I ignore the fact that she can get into the flat whenever she wants? That she can come and go as she pleases? I'm putting you and John in danger, Sherlock, and I can't do that anymore. I can't and won't." I stormed out of the bathroom, going to the living room, and opening my pack. "I'm sorry that things have to be this way, but I won't put any of you in danger because you want to be kind and give me a roof over my head."

"You're not going anywhere," Sherlock said, voice cold. "I will not let you go back out onto those streets with these people hunting you down. I'm not allowing it."

"You can't stop me," I said, tugging on a pair of sweatpants, tying the drawstring tight. "I'm leaving tonight. Sherlock, we already know how this ends."

He looked desperate to get me to stay. "At least spend the night with me. Please. Give us this one last night if you are so insistent on leaving."

I pulled a camisole over my head before grabbing a thick jumper. "I don't want you hurt."

"Did you not read the note? She said that you would die, not me."

"And if she comes after me, do you really think that she would stop with that?" I felt my lower lip trembling and the tears began to fall. "I can't let anything happen to you Sherlock. Not again, not after what we shared."

I began to cry, sobbing softly. Sherlock pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "She is only doing this to get under your skin. Delilah, listen to me. You will be safe so long as I am here. You have to believe me when I say that we will get her and put her behind bars. This will end. Do you believe me when I say this?" He lifted my face up to look at him. "Do you Lila?"

"I do."

"Then stay the night with me."

I woke, sitting up quietly. Sherlock and I had gone back to the bathroom after our argument and shared a shower. He'd been doing his best to soothe me and convince me to stay. And when we'd gone back to bed, I'd drifted off to sleep. But as I had, I'd told myself that I would wake before morning. I refused to put Sherlock in danger. I would not see him harmed, even if it meant my demise.

I couldn't say that I loved him. I wasn't ready to say that and I hadn't processed everything that had happened. But I did care for him deeply and I knew that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to him because of me. John as well. And Mary and Mrs. Hudson. Even Molly and Lestrade, although I'd only met both of them a handful of times.

Slowly, I edged my way off of the bed, keeping an eye on Sherlock. He didn't stir. I frowned, knowing that this would hurt him as much as it was hurting me. He looked so handsome, so at peace in that bed asleep. A curl of dark brown hair lay across his forehead and I gently brushed it away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He murmured something, rolling onto his side before drifting off again.

I padded down the hallway, closing the door behind me so I wouldn't wake him. I tugged my trainers onto my feet, grabbing my pack. I noticed the laptop sitting on the table out of the corner of my eye. I decided to leave Sherlock a note, short and sweet, thanking him and John for their kindness. I opened a new document.

Sherlock,

Tonight was a wonderful night. I am truly grateful that I got to spend this time with you. You and John have been absolutely wonderful to me these past two and a half months and I cannot thank you enough for your kindness and your charitable nature. Please tell John and Mary that I am sorry that I could not give a more appropriate good-bye.

I do not want to see any of you hurt and I know Olivia better than anyone else. She will destroy everything that I love if it means that she achieves her goal. I will not put anyone in harm's way if what she wants is me. By the time you read this, I have no doubt that I will be at her mercy, if not dead. But if I can get her to keep away from you, then I will have accomplished my goal.

Do not try to contact me, do not try to search for me. Do not call the police. I am disappearing for good and you will not find me. Thank you all again for your kindness. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.

Sincerely,

Delilah McKinley

I read over the note twice before nodding, satisfied with what I had written. I tucked the pistol into the waistband of my pants before throwing my coat on over my shoulders. I grabbed my pack before leaving, closing the door behind me. I pulled the phone out of my pocket even as I exited the building onto the quiet streets of London.

I scrolled through my contacts before I found the one number I was looking for. I hit the send button, listening to it ring once, twice. I was going to hang up when I heard the purr on the other end of the line.

"Have you come to your senses now?"

"I have. Meet me at the park we used to go to as children in thirty minutes. No police, no henchmen. Just you and me. We'll settle this one on one like we should have a long time ago."

"See you soon sister."

The call ended and I set the phone on the front stoop where I knew Sherlock would see it. "See you soon you bitch."

I took off down the dark streets, moving silently through the shadows. This was going to end, one way or another. And if it meant that I died with her, then so be it.