Repens

Never before had Sherlock and John come so close to death on one of their cases. Only that single time at the pool with Moriarty compared. While in the cab, not even John could find or form words.

Sherlock was more than thankful that Stephanie got out just before the rest of Jim's mob attacked the army of officers. Many officers had been shot- there was no way he could fix all of their guns the way he had the eight. Just when the criminal's mob were being arrested and put to a sudden end with bullets, Sherlock caught Jim crouched at the side of one of his fallen men. Jim took the gun from his deceased employee's hand and began to point it towards the unarmed Sherlock. Just in time, as was done before, John Watson shot the criminal mastermind just before Sherlock was put to his own end. The two best friends shared a glance that strengthened their bond all the more.

James Moriarty was finally, and officially, dead.

Each man was in his own thoughts until the cab stopped at 221B Baker Street, a sight Sherlock had never been more glad to see. This entirely foreign world of sentiment was still so new and unpredictable. Thousands of times had he seen the black door with gold numbers but this time, the scene had never meant so much. This morning could have easily been the last time he set foot here in the place he knew as home. John began to grab the handle of the cab door when Sherlock cleared his throat, clearly about to say something difficult.

They were interrupted when a shy Sarah walked towards the cab, she had been waiting at their door. John opened the cab door, still nervous from their case and now nervous at the sight of his old girlfriend- the one he had been most fond of.

"Sorry, you two are probably just returning from one of your adventures," she squeaked. John looked towards Sherlock with a small smile- "adventure"? What they had just experienced was far from an adventure. "John, I was thinking about you today-actually, I think of you quite often-and…"

"Sarah," John whispered her name, partly in understanding but mostly moved that someone still cared, someone he couldn't deny thinking about from time to time.

“Perhaps you would like to spend this evening with someone else?”

“Will you be alright?” Momentarily returning to his old self, Sherlock looked at his friend with the expression he so often used when something was completely obvious. “Of course you will,” John attempted a smile. “Will you be…?”

“Tonight we almost died, John. We are fortunate to be alive at present and I want to enjoy these strange and humiliating feelings while they are here. And I’m sure you would rather experience them as well tonight with someone other than your flat mate. We’ll be back on a new case tomorrow morning. By then, this will have worn off.”

Chuckling at Sherlock still being torn between his old and new self, John nodded. “Goodnight then.”

Sherlock quickly handed John a bit of money for the cabby before he and Sarah took off. The car drove off and the man who recently found a fraction of a beating heart inside of his chest simply stared at the building with deep but brief emotive feelings and thoughts he had never imagined. It was then he noticed his bedroom light was still on. Stephanie usually went to bed at least two hours ago- even when she waited up. But tonight wasn't like any other night they had spent together. He could feel it already.

Just the thought of her waiting for him in his bed under his covers wearing one of his undershirts brought on the strong urge he had anticipated the entire cab ride home. She had made it perfectly clear not so long ago that she needed him. He understood most of her reasons, their being so much alike and understanding eachother for starters. But only tonight did he realize exactly how deeply he needed her in his own life. In what should have been his last hopeless moments, his thoughts somehow drifted to his red haired bright eyed angel.

He opened the door, and walked in with a pounding heart. The hairs suddenly stood on his neck sending strange shivers throughout his arms and shoulders. Walking as quickly and quietly as possible, he removed his scarf and coat. The door was locked, but then again it would be. After unlocking the door, he briskly walked through the living room. He threw the scarf and coat onto the couch, not even bothering to hang them anywhere- that would waste too much precious time.

Almost sprinting down the hall, he stopped at his closed bedroom door. He could hear the low static and fuzzy orders from a police scanner. His one hope was that she didn’t hear all that had happened this afternoon and especially tonight. Then again, small bits and portions of the day’s activities had surely made its way onto the evening news. His clever girl undoubtedly put everything together immediately.

Anxiously, his hand grabbed and turned the door knob as the scanner fell silent. The door opened and his heart nearly leapt from his chest. Standing on her knees in the middle of his bed in her favorite of his shirts, Stephanie was silent with her mobile phone in hand wearing an expression that could only be defined as relief.

“Sherlock Holmes, if you ever send me away like that again I will bloody kill you,” she proclaimed with eyes full of love and concern.

“We did it,” he replied with odd assurance flowing from his mouth as he moved to the bedside as quick as possible. "He's dead."

Still standing on her knees, she met him at the edge of the mattress. Their bodies collided with urgency that couldn't be calmed tonight. Arms wrapped around the other, lips met with fiery passion neither had ever known, and neither could ever remember feeling more alive. It wasn’t until one of their lives was truly at stake that they realized just how deep, how true, their love was. A similar situation was exactly what had made their feelings undeniable and the same type of situation had killed the few remaining doubts.

There was no conversation or permission; they hungrily continued without reserve. They were two stars colliding, no force strong enough to control or separate them. She pulled at the buttons of his purple dress shirt until it slid down his broad shoulders. At the first moment possible, his hands found her knees while their lips remained inseparable. Sherlock slid his fingers lightly up her thighs, and finally found the hem of her unwanted shirt. Breathing heavily, she released his neck from her hands long enough for him to remove the soft material from her body. He had never seen her so exposed, wonderfully naked, and the sight was breathtaking- his blue green eyes widening to take all of her in for the first time.

He winced when she lifted his white undershirt. A sharp painful noise escaped from his wet lips, already swollen from her sucking on them. After searching his torso for a few seconds, she found the large bruise and traces of dried blood above his ribs.

"What the devil?" she gasped in shock, motherly instincts magically appearing.

Steph traced around his wound with featherlike fingers as Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on her. Her mind raced with possibilities of how he got hurt- a fight no doubt. And from the looks of it, he was outnumbered. Taking a closer look at him, searching for more clues, she noticed the blood stained skin around his nose. More tiny bruises suddenly made themselves visible, making her wonder how he wasn't in greater pain. After taking her colorless face into his large hands, Sherlock forced her to meet his stare.

"Don't do this to yourself," he nearly begged. "It looks much worse than it feels." Her apologetic eyes didn't believe him. "Really."

"This is my fault." He could feel her body start to tremble. "This all happened because of me."

"Yes," he blurted with indifference before his shocked girlfriend could utter another word. Then an expression grew on his face- one she had seen on him only in their most private moments. But never as genuine as now.

Not another second was wasted before she retrieved his mouth with deep longing and lustful kisses. Their lips only parted long enough for her to carefully pull his undershirt over his perfect mop of curls. She found his small belt buckle, pulling until their hips sensually crashed together, filling them with a new waves of desperate desire.

The moment his trousers fell to the floor, Sherlock fell on top of her. His large hand held her small head, soft red strands falling from between his fingers. Stephanie started to raise her torso, to close the new distance between them, but Sherlock lovingly put his hand to her chest and gently pushed her back onto the mattress. At first, she thought he was teasing her so she made a second attempt to rise up to meet his hovering body.

“Lay still,” he slightly smiled, amused at her beautiful impatience, with eyes framed by messy thick curls. “Let me take you in.” Their lover’s stare was so intense that it alone sent a wave of unknown pleasure. It was going to happen tonight. Now.

She had never seen him like this, so nervous but controlled, focused and afraid, patient but so anxious all at once. Stephanie wished she could take back the few times she had been with the men she barely cared about. The act had been expected and executed without her input those few times. It wasn’t often wanted but she made no efforts to stop what was being done- after all, that was the foundation of a relationship. Or so she wrongly thought. She longed to take back those times and replace them with what was about to be done here and now. This should have been her first time as well as his. They should have experienced this together. All of these thoughts came and faded in moments.

Looking up at him, she saw the one that held her heart as no other ever had. He was beautiful. The curls that framed his sharp pale features slightly bounced as his hidden nerves silently began to take over- not that he would even vaguely show his unfamiliar anxiety. Those blue eyes sparkled and the small brown spot in the iris of his right eye captured her brief attention. Heart shaped lips beckoned and mocked her while she was lightly being held down. The perfect cheekbones completed his handsome face with a rugged but exquisite charm. Strong arms and his shaped stomach softly dipped down against hers- such a small dose of contact driving her mad.

“I’m not doing this merely as some romantic gesture." He finally spoke. "When I thought I was going to die tonight, my one true regret was not being able to spend more time with you.” He paused. This next bit was unfathomable to even him but now was the most appropriate time to say the once insufferable words.

“I… love you, Steph,” he softly and melodically confessed in his special deep rich tone.

“Don’t you mean Cassidy,” the beautiful girl nearly giggled with a blissful and sarcastic expression.
“I should have known you would have some clever or smug reply,” he groaned, adoringly rolling his eyes. “The first time I tell a woman I love her and she makes a joke of it.”

Though he acted put out by her playful comment, she knew better. “You wouldn’t want me any other way, Sherlock Holmes,” she stated in a soft, almost cocky, manner.

“Immature?” he teased as if he were actually annoyed with her.

“In love,” she cooed. Catching him off his guard, she pulled him down to her.

Her fingers wrapped around his hair as the room and all its scientific trappings disappeared. Nothing remained except him.

Just before they became one, she whispered, “I love you, Sherlock.” A brief, sweet, pause. “I love you.”

---

Hours later, it was their third time resting to regain strength from long sessions of making love. Holding her in his arms, he played with the strands of hair just above her neck. Naked bodies entwined under damp sheets and bright moonlight. The room had been silent for countless minutes as they caught their breathe and simply enjoyed the moment. Both were particularly and most unusually relaxed and happier than they knew possible. Neither had ever allowed themselves to truly feel, much less love, until their two worlds combined.

She drew lazy circles lightly on his chest with her finger, the world suddenly perfect. Remaining silent, Sherlock's mind was filled with all sorts of new thoughts, ideas and fresh theories flooding his usually sensible process. But nothing was how it had always been. This woman had officially turned everything about his world upside down. He had said it before- love was a dangerous distraction.

But with Stephanie Thomas, the danger was more than worth the minor distractions during the day. He had finally found someone who understood and appreciated him for him- not as the famous detective but as the secretly insecure and lonely high functioning sociopath. And she loved every piece of him, difficult parts and all. Little did he know that his thoughts echoed hers.

"This is so strange," he finally spoke.

"Which part are you referring to?" Snuggling closer, Steph was shocked and thankful for his being open after such a life changing few hours.

"I never knew I was mentally able to feel like this. After having such a bleak outlook on all of this rubbish, it's strange to experience it all from the opposing side. And with someone like you."

After a short smile, she felt as if light was actually radiating from her skin. She couldn't have shined brighter if she had been a star.

"I know precisely how you feel."

"Do you?" he asked, moving around to face her.

When they were finally situated, he was almost leaning back against the bed's headboard with her laying on his chest, her small chin resting on her soft crossed arms. Her eyes peeked up at him from under thick messy bangs.

"This is new to me as well, remember," she sighed. "Being in a proclaimed relationship and being in love are very different." Thinking of a better way to explain it, she couldn't help using his never satisfied flat mate. "Take John, for instance."

"No, don't use John," Sherlock growled, already disapproving of her analogy. He already had enough trouble imagining what went on in John's relationships. Now she was comparing.

"Give me a chance," she half giggled, knowing that he was acting more put off than he actually was. "John Watson has had how many girlfriends since the two of you moved in together?" The rolling of his eyes was answer enough. "And how many of these girls has he been truly devoted to? And by devoted I mean really crazy about- he'd do anything for them."

"Your point has been made," Sherlock sighed, wanting the conversation to move on, away from John's ridiculous irrelevant love life.

"He envies us. He loves us both dearly but he still wishes it had been him to find 'true love' first. He's been looking for it for years and we, two people who detest the very thought of sentiment, just happened to find it."

"Well, of course he's jealous," Sherlock devilishly grinned. "Look who's holding you."

She barely had time enough to blush before the next round of love making began. This was their last and most relaxed try of the night. Each had learned to trust and let the other inside in a way unknown to either. Some married couples hadn't found the bizarre precious experience, of truly giving all of one's heart to another, as they had tonight. The two fell asleep after a few last sweet tender kisses. Though it was late, it had been well worth it. This new world, though unnatural, was changing their whole perception of life. The overly emotionless lives they had known until a few days ago were making less sense. How had they not known this way of living until now? How had no one else broken the spell before? Each of them had a few opportunities of relationships but love had never been a need as it was now. They needed eachother and no one else would do. No one else came remotely close.