THE BAKER STREET TRIO (SHERLOCK X READER)

Chapter 71: The Programmers Thumb

The aroma of flowers and freshly baked bread drifted with the sounds of morning through the window. Beams of light slanted across the room, separating it into rectangular sections of illumination and shadow. A bicyclist’s bell dinged on the small street below and a dog barked. Next door, an old woman hung laundry to dry outside her window.

“Buongiorno Signora! (Good morning Madam!) ” The bicyclist called to her.

“Buongiorno Marco. Stai attento sulla strada! (Good morning Marco. Be careful on the road!)” She yelled back, shaking her head.

Y/N stirred, waking up with the rest of Sicily. She stretched lazily, enjoying the warm sunlight on her face and the soft sheets against her skin. Y/N opened her eyes, gazing at the man lying beside her. She traced his face with her gaze, admiring the sharpness of him–his cheekbones, the bow of his lips, his jaw–sharpness to match his mind. Y/N extracted one arm from beneath the blanket, running her fingers gently through the curls just above his right temple. 

The arm hooked around her waist tightened as Sherlock inhaled deeply, coming into consciousness. The morning light brightened his eyes, the blue of his irises piercing her soul.

“Good morning,” Y/N said softly.

Y/N moved her hand away from his face, but he caught her wrist and gently pulled her back. Sherlock pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. He kissed the center of her palm. He kissed the gold ring on her finger, shining in the sunlight. Sherlock kissed the inside of her wrist, just above her pulse point.

A shiver of excitement ran down Y/N’s spine.

In one smooth motion, Sherlock pushed her hand back, pressing it into the pillows as he rolled on top of her. Finally, Sherlock kissed her. Y/N leaned up towards him, eager to return his affections. She buried her hands in his hair, tugging slightly as he moved his attentions to her jaw and neck.

“I like the way you say ‘good morning.’” Y/N laughed.

I like the way you say a lot of things. She thought, closing her eyes.

They spent the first few days in Messina in their little rented flat saying good morning to one another. Eventually, they ventured out into the city.

One night, Sherlock rented a tiny little car and drove them to Milazzo, outside of the city. They walked down to the beach together, navigating the seaside rocks to the edge of the water. The sun dipped closer to the horizon, setting the sky on fire. The clouds above were painted red, orange, and rosey pink. Y/N rested her head on Sherlock’s shoulder as they watched the sunset, entwining her fingers with his.

“‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you.’” He said. “‘Is not that strange?’”

Y/N smiled. “‘As strange as the thing, I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved you, and yet believe me not, and yet I lie not.’”

“‘Peace, I will stop your mouth.’” He said, and kissed her.

Y/N pulled away for air, smiling. “That’s my favorite play. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Why do you think I agreed to Messina?”

“‘Cause you’re a nerd?”

Sherlock scoffed, but the corners of his mouth curved in a smile. “You married me.”

“Hell yeah I did.”

They held hands as they walked through the Duomo di Messina, the Chiesa del Carmine, and the Piazza. Sherlock wiped gelato from the tip of her nose as she laughed. Y/N’s excitement over the local food brought a smile to his face. She kissed him in the sunlight and ocean breeze in the village of Torre Faro.