Repens

When he slid beneath her in the dark, he knew that she was still awake. Even wearing one of his oldest sleep shirts from his college days, he found her exquisite. Her eyes were peacefully closed. The familiar strands of soft red were scattered around the pillow and fell against her back. Each long breath sounded as if she were asleep but one small detail caught his attention. While one arm was beneath her pillow, as it normally did in her sleep, the other was holding a handful of his sheet- her thumb ever so slightly rubbing nearly unnoticeable circles. He had noticed her well hid nervous habit of fidgeting long ago.

He wasn't certain of what to expect tonight.

What would this abnormal woman's reaction be to his dirty little scheme? Would anger reveal the typical female emotions she had so masterfully kept concealed? Would the very idea of his extraordinarily dark actions sway her opinions of him? Precisely how much had she put together since their tender moment many hours ago?

Instead of saying something, just for the sake of letting her knowing that he was aware of her being awake, he silently began playing with her hair. As if nothing had happened since that morning, the almost nervous man kissed his girlfriend's shoulder through the soft faded blue cotton fabric.
Soft eyes immediately fluttered open. For the very first time, she pulled away from his touch. It had been so long since he had felt true pain that it was startling. First, he felt his gentle expression change to hurt disbelief. By reflex, he gave the woman more space than he was comfortable with.- it was night and he needed to be tightly molded beside her. Then came silence. Sherlock Holmes was at a total loss for words.

Stephanie pulled the sheet up until only her head, red tangled mess and all, poked out. It was clear that this wasn't going to be one of their playful nights of angst. As if her bold silent demand for space wasn't enough, her serious contemplative eyes pushed the brilliant but fearful man into a sea of pure fear.

This was the first time losing her had crossed his mind. If his soul bled this way with her still next to him, he couldn't imagine what genuinely losing her would do to him. His beautiful treasure took a deep breath and released a thoughtful sigh.

"It's a wonder John isn't in a grave somewhere," she whispered matter-of-factly. "You undoubtedly almost killed him."

Sherlock was too ashamed to speak. Never did he predict her taking this particular coarse of action. It was as if they had been talking about the matter for the last several hours. But that wasn't his girl's style. Steph was starting in the middle of the conversation. There was no need for details, not the kind he was looking forward to sharing. It was suddenly clear to him. Her main concern was shocking and so pure that he felt unworthy in her presence. In this horrible unforeseen moment, he wasn't merely staring at a petty insecure school girl. Before him was a woman brave enough to call him out on his several offenses (before a word was spoken), confident enough to make him aware of her low tolerance for such deception (his actions from three years ago and his foolish actions of today), and wonderful enough to be laying in his bed despite her disappointment.

His uncertain eyes had been locked on her questioning stare for minutes before she whispered, "You can never leave me the way you did John- at a moment's notice without proper explanation. "He began to say that it was for the benefit of everyone involved but she stopped him after "benefit". Whoever was threatening the ones you loved put you in a horrible situation. I understand that." She paused, an unreadable expression growing on her perfect face. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you sent John Watson off to do whatever diversion you made for him."

"How did you--"

"We're alike, remember?" she softly chuckled with the first hint of a smile briefly on her lips.

Returning to her questionable stare, Stephanie deplorably continued, " You thought he wouldn't be able to process and act on what was going on." When he turned away from her she grabbed his arm. "Telling him something, anything, would have been far better than what you did to him. You're a clever man. You could have made up something. What was one more lie added to the details of that day you never told him?"

"What do you know of that day?" he hissed, now cursing himself for setting up this little puzzle.

"Everything you want me to." The reply was softly spoken but felt like a dagger to his chest. "This is what you wanted isn't it?" She was humble yet sarcastic. "I didn't work out everything, obviously, but I worked out enough. I worked everything out only as far as I could bear."

He could have further explained his undeniably selfish actions. He could have justified everything. He could have said that it was all for their safety- which it was. And the great Sherlock Holmes was expected to respond in the superior manner which was the only way he knew how to speak to others. But this woman, in just the few days she had been in his life, was already beginning to change him. None of the others would ever notice it, not for years. But she wasn't the others. She was Steph. And she deserved better, more, from him.

Every limb and nerve of his body was shaking as he quietly vowed, "I will never, under any circumstance… leave you." The difficult words were forced out of his mouth from his growing heart. "I will always be here until you wish me not to be. And even then you will still always be safe here. You will always be protected and cared for under this roof."

The room's atmosphere lightened as her blush was visible even in the dark. "I haven't even told you I love you yet and you're already planning for me to leave," she giggled.

His heart stopped at the very mention of the words.

"So you do? Lo--"

His foolish question was interrupted by an unexpected kiss on his cheek. "So that's a yes?" She didn't answer. "You'll be wanting more faked suicide details later, I presume?"

"All in time," she answered casually.

He couldn't resist.

"But you are in love with me?"

"Good night Mr. Holmes," she flirtatiously sang while rolling her back towards him.

Feeling as if he could take on the world, even more so than usual, he pulled her tightly against his chest. The two laid there contently for a few silent seconds and then her quick breath startled him.

"And if you even think about putting me through this sort of hellish rabbit trail again," she began crossly, "I will conceive such a plan so wretched that it will keep you whimpering in bed for days."
He heard her warning and understood the unexplained meaning behind them. What remained of his shame was now slowly fading. It had seemed the proper, and amusing, thing to do. But he now regretted leaving her the nasty little puzzle of his recent past. He should have known better than to underestimate the beautiful and rare relationship they were diving into.

"In bed for days won't be so bad," he smiled against her neck, "as long as you're here with me."

All was forgiven and the rest were unspoken understandings. It wasn't until his lips sucked on the skin just below her ear that she couldn't ignore the aching she had been ignoring since he got home. She quickly rolled around before they lost themselves in eachother. It was another night of passion yet it was more. Each night they gave into their desires a bit more than the night before. Each night was another night they fell deeper into the other's world. The further they fell the better they understood and more they respected the other in a way that was entirely foreign to them only days ago. Long tender kisses ,wandering hands, and linked limbs brought them to that place they could no longer live without. When they found themselves torn between calling it a night and going through with the act, they decided to wait a bit longer.

Sex was a delicate matter between them. Though she found herself thinking about it more often than usual, she wasn't about to rush him into anything. She wanted it to be done when and as perfect as possible. There was a night coming, coming rather soon, where the moment would be undeniable and each would just know. On that night, there would be no asking permission or wondering if the time was right. On that night, there would just be love- the kind they were bottling up for as long as possible.

Dawn's first light made the window glow as they laid tangled and motionless- happier than either had ever imagined being. The chirping of a few early birds were heard from down the street. All was calm and peaceful. Sleep would soon take them despite their unwillingness for the memory to end.
His heart was as the perfect rate for him to fall asleep. It was only a matter of time.

Blissfully wrapped in his arms, her head on his warm chest, Stephanie Thomas looked into her soulmate's eyes and gave a sleepy little grin. The adoring stare was enough to ask his silent question- what?

"I'm falling in love with you, Sherlock Holmes."

They each had time for one last smile before sleep claimed them in the most pleasant of ways.