Sherlock: Lover Mine [Book II]

Confessions

Susanna walked into her flat and slammed her door; not because of anger, but to release some of the tension she'd been packing. Stiff and tight, she made her way to her bedroom and hung up her freshly tailored coats. Each had been custom fitted and monogrammed with fire engine red thread on the inside. S.L.K.M., "Thomas always remembers the monogram..." She commented as she closed her closet doors.

She took off her biker jacket and undid her boots, carrying them back to the front of the flat and putting them away. She hung up her purse and retrieved her phone.

Seriously, Susanna, just tell him! Be brave! If he's a jerk, I'll kick his butt! -BA

Sweetie, you know that holding in your emotions is extremely destructive to your health. You get horrid anxiety attacks and depression. Tell him and get it over with. Rip the band-aid off. If he isn't quite there yet, give him time. If he rebuffs you completely or doesn't reciprocate, leave him. There are others if this doesn't work out. -Mama

Susanna chuckled weakly at Brooklyn's text and sighed at her Ma's. After responding quickly she picked up Ziva and retired to her chaise, cuddling the fuzzy feline and breathing deeply to calm herself. Chamomile and a hot bath with lavender would probably help but she couldn't bear to move. So she closed her eyes and laid down.

Perhaps twenty minutes later she heard a rapping at her door. She got up, composed herself, and trudged over to answer it. Probably Zella with the mail.

"Sh-Sherlock?" He smiled meekly at her.

"Can I come in? Please?"

"Of course. Come in, darling," She stepped to the side and he walked in, "Tea?"

"I believe that we need to talk, Susanna." Her heart sunk, but she kept a straight face.

"A-about what exactly?"

"It, um, has come to my attention that... we have both experienced some... changes. Changes in the way that we feel about each other," Sherlock gave a short puff, "And, well, I'm really no good at this sort of thing but-"

"I love you." They confessed in unison. Sherlock was dumbfounded and Susanna looked as if she'd had yoke lifted from her shoulders. Her hands flew up to her face as her eyes started glistening with tears.

"W-why are you crying!? D-Did I do it wrong?!" Sherlock started to overthink their mutual confession, "Susanna, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Sherlock! I'm just so incredibly relieved and happy..!" She inhaled, "Although it wasn't exactly how I envisioned it, that was perfect!"

"R-Really?"

"Yes, really, Sherlock." She walked to him and threw her arms around his chest, drawing him in for a tight embrace. His arms automatically encircled her.

"I was going to make this speech to you about why and how I fell in love with you, but... I guess this is good too."

"That's funny. So was I." She giggled, turning her face upwards. She was still a bit teary and Sherlock was too. Relief washed over him, followed by a rush of bliss. He held her in place though, curious.

"And what were you going to say, Love?"

"You want to know now?"

"Yes. Please." His arms tightened and she smiled lovingly, placing one hand over his heart.

"I've been in love with you for months. It just came softly; to both of us it seems. It only hit me when we when coat shopping at the studio, and I realized when you gave me your scarf that I truly love you. Not because you're the famous consulting detective with amazing features and a talent for the violin, although those certainly are some many reasons I do. I love you because you are not obsessed with the physical side of our romance. You enjoy the intellectual, mental aspect of our relationship more than the touchy-feely. You share my affinity for science, dancing and music. You respect my boundaries and have been my support several times in our courtship. You're chivalrous, brave, witty, observant, and kind. You don't put up with me when I'm being stupid. You're determined and you always give your best. And while you may have trouble expressing your affections, I know you love me. You just show it differently, and I love that too. I could never be bored with you," She took a breath, tapping over his heart, "I also love you for being a realistic man. You've seen hardship, you've made mistakes, and you have burdens that you may always carry with you. You're armor's rusty and dented, but I love you anyway, battle scars and all. You've become a best friend to me, too. And that's more important than being a boyfriend."

By the time she finished, Sherlock was shaking and about to cry. He hadn't expected that much from her, but it was hearfelt and sincere and hit him hard. She sensed his distress and pulled him close, allowing him to ride out the tsunami of emotions. His head promptly nestled in the crook of her neck. He'd needed to hear her speech more than she needed to hear his. So they stood together for a long while as he absorbed her confession, embracing and swaying ever so gently. She carded her fingers through his curls and hummed softly.

At long last he inhaled, calm and relaxed. Without moving he asked, "Instead of girlfriend and boyfriend, shall we call ourselves lovers instead, lover mine?"

"Of course. It only seems fitting, darling." She felt him smile and then she gasped in surprise as he pressed a warm, passionate kiss on her neck before working slowly across the scar on her throat, planting kisses along its length. Sherlock rarely dared to touch her neck and throat, especially the scar, so it communicated what he couldn't verbally express. He finished and lifted his head.

"I love you, Susanna."

"I love you, too." She leaned in and they locked lips again, eager to pick up where she'd stopped them earlier.

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