I Am Sher-locked

7. Text Message

The next morning found Irene sitting on the window sill in the living room, looking down the street. It had just dawned but there was no sun in the winter sky. It had stopped snowing and now it was raining profusely. The snow on the corners of the road had not melted, instead it had turned to ice and shone like crystal as the rain water fell on it. 

The feeling she felt yesterday had not yet left her heart. She thought it was a result of the endorphins that increased due to sex but that was not the reason. She had fallen even more in love with the detective and this realization frightened her. Sherlock had managed to fall asleep but she did not fall asleep, not even for a minute. 

His face as he slept was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen in her life. So vulnerable and so incredibly strong at the same time. She touched his lips, smelled his hair, kissed his skin. At the first light of day she left the room.

The house was frozen, no one had lit the fireplace. She was wearing only Sherlock's robe, that dark blue satin robe hanging behind the door. Her hair was loose, her body held the smell of Sherlock and that made her feel so beautiful.

"You are awake", Sherlock's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she snapped her head toward him. He was standing by the door, wearing only his boxers, looking hot as hell. 

Irene smiled. "I have not slept", she responded, her voice hoarse. 

"Why?", his brows furrowed while he walked up to her and took a look outside the window. 

"No reason", she lied.

"You were watching me sleep", he deduced as he shifted his gaze to her. "Good morning, by the way."

She laughed at his deduction, even though it was true. "Good morning, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock leaned down to kiss her but she moved her face away. "No, don't. I need to wash my teeth first", she chuckled. 

"See if I care", Sherlock mumbled, grabbed her chin gently and made her look at him. Then he softly kissed her lips and straightened his posture. The silly smile that was on her face said it all. "Are you alright?", he asked her. 

"I'm fine", she nodded. "What about you? Was I rough with you last night?"

"No but I firmly believe that there are some scratches on my back. Your fingernails are long", he arched an eyebrow, pointing down at her hands. 

"Turn your back to me", she stood from the window sill when Sherlock turned his back to her. Indeed there were four scratches on his shoulder blade. Irene chuckled but then she leaned and planted some featherlight kisses on the scratches. "Better?"

"I am not a baby, you know", he turned to look at her.

"No, actually you're a big baby", she smirked. "Are you hungry?"

"No", he walked away from her, heading to the bathroom. "I'm going to have a shower", he stopped right outside the bathroom door and turned his head to look at her. "Why don't you come to--...", he intentionally trailed off, shrugging. "...brush your teeth?", he asked with false innocence.

Irene let out a throaty chuckle. Naturally he didn't mean that. He was in the mood again. She loosened the robe's satin belt and Sherlock's eyes followed her slow movements. By the time she reached him, she was already naked. The robe had ended up adorning the floor.

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Three hours of mind-blowing shower sex later they were both good to go. The night before, John had suggested to Sherlock that the three of them should meet for breakfast. Of course the baby would be with them. It was Christmas. Irene did not particularly like that day. She always felt so lonely on Christmas day, even if she had not confessed it to anyone. Not even to herself.