Lounging on the sofa an hour later, Maelin glanced at Sherlock, sitting in his chair with his elbows on his knees, fingers pressed together, resting his chin on them. She gazed at him for a moment, his eyes closed as they had been since she came out of the shower.

"You haven't said it until now," he murmured. "So why bring it up?"

Maelin smiled. "I just think it's an interesting commentary is all."

"Commentary on what?"

When she didn't answer, Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced at her. Her head was tilted slightly and she had an impish smile on her face.

"Oh, shut up."

Her smile broadened as she sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. "But does John ever-"

"No," he clipped.

"Clients?"

He huffed.

"What about Mrs. Hudson? Lestrade? Mycroft?"

"Lestrade did once, but I wasn't home."

"Irene Adler?"

Sherlock glared. "Never."

"Then why me?"

"Expressly to avoid having a conversation like this with you making that face. You would have made that face. I would have childishly insulted you-"

"And we'd have fought, yes-yes-yes. Please. At least one of us is capable of being an adult by this time."

"Is that so?" Sherlock said, and in an instant was out of the chair, striding to her. He plopped down beside her, nestled in very close, and grasped her chin in his hand. "And which one of us would that be?"

Maelin placed a hand on his side and ran it up and down, lightly, starting to wiggle her fingers in places. Sherlock maintained a straight face for a moment before he broke into a smile.

"I think it varies from moment to moment," Maelin grinned as she reached up and twirled a finger around one of his locks. "I do know the real reason you let me, you know."

"You think me more sentimental than I am."

"No. I think you more sensual that you believe yourself to be." She sat up, pressing herself to Sherlock's chest as she wound her hand up through his hair. She kissed his neck. His arms fell rigid at his sides, his chest tightened, but just as she flicked her tongue out on his jaw just below the earlobe, he almost hissed as he inhaled. Maelin kissed that same spot, then pulled back.

"You missed my scent," she said, no longer smiling but gazing at Sherlock with a wistful longing. "You wanted it intermingled with yours again."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed briefly, but he did not speak.

"Well, you got your wish," she smirked.

He leaned in close to her, his lips almost brushing her ear. "We need to get you your own chair."

She pulled back. "Am I moving in?"

"No. But I don't see you going away anytime soon."

She blinked several times, easing away from him. "So you'll-"

"I've already said yes. I'll solve the case, play both games. Save my reputation and your life."

"That's not what-"

"And afterwards… that's what you want to know."

She bit her tongue to keep herself in check before replying. "Is it so wrong for me to want us to be friends again?"

"It didn't work out so well last time."

"And yet now you want to get me my own chair."

"So you stop sitting in mine."

"Sherlock." She clasped one of his hands in hers. "Thirty more seconds of maturity, please."

"I'll exceed my limit for the day."

She reached up her other hand, running it down his cheek, then wrapping her hand behind his head. "Please."

He rolled his lips inward, took a deep breath, and released it through his nose. His look shifted and Maelin for once couldn't read it. There were too many emotions shifting in his eyes for her grasp ahold of any singular one.

"I'm not accustomed to having friends. It's not something I generally… We were important to each other once. I never really assessed when that stopped being the case because it didn't seem to matter, but I think I finally understand. We became too important to one another and it almost tore us apart. We weren't ready for it. We still may not be ready."

"I know," she whispered.

"But you still?"

"Yes," she confirmed, running her fingers through his curls. "And so do you."

He leaned in, tilting his head to kiss her cheek. "As I said, then, we'll need to get you a chair."