Repens

Stephanie woke a few minutes earlier than usual and slid from her boyfriend's hold going unnoticed. He was sleeping like a small child with-what was that?-one side of his lip ever so slightly curled up with content. If she kissed him he would wake and ruin her simple surprise. Each stride to the silent kitchen was taken with a smile, butterflies still fluttering in her stomach from last night.

"Morning," John cheerfully greeted her from behind a morning paper as she walked through the livingroom.

After letting out a high pitched squeal of fright, she turned and breathlessly replied, "Oh, hello, John. Didn't know you were awake."

"What?" he teasingly grinned. "Didn't hear the kettle on? Didn't notice the crunching of news paper?" The slightly confused Watson was far more curious than was proper but he couldn't resist. He usually did such a wonderful job in keeping his nose out of others' business but this time it was impossible. "Mind somewhere else this morning?" His tone would have sounded common to anyone else but Steph could see right through his overly friendly questions.

"Go on then," she smiled, playing his little game.

"Pardon?" he choked, now folding the unimportant paper.

The pretty girl in his room mate's satin blue robe began making three mugs of tea. He heard the pinging of a few pots and pans before she answered. A carefree Stephanie stuck her head out of the kitchen long enough to say two words.

"The tabloid?"

He had been caught. John nervously, and quickly, planned his next move. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that he was dealing with a female double of Sherlock and not just some young, bright, lovesick woman.

"What tabloid?"

She laughed while entering the room with John's mug in hand.

"The tabloid that you know good and well Sherlock hid under his bed for me to find." Pausing long enough for John to take an anxious sip of tea, the girl had to contain her building giggle. "The one you undoubtedly said was a bad idea, immoral even."

He had no other distractions to give him more time before speaking. Why hadn't he anticipated his reaction from her? Already, he had taken two sips of tea and had unfolded the newspaper. She was waiting for a reply of some sort.

Completely frazzled, he threw the paper onto his lap and asked with astonishment, "You're not upset?" Her stare of ignorance only further increased his curiosity. "He pulls a stunt like that, using a tabloid to tell you his darkest secret, and you have no reaction?" She only smiled and returned to the kitchen. He immediately followed her to the kitchen table, mug still in hand. "You're barmy," he laughed with incredulity.

"It isn't easy to compete with a certain someone but sometimes the unthinkable must be done," Steph explained in all seriousness while putting jam on three slices of toast. There was a long pause before she looked up at a speechless wide -eyed Watson. "I'm only kidding."

This was the comical sight Sherlock, dressed for the day and looking sharp, walked in on. He gave John a large amused grin while walking over to the domesticated beauty. The two were looking at eachother as if they had just slept together but John would have heard that on this quiet London morning. In amazement, he watched Sherlock hold Stephanie at her small waist and whisper something in her ear that made her blush. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed a single kiss on his lips- as if nothing was wrong.

"Unbelievable," John muttered. The lovebirds looked over at him in unison. "The two of you aren't even fighting about this? You didn't do all your little research of his disappearing act?" he asked staring directly at the girl. His narrow eyes met Sherlock before asking, "And you didn't tell her anything more than what she found out on her own?"

"A believable deduction, John," an unusually giddy Sherlock praised. His attention returned to the almost giggling redhead. "Have you been cruel this morning?" he asked with almost too much admiration in his voice.

"No more that what he's used to," she grinned, staring up into the eyes she quite fancied. "He's just not used to it coming from me." Their stare lasted only a second longer before she happily announced, "Alright, boys. Breakfast time."

Sherlock sat down at the table to eat, something John had only seen once or twice before.

"Joining us?" his flat mate asked from the table.

"You two are something else this morning," an irritated John sneered, his curiosity only growing.

Once everyone was seated around their plates of bacon, eggs, toast, and beans, Steph glanced over to Sherlock sighing, "I was waiting for you so we could explain it together. Didn't want to talk about it behind your back."

"Appreciated," the genius flatly thanked his girlfriend before taking a bite of egg, already gathering precise explanations. John hadn't even picked up his fork before Sherlock began, "What I did was wrong on a number of levels but done with the best intentions. The actual event was difficult for all parties involved but most difficult for you and I, John. And probably more depressing for you since you hadn't a clue of what was going on." His friend gave a pleading stare, begging Holmes not to remind him of those wretched years. "That is probably my most dirty little secret and I had to make sure that Miss Thomas wouldn't up and leave at the first sign of trouble- sorry dear." She silently nodded, having a good understanding of why he did what he did but still not fully understanding how he worked the nerve to do that to her.

"If this was the test I had to past to gain his full trust, then so be it. I was a bit hurt and expressed my disapproval to him last night. I know all I want to know about St. Bart's for now. Maybe I'll get the full story later, maybe there won't be a need to. But Sherlock and I process things like this on a level most others do not understand. They aren't supposed to and God help them if they did. It's twisted, I completely agree."

"But that's the way we are. And I'm never doing something like that to her again and…" The next bit was more difficult to say than he had anticipated. "And I'm never going to leave you like that again," he said to his best friend. "Either of you." His eyes quickly met his girlfriend's before returning to John. "I was wrong and, on the very rare occasion, I apologize."

"You already apologized when you came back. No use in doing it again," Watson forced a smile.

"All explained?" Steph asked her noble friend.

"Yeah, all is explained," John replied. "But the two of you are just so bloody mad."

They all shared a laugh and finished breakfast. Nothing more was said about the unthinkable event. When it came time for Sherlock and John to leave, the girl gave her dear friend a particularly tight embrace. She then gave her Sherlock a particularly tender good-bye kiss, different from the quick ones usually shared before he left the flat. It was almost as if the kiss meant that they were putting the whole tabloid matter to rest.

Before she closed the door, she heard his voice call up the staircase, "And still be careful, Steph. You need to stay inside for a few more days."

Her blissful smile quickly faded. Yes, it was still dangerous for her to be out and about but she was also getting tired of being cooped up. She cleaned up the breakfast mess humming a song she had heard long ago. She had criticized the song after hearing it for the first time. Back then, love songs were a waste of radio waves. Alternative rock was greatly preferred over sappy songs of "love" that lasted all of a few weeks. Now, the lyrics and emotions behind then suddenly made sense.

"What are you doing to me, Holmes?" she giggled.

Steph slipped out of her new favorite robe, the soft material reminding her of his touch. After her shower, she got dressed and made her way downstairs. Mrs. Hudson opened her door quicker than expected.

"I was wondering if you would be visiting today," she teased.

"Yeah, Sherlock requested that I stay put for a few more days," the girl explained, trying to be cheerful despite her wanting to be out in the sun among London crowds.

"He can be rather protective, can't he?" There was an untold story dancing around in her aunt's eyes but Stephanie wasn't interested enough to ask.

"I fancy it thought," she said almost absent mindedly. When her aunt gave her a questioning stare, the recently romantic niece confessed, "I fancy being looked after by him. I've never felt more safe or alive in my life."

"Don't know about the safe part," her aunt sighed, the tone of her voice turning from bubbly to nervous. "You've already been kidnapped once, my dear. Your relationship with Sherlock is only going to put you more in harm's way." The sweet old woman left to make them some tea. When she returned, she lightly chuckled, "If anything, you'd be safer back home. Here, you may as well be wearing a shirt that says 'Kidnap me, I'm Sherlock's'."

"Don't say that," Steph gently remarked.

The sudden uneasy twisting of her stomach began to make her doubt her own safety. Until now, she was aware of the dangers that had been pointed out time and time again. But the thought of being taken again hadn't been a rational possibility until now. And even if she would be taken, being away from Sherlock was more of a concern that what the criminals would actually do to her. Her parents had always warned her about London thugs but the comical lot she had previously encountered didn't do more than raise her pulse and adrenaline to an uncomfortable level.
The clever girl quickly changed the subject to her aunt's favorite morning show. Mrs. Hudson instantly became excitedly animated, sparing no details about her favorite couple's love affair. Steph listened as close as she could but the young beauty couldn't help feeling the need to make an escape plan- in the likely event that some foolish sod wanted to kidnap her again. Her plan was half formed when her aunt asked if everything was alright.

It was another long day full of telly and internet. She longed to be helping the boys with their latest crime. But she knew that distancing herself from their cases was best for everyone- even if she could help solve the cases quicker. Maybe he would let her tag along, or possibly need her equally brilliant skills in a pinch. Until then, she was left counting down the days until she had to return back home. For the first time since she had arrived, she glanced at a calendar. Her heart sank upon the realization that she only had nine days of holiday left.