Sherlock slammed his tray down on the bench in the canteen. Ginny blinked up at him with a frown at his sudden appearance. He didn't seem very happy causing her to raise an eyebrow in interest wondering what he was annoyed with this time.
"This food is lousy," he informed her before he sat down across from her. "Though mind you, not worse than your cooking."
"Oh, shut up," she growled at him making he give her a smile before shoving something unrecognizable into his mouth. "Well, you're eating, so I'm happy."
"No case," he told her quickly before shoving the food around on his plate.
"I'm sure you were offered cases," she told him with a sigh. "You can take them, Sherlock. I don't mind." He didn't reply; he just continued to move the food around his plate in a bored fashion. She sighed again. That man was very good at making her sigh.
"Who's he?" the woman next to Ginny asked. She occupied the room next to Ginny and found a descent companion in her.
"Sherlock Holmes… he's… uh… he's my… we're… he's my detective, I suppose," she sighed giving up trying to decide what they were. She wouldn't really call them a couple as that would insinuate things that just weren't to people that just didn't understand.
"What's he doing here?" she asked.
"I am trying to convince Ginny to come home," he told her glancing at her annoyed with the woman's presence. He preferred to speak to Ginny without any expected problems. "Hm, schizophrenia. Medicated too late in life, violent, unmanageable. No family left. You'll likely never walk out of here."
"Sherlock," Ginny snapped. "Be nice."
"If I must," he muttered.
"I'm going to go back to my room," the woman announced. Ginny sighed for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Very well. Have a good day, Beatrice," Ginny told her as she left, and she gave Sherlock a venomous look. "People here are sensitive to their illness. You have to be gentle."
"I've never been good with gentle," he replied.
"Well, try," she demanded. "I wouldn't normally ask that of you. I understand that you aren't sensitive, and I like that about you, but these patients are my friends, Sherlock, and I'd rather you didn't piss them off."
"They're not your friends, Ginny. They're convenience." Ginny huffed and shoved her plate away as she stood and left him. He ran after her quickly catching up as she turned down the hall toward her room. "You're offended," he said obviously.
"Of course I'm offended, you idiot," she sneered determined not to make eye contact with him. She was flustered, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "You called my friends a convenience."
"They are. If you were home-"
"This is home," she shouted at him cutting him off as she finally stopped and turned to him. "This is the only home I'll know now, okay?! You look at the people around them and think them insane and wrong and," she sighed. It was different from the other times; this sigh seemed like it carried a burden heavier than Sherlock could understand no matter how hard he tried, "but I am them, Sherlock. I am just like them if not worse. These people haven't committed the crimes I have. You treat them like they're below you."
"I treat everyone like they're below me, Ginny," he reminded her. "I don't hate them because of their sex, race, gender, or illness. I hate them because they're all incompetent, brainless idiots, who walk around their daily lives burdening other, more intelligent people with their lack of knowledge."
"But you don't hate me?" she asked him with a hint of irritation laced in her voice.
"Of course not," he answered with a slight laugh. "You're far cleverer than they are."
"I don't really believe that," she informed him thinking he was just trying to manipulate his way back into her good graces.
"Would I tolerate you if that wasn't true?" he asked, and she had to admit that he was right. The nice thing about Sherlock Holmes was he didn't see the point in little white lies- unless it was for a case. What he said was always fact. He always describes them, never insults or praises.
"No," she muttered.
"Exactly," he told her before kissing her head.
"Hey," she told him annoyed pulling him to kiss her lips with a smile.
"I'll be um… not be here tomorrow," he informed her pulling away from her to give her this little bit of information. He felt the annoying pang of guilt when he saw her suddenly look cressfallen, but she quickly tried to pick her frown back off the floor as she pretended to be happy for him.
"Why's that?" she questioned him curiously as they began to continue walking down the hall toward her bedroom.
"Case," he remarked.
"What sort of case?" she asked wanting to know what was so important that he was being pulled away from her.
"Murder," he told her dramatically. He always did have a flare for dramatics. "The body was found today, but since you have no mobile…"
"You could have just gone," she assured him, but with her mild reaction, he would assume that it was not the case. She would have been more upset if she had found out later.
"And miss my chance to convince you to come back to Baker Street? No, I think not," he argued with a smile "I'll be back the day after."
"If you're sure," she muttered as they neared her room.
"It's a seven at max," he replied with a wave of his hand.
"Well, I'm surprised that you're even leaving your house for a seven," she rolled her eyes as she entered her room, and he followed shutting it behind him but not before carefully checking for orderlies and nurses to assure they hadn't been seen.
"Mycroft made me take it," he told her with a groan as he threw himself onto her bed laying on his back. "Said I can't center my life around obsessing over you or something. I wasn't really listening to him…" She laughed before a smirk slowly spread across her face at her wonderful, marvelous, terrible idea. She jumped on him rearranging herself, so she was straddling him.
"Well, that's just a waste," she teased as she very slowly rocking her hips back and forth against him. "Tomorrow could be the day I say yes to you." She wasn't sure he would even notice the subtle hint, but his hands immediately flew to her hips stopping the motion making her smile and look away with a slight smile.
"That's what I've been telling him," he scoffed, but his all wasn't in it. He was a bit distracted to say the least as his hand gently found the bare skin just above her white trousers. "So seven," he recalled her tattoo as his skimmed across the bare flesh of her hips before they found her waist, "a secret never to be told. You put that on yourself?"
"That I did," she remarked with a smile. "I was hoping to keep it as a reminder. Care to see it again?" She held the edge of her shirt knowing the only way to show him was to remove the shirt... well, perhaps not the only way but certainly the most entertaining way.
"Um… yes," he told her allowing her to pull the stiff fabric over her head, twisted herself around, and pressed herself against him... all so he could see the tattoo properly, of course. "It's um… it's nice," he muttered running his finger over each bird as he tried to find his words, but she was clouding all thoughts from his mind. He was aware of the blood pulsing through his body, and she was aware that he was becoming mildly aroused- she was quite pleased with such an accomplishment.
"Sherlock," she uttered leaning back against him so her head rested on his shoulder, and he had no choice but to put his arms around her. Her body was pressed against him and all intelligent thoughts seemed to leave as they were replaced with primitive thoughts of lesser men. He couldn't really say he enjoy loosing the intellect, but he really couldn't say he didn't enjoy the idea of the woman presenting herself to him.
"Ginny?" he asked watching the woman's smile slowly grow.
"The orderlies are coming," she told him. As quickly as he could, he shoved her off him and nearly fell off the bed as the door was thrown open. Ginny was rearranging her shirt as they dragged him out of her room. She gave him a cheeky wave.
"I brought you some books," Sherlock told her setting a couple books down on the end table near where she was sitting.
"I have books," she reminded him not bothering to look up at him as she flipped the page to the book she was reading currently.
"This unintelligent drabble?" he asked taking the book and tossing it across the room. She looked up at him with a sigh before looking at the book he threw. Deciding the other side of the room was much too far, she picked up one of the books he had given her.
"How is everyone?" she asked him curiously as she opened to the first page wondering if they book would be any good at all.
"Mary and John have moved to a bigger house to prepare for the baby. Myra and Damon are engaged and expecting-"
"Must have caught the baby bug," she mused knowing that feeling all too well.
"Likely trying to fill the hole his sister left," Sherlock amended making Jen feel suddenly sick with her own comment.
"Perhaps though I'd prefer if we didn't talk about that," she reminded him causing him to move on to what everyone else was doing. It had been a fairly hectic month.
"Molly and Tom's engagement is off," he started listing off the events again. "Averay was accepted into Cambridge. Jax and Vin are both back in jail, where they both belong. Mrs. Hudson fancy's the neighbor but refuses to acknowledge he's married. We told her nothing about what happened to you. Told her you went to see your mother, which by the way, your mother would like to visit."
"All is looking up," she mused before addressing the comment involving her mother. "Tell me mother I will not be accepting visitors at this time... though it's appreciated."
"Are they medicating you?" he asked curiously as she bit back a yawn. He assumed they had been giving her sleeping medication; she looked a bit tired.
"No, thankfully," she admitted. "Doctor Walker says that if I won't take it, it's pointless from me to be forced to. So instead I have therapy everyday where most patients only get therapy 3-4 times a week."
"I'll be gone again tomorrow," he told her suddenly, and again, she seemed a little upset at the news.
"Oh?" she asked with a smile.
"The case is taking longer than I expected," he admitted.
"You don't sound thrilled with that," she mused as she picked up another book to inspect it deciding to focus her attention elsewhere. "You love cases."
"I would rather you were home. It would make them much more enjoyable," he urged despite knowing what her answer would be. "The dog is surprisingly needy."
"It's a dog," she told him with a sigh. "They require stimulation, and so do you, so take the damn dog for a walk."
"It's your dog," he argued back.
"Our dog since we're a… a thing now," she struggled not desiring to touch the word couple with a ten foot pole. He didn't seem to mind that she was avoiding such an obvious word.
"Fine, I'll just put it down, shall I?"
"Sherlock Holmes, I know you," she reminded him sternly not at all worried about the threat to Toby.
"And?" he challenged.
"And I know about Redbeard," she informed him. He scoffed looking away from her. "Therefore, I know you won't needlessly put down a dog. Now, take the damn dog for a walk." He pretended to look irritated as he looked away and found interest in the people around him trying to ignore her demands. He saw two orderlies coming his way making him sigh.
"It looks like my time's up. You know, you could just agreeing to my visitation."
"Now, Now, Mr. Holmes, that's no fun," she told him as she stood and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you in a few days." He sighed before he pressed his lips to hers gingerly cupping her face allowing for a more demanding, connected kiss before he abruptly pulled away and ran off. She sighed; damn did that man know how to make her sigh.
A/N: Another chapter Saturday night? I will do what I can. As you can see, the chapters have been rather short. They are just sort of blips, and that's what I prefer.
Thanks to reviewers: TinkerbellxO, invictusalma, hannahhobnob, zare . downey . okumura, and Dream 01. Review please! See you all Saturday!