Publication Federation Aftermath (aka The Shamy Book Club After Dark)

by April in Paris

If science turns Sheldon on, does literature turn Amy on? In which our Shamy get in between a different sort of covers. Companion to my Shamy Book Club; not entirely necessary to read that first but strongly recommended, otherwise some references and plot points may be confusing. SHAMYVERSE #3.2

3. Dreams

The Dreams (takes place after The Hound of the Baskervilles)

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Amy laughed again, and he reached out for her, pulling her closer. "Will this make you too hot?"

"No. But no ideas, Dr. Cooper."

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She heard his breath deepen, and then she fell asleep herself, wrapped in his arms.

He dreamt that he was upon the moor, running through the cold night air. The hound was upon him, the hoof-beats coming ever closer, its howling carrying through the stillness. But its bays were not the typical cries of a dog; instead they sounded like numbers, numbers coming louder and faster, one after another. The numbers made no sense, there was no logical order to them. As he ran, his heart beat ever faster. Then he saw it upon a ridge: a turret, a relic of old fortress. He ran to this fortification, he ran around it, trying to find a way inside. He closed his eyes and asked, under his breath, for the fortress to take him. Suddenly, he was inside and all was calm and quiet. His heart slowed. The answer to the equation the dog was barking was seventy-three.

She dreamt that she knocked on the door of 221B, and the door opened without anyone answering it. She climbed the stairs to the study, but it was empty. The room was in turmoil, papers and books and cards strewn everywhere. Suddenly she had a wand, and she waved it, twirling it in the air until the room was clean. Then he was in the room, standing and smoking his pipe, but she didn't know where or when he had come from. He said, "Capital improvement, my dear, you are the only one who knows how to clean up this disarray." And then she was hugging him, and he smelled like pecan pie.

At some point in the night, he stole the sheet. Shortly thereafter, despite the prior complaints about the heat, the chill in the room drove her to start burrowing under him, her face deep in his back. Neither of these acts awoke them. It was their custom, and it was as comforting as all their other routines.

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AN: Well, I did promise painfully short . . . don't hate me. Thank you for the (hopefully still) kind reviews.