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Chapter 4

Sherlock's POV

The cab screeches to a halt in front of Mycroft's building.

Fucking bugger calls me in as if it's any of his business what MY cases entail. If Lestrade and him weren't fucking he wouldn't be involved. I'm sulking as I throw the cash at the cabbie and stride into the lobby, ignoring everyone while I go straight into the elevator.

I'm trying to prepare the ultimate annoyed voice as the doors open to Mycroft's office.

"Lestrade was it really necessary for this to occur in-"

Cassidy's POV

I'm not breathing. I'm going to cry. Or puke, or both possibly. I hadn't expected him to come in all fucking raged but I suppose with him it's not that surprising seeing as Mycroft is involved.

He's staring at me.

Why is he just staring? My lord those beautiful grey eyes. I missed him so much.

Speak. Move. Do something you fucking dimwit. Honestly after 6 years you think I would have had time to prepare instead I stare like a fucking loser.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice is soft and worried.

Sherlock shakes his head slightly as if he had just awoken from a dream.

"Can you see her?" Sherlock is demanding, obviously to the three nimrods in the room but he is staring straight at me, it's so intense I can feel the almost uncomfortable shot of arousal down my spine, oh how I missed this. It makes me want to fall into him and never come out.

"Sherlock.." out of the corner of my eye I see John shuffle slightly closer to the stock still detective.

"JOHN. CAN. YOU. SEE. HER" Sherlock's voice is so sudden and loud I flinch. I can see him instantly regret his volume in response to my jerk. He looks worried and my heart sings until his eyes harden again as he stares at me blankly.

"Well, Yes but Sherlock-"John's voice is frantic.

"Out." The single word is aimed at the three others if the jerk of his head towards them is any indication, even though his eyes stay on me.

I can see him slowly falling apart on the inside. I suddenly understand. He didn't want to believe, he thought I wasn't real, He thought he lost his mind and was imagining me. Oh my sweet poor lover.

The men stand still until they realize who it was directed at, then they proceed to rush out, all but Doctor Watson who is forcibly removed by Greg and Myc. The door shuts quietly behind them.

Silence. And then there were two.

The silence is deafening and I start to shake from the nerves and the intense desire to cry, but I refuse to allow the tears to fall. I am strong.

"Hello Sherly." Fuck. I can hear the tears in my voice. My whole body is trembling then sudden warmth.

My body is instantly relaxed, I didn't see him move, and I don't care. He's holding me. He's hugging me like I'm the most precious thing to him, I can't stop the tears.

I can feel wet heat running down my neck and fingers, hands, a perfect cupid's bow as they all frantically move over every inch of me they can. He's crying and touching as though he needs to do everything in a swift amount of time, as if I'm going to disappear. Again.

The fleeting touches turn into both of us sobbing and grabbing any part of one another we can. Then suddenly his lips are on mine and it's like I was never gone, minus the tears that are streaming down both our faces.

His kisses are frantic, trying to push, taste, take and give all at the same time.

It turns into more teeth and tongue then lips but its sheer perfection.

I can't tell who is shaking more, but it does not matter, we are together, we are one again.

One arm around my waist and one in my hair holding my head in place as though he were scared I was going to bolt. My hands are simply trying to hold on for the ride, one in his lovely curls and one under his armpit holding his shoulder. It's awkward and sloppy and the most beautiful thing I could have ever imagined.

We stand there for what feels like an eternity even though it was no more than 45 minutes.

We aren't kissing. Simply lips touching lips, eyes staring, tears till falling. We have brought ourselves to the floor, me sitting in his lap with my knees on either side of his hips while his knees are up behind my ass as though to cage me and hold me as close as possible.

He's the first to break the silence. "I don't care. I don't want to know. I want to move on. I don't care about the 6 years. Just tell me you are home for good and that you love me. Please." I can hear the desperation in his voice. My silly boy.

I press my mouth to his ear, stroke him curls and whisper "I'm home, for good. I will never leave again. I love you, I'm yours. Take me home."

He jumps up with me in tow and practically sprints to the lift with my hand in his, hauling me behind him.

In the lift he refuses to let me and holds me so the whole right side of my body is pressed tightly to him, shoulder to ankle. We leave the lift with the same brisk pace.

The cab is there in an instant and suddenly I'm on his lap in the cab, the cabbie refuses to say anything about the strange, probably illegal sitting arrangement.

"221b Baker Street. Now." Sherlock's voice is still shaking as he is recovering from our crying session, but it is no less intimidating and within minutes we are pulling in front of the flat I had only seen pictures of.

He drags me up and into the hall then into his bedroom faster than I can process. He hands me pajama bottoms that will obviously be too big and a tee-shirt that is soft and smells like him.

I check the clock on his side table, 5:00. A bit early for bed and a bit late for a kip, but I won't complain as we both change for bed as though we were back before I left, as though I'd never left and we still did this every night.

The sheer glee of the domesticity is intoxicating. We crawl into our respective sides and lay with a few inches of bed between us, just simply looking at one another.

I've been looking at him for almost two hours now but it still feels as though I could look at him for much much longer. The silence is thick and tense until he sighs and pulls me closer into the cocoon of his arms and chest.

I place my head in the indent of his neck and collar bone. I feel boneless as I melt into him.

"We will talk tomorrow. Just allow me this peace." He is whispering into my hair and is stroking my back.

His breath is tickling down the side of my neck and into my ear but I could care less, I'm home.

"I love you." I whisper it into his neck, I can feel his breathe hitch at the words and his whole body shutters then relaxes.

I lay and feel as his breathe slows and evens out until I can hear his faint snores.

As soon as I'm sure he is asleep my mind shoots into action.

I finally realize I don't know what to do, where to go from here. I know he said he didn't want to discuss it, but I know he is too hurt by it to let it go so easily. I could feel his desperation to keep me, say anything to make me stay. I need to make sure he knows I'm not leaving ever again, unless he asks me to.

This whole event wet much different than I anticipated. I'm surprised and ecstatic at the turnout.

I'm cautiously optimistic for morning. He may kick me out, he may be unbelievably mad now that he has time to process but I do not care.

If he asks me to leave I will.

If he never wants to see me, it'll hurt like hell but I'll do it. I have right now, that's more than I could ask for.

I close my eyes and fall into dreamless bliss in the arms of the man I love.

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