It's Not Real

Chapter Eleven

The next morning they had woken up wrapped around each other, Sherlock's face buried in her hair while their fingers were interlocked around her abdomen. Neither one of them dared to comment on it, simply detangled themselves with warm cheeks and went about getting washed and dressed for the day.

The rest of the morning had passed easy enough, the whole family sat at the table for breakfast, and Sherlock did in fact eat a decent amount of food, even pinching some strawberries from Evelyn's bowl when he'd finished his fry up. She'd smacked his hand with her spoon, leaving yogurt smeared over the back of it.

Mycroft also seemed in a much better mood than the night before, and that in itself felt like a miracle worth celebrating.

Once most of the food was cleared away Evelyn had offered to make tea for the room, and of course, Sherlock just had to follow her into the kitchen. Evelyn wasn't sure why he felt the need become attached to her hip, facade or not, but she wasn't going to comment on it.

Once each cup had been placed down with the requested beverage ingredients, Evelyn switched the kettle on and turned to settle against the cupboard while waiting for it to boil. They'd been chatting away between themselves about nonsense when Sherlock suddenly slotted his leg between hers slightly, leaning on his arms against the kitchen surface either side of her, effectively holding her in place.

Eve felt the heat rise up her neck as she flushed, trying to move further back into the counters edge. "You've got to appear more at ease with our physical contact for this to work. My parents are watching us." He said quietly.

"Sitting with your arm around me or holding my hand is one thing, but this feels..." Too intimate.

Sherlock tipped his head just enough so their noses almost bumped together. "I'm going to kiss you, Eve."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"We've been here for almost twenty four hours and haven't made any sign of kissing once."

"I figured we'd just say we're private."

Sherlock leaned in closer, moving a hand to rest against her hip, whispering into her ear. "As far as we would know, we are in private. Everyone is in the other room."

"I'm supposed to be making tea." She squeaked.

Sherlock chuckled lowly. "I'll let you make tea in a moment. I think we've waited it out long enough, my mother's not going to look away." Sherlock pulled his head up and glanced at his supposed girlfriend, the hand on her hip increasing its grip. Nervous. Sherlock was nervous. For some reason that made Evelyn feel better. "Can I kiss you now?"

Evelyn was terrified, be useless to deny that, and she just hoped this felt worth it. "You better kiss me like you love me." She whispered, almost too quiet for him to even hear it, but he most certainly did.

He smirked cockily, leaned down, lips parted, mouth catching hers before she could say anything else to try and take back or apologise for her words. After the second press of his mouth to hers she sunk into him, fingers curled against his trouser loops, feeling like she might fall over. He stepped impossibly closer, the hand on her hip moving to hold the back of her head, fingers slipping into her hair. The hand he had resting against the kitchen worktop circled around her waist, pressing their bodies together. He sighed gently as he let her lips go, only to claim them again after a breath, kissing her languidly, his tongue slipping against hers. He kissed her like he was trying to rise a sound from her, make her vocalise how much she was enjoying it.