I awake, feeling like Scarlett O'Hara after Rhett took her up the stairs. Anderson throws off the covers, smiling when he looks down and sees the morning wood I am sporting. "Nice," he says, then begins to work at dispatching it.

You walk into the room, towel drying your hair. "Oh, Jesus, I just got a shower. Now I will have to get another."

I watch while you go over to the nightstand, grab a condom, lube Anderson up, instructing him to get on all fours. He stops what he's doing and I give you a menacing look. You laugh. "Anderson, don't stop in the middle or Sherlock gets quite angry." I smile when Anderson goes back to work, wondering if I should be worried about his teeth biting me while you fuck him. The room begins to fill with groans and the scent of sex. It is glorious, like a perfect Mozart Sonata or the thrilling climax of a grueling case—perfection.

After I release, and Anderson swallows my load with his usual relish, I slide between his legs, finishing him off with the tip of my tongue, his come in my mouth a lovely pre-tea snack. Then like a choregraphed dance, you slide out of Anderson, I slide to the floor, then you and Anderson pull me back onto the bed. Like dogs we roll around in our own scents, while I sniff and taste you both.

"Don't mind him," you say, "he loves the taste of recycled come."

"Jesus, he is disgusting and wonderful," Anderson says while he runs his fingers through my hair. John looks on, smiling at us with an affectionate grin. A knock at the door startles us into action. You grab your stripped robe, Anderson looks around, he has no robe, so he dives under the covers. I slip my gown on, posing like Botticelli's Venus, then say, "Come in."

You look murderous and Anderson blushes when Mrs. Hudson opens the door. "Boys, I thought you might like some…tea." Her voice trails off and she wrinkles her nose. "Oh Sherlock, what have you done now?"

I raise up. "In case you haven't noticed there are two other people in the room. How come everyone always blames me when something untoward occurs?"

You scratch the side of your face. "That's because it's usually you that causes all the trouble." Then you take a step towards Mrs. Hudson. "Look I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but we aren't just fooling around. We are all in a relationship with each other."

She sets down the tea tray and smiles. "That's nice, I'm happy for the three of you but please open a window and clean up in here. It smells a bit musky." Then she smiles again and leaves.

When the door shuts, I start to laugh. "Good old Mrs. Hudson, nothing shocks her, does it?"

You raise your eyebrows, rubbing the back of your neck. "Apparently not."

I would love a good soak in the tub, but I know that Anderson can't soak in the water just yet. His wound, it still looks so terrible. Poor Anderson. Why would he kill himself for me? I don't understand.

Anderson looks at me and smiles. I shudder. Did he just read my mind?

You approach us, putting a hand on each of our shoulders. "It would be nice if he could all get a bath together."

I nod. "I must tell Mrs. Hudson we need a bigger tub. In the meantime, Anderson will get his shower first, I will take a bath and John, you can bundle up our sheets for the laundry. Oh, and empty the trash bin as well. I'm sure all the used condoms are plastered to the sides by now."

You laugh. "Since when are you the den mother?"

I look back at you and sigh. "I am the most analytical, therefore my suggestions will be the ones we will take." Then without another word I head off to the bathroom. My bathing ritual is quite extensive and I begin by disrobing, then I turn on the water, letting it run until the temperature is hot. You and Mrs. Hudson always complain I'm a terrible water waster, but I don't care. I can't abide tepid bath water. After I am satisfied that I will be as red as a lobster when I submerge, I pour in a special blend of bath oil, then I lower myself in an inch at a time until my body adjusts to the heat. Once in I lean back and close my eyes. I must have dozed off. When someone knocks at the door I jump. "Come in."

Anderson opens the door and is met with a cloud of steam. He lets some of it dissipate, then comes into the room. I grab a sponge, then attempt to wash my back. "Here let me get that." Chill bumps raise on my arms when the warm water runs down my sides. The only sound in the room is the faint sound of the water running in the pipes from John's shower and the splashing Anderson makes while he washes me. He pauses over my shoulder blades. "Sherlock, the scars…what are they from?"

I want to ignore him, but I don't. "I was beaten and…raped in an Eastern European Prison."

Anderson kneels on the ground, heedless of the wet bath mat beneath. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry. Let's make them pay. I will torture them one by one."

I flick some water at him, attempting to lighten the blow I have just given him. "Stop, you're going to make me hard and they're all dead anyway."

"You killed them?"

"Nope, Mycroft had them waterboarded, then tossed into the woods for the wolves to eat."

He laughs then begins to wash my arms, kissing the scars I have inflicted upon myself. "Sherlock, promise me you won't do this to yourself anymore."

I pull my arms away, covering my body when a feeling of shame overwhelms me. "I never make promises." Then I look into his pale blue eyes. "Why didn't you wash your hair?"

He stands up, then smiles that heartrending smile of his. "It was too painful to bend my head back. I don't know it just hurt."

I study him. "It didn't hurt to bend your head last night." Then I look at him again. "Hand me a towel, then my robe and the shampoo and I will wash your hair in the kitchen."

He does as I ask, but looks skeptical when I emerge from the tub, leading him to the kitchen. I make sure the temperature of the water is just right, then I guide his head under the flowing water, letting him back into me for balance. He hums in pleasure when I massage the shampoo into his fine hair. It is a sensuous experience and I am surprised to find that I am enjoying it as much as he. When we are through, I wrap his hair in a towel, guiding him to a chair. He towel dries his hair while I watch.

"What's going on here?"

I turn to see you in the doorway, holding baby Alice. She looks adorable in a little white dress. It's dotted with red hearts and I smile. You are dressed in black trousers and a red shirt. I frown, attempting to recall why you are both dressed up. You laugh. "It's Valentine's Day, Sherlock and we are all going out for a fine meal."

My eyes brighten. "I know of a sex performance club that…"

You point to Alice and I purse my lips. "Of course, I don't suppose it would be proper."

Anderson and I slip upstairs to get dressed. I wear my purple shirt of sex and Anderson opts for a classic white shirt, and black trousers.

Mrs. Hudson inspects us before we leave. "You boys look so marvelous, have a good time."

I smile. "We will."

"And call if you're going to be late, or I'll worry."

I smile. "Don't worry, I will take good care of them. I promise." Then we all head for the door and I shiver, unable to shake the black feeling that hovers over me.