Repens

It was very late in the night when she woke in the dark room. The telly could be heard down the hall, the volume on low. What little dialogue she made out didn't sound like anything John would watch so she knew who it was. Glancing at the small clock, she couldn't help a displeased moan at the sight of 3AM. Steph fumbled out of bed in search of the blue house robe- nowhere, he must have it on. A pair of his pajama pants, the ones he wore last night, were in the floor. Silently, she put them on, found a green fleece blanket in the bottom of his closet with a grin and made her way to him.

When she got into the livingroom, he was watching a news special about criminals and crime in London. Fitting, she thought to herself.

"What's wrong, curls? Don't get enough trouble in real life so you have to watch it at 3AM?"
"Making mental notes. Criminals go through changing phases, at least the good ones. It's always useful to know when crime trends change. These laughingstock 'specials' are good to view events from a more broad perspective than I couldn't get on my own. Granted, the train of thought never changes and the modifications made are never noticed by police. But you and I could easily spot warning signs most viewers simply let flash across their screen without a second thought."

He had entirely ignored her little nickname and was in a world all of his own- the one he preferred over all others. The world of crime was perfect for him, full of intricate puzzles. That's what kept him happy. Well, solving complex crimes with the added underrated element of danger. Without a word she plopped into his lap as a sick child would do to their mother.

As if he had done it a thousand times, the brilliant genius took her into his arms and quickly kissed her cheek. Someone who didn't know them would call him unaffectionate and her average. This, however, was not true in the very least. Each looked perfectly comfortable as they were yet both minds and emotions raced. This was so far from anything either had ever done- cuddling in front of the telly. Who would have ever thought?

"They are getting more clever, little by little," she sighed.

"And patterns are changing. The upper class criminal is hiring more than ever before. They are becoming too confident to get their own hands dirty."

"Which makes it more simple for the authorities to find the top dog. When the grave diggers get caught, it becomes easier to trace the idiots back to someone or some group."

"Very good," he grinned, meeting her eyes for the first time with slight pride. "So pleased that you are only a few steps behind." She rolled her eyes with a blush- such a compliment from the great Sherlock Holmes. "Feeling any better or faking it?"

"Neither. Usually I can work just fine while sick. But this is a bit different. Perhaps my memorable fieldtrip to the abandoned factory added a bit of stress to staying with auntie Hudson."

"Practical," he flatly commented.

Only the woman he claimed as his girlfriend would forget to include her new emotions to the stress equation. While he didn't make a fuss over it, he could feel his own body adjusting to the extra worries and cares of the day that had never been there before.

As she rested her head on his shoulder, he couldn't form words in his head to describe what was going on inside of him. When would all this "new" fade? How much more could he take? Sherlock turned towards her as the light of the telly screen made her eyes glow a sparkling blue color. He only stared a few seconds before pressing his lips onto her neck. She tensed under his touch, the way he was beginning to adore, breathing more difficult than before.

Steph let out a sudden cough before he pulled away and whispered, "You need to go back to bed. Gain your strength. Rest." His nose caressed her warm cheek. Never had he wanted to do something as silly as actually wishing she'd get better.

"Only if you come with me," she replied in the same hushed tone he had used. Their eyes met and locked as they each breathed in silence. He only gave a slight nod in reply.

Steph stood then stretched her arms to the ceiling. Just as her muscles began to ache, she was scooped up into the strong arms of the most complicated wonderful man she had ever known. He actually smiled at her while carrying her to his room. The woman put her arms around his neck and relaxed against his chest.

"You're spoiling me, Mr. Holmes," she tried to giggle despite her feeling so weak.

"It's about time someone does," he teased, knowing full well that she had always gotten everything she had every truly wanted. But she stole his breath and boggled his brain all the same. He gently put her on the mattress before changing into sleep clothes.

She watched him from under the warm covers. The muscles of his back were memorizing. His collarbone always inviting to her for a nibble. The mop of curls were her favorite; she found it ironic that the most intelligent, dangerous man in all of England had the hairstyle of an innocent child. His light freckles were perfectly scattered on his shoulders. And who knew what was going on in that head this moment. All of this was hers. It didn't seem real. What had she ever done to deserve such a man, such a treasure?

"I bet your first snog was quite something," she blushed from his side of the bed.

"For her."

"She wasn't good then?"

"It didn't mean anything to me," he admitted. "Why inquire about such a thing?"

"Just trying to imagine young Sherlock. I'm sure college Sherlock was a royal pain," she lightly laughed.

"I loathed uni. Dull lazy people with no direction. So called educators that weren't even experts of their field."

"And your cocaine habit," she added, returning his quick gaze towards the bed.

With one corner of his lip upturned, he sighed, "So that's how that feels."

"When did you quit, or have you?" Steph was far too interested now.

"It only comes out once and a great while, if you must know. Only extreme boredom triggers it. I suppose if I was ever to come near to a mental breakdown I would keep to myself that particular night."

"It's a fun drug," she mused after a pause. "Let's the mind wander pleasantly."

Her words faded just as his sleep trousers were completely pulled up, torso still naked. Sherlock jumped onto the bed with a playful growl.

"And how would you know?"

"You're not the only one who gets bored," she winked.

He was suddenly hovering over her, coming down for a kiss. It didn't take but a moment for her to forget her aching body or sore throat. All of that faded when he pressed his lips firmly against hers. Her body raised closer to him as passions flared. She couldn't help thinking of the song Wonderwall. What was wrong with her? Her eyes opened after noticing the absence of his lips.

"You need sleep, remember?" he happily sighed rolling onto his back.

"Not that bad," she whispered before climbing onto his chest, silently begging for more.

They faded into their own world of sheets and sweat. Her tangled hair moved from her shoulders to her back then danced against his neck. Both knew that that this was not the night but that didn't keep them from flirting with the line between want and need. It was nearly five when she gave him a small squeeze.

"I know you don't make promises but try your best." She paused, not even wanting to meet his eyes. "If they take me again, don't come for me."

Steph felt his chest bounce beneath her before a low, "Daft girl."

Sherlock kissed the top of her head just before they both drifted to sleep.

She had a nightmare that night but didn't wake him. She didn't want him to see her tearing up.