Self published author and lover of literature

"Why did the killer have to carve into skulls? If it was human skin it would be simple, but oh no, he has to be bloody difficult," Sherlock groaned as he tried and failed to replicate the carving on an orange.

"What's the date today?" You asked as you looked up from your laptop, pausing as you traced the pattern.

"This first of October, why?" He mumbled, his gaze flickering over to you as he wiped the orange juice off of his engagement ring.

"Because, my love, I have an idea. Prep your apron!" You beamed and kept from your seat, rushing into the bathroom to wash up and change so that you could set your plan in motion.

"What are you planning?" He asked but made no move to move as he focused back on the orange, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Hang on." You muttered as you got changed into your favourite orange knitted jumper and short plaid shirt. When you came out of the bedroom, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling at Sherlock's blush dusted cheeks. It was the first time you'd seen him smile, a wide genuine smile, in over a week and you fell in love all over again. "You're adorable," you said softly and ran your hands through his curls and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

"And you are my world, darling " he smiled back and placed a kiss onto your engagement ring, "I can't believe I get to keep you forever in just a few short months."

"Me neither, and I can't wait to see you waiting for me at the other end if the aisle," you said and sat yourself down in his lap, his arms instantly wrapped around your waist, "now about this case…"

"I know, I promise I'll rest properly soon," he sighed and pressed his head into your chest, "it's just so aggravating."

"I know love, I know. But that wasn't what I was going to say. Besides, as both know we're just as bad as each other when it comes to resting. No, what I was going to say, is that you know how it is spooky pumpkin season?"

"Yes…?"

"Well, people say that pumpkins have the same texture and resistance to a knife as human skin- so what if we replicate the pattern on those. It's a little more scientifically accurate than an orange."

"Y/n, you're a fucking genius!" He declared and pressed a kiss onto your lips. It was light and tender, but it was enough to set your soul a light as you kissed him back.

A sly smile lingered on your lips as you pulled away for air, "well I am fucking a genius," and as the words left your lips, the pair of you erruotef into a fit of giggles. Being suave was never one of your talents.

"Okay, go before I make you stay here forever," Sherlock chuckled as he playfully pushed you off of his lap.

"I'll hold you to that!" You called back and nipped out of the flat with a call of: "I love you!"

"I love you too!" He called back, a small smile in his lips as he fell harder for you.

It was half an hour later when you finally returned to the flat carrying two of the biggest pumpkins you could find. You were red faced and a little out of breath as you managed to get them into the flat and onto the kitchen table, but you were happy and eager to solve the case as warm autumn sunlight danced through the window.

Last night's experiments were put on the counter and posters relating to the case were blue tacked to the cooker side of the kitchen, the side usually reserved for your cozy nights in. And you couldn't stop yourself from smiling as Sherlock emerged from the bedroom, his hair extra fluffy and downed in the infamous blue and grey striped shirt he was wearing when you first met. It was a little more snug over his muscles,but it melted your heart all the same as you drank him in. A small giggle erupted from your lips as your eyes landed on the apron John had gifted Sherlock for his birthday and it read: 'kiss the consulting detective'.

"What's all this?" You asked, heart warmed and bewildered as the scent of your favourite cinnamon and apple candle lingered in the air.

"Well my dear, I know this case has been hard for both of us, and I haven't exactly been the best fiancé as of late …" he sighed as he came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind, "and I know how important Halloween is to you, so please, as well as us solving the case let this be our mini date and later, I'll take you to dinner."

"Sherlock," you smiled, your eyes welling up with happy tears, '"You're far too good for me."

"There's no such thing as too good," he smiled back and took your jaw in his hands, gently turning your head towards him as he pressed a long tentative kiss into your lips, that you couldn't help but melt into, "not when it comes to you."

"I swear, I fall deeper and deeper for you every single day, now where's that apron?" You grinned and reached under the table, grabbing your matching apron that read: "ask me about serial killers. I dare you." And tied it around your waist as you and Sherlock prepared the stencils and knives for the carving.

The morning sun rose higher in the sky and perfectly illuminated the kitchen in a warm amber glow as you and Sherlock laughed at every stupid pin and concept the two of you could come up with. With every slice you made, Sherlock held the pumpkin still, and somehow despite all your measures, you still ended up with pumpkin innards on your face.

"How do you get yourself in such a state?" Sherlock chuckled and brought his knuckles up to your face, wiping away the pumpkin.

"You're a fine one to talk, how did you get it on your chest?" You fired back teasingly and turned in his arms, facing him as you wiped the pumpkin guts away and kissed his chest.

"If you do that again, I think I might just melt," he said, his cheeks flushing crimson as he smiled bashfully down at you.

"Maybe that was my intention," you whispered and stood in your tiptoes, your fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kissed him softly. A wide smile spread on your lips as you heard him sigh lovingly as he pulled you flush against his chest. As your hands brushed against his chest, your eyebrows furrowed, "Sherl, are you allergic to pumpkin? Or rather their innards?"

"Not as far as I'm aware." He mumbled and went to peck your lips, frowning as you pulled away.

"I think you might want to check your reflection," you said as you held up the shiny saucepan and showed Sherlock the angry rash that was making its way across his chest.

"Ah, well there goes that idea."

"Not necessarily," you said as you put the pan down and collected the innards, "I think we've almost got the pattern down. Why don't you go for a shower and I'll finish the design?"

"You're not going to join me?" He pouted and gave you his infamous puppy dog eyes.

"Hmm, okay." You agreed and washed your hands, "you know those eyes won't always work on me."

"Hmm, debatable," he grinned and swept you off of your feet, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom, "Happy spooky season, my love."

"Happy spooky season, darling."

Okay so I found this post on Pinterest but honestly it shot my heart to pieces. Like the fall wrecks me every time and it makes me sob, but this is the moment that has me screaming at my TV ! Especially the fact that you hear Lestrade say to John, "Leave it or I'll arrest you too!", and out of all of the people Sherlock trusted, of all the people Sherlock cares about, it's Lestrade who leads the arrest. And Sherlock doesn't even resist, he goes willingly. And ughh it makes me so mad because no one sees in that moment he's innocent and it's like Moriarty is winning. And god it's a beautiful piece of media but ughh I just wanted to jump through the TV and hold Sherlock and fight anyone who tried to arrest him.

A Sentiment? Sentiment! Spin off.

It wasn't unusual for you to camp out at the university library, especially in the early hours of the morning, and tonight was no exception as you made your way to the library with 7 thick cold case files stuffed under your arm, a pile of books covering everything from criminology to forensic pathology to basic chemistry piled high in your arms. A travel mug and your university tied loosely around your leather satchel.

And after a little struggle, you finally made it to the third floor of your university library - that for the last two weeks had been so empty that you and the security guards were the only ones in the building.

Yet, as you headed over to your usual seat in the far corner, you noticed a familiar handsome face sat in your spot and you inwardly groaned, but took yourself over there and stood opposite him regardless.

"You're in my spot," you announced, your voice horse from exhaustion and dehydration.

"Really?" I don't see your name on it," the familiar face quipped back, almost childishly, as he continued writing down notes.

"Really. Every night for the past two weeks, I've sat there. It's the only computer that allows me to access the sites I need to solve these," you explained and gestured to the files under your arm, "So if you'd be so kind,"

"You solve cold cases when you can't sleep, why?" He questioned as he turned to face you, your air of confidence and strange ways captured every ounce of his attention.

"Why not? They need solving and serial killers are fascinating," you smiled and shrugged as if it was obvious, raising an eyebrow at his observations, "how can you tell I'm here because I can't sleep?"

"Why else would you be here at half 1 in the morning?"

"Touché, although I'd say you've gone longer without sleep, what are you working on anyway?"

"The criminology homework that Will assigned us, but it's so DULL." He groaned and put his pen down.

"Not to mention entirely scientifically inaccurate and trying to twist facts to suit theory," you complained and put your books and case files on the next desk over from him, taking a seat. "I'm y/n. Y/n L/N," you said offering your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." He said and shook your hand, a small impressed smile on his lips before he let your hand go and went back to doing his homework.

And whilst your seat remained taken and your early morning plans were thrown out of the window, you couldn't help but feel content in the chaos, and in a series of comfortable silences you set to working on your cold cases and homework simultaneously.

As your conversations with Sherlock bloomed and deepened you didn't realise that the moon had made way for the sun, or that was until the warm autumn sunlight dusted both of your faces.

"What time is it?" You questioned as you looked up from your paperwork, your hair a mess from where you'd run your hands through it in frustration and your scarf askew in your shoulders.

"7am," Sherlock said through a yawn, "we have an hour until class."

"We're all out of coffee," you signed and peered down the inside of your flask, "the cafeteria doesn't open until 9am and the coffee is bitter as hell."

"hm, you're right." He said as he started to pack his things away and encouraged you to do the same, "come in, you're coming over to mine for coffee."

"won't people talk!?" You asked and yet without realising it, you put your belongings away.

"people do little else," he retorted and paused raising an eyebrow at you, "I thought you didn't care what people think about you?"

"I don't. It's just my roommate's keep going on about how many lads they're going to shag this year, and I can't be asked to deal with their gossiping. Like surely there's more to life than sex, no? Or am I just not normal?"

"I don't know many women who would be studying 7 cold cases and doing homework between 1 am and 7am with a loner such as myself. So no, you're not normal," he explained, his face neutral but the glint of admiration lingered in his eyes as he watched you before adding, "but then again, normal is terribly boring. Now come on or we won't have time for our caffeine fix."

"You know, you're not as bad as everyone makes you out to be," you said quietly as you put your bag on your shoulder and opened the door, gesturing for him to go first, "so...does this make us friends?"

"I suppose it does, it's a pleasure." He smiled and held the door open for you, "how long do you think it would take for Will to kick us out of his class?"

"It depends, how do you intend for us to get kicked out and keep our degree?" You questioned as the two of you stepped into the small dusty lift, and it took everything in your power not to blush as your hands kept brushing.

"Ahem, " he said as he cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted pink, "what if we argued over the C.O.D. you've seen the slides, yes?"

"The ones that Will wants us to believe that the C.O.D. is suffocation rather than the obvious laceration that runs over the carotid artery in her neck?"

"Those are the ones," he said, impressed by your observation, "it would teach him a lesson."

"I like your thinking Mr. Holmes"

"and I yours, Miss L/n. I think this could be a very good start to a wonderful partnership."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," you beamed and walked towards the dormitories, offering him your elbow, "shall we?"

"Let's," he said, looking confused at your sudden gesture but after a breath he threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arm around yours.

And in that moment you knew that something amazing would be sure to bloom amongst the corpses and uni courses.

"John? John? Dr. John Hamish Watson, are you awake?" You whisper shouted as you pressed your ear to his bedroom door. And you were met with a sleepy grumble of 'fuck off' followed by the shifting of covers. It was fair to say John hadn't missed being awoken at 3am by yours and Sherlock's science fucked antics,but it was a cross he had to bare as he moved back in with you and your detective, after a rather nasty fight with Mary.

"John, it's important," you demanded as you leant against the door and tightened your dressing gown as a cold east wind blew through the upstairs window.

"I don't care. It's 3am, go back to sleep. I swear you're worse than Sherlock." John groaned as he held the pillow over his face.

"Aww thank you, I like to think me and him are alike."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"It was," you laughed through a yawn, "come on John, it's the sixth if January. It's his birthday and I need your help."

"He's your fiancé," John insisted.

"And he's your best friend," you retorted as you heard John get up from the bed and open the door, sending you flat on your back - starring right up John's loose shorts. "I can't unser that," you half groaned half awkward laughed as you covered your eyes and stood up, "but now that you're awake, want to help me plan Sherlock's birthday trip to Whitby?"

"Perv." John laughed and grabbed his dressing gown from the back of the chair and wrapped it around himself.

"Rude."

"Shut up, it was your fault. Wait...did you say trip?"

"yeah, we don't have a case for the next few days so I figured Sherlock likes pirates and old literature, and Whitby is chock full of both. And I know he hates people making a fuss over him on his birthday because he doesn't think he's important enough - which is bullshit. He's the most important man in my life and I'm determined to prove him wrong. So are you in?"

"Will you let me go back to sleep if I say yes?"

"Yes!"

"Then fine, in in. How long are we going for and when do I need to be ready for?" John asked as he looked in his desk for a pen and paper.

"3 days, and given Sherlock isn't a morning person, let's say 7:30 and we'll aim to be on the road by 9am."

"on the road. You're driving?"

"Of course, it's quicker."

"Heaven help me. Right, good night y/n. Go see Sherlock."

"I intend to. Night John!" You smirked and made your way down the stairs and back into yours and Sherlock's shared bed, where the consulting detective laid curled up on his side, his arms outstretched to your side of the bed.

"Happy birthday, my love." You whispered as you slipped into bed and wrapped yourself around him, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself as he pulled you closer and mumbled an affectionate, "Shut up" in his sleep.

"I love you too."

7:30 rolled around a lot quicker than you would have liked as the bedroom was flooded with warm winter sunlight, causing you to stir in Sherlock's arms - who was already half awake, gazing at you lovingly - although a spark of curiosity made its home in his eyes.

"What are you up to?" He questioned as he brushed your bed head out of your face.

"Sleeping," you teased with a shit eating grin as Sherlock gave you the 'really?' look and did everything in his power not to smile.

"Y/n."

"Sherlock."

"Y/m/n."

"Hey that's not how you get answers!" You said as you pressed a kiss to his lips to stop him from saying your last name. And Sherlock couldn't help but melt into the kiss, his hands cupped your face as your hands roamed his chest and rested on his heart.

"Will you tell me now?" Sherlock instead between the kisses.

"Fine! But the only information you're getting now, is that you need to pack enough clothes to cover 3 days and dinner. Oh, and we need to be on the road by 9am - I'm driving." You explained as you gave him a quick kiss and moved off of the bed, searching underneath it for yours and Sherlock's travel bags.

"What about cases?" Sherlock questioned as he laid across the bed and found the bags immediately.

"There's nothing interesting on the website and Greg's got Scotland yard covered. London can survive without us for 3 days." You said, your voice soft against the quiet of the room, your eyes full of love as you gave Sherlock your best puppy dog eyes, "please can we celebrate the day that the worlds greatest detective and the love of my life, was born?"

"Fine. But only because I love you." He sighed in defeat.

"I love you too!" You beamed, "I'm gonna make some tea for the road. You can bring the nun outfit if you like."

"Really?" Sherlock smirked and raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

"Well it is your birthday," you smiled and as you made your way to his side of the bed, pulled him into a desperate hungry kiss. His hands clawed at your clothing as he pulled you down onto the bed with him.

"Do we have to wait until Whitby?" Sherlock questioned as you pulled the hem of his t-shirt away from his hips.

"How do you know about Whitby?" You asked and pressed a kiss to his exposed V line - earning a shiver and withheld moan in response.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes." He smiled triumphantly.

"William!" You teased, knowing you'd pay for it later.

"Yes, Fifi?" He fired back with a gaze that said: bite me.

"No! Have you been talking with my mum?" You asked through a suprised laugh and held your hands up in defense, "in my defense, I was 5 and obsessed with Fifi the flower tot."

"You are so adorable," he teased and ruffled your hair.

"Shut, up," you said affectionately and straddled him, making sure he stayed still.

"Make me," he dared and put his hands on your inner thighs as he met your lust blown eyes.

"Oh gladly, birthday boy."

It was around 2:30 when you finally arrived in Whitby and the last boat was about to leave the dock, and you'd be dammed if you came all this way just to miss the boat. So you, John and Sherlock ran as fast as you could from the car down to the dock.

"Wait! Wait! Please!" You called out to the captain who was beginning to pile the last passengers on.

"Sorry love, you're two minutes too late," The captain said as he stepped out from behind his stand.

"Please! I'll do anything. It's my fiancés birthday and I just want to prove to him that he is loved and his life is worth celebrating." You plead with the captain who looked past you and straight at Sherlock who was trying desperately to hide his blush that was only made worse by John pointing it out.

And with a defeated sigh and a kind smile, The captain lifted the chain and signaled for you to board. "the world needs more women like you. Give him a good birthday. Heaven knows he needs it."

"Thank you, Greg," you whispered his name and picked up three hats from the side of the ship.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this for me," Sherlock said as he looked down at the pirate hat with a fond smile.

"Of course I do, Sherl. I love you and even if you don't think you're important enough, we do. Right, John?"

"She's right. She even woke me up at 3am to help arrange this trip. She even looked up my shirts." John said a wicked grin on his face as he erupted into a fit of laughter at Sherlock's shocked expression.

"John Hamish Watson!" You chided and hid your face behind your hat before you looked at Sherlock, "It's not like how John put it. I was leaning on his door and as he opened it I fell backwards and I saw what I really wish I didn't. But if it helps I can tell you who's bigger."

"Y/n!" Sherlock cried out in false shock, but as the three of you looked between each other, you could stop yourselves from collapsing in a fit of laughter as Sherlock met your eyes and asked, "So who is bigger?"

"You." You whispered and met his gaze with a cheeky wink, "both in..." You trailed off and used hand gestures to represent length and girth as John wandered down the ship to give you and Sherlock some alone time.

As you passed the light house you couldn't help but admire how tranquil and content Sherlock looked with his legs curled up in the chair and a pirate hat adorning his beautiful head which rested on his hands as he stared out to sea.

A smile spread across your lips as you came and laid in the seat next to him, placing your head in his lap. "Having fun?" You sighed contently as he played with your hair, carefully working out the knots the sea breeze had gifted you with.

"Hmm, it's far more relaxing than I thought it would be," he admitted and pressed a kiss to your ringed hand.

"I'm glad. I just thought you'd been a bit in edge for last few days. So I figured now would be the best time to get London out of your lungs," you said as you held his hand and rubbed his arm comfortingly with the free one.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He asked genuinely, his voice so soft you thought it might break.

"Everything and more. I mean it, both romantically and literally - you have done far more for me than words will ever be able to express." You smiled and nuzzled your face against his legs as you got comfy.

"I..." Sherlock stammered, happily overwhelmed by the compliment, "how's your knee fairing with the sea breeze?"

"It hurts a bit but I'll be okay wen we get back to the hotel," you admittedly glad that you settled in bringing your full packet of codine and ibuprofen with you, "I promise."

"You'll tell me if it gets bad, though?"

"As long as you do the same, then my answer will always be yes," you said as you played with his scarf and pulled him down for a kiss, "what do you fancy for dinner? John suggested fish and chips or a fancy tea?"

"Fuck if. If you two are determined to make me enjoy my birthday then I guess we can get fancy tea, as long as there's cake."

"You and cake," you teased.

"Shut up, you like it when I taste sweet," he grinned and captured your lips in a long desperate kiss, his arms held tight around your waist as his curls tickled your forehead.

"Maybe I do," you grinned into the kiss as you held your arms over his and chuckled as you felt his heart race against your back.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking about the time you kissed me and my heart monitor raced like crazy."

"God you're so romantic," Sherlock laughed, feigning annoyance.

"oh no, here comes the affection deficiency, I need kiss. Stat! Captain Holmes!"

"As you command first mate y/L/N!" He laughed heartily and peppered kisses all over your face until you were almost breathless with giggles.

And John couldn't help but smile at the sight of his two best friends, completely and whole heartedly in love. He thanked his lucky stars that he brought his cam corder with him, because he was going to play this recording at your wedding.

"Come on lovebirds, we'll miss the reservations at the cake place and the fancy tea." John smiled as he hanged up his hat and made his way -with you and Sherlock in tow -to port.

"Thank you for everything, John." Sherlock said as he hung yours and his hat up.

"did you break him?" John asked as he turned towards you in confusion

"Nope, it's just sentiment."

"Sentiment?"

"Sentiment!" You and Sherlock stated at the same time, causing all three of you to smile brightly.

Perhaps celebrating his birthday wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

Crime solving wasn't exactly something you and Sherlock had planned on doing in the early hours of Christmas eve. But it would appear that the universe had a different idea as you and Sherlock laid snuggled up in bed, just ready to drop off to sleep when your phone decided to blast the inspector gadget theme song: ringtone that you had set specifically for Mycroft.

And just as you went to ignore it, Sherlock pulled you closer and sleepily mumbled, "it's Christmas, play nice, darling."

A soft smile danced on your lips as you nestled your head into his chest and brought the phone to your ear, "Y/L/N - Holmes, I'm assuming it's very important given the fact it is litterally 3am."

"We have a case. And it's a strange one at that..." Lestrade explained as he wandered around Mycroft's bedroom and kept his voice low enough that he could he heard, but not so loud as to wake the oldest Homes brother who was laid starkers on the bed - well spent and worn out.

Sickness was a rarity for you, and for Sherlock it was something that occurred once in a blue moon. But it would appear that the blue moon had decided to rear it's ugly head, one month before the month of Christmas.

As rain pounded against the window, you and Sherlock laid on your backs on top of the covers that sat on your bed. Your fingers brushed against each other as your temperatures began to rise. You were the first to break the silence with a groan, "remind me whose idea it was to run around London in the pouring rain?"

And yet Sherlock just smiled at you weakly, a small mischievous glint lingered in his eyes, "I believe that would be your doing, darling. I think your exact words were: a little rain never hurt anyone."

"Point taken," you grumbled before turning on your side to face him and regretted it instantly as it felt as if your brain was hammering against your skull, "but I'm just sooooo bored. Can we not go to a crime scene?"

"Oh my dear, you never fail to amuse me. But as bored as we are, I'm afraid if I stand I loose what little stomach contents I have. And going by your alarming discolouration it won't be long before our illnesses are on equal playing fields, my dear."

"Touché. Should we call John, I'm sure he could get the details for us." You offered as you reached out your arm for Sherlock, and yet just as he reached for you - he immediately decided against it and leapt from the bed and beelined to the bathroom. "Are you alright?" You asked, your voice soft as you kneeled next to him and rubbed soft circles over his back and kept his fringe out of his eyes as he lost his stomach contents to the toilet.

"Can you kill me?" He groaned as he slipped against the bathroom wall, and pulled you to sit with him, his head rested on your shoulders.

"Not a chance my dear. But I promise I'm not going anywhere."

"How are you not dying?" He groaned as he felt you shiver.

"Oh trust me, I am." You said and pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself - the shivers were beginning to turn into aches and you feared the worst. "I think we need a doctor."

"Quite right. Oh for fuck sa-" but before Sherlock could even groan or finish his curse, nature took hold once more and all you saw was darkness.

As the darkness consumed you, it became clear that your illness came with delusions - and yours just happened to involved Moriarty who stalked your every move. Every happy thought you had about you and Sherlock became tainted with the sound of Moriarty's horrid laughter.

'I took him from you once. I killed him once before, I can do it all over again in a heart beat.'

"You're not real. You died. This is all just a fever induced trick!" You cried in defiance and stood your ground, keeping an eye on Sherlock via your peripheral vision.

'Am I not?! Do you believe me now?!' Moriarty screamed, the words practically ripped from his throat as he forced you to walk to the edge of the roof and shove your lover over the edge and as Sherlock fell, you fell with him.

His body hit the ground and you awoke with a blood curdling scream, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your eyes scanned the room and you saw no sign of Sherlock, and yet as the panic rose in your chest, you found yourself too terrified to scream.

"Hey, hey y/n, look at me." John said softly, his voice cutting through the chaos that was your own mind as he stood in front of you, "you're okay, you're safe now."

"But Moriarty...he was...oh god! He forced me to push Sherlock... John...I--" you said as your breath caught in your throat and you curled in on yourself and screamed until John's arms wrapped around you. He held you so tight that you were scared, that if he was to let go you would fall apart entirely.

"Where's Sherlock?" You finally managed to ask through your tears.

"He's in the bathroom. But in all honesty, he's not in the best way, right now."

"But if my hallucination is that bad, Sherlock's would be..."

"I know..."

In a way, John was right. Sherlock's hallucinations were so much worse, and far far more vivid as he laid curled up on the bathroom floorm his mind was like a battlefield as he stood at Redbeards grave, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"I failed you," he muttered as he knelt on the grass and gripped his fallen dogs collar to his chest.

"Well, you were always such a stupid child," Mycroft's voice echoed in Sherlock's mind.

"I'm not stupid," Sherlock protested as he tried and failed to stand, "and neither was redbeard."

"No? Look at you, completely entangled in sentiment, you can't even sea what it's doing to you," Mycroft sneered as he watched his brother crumple, "she doesn't love you. You know that."

"Shut up!"

"She'll leave you and who will you have to impress then? John won't care, he's moved on with his life. You deserve to be alone. You should have died at Moriarty's hand."

"NO!" Sherlock's voice ripped from his throat as he clawed at the grass and the world around him started to shake as Mycroft drive the metaphorical dagger just another inch deeper into Sherlock's heart.

"Does she know about your OD after Serbia? You should have laid down and died when you had the chance. Now, do enjoy the fall, brother mine."

And Sherlock couldn't help but howl I. Lain as the visions vanished, but all the wounds remained.

The only thing that broke him from his spiraling mind was the sound of the door being shoved open and the feel of your cold hands on his cheeks. Neither of you could speak as the air caught in your throats and stole every single word from you.

But neither of you needed words, as your eyes met in a gaze of terrifying of desperation. Your arms wrapped around each other as you sobbed. Unable to determine what was real and what was not. All he knew, all you knew, was that your lives would never be the same again.

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?" You questioned as you carried two cups of tea over to where Sherlock was sat on the sofa, with a blanket over his knees, waiting for you.

"I barely know where to start..." He sighed, his hands shaking as he took his mug from you, a soft smile crossed his lips when he heard his engagement ring clink against the china. A gentle reminder of exactly what he was fighting for.

"Who did you see in your hallucination?" You asked, your voice barely audible as you cuddled your mug in both hands and snuggled into his chest, sighing softly as his arm settled on your waist.

"Mycroft and redbeard... well his grave that is. What about you?"

"I-- I saw Moriarty, we were in a room with no windows or doors at first and then--" you paused, your breath caught in your throat as the memories of the hallucination played on repeat inside your mind.

"We don't have to talk about it if you're not ready, y/n/n."

"It's okay Sherl, we need to talk about it but before we go to bed, can we talk about something else?"

"Anything in particular?"

"No. I just want to be distracted and I don't want to go to sleep without you in my arms."

"Funny, I was just about to say that I have no intention of going to bed without you."

"Great minds think alike," you smiled and entwined your ring clad hands.

"Indeed they do. Which makes our hallucinations-" he hesitated almost as if he was scared to breath them into existence.

"What happened?"

"Do you want the long version or the short version?"

"I have all night, Sherl," you said as you leant your head on his shoulder and his head rested on yours.

"I never thought it would end. I knew Mycroft and I were never particularly close as children...but I never thought he'd be the manifestation of my fear..."

"What was your worst fear?" You asked as you placed your mug on the coffee table and rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand as he spoke.

"Loosing you. You growing bored of me or I guess... survivors guilt- after the fall and what happened in Serbia..." He said, his words drifting off as he tried to block out the memory. His eyes were soft and sorrowful as he looked at you and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face,"what was your hallucination about?"

You couldn't help but lean into his touch and press a kiss to his palm, "Moriarty. It was so real, I thought he was back. We were in the roof of Bart's and he-he forced me to push you off of the edge and as you fell, I fell with you...but I-"

"Hey, shh. It's okay. He's dead, he won't come near us ever again." Sherlock whispered as he brushed away the tears you didn't know you had shed.

"Are you okay?" You asked as you met his gaze, tears shimmered in his eyes and you knew it was a stupid question. Neither if you were okay after the fever, but:

"We will be in time."

Several hours passed since your conversations about your nightmares and yet your body seemed determined to stay awake as you and Sherlock laid awake facing each other.

"Why are you trying so hard to stay awake?" Sherlock asked, his voice scarcely a whisper as he pulled you to lay on his chest - knowing that the rhythm of his heart was a comfort to you.

Your voice was barely audible as you tried to speak, "because I'm scared that when I wake up; you won't be there."

Sherlock's heart leapt to his throat as he looked at your broken expression and the floodgates that he'd been despretly trying to hold together - broke. "I didn't mean to hurt you, and I will spend the rest of my days making things right. You won't loose me. Not now. Not ever."

"And I promise you I am never going anywhere. If anyone says different do not listen to them, Sherlock, because you are single handedly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I have never and will never bore of you."

"I love you y/n, so so much."

"And I love you Sherlock, with everything that I am."

"Sherlock! Sherlock, are you in?!" John called out as he climbed the stairs to 221B.

But alas, he was met with the sound of gunfire and Sherlock shouting: "Bored!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Bored!"

"Sorry, what?!" John said as he covered his ears and turned away from the gunfire.

"I'm bored!" Sherlock shrugged as he twirled and flopped down in his chair, carelessly dropping the gun to the floor.

"Where's y/n? Is she not about to entertain you?"

"She always keeps me entertained, John," he explained as he opened his phone -preparing to text you - but then he thought better of it, "she's in work -last autopsy before she joins us. But she is also in work mode which means we won't be hearing from her for at least another four hours. Last time I interrupted her, she told me to fuck off and I didn't hear the end of it for a week."

"That's our y/n, you know you to make a perfect match. Seriously."

"Thank you, John," he said as he smiled bashfully and offered John a seat, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nice to see you too, Sherlock." John laughed as he sat in his chair, facing the detective,"how do you feel about laser tag?"

"Laser tag?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried his head in a cross between curiosity and confusion.

"Hmm, it's when you shoot people with lassers rather than bullets and-"

"I know what it is. But why do you want to go? Or us to go, I should say?"

"Because, it's been a hell of a long week and I figured it's been a while since the four of us spent time together. Plus it was mainly y/n's idea."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we were talking about the army and turns out when she was in her teens she had some military training, never made it in fully because of being medically discharged, but you know she got pretty far. "

"Colour me intrigued, Dr. Watson. When and where?"

"Tonight. 6pm."

"Does y/n know?"

"Not that it's booked no. But consider it an belated anniversary gift and an apology...for two months ago."

"Thank you John."

"You're welcome Sherlock," John said as he slapped his thighs and stood up, "right I best be off. I've left Mary in the car. Oh and you might want to check your phone. Y/ns not in work mode anymore."

"Quite right. I'll see you and Mary at 6. Here?"

"Yep." Was all that John managed to say before the sound of his and Mary's car horn broke the peaceful calm of the flat. And as John left the flat, Sherlock smiled down at his phone and the photo you sent if yourself with your P45 and a file that unsolved cases written across the top, with the caption that read: 'i'm officially your detective in training. Ready for target practice?'

With a smile on his face he sent back a text that simply read: "I have a different target practice in mind, Mrs. Homes - hurry back."

"As you wish, my dear🫀. I'll be at Baker Street in 10."

"Oh, oh, no. Put your coat back on, we're going out," Sherlock said as you stepped into the flat, coat around your shoulders, and dropped your bag.

"Now? Where? with who?" You said as you looked over your shoulder at him, with your hair dishevilled and your scrubs covered in god knows what fluids.

"At 6. With John and Mary. I can't say where yet but I'm certain you'll like it," he explained and looked at you almost as if he was trying to deduce your unspoken past.

"Sherl, it's only 5:30. Can I st least get changed? I smell like death and I'm covered in embalming fluid," you said as you raised an eyebrow at him, "you're acting strange, what's wrong?"

"Is it true you're military trained?" .

"How did you know?"

"John told me."

"Ah I see," you said as you finished taking your coat of before leading the way to the bathroom, "to be honest, I tend to forget I'm military trained - but I'm one hell of a crack shot."

"Really?" Sherlock questioned as he raised a curious eyebrow and followed you and leant on the door frame that connected your shared bedroom to the bathroom.

"Hmm, I once shot a Sargent through the leg - completely accidental. I had ear defenders in and I'd previously just fired - so my ears were ringing and I honestly, hand on heart, thought he said fire - so I did." You explained through a guilty laugh and stripped out of your scrubs and turned the shower on, "it was at that exact moment, that Sarge decided to walk into the firing line and I fired my L98A2 riffle and fair to say that Sarge was hospitalised for the day- he didn't look at me for the rest of camp. But on the bright side I got Bullseye!"

Sherlock couldn't help but smile as he fell deeper in love with you, "I knew you had the potential to be dangerous but I underestimated, just how dangerous you can be," he said softly as you stepped into the shower -glad to be rid of the smell of death .

"Thank you?...so how's your day been?"

"Boring! I had no cases,you were busy and Mrs. Hudson took my skull," he muttered as he sat in the doorway.

"I missed you too Sherl. But I do have a question if you'll indulge me?" You suggested as you poked your shampoo covered head out of the shower - capturing his attention.

"I will indulge."

"Thank you, so part 1: are you mad I didn't tell you about my dealing with the military? Part 2: do you think you're going to get hired of me, both romantically and as work partners?" You asked as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel before heading over to Sherlock, and the detective only had to take one look at your eyes to know that something wasn't quite right.

"Bad shift?" He questioned and opened his arms for your embrace and you fell into them perfectly, "I could never be bored of you.,"

"It was the worst shift imaginable. I'm sorry. I don't doubt your love for me or anything. I love you with all my heart ."

"I know and I love you too. But look at me, you're free from them now. And tonight we can use your military knowledge of yours to our advantage."

"How so?"

"Laser tag! And I intend for us to win."

"What's our reward?"

"Hmm, you'll just have to wait and see."

"Can I at least get a celebratory kiss?"

"You know you never have to ask,come here." He smiled as wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a long loving kiss that you couldn't help but melt into. Your lips barely brushed against each other because of your loving smiles - everything was finally into with the world as your hands rested over Sherlock's heart. He broke the kiss for air. A love drunk smile lingered on his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered "welcome to csi Baker Street."

"It's a pleasure to be here," you grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "oh shit, Sherlock! We're going to be late," you said and dashed over to the dresser, changing into a black top and leggings combo.

"Let's go and defeat the Watsons."

Take out the Watsons was the understatement of the year, as within the first 15 minutes Sherlock had already analited Mary via a shot to the back and a second (partially unnecessary) shot to the chest. And whilst Sherlock was in the thrill of the game, you decided to use his excitement to your advantage, and heel-toe crept towards the corner in which the curly haired detective had hid himself. A smirk crept across your lips as you scaled the small wall and stood silently beside the detective - just waiting eagerly for him to notice you.

And by God did the detective surprise you as he let out a rather loud scream that you had to silence with your lips."I didn't know you were scared of the dark," you whispered as your fingers drummed on the barrel of the laser gun.

Sherlock trembled deliciously in your arms, his pupils dilated, his pulse racing, and his breathing heavy as he held a hand on your hips, the other on his gun.

It took him a minute but he finally found the strength to answer, "I'm not scared if the dark. I just wasn't expecting to be ambushed by my own fiancé."

"Military trained, remember?" You teased, "silence is my speciality."

However, your teasing didn't last long as Sherlock grabbed you by the hips and pressed you against the wall, his tall frame towered over you as he listened and waited for John's footsteps to ksds before he placed his left arm above your head. As his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, you felt the cold barrell of the gun press against your vest. Your breath hitched as you started to close the distance, raising your gun to his side. "Don't you dare," you whispered as your lips brushed against each other.

"I would never," Sherlock purred as he closed the gap between the two of you. And by the gods you were glad he did as your lips moved in perfect sync. A soft sigh left his lips as he relaxed under your touch. The grip in his gun slipped as he cupped your cheek and deepened the kiss.

And just as you gripped at his shirt - practically drunk in his touch - you raised the gun and pressed the trigger - hitting his vest square on the side.

"Did you just shoot me?" Sherlock questioned, both shocked and impressed.

"Sorry Sherl, but it's all fair in love and war," you said as you slipped out from underneath him, but he caught your wrist before you were fully free.

"You didn't think I was done, did you darling?" He teased, his deep baritone voice rumbled in his chest as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed the tip of the gun into the small of your back.

And if took everything in you, not to loose focus on the game, "Sherlock, you're distracting me. We're gonna lose."

"Not a chance. We'll simply use the darkness to our advantage."

"How so?"

"If I shoot you now,we have approximately 2 minutes before the game realises we lost. And John is just behind us, if we ambush him now, we win the game."

"I know there was a reason I loved you" you smiled and raised your gun.

"Is that the only reason!" He teased and hovered his finger over the trigger.

"Of course not, do you need me to prove it to you?"

"Oh I know the reasons, but if you want to prove it when we return to the flat, be my guest."

"Hmm, careful what you wish for Mr. Holmes, it's a long list." You said and Sherlock thanked the darkness for hiding his bashful blush.

"Hmm no. Nope. Come on y/n, we need to focus. Quick! Now!" Sherlock announced as he shot you just in find.

For John turned the corner, and the pair of you unleashed fire on him until the overhead speakers announced: Holmes wins!

"You two cheated!" John protestedbas the three of you left the battle ground.

Sherlock simply smiled, "not at all John, as just used our knowledge to our advantage!"

"Y/n?"

"It's the truth. Apparently being distracted works wonders for scheming." You offered as you and Sherlock walked hand in hand behind John.

"Do I want know what you to did?"

"We didn't do anything...."

"Yet..."

"Gross! Did you two want dinner?"

"Starving." You and the detective chimed in perfect sync, and sped up to catch John who was already complaining to Mary.

It was just after mid afternoon when you and Sherlock managed to tackle the mountain of washing up that had formed after the family lunch. And you couldn't help but admire how tranquil Sherlock looked as he rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and got stuck into the washing up, although his gaze was fixated on you.

You couldn't help but smile as the sound of classical music flooded the kitchen, and you leant your head on his shoulder, "oh mr. Sherlock Holmes, I think in dying of attention and affection deficit!"

"Don't you start," he chuckled, trying and failing to with hold a smile.

"O+ not even a hug for little ol' me!" You cried as you out the dry bowl on the sideboard before you put your hand in your forehead and fell ever so slightly towards him.

And thankfully due to his cat like reflexes, he caught you. His smile grew wider as his soapy hands wrapped around your waist. His voice was affectionate as he spoke, "you are insufferable."

"And you love it, my wonderful genius," you said and brought his knuckles up to your lips and pressed a kiss onto them before the two of you returned to what you was supposed to be doing.

"Maybe so," he said with pink dusted cheeks,"you know there's a BnB up the road we could stay in."

"Not a chance, besides your parents home is cozy and I think your mum has something for us."

"Really?" He questioned as you two swapped jobs. And yet, as you swapped jobs, you didn't notice the way Mr. And Mrs. Holmes stood in the doorway and watched the pair of you - proud, full of love, and reminiscing on their younger days.

"Look at them George, aren't they adorable!" Mrs. Miram Holmes said as she held her hand over her heart.

"Indeed they are. Although I'm surprised their so affectionate, you know with them being so analytical," George said as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

"Yes, but you know Sherlock is secretly emotional and it was about time he found someone to love. She'll make an absolutely brilliant Holmes."

"Quite right, dear."

"We can hear you!" Sherlock called as he put away the last of the plates and leant on the sink next to you, holding your hand. Your cheeks flushed at the compliment, "thank you, Mr and Mrs. Holmes."

"Please call us Miriam and George, or you can call us mum and dad if you prefer."

"I will do, thank you Miram."

"Come, follow me through to the living room, I've got something for you both and our Mikey!" Miram said as she lead the way into the cozy living room.

"Are you sure you don't want to escape now?" Sherlock whispered as he slipped his arm around your waist.

"If I have to tolerate Mycroft, you can tolerate your parents for one night. Us we've just been handed ammunition for when Mycroft's being annoying."

"Touché. Although you know we probably won't be allowed to share the same bed."

"Really?"

"Hmm, it's some old Christian thing."

"Ugh," you groaned, unintentionally outloud. And out the corner of your eye, you saw sherlock smirk victorious.

"Don't worry, my darling, I'm sure you can survive one night without m-my touch."

"Never," you shook your head as you squeezed his hand and let him lead you to the fire place.

"Here, Sherlock this is for you. Mycroft here is yours. John has his, and don't think I forgot about you y/n," Mr. Holmes said as he handed out his wives crocheted jumpers. You couldn't help but smile as you felt the soft yarn beneath your fingers, and as you unfolded the jumper you noticed that Mrs. Holmes had taken great care to sew in a pumpkin. Just for you.

"Oh this is absolutely beautiful, thank you!" You said as you watched Sherlock's eyes light up as he saw the dog knitted into his jumper.

"Go out them on, I want a photo of all 3 of you."

"All 3 of us?" Mycroft questioned as you and Sherlock began to leave the room.

"Do you have a problem with that Mycroft?"

"She's not a- no, mummy."

"Good."

"I'm not a what?" You muttered under your breath, but you had a feeling you already knew what the answer was going to be.

"Y/n, might I have a word?" Mycroft questioned as he opened the door to the empty living room and allowed you to walk in before he closed it behind you, "it has come to your attention, that you neglected to inform me about Sherlock's latest danger night, roughly 2 months ago. Why?"

"Because Mycroft," you said, keeping your voice in a low whisper as you heard Sherlock's footsteps coming from the hallway, "it wasn't bad enough to call you, and it was his request that you did not know about it."

"You are his fiancée. You should have pressed the issue. Forced him to tell me!" Mycroft insisted as he paced the living room whilst you leant against the arm of the sofa.

"It was not my place. But if you want to play that game- then why didn't you take care of him after the fall? I saw his scars Mycroft! What about what happened in Serbia? You could have stepped in!" You snapped, your eyes filled with fury.

"I couldn't risk being exposed!" Mycroft said in a feeble attempt to defend himself, but the fact that he just sat and watched as Sherlock was beaten to a pulp made your stomach chern.

"No, but you could risk your brother's life. Do you know how many sleepless nights I've sat with Sherlock? How many times I've listened to him cry because he doesn't think he's worthy of love? Because he thinks his life means nothing to you. All because of what you put him through!"

"That's not-"

"Don't you dare say fair, Mycroft. Nothing about what you did. Nothing about what you put him through was fair, and if I have to see him at his lowest again -because of you- then I promise they'll be hell to pay and don't think you can stop-"

"You will never make it as a Homes." Mycroft spat in a last ditch attempt to hurt you, and by God did it work as his words ripped through you like a bullet to the heart.

"I beg you're fucking pardon!" You tried to defend yourself but your words were feeble at best as they left your lips, and before you realised it, a single tear ran down your cheek."I need air." You said and moved towards the door, despretly wanting to be anywhere but here.

"Y/n, I didn't -"

"Don't. The damage has already been done." You sneered as you opened the living room door, only to see Sherlock - his eyes ablaze and his fists clenched at his side. He'd heard his brothers harsh words. He head everything, and as he reached his arm our to embrace you, you shook your head.

"I'm sorry. I can't," you muttered as you forced yourself to suppress the lain and keep your years from falling.

"Text me?" Sherlock offered as a solution and gave your hand a squeeze in the 1-4-3 pattern, but let you go when you nodded in silent agreement.

And just as you headed out of the front door, you heard Sherlock's voice - clear as day- shout, "HOW DARE YOU?!"

It was a little after 9pm when you returned to the cottage - purple and shivering. "Hey," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you joined Sherlock on the garden wall.

"Hey, feeling better?" He said as she shifted over allowing enough space for you to join him, but also enough room for you to sit closer if you wanted to.

"Hmm. Sorry for not answering your text, I just--"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. But just so you know when you go back in, Mycroft will be grovelling at your feet. I assured it. No one hurts the woman I love and gets away with it "

"Thank you," you smiled and lifted his arm as you settled against his side, and he couldn't help but smile softly as he drew soft circles on your hip, "not smoking today?"

"Not today, I figured it's best I stay off of them," he said as he pulled back his sleeve, revealing three patches, "I got worried about you and realised two wasn't enough."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Are you alright?"

"Hmm. I just don't want to risk another danger night. Not that I think that there's one incoming or that you've caused one. Because you haven't, not even in the slightest. Our weekends been absolutely perfect- and if this is a glimpse into forever with you, I want all of it." He explained as he pressed a kiss to your temple and held you closed to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"As do I. But I do have a question and I want your honest answer - regardless of the truth - if I were to give up my job at the morgue...could...could I solve crimes, with you and John...like permanently?"

"You want to solve crimes with me 24/7?" He questioned as a wide smile spread across his face and his eyes shimmered with pride and happy tears.

"Of course I do, Sherl, you mean the world to me. And the way I see our future, involves us working side by side. So...is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes, y/n! It would be an honour to have your expertise at the crime scene with me," he grinned and took your hands in his, "I promise when we get back to baker Street, we can discuss our future in more depth."

"You've thought about our life together?" You grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek, your fingers lingered on his pulse.

"You minx," he playfully chided as he knew you felt his pulse race, "you know I have. Ever since I first met you, I knew this is where we'd end up, and the future - although statistically unpredictable - has so much more in-store for us. But for now we best get inside before the wind turns us to ice and we get a lecture from my parents."

"I think the lecture from Mycroft was enough."

"Forget him, he's an idiot and you saved me. Despite what he said."

"I didn't mean for you to over hear..."

"I would have stepped in anyway, love. But come, that was in the past. Now it's just the future we need to focus on."

As 3am rolled around, neither you or Sherlock could sleep - perhaps it was due to the fact that you were made to sleep in separate beds, or perhaps it was the excitement of what was to come, but sleep did not come easily to either of you. And so you figured you'd go and sit in the living room until sleep threatened to overtake you. And it would appear that Mrs. Homes had the same idea as she stood in the kitchen making tea.

"Oh y/n, there you are. Are you alright? Sherlock said you and Mycroft had a bit of a tiff."

"I'm okay. I think in all honesty, it had been a lon time coming. But I know in my heart of hearts, what he said is far from the truth." You sighed and leant against the kitchen counter.

"I'm sorry my dear, but what exactly did he say to you?"

"That I would never make it as a Holmes."

"Right come with me. Mycroft owes you an apology."

"At 3am?"

"No daughter in law of mine is going to be treated with such disrespect."

"Oh, I do love you Mrs. Homes," to u cried as Mrs. Holmes gave you a mischievous look.

"And I you, y/n. Just ensure that George and I get an invite to the wedding." She said as she ran up the stairs and shoved the door to Mycroft's childhood bedroom open, her maternal voice vanished and instead it was replaced with that of maternal rage.

And you couldn't help but laugh at the shrill scream that left Mycroft breathless.

"You!"

"Hey, this was all your mum's idea. Not mine!" You said as you held your hands up in defence, and smirked as you saw Sherlock laughing in the corridor.

"Fine, I'm sorry. Happy?" He grumbled and sat up in bed with his arms crossed over his chest and his teddy bear trapped between him and the wall.

"Very. Thank you Miram," you smiled and hugged her as Sherlock managed to snap a photograph of Mycroft.

"My pleasure, my dear. We'll make a Holmes out of you yet. Have you thought about children?"

"Sherlock!" You called as you slipped out of her embrace and headed over to your sleepy detective who looked just as shocked as you.

"That's how it starts!" She called as she watched your faces turn crimson.

"Mother!"

"Fuck the painting," Sherlock practically growled as he signed his name on the canvas and strode over to you, dropping to his knees before you. His lips instantly found yours as he tipped your chin with his knuckle.

"What happened to your self control?" You smirked and pulled away so you were just out of reach, and you couldn't help but bite your lip as you saw frustration flicker in your lovers eyes.

"Oh darling, that went out of the window long ago," he purred and ran his fingers through your hair before he grabbed a small handful and tuged at it. And you were defenceless as you moaned and pressed your thighs together, "now, will you allow me to kiss you?"

"Hmm," you sighed as you feigned thought, and as your eyes met his you whispered,"not here."

"What?"

"Sherl, we both know where this is going to lead," you said as you ran your hands over his bare chest and snaked one up his neck, "do you really want everyone to see just how undone I can make you?"

"Bedroom. Now!" Sherlock ordered as he helped you stand and tossed you his coat, instructing you to wear it. And by God did you follow his instructions and you were glad you did as he came up behind you, and picked you up bridal style. His voice was like silk as he whispered in your ear, "do you have any idea what seeing you in my coat, does to me?"

"I think I may have some idea," you teased playfully as you directed his attention downards to his erection that was begging to be touched and you by the growl that rumbled deep in his chest you were in for a long night.

And quite frankly, you were glad you'd booked the honeyoon suite because, as soon as you crossed the threshold, Sherlock placed you on the floor and pressed you against the door, his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. "Fuck it," was the last words that slipped past his lips before he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, the other lingered on your thigh bracelet.

His lips were delicious as the crashed into yours, and you couldn't help but savour the feeling as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip.

Practically begging for entrance - which he gladly gave as he stepped closer to you until there was practically no room between you.

As your tongues fought for control, you hooked your leg around his waist and ground your hips over his cock, and you could have sworn you heard him whimper as he rutted against you.

"Using me to get you off? Naughty boy." You teased seductively as you broke the kiss for air.

"I don't hear you complaining," he purred as he kissed your neck, gently nipping and sucking over your pressure point in perfect sync to your breathy moans.

"I never have any complaints with you, ah~Sher-"

"If you want this to go further, darling, you'll have to use my full name," he purred as he trailed kiss after kids down your body before stopping at the top of your thighs, instructing you to part them.

And by God did you comply as you hands found his hair. But just as you went to whisper praise, his phone vibrated in his coat pocket and started to ring obnoxiously. You eyes couldn't help but widen as you watched Sherlock snake his hand into his pocket and fish out the phone - fingers hovering over the answer button. "Sherlock Holmes, don't you dare!" You warned as he kissed the top of your thigh and placed one leg on his shoulder.

"Answer it love, and if you make it through the call with no one figuring out what we're up to then and only then will I reward you."

"And if I don't?"

"You've heard of delayed satisfaction, right?"

"You wouldn't..."

"Try me. Now answer, y/n." He ordered as he looked at you through his lashes, his eyes blown wide with lust as his tongue found your clit and it took everything in your power to stop from coming undone right then and there.

You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath and answered, "Sherlock Holmes phone, who's speaking?"

"It's Mycroft. Where's Sherlock?"

"Hmm..." You swallowed a whimper and smirked when Sherlock tapped your thigh to show you how many orgasms he intended to reward you with, "Sherlock is very pre-occupied st the moment, can I take a message?"

"Have I called at a bad time?"

"No, no. Sherlocks in the bath and I just knocked water everywhere... we're reading through an old case," you lied and there came the second two as Sherlock slowly worked two fingers inside you and curled them in a come hither motion, and you had to place your hand over your moth to stop from moaning. And the bastard detective, smirked.

"Well I wanted to discuss the possibility of you (and Sherlock of course) coming to our parents for Sunday dinner. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye as of late, so y/n, consider this a leave offering if you will. Will you be there?"

"Yes! Yes!" You cried out as you came undone around Sherlock's fingers and tongue, fighting to control your breathing as you answered Mycrof, "what I mean to say, is yes. I would love to attend. What time?"

"1pm tomorrow. I'll send a car."

"Of course. Right, was that all?"

"Yes. See you tomorrow, sister mine. "

"Bye Mycroft." You said and hung up. You double checked before you put it down and turned to Sherlock, breathless and with eyes full of love, "fucking hell, Sherlock."

"I know, but your face, and you taste delicious, darling," he said as he licked his lips and offered you his hand as he walked towards the bed.

"That was...wow!" You breathed with a breathless smile, your legs shook as you walked towards the bed and wrapped your arms around your curly haired detective and span towards the bed so he would fall beneath you. "And it would appear, you enjoyed it too," you smiled as you circled your thumb around the tip of his cock before bringing your thumb to your lips and groaning lustfully at the taste of his pre - cum, "you taste even better."

"You're going to be the death of me," he whispered as he covered his face and rutted against your hips, despretly needing to be touched.

"I am, but at least I can have you all to myself now," you purred as you trailed kisses along his collar bone, up his neck and stopped just before you reached his lips.

"Stop teasing!" He groaned as his hands found your hips and he aligned himself with your entrance.

"But where's the fun in that?" You quipped back and gladly sank yourself down on his cock, feeling fuller than you had in months. It wasn't often that you and Sherlock had sex -simply because you rarely felt the need for it-, but when you did the room would spark to life. The warmth from the fire brought a whole new life into the room and set your souls ablaze. And as the night drawed on your bodies found a perfect rhythm and all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin against skin and loud long drawn out moans.

You couldn't help but grip at the sheets as Sherlock flipped you onto your back. Your hands cupped his face as your lips brushed against each other so softly, you were sure this kind of intamacy had to be illegal. His fingers snaked down your body until they found your clit, you were both oh so close to falling over the edge when that dammed phone rang again for the second time that night.

Sherlock went to deny the call but you caught his wrist before he got the chance, "oh no, if I had to withhold two orgasms through a phone call, you can do the same."

"But you're not as vocal as me."

"Well I'll just have to find a way to keep you...less vocal. It's Greg."

"Who?" He questioned as he paused his movements to reach for the phone.

"Lestrade?" You prompted as you placed one last kiss onto his lips and allowed Sherlock just enough time to regain his composure,"Answer."

With a groan of fusreatuin he complied and pressed the phone to his ear with one hand and held onto the headboard with the other. And the sight of his seductively clenched jaw, his tight curls that flopped onto his forehead, and his lust blown eyes was almost enough to have you come undone. And yet, just as that thought crossed your mind, his gaze caught yours and he pressed a finger to his lips and whispered: "don't," as you rocked your hips urging him to continue.

"Sherlock, are you busy?" Greg asked, not particularly caring about the answer, e would have asked the question anyway.

"Ye-no," he corrected himself as you raised an eyebrow and hooked your legs around his waist, "what do you...need?"

"I need eyes and ears on a case. Tomorrow. 12pm."

"I-we can't. Not this weekend. Ah! O!Oh!" Sherlock couldn't help but moan your name as you purposely clenched around him.

"Sherlock? Was that you?" Lestrade laughed awkwardly down the phone.

"Fuck off!" Sherlock cursed under his breathe as he laid straddled beneath your hips, "text me." And with that the phone went dead.

And yet as the phone went dead, the moment between you and Sherlock changed. It was no longer a game the pair of you used to get the other off, instead it was something far more innocent. Far more intimate as Sherlock's fingers found your hair and his eyes never left yous as he asked,"Did you fracture your skull as a child?"

And you couldn't help but giggle at the question,"I'm sorry, what? Sherlock, I-" and yet your words were lost in giggles and love as he smiled down at you.

"Well?" He half teased as he raised a playful yet curious eyebrow.

"Sherlock we are litterally in the middle of sex. We can't go through medical history," you smiled as you cupped his face and pulled him into a loving kiss.

"Why not? We did in uni!" He challenged as he entwined his hands with yours and with your help, attempted to start a rhythm.

"Because you weren't actually inside me when we had that conversation!"

"Y/n m/n l/n - Holmes, answer my question or I'll stop."

"No! Did you just full name me?" You fitted in fake offence and ran your hand through Sherlock's curls when he buried his head in the crook of your neck, "no more kisses for Sherlock or should I say... William!"

"Don't you dare!"

"Sherlock Scott..."

"Y/n!" He warned, his eyes a light with lustful mischief.

"Holmes!" You cried as Sherlock tickled your sides and caught your wrists and pinned them at your side as the pair of you burst into a fit of laughter. Your chests heaved with laughter as you looked into each others eyes and saw nothing but pure unadulterated love. "I love you Sherlock, more than anything."

"And I love you y/n, so much it terrifies me. And I promise I will tell you more about that later. But please can we restart the sex? Because I like having sex with you, but those phone calls made me just loose the rhythm entirely."

"Of course we can," you smiled and encouraged him to pull out of you, "let's have a shower and go again, okay? But not in the shower, you remember what happened last time."

"Don't remind me, I still can't believe we escaped the shower curtain," he laughed as he pulled out if you and swept you off of your feet, carrying you to the bathroom.

"It was your idea!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"

"Oh gladly!"

Although your body ached, you were glad you and Sherlock had decided to 'restart the sex' as he called it, as the pair of you awoke in blissfull harmony. The morning breeze was cold against your skin as the alarm on your phone continued to blast a repetition of 'get up!' that got progressively louder, until you smiled it off and pulled the cover over your head and snuggled into Sherlock's bare chest.

"Hmm, do we have to get up?" Sherlock groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and tugged the covers do he could caccoon the pair of you.

"Apparently. Especially if we want to get to your parents on time..."

"My parents?"

"Hm, that's what Mycroft was asking about when he interrupted us."

"Oh," he murmured through a yawn.

"Do your parents know...or like me for that matter?"

"I thought you didn't care what people thought about you?"

"I don't but your parents are different, and with those marks and then Mycroft does particularly like me--"

"I like you."

"Yes, but you're also my fiancé," you wished and buried your head onto his chest, closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat rise ever so slightly.

"Yes and by the balance of probability and the process of elimination, I know you well enough to know that my parents will love you just as much as I do. In fact they will likely another you with love. Ignore Mycroft he's an idiot." He said, rapidly silencing your fears as he played with your rings, "and if he treats you like a child again, then he'll have me to answer to."

"Thank you. You're cute when you're protective," you smiled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "what did I do to deserve you?"

"Everything and more," he said softly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before standing from the bed, taking the sheet with him, "now enough sappy talk. We have science to do!"

"Does this mean I get to work on forensics again, without Anderson?"

"Yes."

"Oh hell yeah!!" You beamed and Sherlock couldn't help but grin at your victory dance.

It took you less than half hour to get to the crime scene, and to say you were surprised to see John was an understatement. You didn't quite know what to say as Sherlock froze and looked at John like he wanted to run. "What are you doing here?" Was all Sherlock managed to ask before he forced himself to let go of your hand and head over to the body.

"I asked him to come, after you told me to fuck off. Care to explain?" Lestrade grumbled as he joined the three of you at the crime scene.

"Sorry, that night might have been my fault. You were the second person to call us."

"And that explains, how?"

"Greg, you might want to take a look at their necks," John prompted with a chuckle, "I wondered why you were limping."

"So would you be. He's very well endowed."

"Too much information!"

"Hey you were the one who connected the dots," you protested.

"Fair point, so are you going to dinner at his parents to?"

"To?"

"Hmm, Mycroft called me last night - apparently he heard the noises you and Sherlock made and --"

"Speak of the devil, it looks like our carriage awaits." You remarked and couldn't help but laugh as you heard Sherlock snort a laugh.

"Stop, we can't giggle at a crime scene!" John pipped up and the three of you fell back into your usual routine. Everything was right with the world and then there was Mycroft.

"Dance with me?" You offered as you tightened your dressing gown and basked in the early morning sun that flooded the living room of 221B.

"Now?" Sherlock asked as he placed his still warm mug in the coffee table and smoothed his pajama t-shirt before taking your hand.

"Why not? You love dancing and it's been a while since we've been able to be intimate, you know with the cases and late nights at the morgue," you explained as you entwined your fingers and lead him to the empty space in front of the cluttered dinning table.

"You make a very persuasive argument. But first, we need music," he said as he fiddled with the iPod until he found the track he was after, and the room burst to life with the gentle romantic tones of his infamous violin, "There that's better."

"What song is this?" You asked with a smile as Sherlock positioned you and him in the perfect starting position of the waltz.

His voice was soft as a light pink blush dusted his pale cheeks, "It's called an ode to Y/n L/n -Holmes."

"You wrote music for me? Oh Sherlock, it's beyond beautiful!" You beamed as the pair of you twirled in perfect sync.

"It's the least I could do to celebrate our anniversary," he grinned as he dipped you and chuckled at your suprised gasp,"we will also be stopping for that autumn abomination that you call coffee."

"Hey! Don't diss the pumpkin spice latte, I saw you drink it yesterday!" You teased playfully and pulled the detective into a soft and passionate kiss.

"Hmm, only because it reminded me of you," he whispered between your kisses. His lips brushed against yours deliciously as he held you close and swayed in time to the melody of his composition. His grip on your waist tightened as he rested his forehead on yours and softly whispered, "how did I get so lucky?"

"I ask myself that question everyday,Sherl," you said softly and cupped his cheeks, bringing him back to your gentle lips and our souls were set alight.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you said. As your eyes met the gentle autumn sunlight hit Sherlock's eyes perfectly and you couldn't help but admire the way his eyes shifted from light green to a brilliant blue. And yet, your admiration was cut short as yours and Sherlock's stomach growled in sync.

"Breakfast?"

"Oh god yes," you smiled as Sherlock kept a hold of your hand and guided you to the kitchen where you had spent many joyous nights since that dark night 2 months ago.

You kinda Sherlock had many hidden talents, but you never expected cooking would be one of them as you watched him flambé the bacon with perfect ease.

"You can cook," you said in astonishment.

"Yes, I can." Sherlock smiled smugly as he placed one had on his hip and the other in the gas knobs.

"It wasn't a question, you can cook!" You clarified as you started to butter the toast.

"I was taught by a Frenchman in return, I got him off a murder charge."

"Sherl, in all the years I've known you, I never knew you could cook something edible!"

"It's only on special occasions, y/n/n. Oh bugger!" Sherlock cried as he slipped and span the gas knob causing the flame in the pan to shoot up to the ceiling.

"Sherl, you're on fire!"

"I know I am."

"No, you prat! You're litterally on fire," you said as you patted the flame out on his dressing gown sleeve and watched in a mix of awe and bewilderment as Mrs Hudson's over head sprinklers came on and drenched the pair of you.

"Did you just call me a prat?" Sherlock laughed as he turned the oven off completely and looked at you with amusement twinkling in his eye.

"I panicked!" You laughed as you held your hands up in defence, "and I was distracted by your cooking."

"In my defense," he said as he pushed his wet curls out of his face, "I never said I was a good cook."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. Although I have a feeling Hudders will kill us when she finds out ."

Mrs. Hudson wanting to kill you was the understatement of the year as she berated and scolded you and Sherlock for the best part of an hour.

"Do you have any idea of how much this is going to cost? What were you thinking?"

"Er...we wasn't. I was admiring his ability to cook and he got a bit carried away. Buuuut it's all for a good cause!"

"A good cause?" The elderly lady questioned and looked at you eagerly awaiting an explanation as to why the entire kitchen of 221B was drenched and why there's a massive black firemark on the ceiling.

But you simply presented your engagement ring that sat in pride of place in your left ring finger, and it appeared Sherlock had the same idea as he placed his hand under yours so your rings would show in unison. "it's our anniversary," Sherlock explained, "I was attempting to be romantic."

"Oh my dears! Why didn't you tell me? Sherlock did you choose this?" Mrs. Hudson beamed as she took both of your hands in hers, "who else knows?"

"Just you, Mycroft and John," you said as you took Sherlock's hand in yours and smiled as you felt him draw small circles on your hand.

"Not Molly or Mary?"

"I haven't had the time yet and I think Molly will kill me when she finds out."

"Well, who am I to stand in the way of your celebrations? Go out and have fun. I'll have the flat fixed by the time you come back," she said and ushered you towards the bedroom so you could pack. But not before she called your name and threw you something silver, "be safe!"

"Mrs. Hudson!" You cried as your cheeks flushed at the sight of the handcuffs and several packets of protection.

"I was young once too, dear."

"Kill me," you muttered as you hid your head in Sherlock's chest.

"Not a chance, love." He grinned and guided you to the room, more than ready to get out of the flat - even if it was just for today.

***

"So how is it?" You asked as you and Sherlock sat outside of your hotel sipping on a wonderful pumpkin spice latte.

"It's not a sludgey as I anticipated," he admitted as he toyed with the reserva ticket, "but it's still too sweet."

"Says the man who had two sugars in his coffee," you teased playfully and nodded towards the poster that was advertising a nude live art class, "have you considered it?"

"Being nude?"

"No...well, yes. But live art, I think you'd make an amazing model."

"Hmm, maybe. What about you?"

"Oh god no, I do not have the body for that."

"Of course you do my dear. You're absolutely stunning and it would be an honour to draw you."

"I-"

"Shh, it's he truth and we're going. Ah, before you say anything, I'll have Mycroft disable all of the security cameras. Tonight is just about us."

"Can I wear the thigh bracelet?" You questioned as your eyes twinkled with mischief.

"It's a good job we have the honey moon suite," Sherlock whispered in your ear, his cheeks flushed pink as he watched a shiver run through you. If his baritone voice already had that much of an effect in you, what else could his presence do to you? "You're very sensitive today," he remarked coyly as his arm snaked around your waist, his fingers rested on your hips as the pair of you started to walk towards the hotel.

"Well who can blame me when you are being so seductive?" You purred as you winked at him and mirrored his position.

"Touché," and with that the two of you settled into the hotel and prepaid for the art class.

As the afternoon moved effortlessly into the evening, romantic sparks flew between you and your curly haired detective, the conversation flowed freely as you talked about from everything from hypothetical situations , to your wedding, to the latest case Sherlock wanted you to join him on. And just when you thought the night couldn't get anymore perfect, you were pleasantly surprised.

As you and Sherlock walked along the art gallery stopping every now and again to admire the art.

He stopped and looked at you with a loving smile, admiring the way your hair shinned in the light, he admired and loved the way your eyes lit up when you talked about Van Gogh's art work, and before his brain could stop his mouth he blurted out, "I can't wait to marry you!"

A wide, beautiful grin spread across your face as you met his gaze, "I can't wait to marry you either,"

"That...that was meant to be an inside thought," he stammered and smiled back as he gestured to the room that was reserved for Mr. And Mrs. Holmes, "Are you ready to go in?"

"I think so," you said as you followed him into the room - fiddling with the buttons in your coat as you went, "but don't laugh!"

"My dear, I would never laugh at you. You are a masterpiece and if it puts you at ease," he said as he locked the door and dropped his coat to the floor, revealing everything to you. Scars, hair and all, "the human body is not designed to be perfect and that's okay. Because tonight y/n, I want you to feel beautiful."

"I do when I'm with you," you said softly and dropped your coat to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your thigh bracelet that still held Sherlock's initials. And yet, the adoring look in his eyes paired with his loving smile and pink cheeks was enough to boost your confidence and get you to stand on the small pedestal. "How do you want me?"

"On my...ahem..." Sherlock shook his head to get rid of his dirty thoughts and pull him back to the moment, "would you be comfortable on your knees with your arms crossed under your breasts?"

"For you? Of course," you teased with a wink, "are you okay? You're very red."

"You're a little minx," he smirked as he put his art supplies to the side and sauntered over to you, his eyes locked perfectly on yours.

"What are you planning? Ah! Sherlock, your hands are cold!" You laughed as he cupped your face and kissed you slowly. Your whole body melted beneath his touch and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his shoulders and run your fingers along his neck, smiling as he shivered.

"I don't care," he muttered between the kisses, "I've wanted to do this all day."

"What stopped you?" You asked through a gasp as Sherlock's lips settled on your neck, kissing and sucking until a deep purple bruise rose to the surface.

"I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself," he admitted and trailed his fingers down your arm until he found your pulse,"and in all honesty, I'm not sure I want too."

"The painting can wait," you wanted as you tugged on his hair, earning yourself a deep moan in response, "are the cameras off?"

"exhibitionist kink?"

"Not on my list, no. Is it on yours?"

"Only in one scenario," he admitted.

"Where?"

"Donovan's desk. It will piss her off and the risk of getting caught is a good high."

"Okay, now that I want to do," you smirked devishly, "could you imagine the look on her face? Especially if her and Anderson caught us!"

"Oh you are fantastic!" He beamed and pressed another passionate kiss to your lips and held you as close as possible, "I suppose we should get back to painting."

"Or we could go back to the hotel room," you offered as you playfully slipped out of his embrace and into his requested pose.

And if it were not for the last shred of his self control, he would have took you then and there. His breath shuddered as he held his hand over his mouth to keep from moaning at the beautiful sight before him. "Hmm, as fantastic as that sounds love..ah. okay challenge: we both must complete a full painting without giving into each other. Then, and only then, we can return to the bedroom."

"And if we don't pass the challenge?"

"Then we'll figure something out," he said as he cleared his throat and sat behind the easel, willing his body to calm down so he could focus.

"You know, you're very cute when you're flustered," you complimented as you watched him paint.

"As are you everyday."

"You're far too kind," you smiled and adjusted your position ever so slightly to sit comfortably, "do we have any cases?"

"Y/n," Sherlock wanted, "No work today, we agreed."

"But-"

"No, love. Tonight is just about us," he purred and looked directly into your eyes, and it took everything in your power not to moan as the way he said 'us' sent a shiver down your spine. "Good girl."

"I- Sherlock, that's not fair!" You cried as the covered your red face with your hands and looked at him through your fingers.

"All is fair in love and war, darling." He smirked as he silently instructed you to return to your position and by God did you comply, for Sherlock had found his ammunition against you."I love you."

"I love you too," you said softly as the pair of you gave way to the power play, beyond excited to see where the night would take you.

It had been three months since the gala, and you were having the week from hell. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong, as corpse after bloody corpse was thrown your way. And it just so happened that the last corpse of the day was a suicide victim who had jumped off of a roof only two days before arriving in your morgue, and you wanted to do nothing else but run home to Sherlock and remind him of just how much he is loved.

But alas, it appeared that your boss needed you to attend a conference that was discussing 'how to better break the news to loved ones' on his behalf. Any other time you would be thrilled to attend, but as you looked at the clock it dawned on you that today was the anniversary of his return - the day Sherlock Holmes was tortured and forced to come back to London, pretending nothing ever happened.

And just as that thought entered your mind, your phone buzzed with a message from your curly haired detective:

'When are you coming home? Miss you - SH '

The signage of his name had your stomach in knots, ever since you two started dating, 9 years ago and even when you were simply just friends, Sherlock had stopped signing his name; gladly having given into the idea that you had saved his number.

'I'm on my way now. Stay safe. I miss you too, did you want me to get chips for tea?'

'Not hungry. I don't want to be alone - SH'

And with that you pocketed your phone and dipped out of the conference as quickly as you could. You kept your head down as you grabbed your things and headed to the underground to jump from train to train as you realised you'd be fighting the rush hour traffic, and with the heavy autumn rain - the roads would become a catastrophic mess that would put even more physical distance between you and Sherlock - and thus a taxi was out of the question.

***

As soon as you stepped into the flat you knew something was wrong, it was far too quiet and the smell of freshly smoked cigarettes lingered in the air, and the science equipment that once took pride of place on the dinning table, was no longer.

"Sherl? Sherlock?!" You called out but alas, you got no response as you wandered further into the flat. Your heart leapt to your throat as you pushed open the door and feared the worst.

"Am I a freak?" Were the only words that slipped through Sherlock's trembling lips. His cheeks were covered in tear tracks and his lashes were wet as he fought to breathe. He hurt from the inside out, fresh needles laid on the bed and a half drunk bottle of age old wine was hidden beside his bedside draw. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield come to life.

Your words caught in your throat as you were caught of gaurd by his question, "What?! Of course not, why would you think that?" You asked and dropped your bags to the floor and pushed the needles aside to sit next to him, uncaring about the risk of being accidentally drugged - Sherlock was your priority, now and forever. Your hand found his and for only a fraction of a second did he try to smile for you.

His breath caught in his throat as he tried to speak, but try as he might the words were like bile and they never came. All the walls that he had built around himself came crashing down around him and the image that he put to the outside world, ceased to exist, and instead he became the fearful child who was always shoved to the side. He sobbed into his hands, he'd done everything in his power to protect John, to protect London, to protect you but nothing would ever be enough. Especially not after the fall.

It broke your heart to see him so inconsolable and without a second of hesitation you used every bit of strength to pull him into the warmest embrace you could muster. Tears pricked at your eyes but you blinked them back, you had to be strong for Sherlock. He tensed at first, not wanting or rather not allowing himself to give into affection as he wished he had the ability to turn off his emotions, but when he realised you weren't going to let go, he turned and hid his face in your chest and allowed himself to crumble and cry. He held you so tight that it almost hurt but in the moment, in that minute you didn't care. You just held him and stroked his hair, and through his screams you heard him whisper, "Maybe Moriarty was right. I should have killed myself."

Your blood was set alight and your heart raced at the thought of loosing him again, "Sherlock, look at me!" You insisted and forced your voice to be soft - anger and raised voices wouldn't be helpful now- as you pulled back and cupped his cheeks, brushing away he stray tears that lingered on his lashes, "You would never be better off dead. You are not a fraud and you are most certainly not a-"

"Say it," he bawled as he tried and failed to swallow another sob, his chest heaved with every breath he took and he couldn't will himself to look you in the eye as he found the strength to speak again, "please, just confirm what everyone is saying and I'll be out of your life, for good this time."

"No. Sherlock, I know the weight that word holds against you and yes, right now, you may not believe a word I'm saying. But look at me when I say this: I am not going anywhere and I most certainly do not want you out of my life. Do you understand?! You are amazing. You are intelligent beyond comprehension. You are not a fraud and you are most certainly not what they say you are, okay? Sherlock, you are loved by so so many, including myself." You rambled as you brushed away his tears with one hand and held your other hand over his heart.

"You're crying," Sherlock whispered as he met your eyes and used his knuckle to rid you of your tears.

"I don't care," you sniffled and stood from the bed, holding your hand out for him, "I can't...I won't loose you again."

"Where are we going?" He asked as he blindly followed your lead and wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

"For a bath," you simply explained and squeezed his hand in a 1-4-3 pattern that perfectly mirrored the morse fide he sent to your pager on a daily basis - and in return he smiled.

"Why are we having a bath?" He asked bemused and whilst the sadness lingered in the room, the stom cloud that lingered above his head was no long a bleak and corrupted black but rather a Solmen grey.

"Because a bath is the second best antidote to sadness and it will help, when you're coming down from your high." You explained as you opened the bathroom door and brushed the stray tears from your cheeks.

"You don't have to do this for me. I'm not important,"

"Not important? Sherlock, you've said some strange stuff in your time but that is simply not true," you said and let go of his hand so you could run a bath for the pair of you.

"Y/n, you are far to good and kind to me."

"That's impossible."

"Did you want to talk about it?" You asked as you lovingly drew soft circles onto Sherlock's arm, you could feel the new pin pricks beneath your fingers, but you said nothing. He knew the effects his drug use had in you, he didn't need a lecture and you weren't going to give him one.

"This isn't your first time rescuing someone from themselves, is it?" Sherlock observed as he found your fingered beneath the water and entwined them with his. His eyes lingered with sadness as he looked at you.

Solomenly you shook your head and sighed, "I- no, I've lost count of the amount of nights I've spent saving people from themselves. But I would rather spend countless sleepless nights at your bedside then wake up to the call saying that you've-" you stopped yourself short as your throat ran dry and your mind slowly shifted to be your own worst enemy.

And Sherlock knew in that moment, that you were not going anywhere - he knew what you two shared was eternal. He squeezed your hand and repeated the same 1-4-3 pattern from earlier. His gaze drifted to your eyes, he needed to know the truth as he asked his question: "Who looks after you on your danger nights?"

"No one-"

"But how do you-"

"Know how to save someone?" You offered as shock and suprise ran through Sherlock, and he simply nodded. "Because I have had to save myself 5 times over with no one to catch me. And I know just how important a human life is, and yours is more important than most."

"Not above yours, it's not." He said, his voice wavered as he looked deeply into your eyes, deducing that beyond the harsh exterior that you out out to the world, you were broken almost beyond repair, "promise me. Promise me, Y/n, that if you are ever verging on a danger night, you will come to me. I won't ever left you be alone."

"I promise," you said as you placed a soft kiss to his temple and reached for the sponge, "did you want me to do your back?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

You had seen Sherlock's scars before in passing or in the throws of passion, but this was different. This was raw and vunerable as you carefully brought the sponge over his scars and stopped as he flinched, "Does it hurt?"

"Not now, but I think the morphine is wearing off and the cold doesn't help," he grimaced as his hands started to shake from withdrawal.

"I'm almost done," you promised softly as you finished cleaning his back, "you know we don't have to talk about what happened, not until you're ready. We can talk about something else."

"Work?"

"Not work. They were all suicide victims and considering the date, I'd rather talk about something happier."

"Thank you,"

"For what?"

"For saving me, for showing me that I'm not alone," he said as he got out of the bath, not bothering to find a towel as he held his hand out to you, "come with me?"

"where?" You asked as you climbed out of the tub, took his hand and kept your eyes above his shoulders.

"To the kitchen."

"Sherlock, I love you, but I don't think cooking in our birthday suits is the best idea."

"We'll be fine, trust me?"

"I do,"

"Good, I think we both could do with distracting, yes?"

"We do. But what does being naked have to do with being distracted? And please don't say sex, because as good as sex is wth you, neither of us are in any fit state to perform," you rambled on, only to be interrupted by Sherlock's soft lips.

He kissed you quick and smiled as he ran his hands through your hair, "darling, stop panicking. I am perfectly safe. We are both safe."

"But the-" you hesitated as you gestured to the still full bottles of morphine, "and you're -"

"Y/n/n, look at me. You keep me straight, you keep me sane and remind me every day just how much you love me. Allow me to do the same for you. Nakedness prevents deductions and thus, it gives way to vunerablity. Which means that we can speak freely about our wedding and IF we feel strong enough, we can discuss tonight. But not yet."

"Vunerablity is terrifying," you whispered as you allowed yourself to relax.

"I know love, I know. But it'll never change how I feel towards you,"

"Nor I, you."

"Good. Now what's in the fridge?"

"A head. You know if you had an eye and a head as could recreate Edgar Allan Poe's :' A Tell Tale Heart'"

"As fun as that sounds, you haven't eaten all day." He observed with a soft smile as he watched you try and figure out how he knew, "I know you, you were focused and forgot to eat. And when you left at 4:45 this morning it was to early for you to eat anything."

"I thought you said nakedness disrupts deductions," you said as you wrapped your arms around Sherlock's waist and placed your head against his back, exhausted and terrified by the idea that your happiness could be filled away from you at any moment.

" It's not a deduction, love, it's just a man paying attention to his fiancée," Sherlock corrected as he patted your arm and kindly gestured for you to move so he could bend to look in the cupboard, "now, what do we fancy?"

"Beans on toast?"

"We're out of beans."

"I could call John, he usually has a spare for Ros-"

"No. I don't want to see him." And your stomach turned as you watched Sherlock's heart crumble and the walls he was rebuilding come crashing down for the second time that night. And this time, this time you didn't stop yourself - you wrapped your arms around him so hard that he had to grab the table to stop you from falling over. You held him as close as possible, your words quiet but Sherlock heard your promise to kill John.

"Please don't go. It'll only prove him right and...I'm terrified of being alone. I don't trust myself not to give in again," he whispered against your skin as he held you so close that no distance existed between the two of you.

"Do we need to call Mycroft? Did you make a list?"

"It's not that bad..."

"Sherl," you warned, seeing right through his lie.

"Later. Right now, I just need you...please!"

"You have me now and forever."