Sherlock: Lover Mine [Book II]

Lovers' Gestures

~That Weekend~

Susanna opened the door of the fridge and froze. She was accustomed to severed body parts- external limbs- being stored in the detective's refrigerator and freezer, but what she saw was quite out of the ordinary, "Sherlock, what is this?" She inquired of her lover, who was sitting in his chair strumming his violin. He looked up, strumming a cadence.

"What does it look like, love?"

"A heart. A human heart that's been dissected- I assume by you."

"Yes, very good. It belonged to a thirty eight year old man who took a bullet to the heart for his own lover."

"A valiant death, then," He nodded and continued to pluck the strings. She hummed, "But why would you have this here, Sherlock?"

He inhaled, "I wanted to physically represent what lengths I would go to for you. As I am certain you would not approve of me using my own organs for such a model, I decided to use that one instead."

Susanna's jaw dropped and a couple tears welled up, just enough to make her eyes glisten, "Oh, Sherlock..."

Most of the world's women probably wouldn't have understood or appreciated the somewhat gory gesture of affection, but Susanna did. She smiled and closed the refrigerator door and walked over to her lover, who had suddenly become very shy, "Too much, Love?"

"Darling, I appreciate your representation. You put a lot of thought into it and it's a marvelously unique way to declare your intentions," She soothed as she sat down beside him, "But you don't have to keep making such displays to prove your love, Sherlock."

He had been bending over backward to communicate his deepest feelings to her since their mutual confession of love and her speech. For example, surprising her with breakfast and a private violin concert in her flat that morning.

Sherlock set his violin down and put his arms around her, "I want to make sure that you understand exactly how much I love you, Susanna."

"I know you love me, Sherlock. But you don't have to do a lot of big things. It's the little things every day, darling, the little things. Like saying I Love You and meaning it, helping each other put each other's coats on, or simply holding hands," Susanna explained, sliding her arms around his torso. He placed his hand under her knees and pulled her onto his lap, "I do appreciate your efforts to prove your love, but I am just as happy cuddling as when you bring home a dissected heart."

Susanna readjusted so that she was perpendicular to Sherlock, with her legs dangling over the armrest, and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her again and rested his head on hers.

A few minutes later he took one of her hands in his and started to massage it. She hummed gently, "This is new."

"You just gave me the idea, Love."

"Oh," She giggled. Sherlock's lips quirked upwards and then he held their hands up. Palm against palm. Her hand and wrist were remarkably tiny in comparison to his, he realized; dainty but not fragile. It was strong, steady, and cool, "You seem surprised, Sherlock."

"I am simply trying to appreciate the small things, Love."

"I see." Susanna slid her hand upwards. Sherlock watched as she filled the gaps in between his fingers with hers, grasping his hand tightly.

He closed his hand over hers and she smiled. Then she gave his hand three firm squeezes, "What?"

She did it again, and again. The last time she put words to it, "I Love You."

Sherlock returned the gesture, adding another squeeze, "I Love You too."

Susanna's face brightened and she giggled, "Do you like that?"

"Yes."

"I thought you might."

He smiled and leaned down for a kiss. She met him midway and they shared a few minutes of domestic bliss before her phone buzzed, "Who?" He asked lowly, reluctantly pulling away. She sighed.

"Probably my Ma. She's been going insane with planning for the retirement party and stuff," Susanna paused and then smiled gently, "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to come with me to Florida and meet my family? Well, the rest of them, I suppose."

"And leave Lestrade to solving London's crimes?"

"It's kind of his job, Sherlock. He's the D.I. And I'm sure that I could pull a few strings back home so that you wouldn't have to starve from lack of criminal investigations."

Sherlock tilted his head, "I presume then that you have connections to the law enforcement in Florida."

"I know a few people. So, do you want to go with me? Take a short holiday?"

He considered it for a minute. If he could play dead for two years, he could visit Florida for a couple of weeks. Sherlock nodded, "Of course. It seems only natural that I eventually meet your family."

"Really?"

"Yes." She grinned and kissed his cheek.

"I'll go ahead and let my Ma know, then."

"I should let Lestrade and John know that I will be going on holiday with you."

Thank you for reading!!