"How was your first night back at Baker Street?" Doctor Walker asked her casually from his desk. He was shuffling around papers not forcing her to talk but giving her the option. She liked that about him. He always gave his patients options. Many years ago she was wary of this approach and didn't trust him. It is different now that she has known him for so long.
"It was… nice," she replied looking out the window from her usual chair. "Sherlock and I shared a room, and it was… nice." Her eyes found the man in the yard. He was roaming the yard talking to John about something that was beyond her. He was waiting for her to be done at the asylum, so that he could take her back home. John was brought along when he visited that morning...
The sun was what woke her. It shone from the window on her side of the bed causing her to feel slightly disoriented about where she was. She slowly sat up to take in the familiar clutter of Sherlock's room. Slightly confused, she rubbed her eyes trying to recall how she ended up in there. She sighed and let her head fall back onto the pillow to the annoyance to the sleeping man next to her who let out a groan and swung around hooking his arm around her waist. "Oh," she uttered in surprise as she found herself pulled to him. Her face turned a lit hue of pink when she realized he was only wearing pants.
She struggled in his arms turning around to look at him. He didn't appear to be in a deep sleep and seemed slightly agitated with her for moving. In fact, now she was suspicious he was actually awake. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him carefully before testing the waters. "Sherlock," she whispered.
"Shh," he answer pressing her down to the mattress and rolling over so he had her pinned under him, but his head remained resting in the crook of her neck.
"Sherlock Holmes, get off me," she demanded trying to squirm out of his grip.
"Pleasant dreams. Shh... murder," he uttered making her laugh. Only he would find dreams about murder pleasant.
"Sherlock Holmes, either have sex with me or get off," she demanded knowing the demand would elicit some kind of response. He let out a noise that sounded half between a growl and a sound of annoyance before rolling onto his back allowing her to sit up and stretch. She found that she seemed to be missing the jeans she had been wearing. She had likely tossed them off in annoyance along with the sweater leaving her in her knickers and an undershirt.
Sherlock reached forward and pressed his hand to the small of her back gently rubbing a thumb across the skin. She glanced down at him and watched him in fascination; he was not the one who usually acts first, she was. His hair was mussed like he had ruffled it and his eyes slightly glazed over having just woken up. He hadn't quite been pulled from his dream leaving him in a innocent state of normality. She wasn't sure if she loved it or hated it. She did enjoy the attention though.
"Enjoying yourself," she asked as his fingers danced over her spinal column.
"Being appreciative," he remarked making her smile.
"Is that what you call being handsy?" she asked him curiously though she was just teasing him.
"This isn't 'handsy' as you so eloquently put it," he teased back. "You should see my dreams then you would know handsy." Ginny's face turned a mild shade of red at what he implied. She was unsure if he even knew what he implied.
"Did you just tell me you've...?"
"I was a victim to my hormones in my youth as everyone else," he informed her starting to wake up a little more having been awake too long. "Though I put up my best fight you enjoyed worming your way into my dreams."
"Well, I suppose we have that in common," she told him kissing his cheek and then his lips as she lowered herself, so that she was pressed against his side and then so she was laying against his chest listening to the rhythmic pounding of his hear. Her eyes open slightly looking at the clock, but she didn't really care for the time right now. She felt Sherlock kiss the top of her head making her smile as she pulled him into a kiss. His kiss dragged from her lips down to her neck and her collarbone as he turned over and hovered over her allowing her to take a peak at him. For such a slim man, he did have a far amount of muscle. She imagined it was the running and fighting.
"You're staring," he teased catching her. Her eyes flicked up to his but found that he was in the midst of staring as well.
"So are you," she accused.
"Being appreciative," he reminded her before she pulled him down to her, so that she was encased in his embrace.
"I like you being appreciative," she whispered into his ears. "Perhaps not all the time though. I think it would become annoying real fast."
"Good thing I find any couple activities nauseating."
"Most but not all," she uttered. "I'm sure you could get used to this... having another person sleep next to you, wake up to, share body heat with."
"It has it's benefits," he admitted.
"Sherlock," John called out looking for Holmes interrupting the moment of intimacy. Mrs. Hudson must have let him in, or he still had the spare key. Either way, he was an interruption that Sherlock didn't want.
"Sherlock," Ginny uttered trying to get him to pay attention to John as his hands found a sensitive spot on her back.
"Ignore him," Sherlock replied. "He'll go away." He leaned in and kissed her.
"Sherlock," John called again, and his door handle rattled, but John had found the door locked.
"You should see what he wants," Ginny told him making him sigh as he pulled himself out of bed. "Don't give me attitude," she told him curling into a ball intending to go back to sleep only to have the pillow thrown at her. She glared at him before he pulled on one of his robes and walked out of the room.
"John," he greeted.
"Sherlock," John nodded.
"What do you want?" he asked making John quirk an eyebrow at him. He had never been so rude about him being in the flat. Usually, he enjoyed his presence in some way; today, Sherlock acted like he was burden.
"Is something wrong?" John asked him confused.
"No, nothing," he answered quickly. "I was sleeping. What do you want?
"I have a case for you," John offered.
"Don't need one," he replied offhandedly.
"You heard Mycroft. You need-" He cut himself off when he saw Ginny leave Sherlock's room in one of Sherlock's robes.
"Where'd I throw my jeans?" she asked him scratching her head.
"Check in the closet," Sherlock told her. "You were very restless last night."
"Okay," she replied going to the stove to set up a pot of tea. "Tea boys?" she wondered.
"I'm sorry," John started as his eyes darted between the two. "Did I interrupt something?"
"Just sleep," Sherlock repeated.
"I wish there was something to interrupt," she answered brightly. "Would you like to come to the asylum with us? I have to have my session with Doctor Walker."
"He'll come," Sherlock affirmed making her roll her eyes and stand on her toes to kiss his cheek. John looked between the two suspiciously not accusing them of anything, but sure that something was going on... but then again, it was Sherlock. Maybe not.
"How is your sex life?" Doctor Walker asked her. She was unsure if he asked the question to probe her mental state or Sherlock's. Holmes certainly was a mystery to most professionals in psychology.
"Nonexistent," she laughed smiling fondly down at Sherlock as he continued to pace the yard passng Laura without so much as a glance even though she smiled at him trying to gain his attention. She felt a moment of satisfaction. "We didn't do anything last night… or ever. He just… well… he carried me to bed, and when I woke… it was nice having someone close to me like that again without the expectation of sex."
"And nothing went wrong?" Doctor Walker asked her. "You were expecting the end of days when I spoke to you yesterday." She laughed.
"No, everything went quite smoothly. Sherlock tried to teach me violin, and I was rubbish," she laughed again, and Doctor Walker smiled. She was a lot happier than she had been in weeks. "So he played for me, and I dropped off."
"Any concerns?" he offered knowing there must be things that bother her. She was always bothered by something.
"I worry," she admitted. "I worry that I'll relapse, and I worry how it will hurt him. Sometimes I think I'd rather run away, so that I can't hurt him, but…," she sighed, "I'm selfish. I like being around him. There's something unique about being loved by a man who hates everyone." She laughed again.
"I know it is a true worry for you," Doctor Walker replied, "but think of it like you were terminally ill. Many terminally ill patients seek to spend the last days of their lives with the people they love most, and just because those they love may be hurt once they are gone doesn't mean they didn't enjoy the time spent together. If something happened and you did relapse- which I don't think you will- I'm sure he wouldn't regret a second of the time he spent with you just as your mother didn't regret being with your father or having you despite her illness. Ginevra, Regina tried to run away, and all it did was cause strife. You can't run. You've seen that option and its consequences."
"I know," she sighed, "and I'm trying… I really am. It's just hard."
"Well, you know what they say," he replied. "What is right isn't always easy. In fact, it's rarely easy."
"I know," she muttered, "but it doesn't make it easier to take the right path."
Sherlock glanced up at the window. Although he could only see her back from the position she was sitting in, he was hapy with anything. He watched her talking taking to Doctor Walker before turning his attention back to John.
"I'm taking her on a case," Sherlock told the good doctor having not filled him in on the details this morning about why you couldn't take the case John was offering him.
"Are you sure it'll be good for her?" John asked worried with her mental health. Too much change too fast may harm her more than help her, and John was unsure Sherlock could keep her steady for long.
"She needs to go back to a normal life," Sherlock assured him. "When she makes a permanent residence at Baker Street, she'll have to be used to the cases as well as used to any times I require her assistants."
"You think she's finally going to come home for good?" John asked.
"She can't do this forever," Sherlock replied. "She'll realize soon enough that being here, talking to a therapist day after day just isn't helping her."
"But what if it is?" John wondered concerned for Ginny just as Sherlock was. "What if therapy is what's been helping her, and you're trying to pull her away from that? What if she changes, and you don't notice?"
"I will notice," Sherlock pressed.
"Just because you think you know everything-"
"It's a deduction, John," Sherlock cut him off. "Jen, Raine, and Ginny all hold themselves differently. If she changed, I would know."
"Fine, Sherlock," John snapped, "but just because you would know doesn't mean you know that therapy isn't helping her. I've been doing some reading-" Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"I know it's not helping because I talked to her doctor," Sherlock informed him.
"And let me guess, you found him to be incompetent in his area of expertise?" John mocked.
"Uh, no. He personally told me therapy won't help her," Sherlock replied. "Not in the long run, anyway."
"Oh," John said flatly. "You're sure a case will be okay?"
"It's a theft case, John," Sherlock answered. "It's not murder and shouldn't have any effect on her."
"Are you sure?" John pressed. "You're not exactly-"
"If I believed it would harm her in anyway, do you honestly believe I would bring her with?" Sherlock asked him. John considered the question, but he knew the answer. For God's sake, Sherlock had himself shot just to help her. He wouldn't put her in harm's way purposely.
"What's the case?" John asked.
"Have you considered what you would like to do?" Doctor Walker asked as she peered out the window to glance at Holmes again. She checked on him every few minutes to assure he was still there even though she knew he would be.
"What do you mean?" she asked turning her attention back to him.
"I mean you should start getting your life back together," he informed her. "You quit your job as a psychiatrist, and I wouldn't recommend the profession again. What do you want for yourself?"
"What does it matter?" she asked offhandedly. "I'll always be half here."
"Living is an important part to healing," he offered. "Let me give you a hypothetical situation. If Ursa was a separate person, if she was dead, what would you be doing right now?"
"I suppose living at Baker Street. Going with Sherlock on cases, try and get a university job. I might not feel right trying to be a psychiatrist, but I could teach psychology. I understand it better than most."
"And what about Sherlock?" he asked as he turned and put a file back in a cabinet. He was an old fashioned sort of psychiatrist.
"What about him?" she asked him curiously.
"Do you plan to continue your um… you call it an agreement, yes?"
"I couldn't imagine my life without Sherlock Holmes," she admitted, "in one form or another. Though I can't say how long we'll stay a couple. Lord knows I love him, but I also know that sometimes I want to wring his neck when he talks. Is that a destructive relationship?" Doctor Walker paused and considered her question.
"Yes," he admitted slowly, "but I don't think it's destructive for you. What is right for some isn't right for all. Although he is not perfectly whole nor perfectly sane, you improve the more time you spend with him. One cannot deny result Ginevra."
"What do you think is wrong with him?" she asked curiously.
"Asperger's," Doctor Walker offered, "or Bipolar disorder even possibly BPD, and then there's the possibility that there's nothing truly wrong with him. I would have to really sit down with him, but you know him better than I. What do you think?"
"Oh, I don't know," she muttered looking out the window to catch his eye. She raised her hand at him and smiled. He nodded at her. "I think he's just Sherlock. I'm not sure there really is anything wrong. I think a lot of who he is is choice: ignoring social cues, ignoring certain information, lack of emotions. He chooses that life to make it easier for them. He lost his sister when he was young, you know? And being as intelligent as he is, it must be hard to find people who accept you especially with eccentricities like his, so I suppose he saved himself that pain by making the choice to block it all out through ignorance."
"Interesting," Doctor Walker muttered. "Perhaps that's it."
"What?" Ginny asked.
"It must be hard to find people who accept you, Ginevra. I suppose you saved yourself that pain by making the choice to block it all out through ignorance."
"What are you saying?" she asked him with a deep frown.
"That's why you two work," he answered. "He chooses to ignore what society wants for him in order to save himself anymore pain. You developed dissociative personality disorder in order to save yourself anymore pain. You both understand that sort of emptiness, loneliness, and pain. It's unfortunate but true that we tend to drift toward those who have the same troubles we do. It allows us a closeness and feeling that others outside our little niche cannot understand."
"It doesn't really matter to me why it works," she admitted with a laugh. "I know it works, and I'm going to stay with him as long as I can."
"You weren't singing that tune a couple weeks ago," he mused.
"Well, I decided if he's going to be stubborn, I'm going to be selfish," she remarked with a laugh. She glanced back out the window.
"You can go, Ginevra," Doctor Walker assured her with a smile knowing she was itching to get back to him.
"But," she began, but the psychiatrist cut her off.
"It's where you want to be, and he makes you feel better. Go on," he nodded. "I'm sure he's waiting for you." She smiled and ran out of the room to go meet him down in the yard.
Sherlock noticed her absence right away and noticed her running toward them, but her speed didn't seem to change as she tackled them both to the ground making them both groan. "My boys," she laughed even though they were both less than pleased with her greeting.
"Ginny-" Sherlock was about to insult her, but she cut him off with words he did not think he would hear her say for a long while.
"Take me home," she told Sherlock with a sad smile knowing that even after only one day back and Baker Street, she had caved into admitting it is still her home.
"Of course," he agreed feeling a sense of elevation at her surrender.
A/N: Why hello there. Have this chapter. I will be updating next week Saturday or on the 26th. I'm afraid I'm still very busy.
Thanks to reviewers: instarlightinanotherworld, zare . downey . okumura, TinkerbellxO, short-skirtbluescarf, Dream01, hannahhobnob, and invictusalma. I'll see ya all when I see ya.