Summary: Moriarty breaks into Mycroft's safe house. Chaos ensues. Sylvia and Mycroft finally kiss.

Chapter 13 - Mycroft's Safe House: Day 3

I shift in my bed as I feel a breeze roll in. I'm in that in between state, not quite asleep, not quite awake. The sun hasn't risen yet and I hope I can sleep a bit more. I'm still thinking about the dream I was having and trying to return to it.

"Are you dreaming about the Ice Man? Are you in love with him?"

The voice makes me jump and I try to open my eyes, wondering if I'm having another bout of sleep paralysis. It has happened to me a few times when I was younger but hasn't for quite a while. It's horrible, listening to scary voices and laughter while seeing shadows and ghosts prance around the bed and whisper into my ear that they're going to kill me. I try to adjust to the dark and notice the outline of a dark figure: a man in a suit. He sits by my bed like he is watching me sleep. It's not a dream. This is happening. I feel his weight on the dip of the mattress. I shoot up to a sitting position and blink rapidly, trying to make out who he is. Then, he gently places a hand on my leg, such an intimate gesture I freeze, all the hairs on my body standing up. I let out a muffled scream, my voice cracking, so it comes out as a weird scared moan.

"Wh-Who are you?"

"Don't scream, or I'll kill Mycroft, your beloved crush. Lovely poems you wrote about him. A bit sappy if you ask me, but then again, what can you expect from a girl's diary?"
My eyes adjust and I finally recognize him. It's Moriarty. "Wh-what do you want?" I ask in a weak measly voice.

"I want to know what he's up to. His secrets. Steal his laptop for me and drop it where I tell you to. If you don't, I'll kill him in front of you." He says this while looking around bored, his hand still resting on my leg.

"I…I can't, h-he has security on everything, he watches my every move. I could never-" He turns and stares at me with a menacing look and I flinch.

"You're the closest person to him. He must like you too. I'm sure you can do it honey, believe in yourself!" He smiles like a maniac and it turns my stomach. "I've disabled his security. If you tell him anything about our little encounter, or Sherlock, or the police, or anyone, I'll rip out his eyes and skin him and you can watch him die. Understood?" He spoke in a robotic tone as if he was listing items on a grocery list.
"Yes." I reply, shaking, tears falling down my cheek.

"Don't cry, my darling." He purrs, making a mocking pout with his lips and reaches out, stroking my cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "I can tell why he likes you though, such a good girl, so obedient. I might just keep you to myself." He raises his eyebrows as if considering it, then smirks, placing his thumb in his mouth and sucking out my tear, tasting it. I shudder with disgust and he snorts. "See ya later, alligator!"

He gets up from my bed and walks over to the open window, and climbs out of it, into the night. I throw the covers away and rush to close it. I look out, but there's nothing but Mycroft's garden flowers and the soft light of dusk. My head is reeling from the fear of having Moriarty so close to me. His expressions and tone constantly changing from playful to menacing, like he was always on the edge of losing his temper. It was terrifying and impossible to predict. I turn on the light and try to think. I am shaking like a leaf and I can't bear the thought of not rushing to Mycroft's room to make sure he is okay. I can't lie to him about this but I don't want to put him in any danger. I assume Moriarty must have the place bugged so I hurriedly scribble on a piece of paper by the desk, my hands shaking as I write, the words coming out wiggly:

Moriarty just broke into my room and threatened me. He said he disabled your security and he'll kill you if I tell you. He left through the window.

I put on my robe hanging behind the door and shove the paper in one of the pockets. I rush to Mycroft's door and softly tap it before opening it, only to find his room empty, the bed made. I feel the panic rise within me but since he usually gets up at the crack of dawn, I turn to walk down the stairs, forcing myself not to run. I don't know if Moriarty has cameras hidden either. I make my way towards the kitchen and I find Mycroft in front of the coffee maker in one of his impeccable three-piece suits, black and pinstriped with a red tie, looking disgruntled. I almost cry with relief. I vaguely remember his drunken words the previous night like they are a distant dream.

"Good Morning." I say with a trembling voice and walk over to him.

"Good Morning, Miss Sylvia." Mycroft greets me with a tired look. I stand in front of him and shove the note into his hand, while I reach for a mug next to the coffee maker with the other. "S-so…how's the hangover?"

He looks at me quizzically and opens the note in his hands. After attempting to pick up a mug but shaking horribly, I give up and set it back down, staring at him intensely. After moving his eyes over the paper he looks up with an iron gaze, glancing over me from head to toe, fire burning in his irises.

"Right. Stay right here." He moves to walk past me but I stop him by gripping his arm tightly. I don't want him to go anywhere without me.

"No." I reply barely above a whisper and his gaze softens as he notices my desperation. He reaches for his phone in his jacket pocket and types away, sending a text I assume. After a few seconds, I hear an alarm going off, footsteps and voices rising outside, and a few men race inside the house. They look at Mycroft and he says: "Malbork is go."

I assume that's some sort of code name so I look up at him terrified and point a finger to my ear, signalling that there might be bugs. He promptly replies: "It's alright Miss Sylvia, we are free to talk. I have agents surrounding the house. They'll look for any existing bugs as we speak. Now, tell me exactly what happened. Did he hurt you?"

"No, he-" I start to speak and tears well up in my eyes. I look around frantically. "He s-sat on my bed watching me sleep, and said he wanted me to steal your laptop to know your secrets and th-that he'd kill you if I said an-anything." I wipe my tears with the sleeves of my robe. I was starting to stutter, which hadn't happened since the last time I was in the emergency room.

"What else did he say?" Mycroft asks, his gaze never leaving my face.

"He sa…nothing just- cr-creepy threats, it doesn't matter."

"Miss Sylvia, you have to tell me exactly what he said. His exact words."

"He a-asked me if I…was in love with you. Said he'd read my diar-" I clear my throat. "He said he knew I liked you and was cl-close to you so I was the perfect person to get your laptop. Then he d-described how he'd kill you in front of me if I told anyone. I don't want to repeat what he said out loud." I look away as tears start flowing again and Mycroft places a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright Miss Sylvia, you've done very well. Please sit now, have some coffee. I need to see the window in your room."

He starts to leave but I grip his arm again. "I'm not letting you out of my sight." I say in a menacing tone, through clenched teeth. I surprise myself by my agressive demeanour. But the mere thought of losing Mycroft or having him be harmed has sent me into high alert.

He looks me up and down with a concerned look. "It's okay Miss Sylvia, there are agents all over the house and around it. We are not in any danger. Please." He takes my hand from his arm and places it next to me. "Sit here, I'll be right back."

He turns and rushes to the stairs and I follow behind him.

"For God's sake, Miss Sylvia-" he starts to say, turning towards me.

I square up to him, our bodies almost touching and I stare into his eyes, angrily whispering into his face: "I've just had Moriarty come into my room, sit on my bed and mock me, taunt me, by describing in detail how he'd kill you if I ever told you he was here. I am not letting you out. of. my. sight."

Mycroft looks away, sticking his tongue in his cheek, then looks back at me. "Fine. Just stay out of the way."

I am grateful that my stuttering has stopped and rush to follow him up the stairs. I hesitate at the doorway of my room but he barges in, already ordering around several agents who are spread out, taking fingerprints and photos, speaking in walkie talkies.

"Sir, we've found something in the bathroom." One of them says to Mycroft.

"What?" he replies, moving towards the doorway and stops. He frowns and glances back at me.

"What is it?" I ask, walking towards the bathroom's open door. Mycroft turns towards me to block my path but I swerve past him. I look inside and freeze, all the hairs on my body standing up again. In the mirror above the sink is a message written in red lipstick that reads: C U SOON :)

I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out. This feels like being in a horror movie. Mycroft stands slightly behind me and I feel his hand rest on my shoulder. "Let's leave this for now, I'll have my people analyse it." I don't move so he pauses and turns his head towards me, speaking in a softer tone: "Come with me Miss Sylvia, please." He lightly squeezes my shoulder and I turn my head to look at him. I see his gaze focus on me and his brow soften with worry.

"Okay." I reply, my voice cracking. He removes his hand from my shoulder and I turn to follow him out of the room, leaving the agents to do their work. As we step into the eerie quiet of the hallway, I instinctively reach for his arm and grab onto it for reassurance. He stiffens slightly but doesn't pull away. I don't care if he's uncomfortable by my closeness, I am terrified and don't want to leave his side. When we start descending the stairs I whisper: "I'm sorry Mycroft." He stops on the landing and faces me. I look up at him anxiously, fearing he is removing his arm from my reach to tell me off for being a scared idiot and not careful enough to evade Moriarty. But he doesn't.

"You have nothing to apologise for, this wasn't your fault. James Moriarty is obsessed. He is a dangerous criminal who will stop at nothing to terrorise people and get what he wants. It's my fault I wasn't able to protect you, Miss Sylvia."

I suddenly feel a tremendous urge to hug him and I do. The relief of him being safe in front of me is too much. I wrap my arms around his middle and bury my face in his chest. I don't have the words to express my gratitude for his protection, his reassurance, his concern, his kind words, so I just hold on tight, letting out a sigh. He stops talking and freezes, then slowly rests one hand on my back and the other on the small of my neck, brushing against my hair. He leans down and whispers into my ear: "Everything will be alright."

"Thank you Mycroft" I whisper back as I pull away and look up into his eyes. My hands brushing against his sides as I move them away. He swallows hard and drops his hands away too. We stare at each other for a beat longer and then I look down, slightly blushing. I move beside him and take his arm again, as we continue descending the stairs. I am grateful no agents have passed us to witness this intimate moment. As we reach the kitchen, Mycroft's soft voice breaks the silence: "Sit down. I'm making you something to eat."

And so I do, and rest my chin on my palms as I watch him work. He removes his suit jacket and sets it on the back of one of the kitchen benches, then removes his cufflinks and puts them inside one of its pockets. Then, he starts expertly rolling up his shirt sleeves and my eyes fall on the freckled skin of his exposed arms and his stylish sleeve garters. I notice him glance at me and I immediately look down at the white marble before me, feeling my cheeks turning red again.

He makes me a giant fluffy omelette and some coffee and it smells delicious. He sits down across from me to eat half of it as well and types away on his phone, communicating with his agents I assume, so I stay silent, not wanting to distract him. While he cooked, vehemently refusing my assistance and ordering me to sit back down when I attempted to help him, the sound of the agents moving around quieted and I assumed they all left through the back door.

After a while, Mycroft sets his phone down and says: "Everything has been taken care of. We found out one of my agents had been coerced by Moriarty to let him inside the house. Apparently, he kidnapped his wife and child and was holding them hostage in an abandoned warehouse, and said he'd kill them unless the agent cooperated." He lets out a weary sigh. "It's all been dealt with and new security measures have been applied."

"I see. Okay. Good, that's good." I nod, and stare down at my plate. "Thank you for making this Mycroft, it was delicious."

"You're quite welcome, Miss Sylvia."

I frown at him calling me Miss Sylvia again, after all we've been through. Then I remember something and look up at him with a small smile. "It's good for the hangover too. Eggs and stuff." I quip and smirk at him. We still haven't spoken about last night's drunken confession after all the commotion, but I was still hoping we did. I wondered if Mycroft remembered it at all.

"Humm." He nods and glances at his plate, placing his silverware neatly over it, like he had just finished a meal at a restaurant and dabs his mouth with a napkin, again, in a quite civilised manner. Then, he places his hands on the counter as if bracing himself for impact and straightens up.

"About last night…"

"Yes?" I ask curiously, smiling at him. I can tell he's slightly nervous and since it's so rare between us, I rather enjoy it.

"I hope I haven't offended you in any way."

"No, why would I be offended?" I ask, placing my chin on my hands.

"Well, I may have said some things that were…untoward." He replies, looking down.

"Oh for God's sake Mycroft, you didn't say anything wrong. In fact, I quite liked it. You were very direct."

"Yes. Well, I apologise-"

"There's nothing to apologise for. You can tell me anything, I don't mind. And you don't need to use liquid courage for that." I reply, with a smile.

"Still, I'm sorry you had to see me in that state and aid me up the stairs to my room." He replies, pursing his lips.

"I quite liked that as well." I add, with a playful grin.

"I'm glad my humiliation is humorous to you." He retorts, tilting his head with a sarcastic sneer.

"It wasn't humiliation, it was rather cute." I shoot back, still grinning.

"Well, it won't happen again, I assure you." His hands resting on the kitchen counter twitch slightly,

"And I assure you, if it does, I'll be right here to listen to your drunken ramblings and help you up the stairs." He shifts uncomfortably. "I…I don't mean it in a creepy way or anything. I'm just very glad to be your friend. You can confide in me anytime you want." I reach out my hand and gently place it over his across the table. He glances at it and flinches but doesn't move it away. He stares back at me intensely.

"As I've told you several times before Miss Sylvia, I don't have friends."

"Well, you have one now." I tap his hand amicably and move my palm away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable." And call me Sylvia for God's sake. We've seen each other drunk, we can't come back from that." I offer him another smile. Why can't this man just accept my friendship?

"Friends are not supposed to be attracted to each other." He declares coldly.

My smile falls and I hesitate, feeling embarrassed and slightly hurt. "No, I-you…don't worry about that. I can take no for an answer. I'm not gonna try to take advantage of-" I stop mid sentence and raise my eyebrows. Did he just say…we were attracted to each other? "Wait, are you saying…you're attracted to me too?" I ask with wide eyes, feeling my face heat up.

"No, of course not. That would be highly inappropriate." He replies flatly, and I notice his Adam's apple move ever so slightly as he swallows. My eyes dart back to his stoic face and I smile. He notices me noticing him and clenches his jaw.

"Right. Well, I'm glad we have that cleared up". I lean back in my seat and grin widely, enjoying what I think to be a deduction that Mycroft is lying and, more importantly, is attracted to me.

He shifts his jaw again and looks down with an annoyed expression. He rises from his seat wordlessly and turns to leave. I get up immediately, almost knocking over the bench. "Where are you going?" I ask anxiously.

He clears his throat. "To the bathroom."

I blush and look away. "Oh, right. Sorry." Mycroft turns to leave and after he returns I'm standing in the same spot, looking around nervously and gripping the kitchen counter like a fool. He strolls back into the kitchen and stops in front of me, straightening his back.

"Now, I'll be in my office. There's some loose ends I-"

"Can I come too?" He knits his eyebrows together and I continue before he can protest. "I promise I won't make a sound. I just don't want to be alone right now." He eyes me with a mix of guilt and pity. "Please Mycroft?"

"Very well." He relents, and I grab my book from a small table in the library before following after him. He leaves the door to his office open so I walk in and close it behind me. I glance at him sitting at his desk with his laptop and walk over to an armchair by the fireplace (he has one in almost every room) and tuck my feet under my legs. I'm still wearing my pyjamas and dressing gown because I can't bear the thought of going inside my room by myself. I attempt to start reading but I can't focus on the words, my mind reeling towards Moriarty. I fidget with my fingers and start picking at my skin. After a while, I glance out of the window and try to imagine what he might be plotting against us.

"Something on your mind?" Mycroft's cool tone breaks my focus and I glance at him, finding him with his fingers laced under his chin, staring at his laptop screen. How he knew I was glancing out of the window I'll never know.

"Yeah I…I can't seem to distract myself."

"Would you like to perhaps watch a movie in the cinema room?"

I sit up in the armchair, beaming at his suggestion. "Really? I would love that!" He flashes me a knowing smirk as he leans back from his desk, before getting up from his chair. He's still in his vest, with the sleeves now rolled down. I silently wonder where he managed to get another pair of cufflinks. He must have taken them from his jacket without me noticing. Or maybe he has them spread around the house and put them on in the bathroom. I see the chain from his pocket watch gleam and sway as he moves his hips towards the door, and feel the heat creep up my neck again. I curse myself for fawning over Mycroft at a serious time like this. We could've been killed and yet I can't stop thinking about being close to him. Maybe that's precisely why.

We walk down the hall and he motions for me to step inside the theatre room after turning on the lights. I do and he says: "Make yourself comfortable. What would you like to watch?"

I sit on a large leather couch in front of the projector screen and turn to him "What's your favourite?"

"Oh…" he trails off, puffing out some air from his lips as he peers through the titles. " The Law Man, it's about a detective inspector-"

"I want that one, then." He raises his eyebrows and his gaze softens. He places the film roll on the projector, walks over to the wall to switch the lights off and walks back over to turn on the projector. A large rectangle lights up the wall in front of me, illuminating his silhouette.

"Enjoy." he says with a nod and turns to leave.

"Where are you going?" I ask surprised, feeling the panic rise of being away from him again.

"I have work to do."

"I thought we were gonna watch it together!" I protest.

"Miss Sylvia…" he trails off, closing his eyes and tilting his head. I can tell he's frustrated and eager to leave and the last thing I want is to annoy him. I curse myself for thinking he would ever let himself watch a movie with me after what's happened.

"It's okay I…we can watch one together another time. Thanks!" I reply and turn forward, gripping my hands together and pursing my lips. I hear the door closing and I sigh, trying to focus on the movie. It's a story about a police investigator who's trying to catch a sexy lady spy and they flirt incessantly everytime they're together. I giggle and imagine me and Mycroft as the , I start feeling my eyelids heavy with sleep, finally relaxing after the morning's adrenaline. So I lay down on my side, determined to watch the movie but I end up falling into a restful sleep.

I awake to someone gently pressing their hand against my shoulder and whispering: "Miss Sylvia." I blink and see Mycroft kneeling down beside the couch. The projector is turned off and the lights are back on. I groan with my eyes closed and, without thinking, reach for his hand on my shoulder and bring it under my cheek, using it as a pillow. I have a habit of doing this with almost every lover I've ever had. Then, my brain catches up to my body and I remember it's Mycroft and this is certainly not appropriate. My eyes shoot open. He lets out a soft chuckle.

"I know you're tired, but this couch is not very comfortable. Wouldn't you like to move to your bed?" He asks softly. All this time he hasn't removed his hand. I nod and rise to a sitting position, using his hand to help me get up off the couch. He lets me. We start walking away from the cinema room, my fingers still loosely hanging onto his. I rub my eyes and try to run my fingers through my hair. I must look like a sleepy mess. As we reach the door of my room, we stop and I face Mycroft. I look up at him mournfully. "I was so afraid I was going to lose you Mycroft. Do something wrong and Moriarty would kill you because of me."

"You did nothing wrong Miss Sylvia, you were very brave. And I'm perfectly safe, don't worry." His eyes gleam and the corners of his lips turn upwards into a small smile.

"I can't. I always worry about you." I take a step closer to him and place my free hand on his cheek, softly stroking it with my thumb. He closes his eyes and sighs, as if he's letting out all of his stress, setting down his bag after a long day's work. He looks beautiful and I can't take it anymore. I hold on tightly to his hand and stand on my tippy toes. He notices my shift and opens his eyes, the light blue grey swimming with his deductions and plans and worries. I don't give him time to protest and bring my lips to his. I press them against him softly, and close my eyes as I breathe him in through my nose. He smells like leather and aftershave and cologne and whatever laundry detergent he uses with his shirts. My palm travels to the back of his neck and I caress the short hair he has there, running my fingers through it. I let go of his hand and run my own up his torso, to his chest, gripping his coat lapel, then up to his shoulder. I pull him to me with urgency, but not roughly. I push my body into his as I keep pressing my lips into his lips. Slowly and carefully, because I don't want it to end. Then, he places his hands on my hips and grabs me by the waist, letting his hands move to the small of my back and pulls me closer to him. I gasp and he lets out a breathy hum, finally kissing me back deliciously. I dig my nails into his shoulder now and grip the fabric of his coat while running my fingers through the hair on his nape. He makes a low purring sound and I feel my knees weaken. He pulls me even closer, our bodies pressed together and our lips moving in unison. I bite his bottom lip and he lets out a soft gasp. I kiss him again, both my arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life, as his hands travel up and down my back, caressing my spine and holding me closer to him. As our lips taste each other again, we stop to breathe, and he rests his forehead against mine. I'm panting and take the moment to enjoy the view of him so close to me, brushing my nose against his.

"We can't do this Sylvia." He whispers with his eyes closed.

"Do what?" I whisper back, breathlessly. Feeling his hot breath against my skin saying my name makes it hard for me to concentrate.

"Get involved." He replies, eyes still closed.

"We don't have to get involved. We can just kiss." I reply, tilting my head to attempt to reach his lips again.

"That's not what I mean." He opens his eyes and I stop, staring into them. "I can't get involved with anyone. It would be dangerous." He pulls his forehead away, taking a step back and removing his hands from my back. I let mine stay on his chest, not wanting to break our contact.

"Dangerous?" I reply pleadingly.

He speaks softly, looking down. "Yes. It would target you. I have many enemies, not just Moriarty, and they would use you to get to me. They already have. I can't put you in any more danger." He looks up at me in the last sentence and I fight back the urge to pull him closer and crash into his lips again.

"But I've already been in danger and we were never involved. If I stay under your close watch and do everything you say, then I'll be fine." I reply, letting my fingertips caress his vest, travelling to the shirt underneath it, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin.

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Since when have you done anything I say?"

"I will from now on. I swear. I'll do anything you say." I reply, pulling on his tie slightly. "As long as you keep kissing me in return." I add with a smirk, glancing at his lips.

"You'll do anything I say, in exchange for kisses?" He asks with a raised brow and smirk forming on his lips.

"Yes, sir." I reply, biting my lower lip with hooded eyes.

He looks down at me and glances at my mouth. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Miss Sylvia." He parts his lips slightly and I feel my legs wavering again. "Oh please Mycroft, I'll be careful and I'll do whatever you tell me." I reply, swaying on my toes for emphasis. I'm still holding on to his tie and fidgeting with his tie pin, wanting to pull him down to kiss me again.

"You'll accept my rides whenever I send a car for you?" He asks, looking down his nose at me.

"Yes." I reply, straightening my back to show I'm serious.

"And you'll keep working for me in your spare time instead of taking the job at the supermarket?"

"Sure, if you want." I nod.

"Very well. One last thing. Will you stop smoking?" He asks, raising his eyebrows in defiance.

My hands drop from his chest in surprise. "What? I mean…yes, I'll try. It will be very hard though. I'm gonna need a lot of kisses." I turn my chin up with a smile. Mycroft smirks but I continue. "In fact, that's three orders you've given me so far, so you have to kiss me three times." I add, tilting my head and glancing at him up and down with a smirk.

"Is that so?" He asks in a low voice.

"It's our deal. Otherwise I won't do it." I reply, in a mock-serious tone.

He takes a step closer, towering over me with a devilish look in his eyes. I swallow and my breath hitches. This is the first time Mycroft has made a move on me. Our kiss had been initiated by me, he only kissed me back. I wondered if he would be the one kissing me now. I wished for it, fervently. He reaches his hand up to my cheek and lightly takes my chin, caressing my jaw with his thumb. I can't help but let out a soft gasp and my eyelids blink heavily. He leans in close and whispers into my lips: "And you'll be satisfied with just kisses? Or will you start asking for more?"

"I want more." I whisper back, my fingers tracing both sides of his coat, fidgeting with the seams. "But I'll be quite satisfied with kisses."

"Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"I'm always in control." He replies with his deep sexy voice and I can't take it anymore.

"Mycroft…" At this, at last, he closes the last millimetre of distance between our faces. He kisses me gently, just pressing his lips into mine, firmly but softly. It feels like holding a peach against your skin and being intoxicated by the smell. And he tastes like mint and coffee. He breaks away slightly to part his lips and I do the same. He whispers into them: "One." My breath hitches but he catches my lips again with his own. This time I kiss back, my skin tingling from head to toe and a heat rising from my core. I've never been kissed like this before and I've never felt it so intensely. I realise what he's doing so I try to prolong our kiss. When he parts, I move to join our lips again but he holds my chin in place, his thumb grazing my jugular vein and resting there. I feel my pulse pounding wildly against his finger on my neck. I look up at him, mouth parted, my chest rising and falling. He whispers into my lips again: "Two." Then, just like before, he closes the distance between us and captures my lips again. This time, I part them and slide my tongue across his lips and he reciprocates, sliding his tongue into my mouth and grazing my lower lip in the process. I grab onto his lapels again and close my mouth around him, attempting to catch his tongue, to suck it, to bite it, anything. I just want him inside me, but he is quicker than me and has already removed it, so I catch his bottom lip between my teeth and softly bite it. He holds me back firmly again, with his hand on my jaw and thumb across my throat and takes a sharp intake of air. He looks deeply into my eyes and whispers into my lips for the last time: "Three." And removes his hand from my face, taking a step back.

I feel dizzy and let out a disappointed moan, already missing his touch. He puts his hands in his pants pockets and lets out a breathy chuckle. "May I just check, is this what you mean by controlling yourself?"

I bite my lip and hold onto the doorframe behind me for balance. "Oh you want to play it like that, do you? Well, we'll see who can last longer." I reply with a smirk but still breathless.

"I told you. I'm always in control, Miss Sylvia."

"We'll see about that. Now, I'm gonna go and change. Excuse me." And I turn the door handle into my room and slip in, flashing him a grin and resting against the door. I slide down it until I'm sitting on the floor and grab my robe in a death grip, trying to control my racing heart. The determination to upstage Mycroft gave me the courage to go back into my room by myself. Moriarty's presence feels like it was days ago, after my nap and absolutely mind blowing snogging with Mycroft Holmes. I cover my mouth and squeal silently into it, wiggling my feet. I can't believe we did it. We kissed. And it was even hotter than I'd imagined. I decide to take a shower and put on the sexiest outfit I can find in the closet. He says he's always in control? I'll show him. I grin to myself, the plans of teasing Mycroft Holmes without restraint swimming in my mind. This was going to be fun.

Notes:
I hope you enjoyed it! I am very excited to finally write Mycroft kissing *squeals internally*
I would love to know what you thought, dear readers :D