Repens

His heart ached the moment his eyes opened to the sight of her beside him, in a peaceful sleep still entirely naked. It would be months before he saw this again, not including the bitter-sweet dreams that were sure to find him. As rain fell against the window, a melancholy smirk crossed his lips. A rainy day was more than fitting for today.

The firm words he had spoken last night seemed mad this morning. How could he send her away? How could he go back to his old routine without her around? It was still so much more than sex. He had worried that once they did the once mysterious deed their more than tolerable relationship would drastically change. While it was different between them, he still got a rush from just watching her sleep. London would seem empty without her presence.

Then the image of her tied to the chair flashed through his thoughts, as vivid as if he'd looked at a screen. His heart momentarily stopped and stomach knotted at the thought of finding her like that again. Once was already one time too many. He was suddenly reminded where his train of thought had come from when giving her those wicked orders. But she wasn't safe. And she needed to be home with her parents after such a shock. While she was an adult, she was still their daughter and Mrs. Hudson gave him a small glimpse of what her parents were surly feeling.

Not wanting to wake her, he slid out from under the covers and got dressed in silence. If he didn't dress now, he'd have to come back into this room to the perfect sight of her. With a better understanding of his new self, he knew seeing her like this a second time this morning would change his mind all over again. Before leaving the room, Sherlock stared down at his sleeping angel. The pain he was feeling now would find her in a while when her eyes fluttered open to their last few hours together.

Sherlock shuffled down the hall they had walked backwards through kissing last night. With a slightly throbbing head, he took his seat at the desk and opened John's laptop. The lid was opened and the recently changed password was cracked- SARAH, simple. After his long fingers tapped at the keys for a minute or two, he stopped at the confirmation screen. Her flight time had been set and she would land fairly close to her home. She could catch a ride the rest of the way. All it took was one last click to order the ticket for two this afternoon, her ticket to safety. The white slanted arrow moved across the screen and dangled over the "purchase ticket" icon.

He paused, almost unable to make his finger complete the simple command his brain was sending. After several tries, the pain stricken detective simply folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. His mind immediately ran through the events since his Stephanie entered his life. Thoughtful minutes passed as Sherlock got lost in memories that would probably fade with her absence, only one of many risks he was taking by sending her away.

He heard John coming down the hall, tearing him away from still fresh memories of the night before last. Going against everything he was feeling that precise moment, Sherlock moved his hand back to the laptop and clicked the bloody link. Ticket purchased.

"On the internet already?" John teased in his low morning voice. His smile faded when Sherlock ignored him. The old Sherlock seemed to have returned. John walked over to his quiet friend and peeked over his shoulder. "Going somewhere, then? A nice holiday would be good for you. Both of you, perhaps. You haven't just disappeared since… Well." John's thoughts raced to the event that wasn't mentioned very often.

"Sending Cassidy back home," the genius announced with a low soft rumble, as if he was doing research for a case- concentrated but mostly indifferent.

"Sending her back!? Are the two of you-"

"We are fine. But she cannot stay in London. It isn't safe."

"You're joking." Wide eyed Watson was almost cross at the machine who had seemed to return since last night. "You're just going to let her go? Just like that? Save her, share your first shag, get scared, then send her back home?"

Turning in the chair with a more than aggravated glare, Sherlock hissed, "And what would you have me do for her safety? Stay home and watch her all day? Follow her around? Keep her at arm's length?"

"You don't mean that," John whispered, seeing Sherlock in great pain.

"You don't want another repeat of her kidnapping do you?"

"No, but I also don't want you to go mad over her. You love her. Anyone can see that. People that have known you for years can see that. She isn't even gone and you're already being the mostly selfish dick you've always been."

"I'm being selfish by taking her somewhere she'll be safe? She needs to be with her family right now. She needs time at home to process, to think, to-"

"You want her to back out. You're scared and don't want to do it so you're… Unbelievable."

"That's not how it is and you bloody well know it!" Sherlock yelled with a dangerous stare.

John glanced down the hall in hopes that Sherlock hadn't waked her. Sherlock caught Watson's train of thought and tried to calm down.

"Fine. You want her safe. I get it." John paced a few times and scratched his head before sighing, "I just don't know how, after all the two of you have been though, you can just let her go. You're insane for doing so."

"I'm ready."

They both looked over to find Stephanie standing in front of the door with her luggage sitting beside her. The woman's light rain coat was already on as if she were ready to leave that second. Their row had waken her up from the beautiful sleep Sherlock had been mesmerized by earlier. But he could see through those brave eyes and falsely eager expression. A line falling from her right eye down her cheek ending on her chin told him a single tear had escaped before she left his bedroom.
"I'll get my coat," Sherlock whispered, unable to meet her eyes.

She gave him a nod before he started down the hall with all the confidence Sherlock Holmes was known for. Turning her gaze to her new friend, she couldn't help a smile.

"I'm so glad to have met you, Dr. Watson."

He immediately picked up on her sudden formality. Just a few mornings ago she had made him breakfast in her sleep clothes. And now…

"It's John, remember?" He chuckled. "And I'm sure we'll be seeing more of eachother."

"I hope so," she smiled back, hiding her nerves as best as she knew how. Hiding her feelings had been so easy until it came to leaving this place, the very thought of leaving him taking a physical toll on her.

John looked down the hall to make sure Sherlock was in his room before speaking.

"He loves you," he softly announced. "He's doing this to protect you and I don't even understand it but… Don't give up on him."

"Thank you, John. So much." She grabbed the sweet doctor and they hugged. Both fully aware of where the other stood on the matter.

Neither knew it but Sherlock had heard their entire conversation as he leaned back onto his closed bedroom door, fighting the tears that had been threatening to fall all morning. He hadn't cried in so long. The times he actually teared up were few and great spans of time in between. It was as if his heart was being pulled from his chest, a medical impossibility and overly used symbolic image but still. John's words already echoed in his thoughts- "don't give up on him". Did she look like she was going to? He couldn't even bare looking at her long enough to see anything but the tear soaked line on her flushed cheek. The once heartless man took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, gathered himself with the mask of confidence he faked so well, and took his first steps towards up the hall.

"Your aunt will want to see you," Sherlock announced, the doctor and gloomy woman parting with small forced grins.

"Have a lovely flight," John offered with a wave.

Sherlock reached down to pick up her larger piece of luggage.

"I've got it," she snapped at him in the sweetest of voices.

She wasn't going to let him help her and it gave him a wretched feeling. Holmes quickly looked towards Watson for encouragement of some sort. But John only turned his eyes out the window to the bleak London sky, keeping his mouth shut for a variety of reasons. Most of all, this was his way of showing his disapproval of how his flatmate was handling the situation. Sherlock didn't speak before following Stephanie out of the door. How long was John going to be cross with him? She wasn't even gone and he was already being scrutinized for sending her home.

Steph set her two bags and purse in front of her aunt's door before knocking, keeping silent and forcing her eyes as far away from her boyfriend as possible. Her refusing to meet his eyes was enough to bother him but her forced bravery burned him even more. She was hurting but was going through great lengths to keep it from showing. When most women would have been in tears begging to stay, his Stephanie was handling things in her own forceful stubborn manner.

"Oh, my Steph," Mrs. Hudson smiled, not wanting to say goodbye. She embraced the girl and held on for several seconds. "I love you, dearest. Thank you for visiting. I'm so sorry about…"

"Love you, too," the girl revealed her first genuine smile of the morning. "I'll miss you so much."

"Come again soon." The land lady glanced up at a stony Sherlock. "For both of us."

"I'll see what I can do."

"What time is your flight?"

"Two, but I need to be there early and all."

"Yes," the old woman sighed, sad that the days were too few and mostly wasted. "Give me a ring when you get home."

"Absolutely."

They exchanged kisses then Steph grabbed her bags, grabbing the larger piece before Sherlock could get to it. He hid all signs of protest, dreading what conversation would be had in the cab. If they spoke at all.

He opened the door for her and assured Mrs. Hudson that he would return soon. A cab was hailed, she got in, the luggage was crammed between them, and he recognized this as an action she performed with purpose. Each stared out their window as the cab pulled away from 221 Baker Street. He stole a quick glance at her and immediately wished he hadn't done so. There was a possibility that he saw a tear fall from her glossy green troubled eyes. London passed by with umbrellas and rain boots all around. If only they had more time. They made it two silent miles before he finally took a deep breath and grabbed her hand. She pulled away without moving her eyes from the rain covered glass.

"Please don't do this. It's hard enough," he confessed with a cracking voice.

"I know," she whispered. "Forgive me."

There was an edge to her tone. As if she was drawing special attention to her mock apology, reminding him that he was the one who needed to be apologizing to her. She returned her hand to his but he almost declined, pride becoming his defense mechanism of choice- his shield to hide the pain that was sure to come soon enough. Their attention remained at their windows until the cab pulled into the airport.

This time, she allowed Sherlock to carry her larger bag but lead the way to her terminal with a speed several paces ahead of him. He didn't fall in step with her until their last few steps together before her passenger protocols began.

She finally turned towards him, their eyes meeting for the first time all morning. He handed her the luggage with the handle already accessible. So this was how their farewell was going to happen- in bitter remorseful silence?

"I'll call when I'm safely at home," she attempted a small half smile. The word safely had been stressed in a way that nearly broke his heart.

"I'll be waiting," he answered.

It was impossible to ignore his shaky voice and constantly blinking eyes, his gaze sporadic and brief on her. The green eyes, however, were fixed on him. She was reviewing the already memorized details of him for the last time, making sure nothing was forgotten or remembered incorrectly.
"Oh, your ticket." He fumbled into his pocket with what looked like a trembling clumsy hand. Pulling out the printed piece of paper, he offered a friendly smirk.

"Thank you." The words were whispered.

Her eyes dropped to take the paper from his hand, making sure their skin didn't touch. One brush of his skin against hers could ruin her act of strength that had been perfectly executed all morning. She didn't want to be that blubbering girlfriend telling her new boyfriend good-bye between sobs.

Her emerald eyes met his once more before she gave a small shrug and sighed, "Guess it's time. Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."

She turned on her heels as he thought about grabbing her wrist and pulling her into him, crushing her lips with the most passionate of kisses. Did she know how much this was killing him? Did she truly grasp how much he loved her?

One step. She was officially on her way out of his everyday life. She would now be reduced to phone calls and rare camera chats on the laptop.

Step two. They hadn't even told eachother the three words they had held in for nearly two weeks. The three words he needed her to hear him say today above all other days. The three words he needed to hear from her to assure that they were still the couple from last night. Last night they seemed to be completely different people. Had they faded so quickly? He didn't want to lose sight of who had been together.

Step three. She didn't even seem bothered that they hadn't taken their last opportunity to kiss. How he longed to kiss her right now. But now her lips wouldn't meet his for at least another two months, if ever again. His brain began the war all over again- was this truly the right thing to do? Was she in so much harm in London that this was the only way to ensure her safety?

Step four. He became jealous at the sight of a young male airport employee offering to take her bags. She made and kept eye contact with him, giving him a pleasant grin with a lovely melodic remark of thanks. Stephanie had just conversed with a stranger, one more appropriate for her age, and had more eye contact with the lad than she had given him the last two and half hours.

Jealousy ran deep through his already raw emotions. Maybe he had been better off without them after all. His whole world was crumbling and he was too stubborn to take a single step or utter one word to change what was happening.

Step five. Steph's head fell a bit and her ankles wavered for just a moment. Sherlock took one step forwards with the intention of keeping her balanced. But she was upright and centered to take another step.

Step six. He watching in brilliant disbelief as she said something to the young bloke with her bags. The boy continued with her bags. Stephanie spun around, her raincoat twirling at her thighs, then ran towards him. Tears filled her eyes as a look of sorrow and desperation filled her face. Many around watched but Sherlock didn't have enough pride left in himself to care. Let them watch and think what they will, he thought.

The slightest smile of relief curved his lips as Steph jumped into his arms. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her as close to him as possible. While his mind had fallen blank, a rare occurrence, his heart became full of all the assurance he was in such need of.

"I love you, Sherlock," she cried into his neck, her tears running down soaking his collar. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have been so cold all morning. I just-"

"I'll let you know when it's safe to return. I want you here with me more than anything else, do you understand?" he cried into her hair with a pleased smirk and loving tone. Sherlock held onto her for dear life as their defensive walls tumbled down.

She couldn't leave him like that- angry, aggressive, overly sassy, and mulish. Most of all, she couldn't leave him believing that they had proclaimed love too soon, were over, arguing, or, any other childish allusion she had given him this morning.

"I love you," he vowed before kissing her forehead, thanking whatever invisible force had changed her mind. "My heart," he chuckled, burying his face into her shoulder.

Her hand ran through his mess of curls on last time, the brown strands soft from the rain. Leaving London was still going to be difficult but she knew, despite her emotions and new romantic logic, that she needed to be with her family. Her parents were worried and probably still in shock from the news of her now having a boyfriend. It would take a while for the Moriarty incident to blow over, but when it did she would be on the next flight back to Heathrow.

Her flight number was yelled over the intercoms. Reluctantly, she loosened her grasp around him and he returned her to the ground. Steph kissed him once and took his face into her hands. The last of their tears streamed down their cheeks as their time came to a close.

"Call me," he teased.

She giggled at his uncharacteristic line before running her finger over his lips. Their eyes locked when he kissed the tip of her finger, a dim sensual spark in his eyes promising to remember and cherish the two heated nights they had together. With a nod, she took a step backwards. Sherlock's hands slid down her shoulders until she moved out of his reach. Steph turned and walked the six steps she had before. On the seventh, she looked behind with a sad but understanding smile. Her lips pursed into a quick kiss then she disappeared into the crowd.