Vague Shadows

Sherlock’s POV

​The car had been silent for quite some time; as Lestrade turned off the freeway, he glanced into the rearview mirror. John was slumped against his door, snoring softly, head lolling against the window. Laicee was stretched out, her head resting on John’s arm, her curls spewed over her shoulders. Sherlock was folded up in the passenger’s seat, his coat wrapped tightly around him.

​The three of them had been awake for nearly two days, and he was relieved that he’d managed to talk them into resting on the way back. It had been two hours of silence, but it couldn’t last forever. As Lestrade turned onto the road back into town, Sherlock began to stir.

​He pushed himself up in his seat, gave a yawn, and straightened out his curls as he looked over. Lestrade glanced at him and gave him a forced smile, then turned his attention back to the road.

​“How long was I asleep?”

​“Couple hours, give or take,” he said, then nodded his head towards the back seat. “Keep it quiet, they’re still out.”

​Sherlock glanced back, and his lips quirked up into a quick, small smile. After a few moments of silence, Lestrade cleared his throat, and looked over at Sherlock. He had been dreading the conversation he had planned, but it needed to happen.

​“I didn’t take you for boyfriend material,” Lestrade said casually, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

​“Then you assumed correctly,” Sherlock said flatly, turning his head to look out the window. Lestrade sighed.

​“Sherlock, I can’t ignore what happened-“

​“It was nothing, I can assure you.”

​“It didn’t seem like nothing. It seemed very meaningful and passionate, on both ends,” Lestrade countered; Sherlock squared his jaw.

​“You’re mistaken, then.”

​“My point is, Sherlock, it’s against the law, and I know you of all people are aware of that,” Lestrade said with quiet insistence, careful not to disturb the two sleeping in the back of the jeep. Sherlock continued to stare out the passenger window, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the scenery. “Just because you won’t acknowledge me doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

​“It was a simple kiss in the heat of the moment,” Sherlock said, his voice clipped and controlled. It took all of his willpower to restrain his usual arrogance. “It was meaningless, and it will not happen again, I assure you.”

​“Was it really, though? Because it seems to me that both you and Laicee are very keen on each other.”

​Sherlock said nothing to this as Lestrade slowed the jeep and turned off into a gas station. As the car came to a stop, Sherlock got out with Lestrade, shutting the door softly and traipsing towards the convenience store. Lestrade glanced up.

​“I’m letting this slide for now, Sherlock. But there won’t be a next time.”

​Once again, Sherlock said nothing. He slipped inside, ignoring the woman at the register as he hunted out the sweets aisle. He knew that Laicee would be hungry when she woke up.

​He was glad she hadn’t heard his exchange with Lestrade; the words he’d said…

​The kiss was anything but meaningless, but there was no way Lestrade could know that. Sherlock knew he was on thin ice; Lestrade was his friend, yes, but he knew that Laicee meant a great deal to him. He’d do what he had to in order to keep her safe and protected, and Sherlock had to stop pushing his luck with that.

​He had just picked up one of her favourite candy bars when he heard a quiet footstep behind him. Sherlock glanced back, and dropped the candy.

​Moriarty gave him a cold, wide smile, chuckling softly under his breath. Sherlock tensed, his breath hitching as he stared into the cold amber eyes of the man he despised. Moriarty took a step forward, and Sherlock balled his fists, ready.

​“It’s precious, really, it is, how much that little pet has grown to mean to you,” Moriarty said quietly, getting closer to Sherlock. “It’s a shame though, because you’ve made it too easy. First Johnny boy, then your little Laicee doll. Keeping your heart with others was a dangerous move, Sherlock.”

​“I cannot give them what I don’t have,” Sherlock said slowly, holding his ground as Moriarty came ever closer. His enemy gave a cold laugh as he paused just an inch from Sherlock’s face.

​“Don’t try to convince me of that lie, Sherlock. Really, I thought we were past that. I’ve heard all the late night conversations with your Johnny boy, your little blogger. Your first true friend in how long? Fifteen years? And then your pretty little Laicee doll, doing whatever you want her to, following you everywhere…”

Moriarty paused, and a sickening smile spread over his face.

“Your match is coming, Sherlock. You can convince yourself that you have won, but really, all you’ve done is prolonged your suffering. I will burn the heart out of you, Sherlock. I will.”

Moriarty’s eyes flicked back over Sherlock’s shoulder, and Sherlock turned to see what he was motioning to. It had only been Lestrade stepping into the convenience store; Sherlock turned back to respond to his enemy, but Moriarty had slipped away from him yet again. Moriarty was gone, and Sherlock let out a frustrated snarl under his breath.

As he stooped to pick up the candy, he saw a note lying on the tile beside it.

You made them your heart, and I will make sure they burn with you.

***

Laicee’s POV

​“Lace, c’mon, time to get up,” John murmured softly, rubbing my shoulder. I let out a heavy yawn and sat up, rubbing my eyes and blinking as I looked around. It was just turning into dusk as I climbed out of the jeep beside John. Lestrade and Sherlock were off to the side of the door in a deep discussion. Neither looked up as John and I passed by, so we let them be.

​“I was thinking lasagna for dinner,” I said to John as we climbed the stairs. “I can make some salad with it, if you’d-“

​As we stepped into the flat, my sentence broke off. Donovan stood in the center of our living room, her arms crossed, a serious look on her face.

​“What are you doing here?” I asked her cautiously, dropping my bag against the wall as I came forward. John kept at my side, suspicion bursting off him in waves. Donovan sighed and took a step forward.

​“I’m here as a favor,” she said, and when I raised a brow, she quickly added, “to Lestrade. I promised him a while back that I’d have his back, and now I’m doing what I can.”

​“I’m not following,” John said as I continued to give her a puzzled look.

​“Lestrade called in yesterday morning and managed to negate the arrest warrant Anderson had gathered for you and Sherlock. It was a bad move on his part, and now the lot of you are in jeopardy, him included.”

​“In jeopardy how?” I pressed, hearing the front door open again.

​“The next time something happens, he won’t be able to help you,” she told us, her voice grave. “He can’t pull any more strings, he can’t work any more magic. One more mess up, and that’s it for all of you.”

​“Well,” John said as Sherlock and Lestrade came up the last flight of stairs. “We’ll reign in our mischief then.”

​Donovan’s jaw tensed as she glowered at him; Sherlock and Lestrade pressed their way inside, and I saw Lestrade draw back, looking alarmed and confused.

​“Sally, what’re you doing here?”

​“I’m just closing up the case, Greg, that’s all,” she said, walking forward and pausing in the doorway. She looked back at John and I, but her gaze focused on me. “Laicee, I know it’s your wish to stay here with them. I can’t begin to imagine why you’d want this, but just know that if you don’t want this life to change, you need to remember that every action, no matter how small, can have a significant consequence.”

​And with that, Donovan turned and hurried down the steps, shutting the door softly on her way out. The four of us stood cemented in the living room, not looking at one another, not saying a word.

​“You were saying something about lasagna?” John pressed, clearing his throat. I nodded vigorously and followed him into the room, slipping past Sherlock scrutinizing gaze. John set to work pulling out the ingredients while I cleared off the counters. I scooped up a handful of Sherlock’s equipment and turned to put it in his room.

​He was directly behind me, and I barely stopped short of running into him. I let out a squeak of surprise and stumbled back, trying to hold onto all of the equipment. Sherlock’s long arms wrapped around me and held me in place, balancing not only myself, but the perilous glass in my hands.

​“Lestrade is ignoring the instance that happened in Dartmoor,” Sherlock informed me, righting my stance and taking his things from me. I blinked at him, trying to place what he meant.

​“Oh!” I said, feeling myself blush. “The kiss-“

​“Yes, the matter which I would prefer not to speak about in mixed company,” Sherlock said curtly as he deposited his things onto the table; I gave him an irritated look as John snickered quietly behind me. “And, John, Mrs. Hudson needs your handyman skills to fix her sink.”

​“What? Oh, okay,” he said, taken aback by Sherlock’s subject change. John handed off the lasagna pan and slipped past Sherlock and I, giving me a suggestive smile as he headed downstairs.

​The second Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson’s door shut, he all but ripped the pan from my hands and dropped it to the table, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me roughly to him. I drew in a breath of surprise, which was cut off suddenly as Sherlock’s lips pressed desperately to mine. My back hit the counter, and Sherlock pressed forward, dipping me back and arching my chest to him.

I let instincts take over.

My hands entangled in the collar of his shirt, holding him to me as I kissed him powerfully. His gentle hands took my waist, and in a swift motion he lifted me up onto the counter. I encircled his waist with my legs as his cool, slender fingers slid beneath my shirt and traced my spine up my back. I ran my hands down his chest, pausing on his stomach just above his belt.

Mrs. Hudson’s door opened, and the click of the handle was enough to break Sherlock and I apart. We pulled away, breathing hard and staring at each other. Sherlock’s hands returned to my waist, and again he lifted me and sat me back on the floor.

To my surprise, Sherlock didn’t move away completely. He pulled me into a tight embrace and I immediately returned the hug. Sherlock bent down and tilted my chin up, giving me a much softer, more delicate kiss this time. We pulled apart, and his steady fingers swept curls back from my forehead.

“I am glad you’re alright, Laicee,” he said quietly, stepping back from me as John began to climb the stairs. I gave him a warm smile as I took the pan off the table and moved to the stove.

“The same goes for you,” I said, then motioned to the science equipment. “Put this stuff away, would you?”

He paused in the doorway, giving me a humored look. I drew my brows together and frowned as sternly as I could.

“Sherlock, get it off my table.”

“Call me for dinner,” he requested, giving me the quirk of a smile as he slipped into the hall. I gave a sigh and turned back to dinner, shaking my head in irritation.
​
Sherlock Holmes was anything but ordinary, and anything but usual.