In The Game of Love

twenty

 Sherlock and Y/N stayed locked away in that room all night, making love to each other. When the morning came, Y/N woke up laying on top of Sherlock. Her head was resting on his good shoulder with his good arm securing her on top of him. There was a blanket thrown over their still naked bodies. She smiled as she looked at Sherlock's sleeping face. He hadn't shaved in a while, allowing some hair to grow in, and he had scrapes and bruises from all of the incidents they'd ran into lately. Y/N smirked as she leaned up and began softly kissing every scrape and bruise that was littered across his face. She made her way through the ones on his face before moving down his body.

"Hmm," Sherlock moaned as Y/N sucked on one of his bruises. "Last time I woke up naked, I was handcuffed to the bed. This is much better."

Y/N giggled as she moved back up to kiss his lips. "Watch your words, Sherly. You may wake up with handcuffs on the next time."

Sherlock quirked a brow at Y/N as he opened his eyes to look at her. "Not you too."

"What?"

"Sherly."

"I like it." She shrugged slightly. "Besides, you call me things like "my dear", "my darling", "my—"

"My love."

"Right." She blushed. "So, I feel like I can call you Sherly. I promise only to say it out of love or when I'm angry, and not out in public."

"As long as you move into my room when we get back home."

"Your room? It doesn't even have a bed."

"Right. Then I will sleep with you in your room."

"That's not really appropriate, don't you think? We already have people thinking the worst of us because we live together."

"I've never cared what people think. Except you." Y/N gave him a knowing look. "And I guess John."

"Well, Sherly, I—"

Suddenly the door opened and Mycroft's old servant, Stanley, walked in. He was trembling as he carried a tray of tea into the room.

"Ah!" Y/N squeaked, trying to cover herself with the blanket. Sherlock sat up and moved Y/N behind him.

"Stanley, old boy!" Sherlock greeted. The man didn't answer. "Stanley!"

"What on Earth are you yelling about, Sherl— Oh." Mycroft cut himself off as he entered the room and saw Sherlock and Y/N, naked. "I see you two had a busy night."

Y/N bit her lip and pressed up against Sherlock's back more, burying her head in between his shoulder blades. Sherlock forced a smile as he chuckled.

"Yes," he responded.

"I have found a dresses for both your gypsy friend and Y/N here," Mycroft said. "They are hanging outside their rooms."

"Thank you, Mycroft," Y/N said from over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Yes, thank you Myccie," Sherlock said. "Now, if you don't mind."

"Oh, yes. I will let you two get on with it. Don't forget to be ready on time." Mycroft went to leave, grabbing the doors handle.

"Don't forget about Stanley."

"Right." Mycroft turned back around. "Stanley! Stanley!" The old man finally set down the tray on the coffee table and faced Mycroft. "Come on!" Mycroft waved him on. "Let's leave these lovebirds alone."

Stanley took his time heading out and thankfully Mycroft shut the door behind them. Sherlock began laughing as Y/N groaned in embarrassment into his back.