His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 32: The Devil Wears a Dressing Gown

A/N: I made a little somethin' somethin' that I thought represented the story so far ^^

After last chapter, we can now have lots and lots of fluff (yay)!! REALLY QUICK! Thank you guys SOOOO much for over 52 THOUSAND READS!!! I legitimately squealed when I logged back in and saw the numbers. And nearly 3 thousand votes?? Holy crap, thank you thank you thank you!

(Your POV)

The next month was nothing short of absolutely wonderful. Who'd have guessed? Once Sherlock came to terms with the fact that letting a little emotion in wouldn't kill him (not that he hadn't subconsciously been expressing his emotions for months now), he had no problem being open with his affections. Well, open with me, of course.

At first we had tried to keep our relationship under wraps, especially from John. We knew we'd never hear the end of it if he even had the slightest idea... Yeah, that plan lasted for about 8 hours. Just recalling what John said at the next morning's crime scene makes me giggle.

"Oh my God, Sherlock, stop rambling and just kiss her already. We all knew anyways. Oh and Lestrade, Sherlock confessed first. You owe me a fiver."

John was still the same as ever, walking in at the most inopportune times and 'sneaking' pictures whenever he could. Sherlock was still himself as well, performing random experiments and taking the most logical of approaches, even when it came to our relationship. Not that I really minded. Everything was... perfect.

Oh, look, I must have jinxed it.

---

The early February weather was excruciatingly cold with plenty of precipitation, whether it be rain, snow, or a mixture of the two. Eager to be inside, our little trio hurried up the stairs with the groceries, shivering against the icy morning breeze. Sherlock immediately started sniffing the air.

"Quite a wind we've got today." I chuckled as I set the grocery bags down on the table. John followed suit.

"Yeah, it is. Suppose we should start wrapping up a bit more."

I hummed in response, only half-listening. I was more intent on watching Sherlock, who was absentmindedly drifting down the hallway. I frowned. "Sherlock?" I called out. No reply. He walked into the bedroom and abruptly stopped. "Sher-"

"We have a client." He said suddenly and rather monotonously.

Yeah, right. "What, in the bedroom?" I sniggered to myself as I walked down the hall. Really, Sherlock, if you wanted to get me into the bedroom you could just ask... "Ohhh." He wasn't joking. There, laying in his bed, was a fully-clothed Irene Adler, sound asleep. "You've got to be kidding me." Sherlock and I exchanged knowing, exasperated glances.

---

"You let her wear one of my dressing gowns?" Sherlock whispered almost furiously as he guided me out of his room, one hand on my back.

"No," I hissed back, "she just took the one that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. What was I supposed to do, tell her to wear her old clothes again?!"

"She couldn't borrow some of yours??"

"She's not my size!"

Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

Even though I hated her guts, I figured we should at least make an effort to be hospitable to our not-so-welcome guest. After showering, she had slipped on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns. It was one of his best, too, and he was pouting like a child. Not that I could blame him- this is Adler we're talking about. I basically hate her. Let's just say there's a reason she's named after a snake. Well, okay, maybe not exactly, but it's close enough to give me an excuse to despise her.