Sherlocked

Rose

It was nearly a week before I was let out of the hospital. I remembered when the doctor came into my room and listed off all of my injuries.

I had some internal bleeding from the beatings I took, and I had to get stitches across my stomach from the whipping Sebastian had found so entertaining. I had two cracked ribs, a hairline fracture on my left cheekbone, and a concussion. All in all, I felt lucky that it wasn’t worse.

Sherlock fussed over me all day, brining me tea from the cafeteria and bringing treats from Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock passed along that she kept baking because she didn’t know what else she could do to make things better. John watched game shows with me and brought me some books to read, and no one talked about what I went through.

Frankly, I wasn’t ready to talk just yet.

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Sherlock

It was another week after she had been released from the hospital, and I finally asked John if he would please set something up with his mates from university so Rose and I could have some time to ourselves.

When I brought her home from the hospital, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about what she had endured. I was beginning to realize just how bad I was at talking about things that really mattered. I could spout off a list of facts about any case I had done since I started the consulting detective business, but I couldn’t make Rose talk to me.

One day I went to check on her when she hadn’t left her room for a few hours. She had taken a shower and disappeared into her room. I hadn’t heard a peep from her all afternoon. When I opened the door to check on her, she had been standing in front of her mirror in her undergarments, staring stonily at her own bruised reflection, her finger running across her stomach at the long gash that was already starting to scar. I shut the door again before she could notice I had been there.

So when John left the flat in the middle of the day to spend the rest of the day and well into the night with his mates, the flat fell eerily silent. Rose went into the bathroom to take a shower and I set to making tea. Mrs. Hudson brought up some cakes and I arranged everything neatly on the coffee table.

When Rose emerged from the bathroom in just her robe, I looked up, unable to keep from staring. In the months she had lived here, her hair had grown from its incredibly short pixie to something more soft and wavy. Droplets of water still dripped from the strands and onto the silky fabric of her robe. The bruises had faded now, and the only evidence that remained of her time in capture was the scar that was hidden underneath that piece of clothing.

“What’s this all about?” she asked, pointing at the set up on the coffee table.

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Rose

“You don’t have to keep doing all this stuff for me. I’m not helpless,” I said, my tone accusing. Even as I said it, I knew I was lashing out at him unjustly. He had been nothing but kind and caring to me since he carried me out of that warehouse.

“I know you can take care of yourself, Rose. I just…I don’t…” He seemed to be searching for the right words to say, and I didn’t think I had ever seen a speechless Sherlock. “I’ve been told on numerous occasions that I am not good at matters of the heart. I know you said before that you wanted to find another place to live, but I am asking you not to leave. You have always taken care of me, even when I was completely undeserving. Please let me take care of you.”

I felt my face grow hot at tears warped my vision, blurring his sincere expression. He stepped toward me now, walking around the coffee table that separated us. He wiped away my tears with his thumbs as I finally broke down and cried, sobbing into his chest.

“I thought I had finally convinced myself I hated you,” I whispered brokenly. “But when he threatened to kill you if I didn’t cooperate, I-“

“We don’t gave to talk about-“

“But I want to. The entire time I was there, the entire time I was being tortured, I never stopped thinking about you. You kept me sane. I know that you need me. You need someone to look after you, but in that room I realized how much I needed you too. I love you. You can be cold and mean and without empathy and sometimes you drive me nuts with your science experiments that involve destroying my art supplies and the body parts you still manage to leave in the fridge that’s only meant for food, I mean for GOD’S SAKE you have a fridge especially reserved for body parts-“

He cut me off by closing the distance between us, his mouth kissing mine with a hunger that nearly made my knees buckle. He cradled my head in his hands as the kiss deepened, and I melted into him. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses.

We backed into my room, leaving the forgotten tea to grow cold on the table as Sherlock locked the door behind us.

My clothes were gone in a flash; I had only been wearing the robe. Sherlock was just as eager to remove his clothing, although he appeared slightly more nervous. When we reached the bed, we were both completely unclothed.

I shivered as he kissed the scar on my stomach, his curls brushing against my skin.

I guided him, and soon he took the lead, learning quickly. Within minutes, I came undone beneath him, and he followed suit, crying out my name, collapsing onto me.

As we caught our breath, I curled up against his chest. And as we both drifted off to sleep, I felt safer than I had in my entire life.

I may have almost died, and Moriarty may not be behind bars forever, but I had Sherlock and our life together and that was all I needed.