Fic for dioscureantwins: Measurable Steps, 7/9

[holmesticemods]

Their first week had been very quiet, and she appreciated it. They had spent most of their time in the home, aside from the shooting lessons Sherlock was giving her. The first time she attempted to shoot the target he had set up she'd been off by such a margin that he couldn't even tell where the bullet had gone. With practice, though, she got better. She had even managed to actually hit the target near the center six days into practicing. She didn't want to have to pick up a gun unless she absolutely had to, but at least she knew if it came down to it she could possibly do a good job of protecting herself and anyone else she wanted to keep safe.

The only real disturbance had come the afternoon of their seventh day there. John had called Sherlock and from the tone of the conversation he sounded quite upset. It had taken some time for Sherlock to calm him down and only after the call had ended did she find out that the fingerprint on the rose petal had been John's. According to John, some blowhard at Scotland Yard had spent an hour relentlessly calling his mobile to tell him they were going to need him to come in for questioning as a suspect, even after Lestrade answered the phone and said there was no way it could be true. Scotland Yard had traced John's phone and shown up at the door of the safe house, and it was only after Mycroft personally drove to Leeds to sort everything out that the man in charge of the investigation realized they had been set up. Now Sherlock was quietly sitting in a chair, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together in front of his face. He had been sitting like that a full hour after he got off the phone with John. Finally Molly came over and sat on the edge of his chair. “Tell me what you're thinking,” she said.

“M had this all set up in advance,” he said, not looking up at her. “Planting John's fingerprint on the petal, phoning in the threat if you testified...I'm honestly surprised Scotland Yard fell for the sloppy way he's done things. There had to have been adhesive residue on the petal for it to stay there. The only way there wouldn't be was in someone got a hold of one of his used latex gloves, and even then it should have been obvious it was planted.” Then he sighed. “M wanted all of us away from London and he wanted to be able to track us once we were gone, hence the calls to John.”

“Why aren't you worried that someone will track your phone?” she asked.

“When I was gone Mycroft gave me a special phone and laptop to use,” he said. “They both scramble my location if anyone tries to track them. He didn't take them back when I returned. But that was why I told you to leave your phone in Baker Street. I'm surprised the same message wasn't delivered to the others.” He finally looked up at her. “I think Mycroft anticipated this, which is why he separated us. Somebody wants it to be easier to kill us.”

“That's going to make sleeping tonight fun,” she said quietly.

“It will take quite a bit more for M to find us. Hopefully this gaffe on Scotland Yard's part will convince them they need to put all their resources towards this.”

“But it's just the two of us,” she said. “They won't think we're important. Greg would, but he's not in charge of the investigation. It's up to people who don't know us and don't really care what happens to us to solve this mystery.”

“Mycroft will ensure they give this their due diligence,” he said, reaching over for her hand. He grasped it and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Try not to think about it too much. For the moment we're safe.”

“I know,” she said. “I suppose we should find something to occupy our time. It's still too early to go to sleep.”

“We can watch a film, if you'd like. Or rather you can watch it. I'll be communicating with Mycroft as he tries to get things sorted and get information we can use.”

She shook her head. “I think I'm just going to try and read. If I can concentrate on a book, I mean. Right now I'm not sure if I'll be able to, what with this new worry.”

“Then I'll leave you in peace,” he said. She got up from the side of his chair and went into her room to pick up the book she had been reading earlier in the day. Her bed was more comfortable than the chairs or sofa, she had found, and so she laid down on top of the mattress and propped herself up into a comfortable position. She began to read, but after two hours the words began to blur and she was yawning more than she wasn't. The lack of sleep must have really caught up to her, she decided as she saved her place in the book and set it back on her nightstand. She didn't bother to get under the quilt, instead curling up on her side and shutting her eyes.

As tired as she was her sleep wasn't restful. It seemed as though she was in a waking nightmare, where each scenario she went through was worse than the next. No matter what she wanted to do she couldn't wake up. And then finally she could, and she sat bolt upright with a scream on her lips. But she wasn't alone; Sherlock had just come to the doorway as she opened her eyes. “I'm so sorry,” she said as she looked at him.

“I heard a crash and got worried,” he said. Her eyes widened and she looked over at her nightstand. Both book and jewelry box were no longer on it. She put her feet on the floor as Sherlock came over, kneeling down next to her nightstand. He picked up the jewelry box, and she saw that the hinge was broken. “I'm sorry.”

“I suppose that's just in keeping with the day,” she said with a sigh as she took it from him. Now that she got a closer look at it she saw that the stained glass in the lid was cracked.

“I can see if I can get it repaired when we get home,” he said, looking down to begin picking up the jewelry.

“It's all right. The glass broke too,” she said. “I'll just buy a new one later.” She set it on her nightstand again and began setting the jewelry he handed her back into it. When they had it all back in she shut the lid and carried it to her dresser.

“May I at least replace it?” he asked.

“If you really want to,” she said. When she was done she sat on the bed and folded her hands into her lap, looking down. “I can't believe I did that.”

He sat next to her. “Were you having a nightmare?” he asked.

“More like several, one right after the other. The one I was having when I was finally able to wake up was where I was being disemboweled like the rat. It was particularly vivid, especially since I know it doesn't immediately cause death.”

“Are you still tired?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I'll need to sleep eventually, though, if I can.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “Do you want to have company while you sleep?” he finally asked.

She looked over at him in surprise. “Do you mean sleep next to me?”

“Well, that was the general idea. If not, I could sit on the edge of your bed until you're asleep and then go back to my own room once you're in a deep enough sleep.”

“I would like that, actually. The first suggestion, I mean. But are you sure it's not going to make you uncomfortable?” she asked.

“I can stand a little discomfort to give you comfort,” he said. “But I don't expect it to bother me too much.” Then he paused. “Though I have never shared a bed with anyone before so it might get awkward.”

“I have, so I can make sure it doesn't.” She was silent for a few moments. “Does it ever bother you that I'm more experienced than you are?”

He shook his head. “Just because I chose to live a solitary lifestyle doesn't mean everyone else I know did. I'll admit at times I'm a bit daunted because it's all new to me, but it doesn't bother me.”

“It's all new to you, isn't it?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “I mean, obviously, there are things I know you haven't done, but...”

“As I told you before I had never kissed anyone before I kissed you,” he said. “So that and everything that comes after it has and will be a new experience for me.”

“I didn't realize I was your first kiss at the time it happened,” she said. “I wouldn't have guessed that. I thought you might have had a little practice before me.”

“I was terrified I would make an absolute hash out of it, and that feeling grated on me almost enough that I didn't enjoy it,” he admitted with a half-smile. “But you didn't seem to have issue with my technique so I relaxed.”

“I'm glad I was your first kiss,” she said with a grin. “I don't think I've ever been anyone's first for anything before.”

“Well, tonight you will be the first person I share a bed with, so that will be another first,” he said. “Hopefully you don't kick me out of it.”

“Unless you hog the quilt I sincerely doubt there is anything you can do to make me not want to share a bed with you,” she said with a soft laugh.

“It's good to hear you laugh,” he said after a moment. “That has been in short supply these last few weeks.”

“There hasn't been much to be happy about, unfortunately,” she said, her smile dimming. “Once this is over I'll be much happier.”

“I look forward to that,” he said. “Did you want to try and get some supper?”

“I probably should,” she said thoughtfully. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Just after seven. You came into your room around four, and I'm assuming you went to sleep around six.”

“Then it sounds about right that I eat,” she said. “What did you have?”

“I simply made a sandwich,” he said. “But there is enough food to make a proper meal.”

“A sandwich will be fine for me too,” she said. “I'm not very hungry.”

“You have been eating less lately,” he noted.

“It's stress. I noticed my clothes are fitting more loosely because I'm not eating as much as I usually do.”

“I should make sure you eat more,” he said with a frown.

“It's all right,” she said. “When this is all over I'll probably go right back to my old eating habits so the weight will come back. Probably with a little extra as well, actually.”

“I think you look very nice regardless,” he said.

She gave him a smile and then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“You're welcome,” he said as she got off the bed. He followed suit a moment later. “Do you want company in the kitchen?”

“I would like that very much,” she said, nodding. “And then maybe we can find something to occupy us until I'm tired again. I don't think I'm going to want to concentrate on a book.”

“I had Mycroft send something of mine here. It just arrived this morning.”

“What was it?” she asked as they made their way out of her bedroom.

“My violin,” he replied.

“Oh, it's been a while since I've gotten to hear you play,” she said. “And you really are quite good.”

“I thought you would enjoy it. And truth be told I've missed playing it. I didn't do it very often while I was gone, and not as much as I would have liked since my return. But I will gladly play for you tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said. They lapsed into silence as they made their way into the kitchen, and once she started to make her food he began an easy stream of conversation. When she was done she took her plate to the table and he went into his bedroom to get his violin case. She was a third of the way done with her food when he came back, case in hand. She watched him take it out of the case and tuck it under his chin before taking his bow and beginning to play. She felt more relaxed the longer he played, and she stayed at the table long after she was done with her food, enjoying the private concert.

She wasn't quite sure how long it was until she began to feel tired again, but after the fourth time she yawned he finished his song and lowered his violin. “Are you ready to attempt to go back to sleep?” he asked.

She nodded. “I don't even know what time it is, but I'm tired.”

He set his violin and bow back in their case and then looked at his watch. “It's nearly eleven.”

Her eyes widened. “You played for nearly four hours nonstop.”

“I've actually gone much longer before,” he said, closing the case and latching it shut. “It's not unusual for me to play for eight hours with no break.”

“Don't you get hungry? Or thirsty?” she asked, standing up.

“Not noticeably,” he replied. “I get so caught up in the music I lose track of time. It always used to drive John bonkers because I would usually start playing around ten and play through the night. I think there were times he seriously considered murdering me because I wouldn't let him fall asleep and stay asleep.”

“I would love to fall asleep to the violin,” she said, picking up her plate. They headed into the kitchen and she set it in the sink. “Have you ever thought of recording yourself playing?”

“I only really play for my own enjoyment,” he said. “I'm not a professional, nor do I have the desire to be.”

“Did you ever want to be one, though?” she asked.

“When I was very young. I wanted to be the youngest first chair violinist in the history of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, in Amsterdam,” he said. “My teacher said I would never be good enough, though, no matter how hard I practiced. It's the best orchestra in the world and I would have to devote every waking moment to practice to be good enough to even be considered. When I turned eight I found another avenue of my life I wanted to explore and so I devoted only the minimum amount of time and attention to learning the violin.”

“Was that when Moriarty murdered the boy in the pool?” she asked.

He nodded. “That was the start of it. Of all of it, actually. Of my career, of the game he'd planned, of the game we're still playing. There are times I regret letting that case catch my attention.”

“But there is a lot you wouldn't have if you hadn't gotten interested in solving that case,” she said gently. “Would you have met Mrs. Hudson?”

He thought for a moment, tilting his head. “Possibly. Living with her was one of the conditions I had when I was released from rehab. But if I hadn't gotten involved in the case there was a chance I wouldn't have developed an addiction to heroin, so I wouldn't have met her in that case.”

“Well, you definitely wouldn't have met me or Greg,” she said. “You wouldn't have been in the business of solving complicated crimes so there would be no reason to know a copper or a specialist registrar. And if you weren't doing that you probably wouldn't be at St. Bart's at all, and then you wouldn't have met Mike.”

“And if I hadn't met Stamford I wouldn't have been introduced to John,” he continued quietly. “I suppose I see what you mean now. Still, the dangers of playing these games outweigh the good things, I think. My actions twenty-five years ago have pulled multiple people directly into the path of a psychopath, and even though he's no longer alive on this earth his actions are still reverberating through everyone's lives.”

“That is true, but don't forget the good that came out of it, all right?” she asked.

He nodded and moved closer to her before reaching over and touching her face gently. “I wish I had your optimism,” he said softly.

“I rather have to,” she said, closing the gap between them. “I refuse to live my life with a pessimistic outlook.”

He moved his hand away from her face and settled it on her waist, running it up and down a bit. “I don't want you to lose your optimism,” he said. “Promise me you won't.”

“I'll try very hard not to,” she said quietly as she looked up at him. “I promise.”

“Good,” he said before leaning in and kissing her. She kissed him back, moving her hands to frame his face slightly as he pulled her as close as he could. One day, probably soon, they might go farther than kissing, she thought to herself. The kisses were getting more passionate even when they weren't intended to be, and she wasn't sure if it was just her that was having a hard time walking away from them. It would be interesting to see what happened after they shared a bed together tonight. They broke apart after a few minutes but he didn't immediately let her go. “We should try and get some rest now,” he murmured.

“You need to let me go to do that,” she said with a smile. He blinked, as though he hadn't realized he was still keeping her close, and then he let go. “Give me some time to change, all right?”

He nodded. “I'll knock on your door when I'm finished.” With that the two of them went to their separate rooms, and once she got to hers she began to change out of the clothes she had been wearing. She felt quite nervous as she got dressed for bed, trying to figure out what she should wear. Finally she settled on a pair of pyjamas that was comfortable but didn't bare much skin. She had just finished brushing her hair out when there was a knock. “Are you decent?” he asked from the other side.

“I am,” she said, setting down her brush. Sherlock opened the door and she saw he had his pyjamas on and his dressing gown over it. He appeared to be a little nervous as well, which made her feel better. “You can put your dressing gown on the back of the door.”

He nodded and took it off before closing the door and hanging it on the hook. Then he looked over at her. “How does this generally work?” he asked.

“Well, we both lie down in bed. It would probably be best if I lie down on my side and you sleep next to me with my back to your chest.” She went over to the side of the bed she normally slept on and he went around to the other. They both pulled back the quilt and sheet and got into the bed. He moved closer to her and after a moment put his arm around her waist. “Exactly like that,” she said in a reassuring tone.

“Will we stay in this position all night?” he asked, his lips near her ear.

“Maybe. It depends on what type of grip you have on my waist,” she said. She snuggled next to him more and he responded by tightening his hold just slightly. She shut her eyes and yawned. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, Molly,” he said, and then he was quiet. She let herself drift off to sleep, hoping this time it was easier to come by.

---
Nothing had happened the first night they had slept next to each other. He had woken up first and was absently running his hand up and down along her waist when she finally woke up since she had turned to face him in her sleep. It had been such a long time since she had slept so soundly, she'd realized. And it was also nice to wake up with someone else beside her. Once he realized she was awake he had given her a smile and she had kissed him in response. And then they got out of bed and went about the business of making breakfast.

She asked him to sleep next to her again that night, and the night after as well. The fourth night he was at her door after they had separated for the night, knowing she would still want him there even if she didn't actually ask. She had given him a grin and they had settled on the bed and gone to sleep, and she had realized as she fell asleep that when this was all over she was going to give him what he wanted. She was going to stay with him, whether it was at her own home or Baker Street. She didn't want to go to sleep alone anymore, and she didn't want to not be near him. Just as sleep overtook her she also came to the realization that she was, in fact, in love with him, and it both pleased and worried her. But then she was asleep and it didn't matter for the moment.

When she woke up the next morning she had miraculously woken up first. That was the first time that had happened since they had started sharing a bed. Once again she had turned to face him, and this time she reached over and brushed his hair away from his face. It hadn't grown back quite as curly, she realized, but she still loved the way it looked. His response to her actions were to pull her closer and tighten his hold on her waist. “I still want to sleep,” he murmured sleepily.

“I'm sorry,” she said with a soft chuckle. “I can get out of bed so you can get more rest.”

“That defeats the purpose of sharing a bed with you,” he said.

“You like sleeping next to me, don't you?” she asked as he opened his eyes, and she knew she was giving him an amused grin.

“I find I've slept better once we started sharing the same bed,” he said with a slight nod. “I sleep for longer periods of time, at any rate. And I enjoy being this close to you.”

“I like being this close to you, too,” she said. “I think if I were to go back to living on my own I would miss this terribly.”

He looked surprised for a moment, and then gave her a wide grin. “So have you decided that when this is all over you'll stay?” he asked.

She moved her hand up to cup his cheek. “Well, you and I need to sort out exactly where we would want to live but yes, I'll stay,” she said. “I've gotten too used to being near you to go back to living apart.”

“That is the best news I've received since you said you still fancied me,” he said.

“I thought that might make you quite happy,” she said with a laugh. “Would you mind terribly if I got up and got something to eat?”

“No, I wouldn't mind,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well, I'll at least give you a kiss first,” she said, moving closer. “It's only fair since I woke you up.”

“Yes, that does seem quite fair to me,” he said with a slight nod before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Yes, it was certainly getting harder to not want more, she thought to herself as she kissed him back. It was definitely getting harder to separate herself from him when they were done kissing, and right now was no exception. They only pulled apart to catch their breath. “It seems to me it is getting harder to stop,” he said quietly, running a hand up and down her back.

“I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that way,” she said. “We need to talk about that, I think. Do you want to move this relationship to that point?”

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “Not right this moment, but soon, I think. I still need some time to get completely used to the idea.”

“Do you want to keep your distance from me until you're completely comfortable with going forward?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he said. “What about you? Do you want to?”

“No,” she said. “I like being close to you too much. I might think things are worse if we aren't able to be close. But whenever you decide you want to, I want to as well.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “I suppose we should get out of this bed and get something to eat for breakfast.”

“I think that might be a good idea.” She didn't attempt to move, though, and he didn't let her go. “Or we could stay in bed a while longer,” she said with a warm smile.

“I say we stay in bed until we absolutely need to leave,” he said, yawning slightly.

“You go back to sleep, then. I'll stay here until you actually wake up,” she said. He nodded and shut his eyes again, loosening his grip enough for her to roll back onto her other side again. She could hear his breathing level off soon afterward but she didn't go back to sleep. There were quite a few thoughts running around in her head. Most of it had to do with the fact that she was in love with him. She wasn't sure she should tell him, mostly because she didn't know if he felt the same way or if he did whether he would actually know if he did. And she didn't want to potentially scare him off, though his happiness at knowing she was going to continue to reside with him after this was all over told her that perhaps it wouldn't scare him. Still, she wanted to err on the side of caution, so in the end she decided not to tell him.

He woke up again about an hour and a half later, and she was glad for that because she was starving. He offered to cook for her, and so they moved out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, and she leaned against a counter as he began to make them porridge for breakfast. She had gotten used to eggs or toast and cereal since they had arrived so this was a nice change of pace, especially since it seemed so cold outside this morning. They took their food to the table and ate in companionable silence, and when they were done he leaned back in his chair slightly. “I think we're running out of things to do here,” he said after a moment.

“That is the problem with having a limited amount of things to do,” she said. “You don't seem to be the type to get enjoyment from works of fiction, and almost every book here is fiction.”

“I generally tend not to let things like that clutter up my mind palace,” he said.

“You know, I've always wondered about that,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “How exactly does your mind palace work?”

“I file away everything I feel is important. I put each fact into a compartment that I can access when I need it, and the compartments are grouped in rooms according to subject. I do it with my memories as well. Each person I know has their own room, I suppose, and all the memories are there when I want to access them.”

“What types of memories do you think are worth remembering?” she asked.

“It varies by person. With Mycroft it's mostly sleights from our childhood. We have never really had a warm and loving relationship. We use each other more than we don't. I suppose with my parents it's the odd conversation that struck a chord with me, or something absolutely banal that I have no real reason for remembering. With Lestrade it's mostly the interactions over cases. Same with the others who work with him.” He paused. “Though with Lestrade he made an effort to get to know me after the incident at Baskerville. I would pull those memories out while I was gone and examine those closely. Mrs. Hudson's are mostly the ones where I feel cared for, even if I didn't act like it mattered at the time.”

“What about John?”

He thought for a moment. “With John there are so many. Tiny moments that signified a change in me in one way or another, the cases, random discussions. Things that when I think of them make me realize he is my best friend.” He paused. “You didn't ask about my memories of you.”

“I'm sure up until recently they weren't particularly noteworthy,” she said.

He was quiet for a moment as he shut his eyes. “I remember the first day we met,” he said when he spoke again. “I remember that you had on a pair of tan trousers and a hideous jumper that was pink and yellow. The motif was Easter related. Baby chicks and eggs. You had your hair pulled into a knot at the nape of your neck. You were incredibly nervous to meet me because you knew of my reputation. I treated you like dirt, and you had a look on your face at the end as if you were a puppy and I'd just kicked you. But only for a moment. Then you gave me a smile and said you hoped you saw more of me soon. At the time I decided I would be able to get you to do anything I wanted, and I should have filed you away as someone unimportant, as someone beneath my notice, just like Donovan and Anderson. But you got your own room immediately because you were kind to me when I'd given you absolutely no reason to be.”

“I don't even remember that much from our first meeting,” she said, her eyes wide. “All I remember was that you were just as callous as everyone had warned me you would be, but I decided to be nice to you anyway.”

“Why did you do that?” he asked when he opened his eyes.

“Because I thought you could use a friend,” she said. “You just didn't consider me one until much later, after John.”

“But I trusted you from that first moment,” he said. “Even though I knew I would most likely use you for my own means I knew I could trust you. And you have never let me down.”

She looked down and felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“I think I truly began to look at you differently when you stood up to me at the party,” he said. “I had never expected that. I thought you would continue to let me walk all over you without comment. That evening I realized if I kept treating you poorly one day you would write me off as a lost cause, just like countless others have.”

“That whole thing hurt,” she said. “I mean, you humiliated me. But then you apologized. In all the years I had known you, you'd never done that, no matter how badly you treated me.”

“I hardly ever apologize,” he said. “I was always taught it was a sign of weakness to apologize, even if you were in the wrong. But that night I knew I had gone too far. I know it didn't change all of my interactions with you after that, but that night was when I realized I was special to you.”

“Well, you were. And you are. More so now.” She picked up her coffee and took a sip. “Are all your memories of me like that? I mean, that detailed?”

“Most of them are, yes,” he said with a nod. “It's the same with a few others, too, like John and my family.”

“I'm surprised I don't have more memories of you,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean, for a long time I practically lived for you needing something from me and coming down to my morgue. But I don't have many actual memories, considering how many interactions we've had.”

“Considering how poorly our interactions had gone I'm not surprised,” he said, picking up his own coffee.

“Most of the actual memories I have that I kept close while you were gone were from when you stayed with me. You actually let your guard down around me, and I learned so much more about you.”

“I think that experience changed my perception of you as well,” he said. “There was more to you than I had realized.”

“Did you know I still have all the things you sent me?” she said. “I didn't bring them to Baker Street, but they're in a box under my bed. I kept every note, every letter, every postcard. I'd read them over and over again quite frequently, especially when I felt lonely.”

“Why didn't you interact with more people?” he asked. “John I can understand, since you were keeping my secret and he had taken my death the hardest. But why didn't you attempt to make new friends?”

“I don't know if I can explain it,” she said after a moment's thought. “I suppose part of it was because I let work consume me. It was easier to ask for an extra shift than ask if someone wanted to go grab a pint after work. When I was working I could concentrate on something that wasn't me and my sad, pathetic life. And the other part was until you were finished with your task I didn't know if it was actually safe to make new friends, to bring anyone else into my orbit.”

“Considering everything that's gone on that was probably best,” he said. “As you pointed out shortly after I arrived, while protection was offered to you it might not be offered to others.”

She had some more of her coffee. “If I had gotten a boyfriend while you were gone and I was still dating him when you came back, what would you have done?” she asked curiously.

He looked at her intently for a moment. “In all honesty I most likely would have done everything I could to ruin the relationship. Perhaps I might not have done it purposefully, but I would have done it, mostly because I would have been incredibly jealous of him.”

“Then I am very glad I was single,” she said with an amused grin before she had more of her coffee. “Because I would have stopped speaking to you if you'd done that.”

“That would have made our current living situation very tense,” he said with a grin of his own. “Not that I think your relationship would have survived us practically being attached at the hip all the time. Any man that wouldn't get jealous would be an absolute fool.”

“I don't know. I could have picked a patient and understanding man,” she said.

“Any man that is that understanding is an idiot,” he said. “Especially since the first nine days I was back neither of us were allowed to leave your home. Suddenly not being able to see this fictional significant other for over a week should have raised some serious red flags for him. And then to see that a man you had professed to fancy had moved in with you? And that later you had to move into his home? I'd have given the relationship two more weeks. Three at most.”

“I didn't realize you felt so strongly about that,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it's a hypothetical situation I don't want to think about,” he said in a huff.

“Then it's a good thing everything has played out the way it has in regards to the state of my social life,” she said. She drank the last of her coffee and stood up. “I'm going to get more coffee. Do you want some?”

He shook his head. “I'm only halfway through mine.” She moved over to him, and then she leaned down and kissed him. When she pulled away he gave her a quizzical look. “Not that I mind, but why did you do that?”

“You look cute when you pout,” she said with a smile. “And I thought you deserved one.”

“I do not look cute when I pout because I don't pout,” he said.

“Oh, yes you do. And it's rather adorable.” She straightened up. “Why don't you think about something we can do to occupy our time that we'll both enjoy?”

“Fine,” he said. She went into the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee, fixing it to her liking before going back to the table. Sherlock wasn't sitting there, so she made her way to the sitting room and saw him at the bookshelf. She cleared her throat to get his attention and he turned around. “Do you have books you have yet to read?”

“I have a few left,” she said. “Not many, though. I'm a fast reader.”

“You had mentioned a lot of these are partial series. I was thinking of asking Mycroft for the other books in the series that interest you so you can read them.”

“That would be wonderful,” she said with a smile. “There are five series I can think of off the top of my head. I just need to find out which books were already here.”

“I was thinking more of just giving him the series name and having him send all the books in the series, so that when this is all over you can take them home if you like them,” he said. “It makes more sense than going through each and every book and cataloging them.”

“I approve of this plan,” she said.

“Then tell me the series and I'll call him,” he replied.

“Well, there are two trilogies that are connected, The Elenium and The Tamuli, by David Eddings. Then there's a series called Arcane Society, but there are three different authors. They're fairly standalone, because one of them was here and I read it without realizing it was in a series, but they're written by Amanda Quick, Jayne Ann Krentz and Jayne Castle. Another one that looked interesting was the Josie Marcus, Mystery Shopper series by Elaine Viets. We had the third one. The last series that looked intriguing is the Nikki Heat series by Richard Castle. It's based on a television show in the States, and the book for the second story in the series looked very interesting.”

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Tolkien's works?” she asked. “I've read them all before, except The Silmarillion, but I'd like to reread them if we'll be here for a long time.”

“I'll see what he can do,” he said with a nod. “Perhaps for now you can read while I play my violin for you?”

“That would be lovely,” she said. “I'd just started a book yesterday evening that I would like to finish today. It left off at a good part.”

“Since you prefer to read in your room I will meet you in there with my violin,” he said. “As soon as I finish my coffee, at any rate.”

“I'm patient. I can wait,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” he said with a nod. “And I'm glad for that.”

“I know you are,” she said as she smiled widely at him. He grinned back and then went back to finishing his coffee and she left him in peace. They had had quite a few interesting conversations this morning, and she knew she was going to be pondering quite a few of the things they had talked about for a while. She just hoped they didn't overwhelm her thoughts.

---
A week and a half passed before they got any more news on the investigation. Mycroft called Sherlock and told him INTERPOL had gotten involved and that they had a potential suspect they were looking at because if M really was Moran this had the potential to be something that needed to be handled in multiple jurisdictions across the world. It appeared to Molly that the plan to have him murdered in prison had been scrapped, and she was conflicted about that. While she understood that it would raise more questions and keep other crimes from being solved it also set her on edge. She had started to realize that the others had been right, that the only way he would no longer be a threat was if he was dead. Now that that no longer appeared to be an option she worried that she would never feel truly safe.

She had gone to her bedroom after Sherlock had relayed the information to her to lay down and marshal her thoughts. She wasn’t quite sure how long she had been in there when Sherlock knocked on her door. “Come in,” she said.

He opened the door and she saw he was carrying a cup of tea. “I thought you could use this,” he said.

“That would be lovely,” she replied, giving him a small smile as she sat up. “Thank you.”

He came closer to her and handed her the cup and saucer before sitting next to her. As she took a sip he began studying her. “I imagine something in my conversation with my brother troubled you,” he said.

She nodded. “If M really is Moran and he goes to prison and no one arranges for…” She trailed off for a moment, but she could see he understood what she was trying to stay. “We won’t ever really be safe, will we?”

“We’ll be safer, I suppose, but the honest truth is that we probably wouldn’t,” he said quietly.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t want to live that way, Sherlock. I don’t want to live in constant fear.”

“I don’t either,” he said. “The only thing I could possibly suggest is we try and draw him out. Use ourselves as bait, then try and capture him, find out what his full plans are. If they’re something I can stop while he’s locked up in the deepest darkest prison there is, then we can be safe.”

“So either we use ourselves as bait and run the risk of either one or both of us being injured or killed, or you can go off again and maybe not come back this time,” she said. “Neither are incredibly appealing options.”

“Then we simply have to let INTERPOL and Scotland Yard do their jobs,” he said. “Let them and everyone else involved do everything they can to catch M and keep him from enacting any other plans. Even then, though, Mycroft might have me go back to cleaning up the mess.”

She shook her head. “Why you? I mean, honestly, why you?”

“Because right now I know more about the organization than anyone except Mycroft, and he can’t leave to take care of the threat. Not that he would even if he could. That’s what I’m for, in his eyes.” He paused. “But in this particular instance I’d probably volunteer. It would mean you and the others would be safe, once and for all, and that would be worth the risk.”

“If you leave and you don’t come back this time I don’t know what I’d do,” she said, setting the cup and saucer on the nightstand. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re too important to me, Sherlock.”

“There may be no other option,” he said.

“It’s not fair,” she said, beginning to get angry. “Why does it have to be you who has to clean up the mess? If Mycroft wants it taken care of he should do it himself. Doesn’t he see that there are people who love you and don’t want you to leave again?”

“I know people care about me, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say any of them love me,” he said.

“Well, I do, and I’ll make sure Mycroft is aware of that fact if he tries to make you leave again,” she said in a slight huff. It took her a moment to register the look of utter shock on his face and then her eyes widened. “Sherlock, I…that wasn’t how I wanted that to come out.”

“That’s how you really feel about me?” he asked quietly.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, it is. I know you probably don’t feel the same, and that’s fine, but that’s how I feel.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “I’m not sure how I feel,” he said finally. “Well, I have a good idea, but I’m not sure if it’s actually love or not. I can readily admit I care about you greatly. I care about you more than anyone else in my life. But until I sort it out I don’t want to say those words. If I get to the point where I can say them I want to truly mean them. You deserve that much. I hope that you won’t have to wait for long for me to figure out exactly how I feel about you, though.”

“I can accept that,” she said. “At least I know you care about me that much. I mean, I know you did, but now I know how much.”

He reached over for her hand. “The fact that you love me is something I’m incredibly grateful for.”

“I’m glad,” she said, squeezing his hand once he’d grasped hers. “And I’m fairly sure you’ll come to the same conclusion I have.”

He moved closer to her and grinned. “I’m glad you see that as a forgone conclusion.”

“Well, it’s only natural,” she said with a smile of her own.

He let go of her hand and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “I’m glad it’s you that loves me.”

“I am too. And I’ll tell you as often as you want to hear it, even if you haven’t said it back yet.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. He leaned in after that and kissed her, moving his hands to frame her face. She reached over and lightly placed her hands on his chest. When they broke apart he didn’t move all the way back, instead resting his forehead against hers. “It is definitely getting harder to stop doing that.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” he replied.

She pulled away slightly to look at him. “Why did you, then?”

“Because I’m not sure how to proceed from here.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you still want to take things further?”

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Then you’ll have to guide me,” he said. “I know the technical details, but I don’t know how to put it into practice.”

“I can show you,” she said as she pulled away from him completely. He gave her a quizzical look, which she returned with a warm smile. Then she stood up, offering him her hand. “The first thing you should do is kiss me for a while. It is always good to start with kissing.”

He nodded. “That I can do.” He took her hand and stood up, and as soon as he could he pulled her close against him. She wound her arms around his neck and he lowered his head to kiss her again. This was a more passionate kiss than they normally shared. After a few minutes she slid her hands down his chest and then further down, reaching for the hem of his shirt. She pulled it up, and when she got it high enough he stepped away from the kiss and pulled it off of himself, tossing it negligently to the side. She put her hands on his chest for a moment. She had slept next to him often enough to know he was quite muscular even though he was lean, but seeing it was different. She slid her hands up his chest to his neck and then to his face, and he took that as the hint it was to kiss her again.

They had been kissing for a couple of minutes before he hesitantly slid his hand up her back to the zipper of her dress. After fumbling for a brief moment he began to slide the zipper down until it was all the way at the bottom, leaving her dress open in the back. She moved her body away slightly and removed her hands from his face, and then she lowered one of the straps and pulled her arm out of the dress. Before she could repeat her actions on the other side he moved his hand to her shoulder and lowered the strap for her. She let the dress fall to the floor, leaving her only in her bra and knickers. He moved his other hand up her back again and let his fingers skirt the edge of her bra. She pulled away from the kiss and looked at him. “Perhaps I should get that undone,” she said with a grin.

“Is it really that complicated?” he asked.

“You could always try and find out,” she said.

He nodded before attempting to undo the clasp of her bra. He tried for a full minute before he hung his head. “Why is that so complicated?”

“I'm not sure,” she said with a soft laugh, reaching behind her with both hands and undoing it quickly. She left it hanging open in the back. “You'd be surprised at how quickly a woman can get one of these off.”

“I suppose they aren't all that comfortable,” he said.

“They aren't horrible, but most women are happy to take them off at the end of their day,” she replied.

“May I finish removing it?” he asked. She nodded, and he moved one hand to her shoulder, latching it under the strap and pulling it off her shoulder. He let his fingertips graze her arm as he moved it, and after a moment he did the same on the other side. She shifted slightly and then pulled it off the rest of the way, dropping it carelessly to the floor. He studied her for a long moment. “You don't seem to be uncomfortable.”

“It's because I'm not,” she said, stepping close to him again. “If you get uncomfortable, though, tell me. We can stop at any point.”

“I'm just worried I'll disappoint you,” he said.

“I'll admit, I've usually been the less experienced one the other times I've shagged, but I do remember how awkward it all can be,” she said, looking up at him. “I'm not expecting perfection. I just want to make sure this isn't the only time you want to do this.”

He nodded. “I should probably tell you that you look quite lovely,” he said.

“That is very nice to hear,” she said as her cheeks warmed slightly. “I think you look very handsome yourself.”

He gave her a small smile. “So now what do we do?”

“Well, you are still wearing far too much clothing,” she said. “So we should take care of that first.” She reached between them and placed her hands on his chest again, but this time she ran her fingers lower until they reached the waistband of his denim trousers. She undid the button and then very carefully lowered the zipper. After she was done she moved her hands again to push his trousers off his hips. He helped after a moment, kicking them to the side when he had them low enough. She looked up at him when he was done. “Do you trust me to make this enjoyable for you?”

“I trust you,” he said with a nod.

She moved her hands to pull him closer for another kiss. He obliged, and this one got fairly heated. She had known that just kissing him could get her quite aroused, as had been the case the last few times they'd snogged for an extended period of time, but that combined with bare skin against bare skin was an incredible turn-on. Later she would tell him ways to make things more enjoyable for her, but for now this was enough. After a few minutes of that she moved her hand to the waistband of his pants and ran her finger along the edge for a moment. Then she grasped the waistband and carefully peeled them away from him, pulling them down his legs and freeing his erection. When they were low enough he stepped out of them, and then he looked down at her, a curious look on his face. “Lie down on the bed,” she said.

“This isn't the way it normally works,” he said with a frown.

“I get the feeling that, since this is your first time, you don't want to make mistakes,” she said, reaching between them and stroking him. She watched him shut his eyes as he nodded and it was obvious this was something he didn't mind in the slightest. “I think it would be best if I did most of the work. And, as an added bonus, this is actually a position where not as much can go wrong on your end.”

“I almost don't want you to stop what you're doing now,” he said quietly.

“I can keep doing this, if you want,” she said. “I just want to make sure you're comfortable.”

“I want you to get something from it as well,” he said.

She leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his pulse point and she could see him shudder. “Then go lie down on the bed,” she murmured against his skin. When he pulled away she let go of him and waited for him to get settled. She took the opportunity to pull her knickers down and step out of them, and then she moved to the bed. She got on it and straddled him, moving farther up until she was in position. She lowered herself onto his erection, eliciting a groan from him. She did so slowly because he was a bit larger than she had anticipated and she needed to adjust. He instinctively moved his hands to her hips and after a moment she could feel him push her lower. She leaned forward slightly and then raised herself up again. “Help me set the rhythm,” she told him.

He nodded and then lifted his hips up as she lowered herself again. He pushed more insistently this time, and she obliged by moving a bit more quickly after that. It was harder work for her but this way she was in control for at least the start of it. She began to raise herself up and each time he pushed her down as he surged up into her. She wasn't worrying too much about getting pleasure herself; that was a lesson for another time. Soon they were building up a fast rhythm, and she leaned forward a little more so she could get more friction where she needed it. She did start to feel a familiar tension pooling inside of her, and she knew soon she was going to come apart. Finally she felt the orgasm hit, and she tightened around him. He surged up into her one more time and she could feel him stiffen as he came. Finally he lowered his hips and she leaned forward more, her breasts brushing against his chest. He moved a hand up her back, tailing his fingers along his spine. “That was quite satisfactory,” he said finally.

She smiled down at him before leaning in and kissing him. “I take it you want there to be a next time?” she asked when she pulled away.

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

“Good. Next time will be better, I think. I'll let you decide what we do.” She took the opportunity to kiss him again before pulling away and disentangling herself from him. “Though for the moment I would suggest we share the shower. We could definitely use some cleaning up.”

He sat up more. “It is rather messy,” he said.

“Sadly, yes,” she said with a laugh. “That's why showers are a good follow-up activity. And taking them with someone else is more fun. But if you don't want to I understand. You can go first.”

“I think I would like to share a shower with you,” he said, standing up.

“I'll even be nice and not make you wash my hair,” she said as he got close. He pulled her against him and she looked up at him. “Yes?”

“You got enjoyment from that?” he asked.

“It wouldn't have mattered to me tonight if I did or didn't. But since you asked, yes, I did.”

“I'm glad for that,” he said. “I wasn't quite sure you would.”

“That's actually a very good position for a woman sometimes,” she said. “But there are countless others, too. Not that I've had all that much experience with many of them, but that's part of the fun, figuring out what you like and what you don't. And I'll make sure you learn what I like while we find out what you like.” She leaned in and kissed him again, intending it to be brief but he didn't want to oblige. They stayed there like that for a few moments until she reluctantly pulled away. “The sooner we shower the sooner we can see about resting for a bit,” she murmured.

“And then?” he asked.

“And then we see if you're up for round two tonight,” she said, moving away from him. She looked back at him with a smile on her face and saw him give her one in return before following her to the washroom. She had absolutely no regrets that things took the turn they did tonight. If the worst happened and he did have to leave again at least she would have tonight and however many more times they could share before they were separated. She could be happy with that.