“Morning Sherlock,” I smiled, as John and I entered 221B's most-used room. We'd been gone for over an hour, yet he was stood exactly where John told me he would be – staring at his problem wall. Whenever a case needed in-depth thought, he would always place all of his evidence and ideas onto the wall behind the sofa, and stare. And stare. And stare. Until something occurred to him.
“Morning,” his eyes flitted to me and John as we put our shopping away.
“Still there?” John enquired.
“Evidently,” Sherlock replied, and the house fell quiet once more. I knew better than to interrupt Sherlock's thinking time. I always felt that my words would be like someone throwing stones at the windows of his mind palace.
While John unpacked the essentials, I began to make tea; something I'd grown very accustomed to doing whenever at 221B. As the kettle boiled, I surreptitiously looked over at Sherlock. He was such an extraordinary person. I bet he knew I was doing it, but he never let on...
John's coffee was ready first, so I placed it on the small table by his chair, ready for him to relax and start writing this case up; which he did almost immediately. Next, Sherlock's tea. I warmed my winter-chilled fingers on his cup as I worked my way carefully across the room. I blew across the top of the tea, because when Sherlock was thinking, he had no concept of time or how it affected the temperature of his drink. If it got cold, he could have a new one; but if it were too hot, he'd complain for days.
I moved another small table over to his side and placed the tea there. Straightening myself out, I looked over the problem wall and decided that I knew far too little about this case to be able to help, at least until Sherlock was ready to talk about it. So I did my usual thing of being overly-friendly with my genius friend, and stood right in front of him. Luckily, being shorter than him meant that I was by no means in his way, as I decided to warm myself by sliding my hands between his jacket and shirt, and wrapping my arms around his waist. Being used to these displays of affection by now, Sherlock lifted one arm and placed it gently around my back. I knew it probably didn't mean half as much to him as it did to me, but the feeling of being so close to him made me feel safe. I rested my head on his chest and listened carefully to the beating of his heart. It always drummed harder when he was really interested in a case, and this one seemed to have him completely engrossed. His breathing, however, was slow and intentional, like he had to concentrate on every in-breath and every out-breath. He seemed so controlled, and being pressed against his strong chest, listening to his body work, was like listening to a symphony. My thumb rubbed gently up and down against his shirt, and I could feel his breathing change ever so slightly. He liked it. I moved my other fingers for a short while before beginning to pull away from him.
I knew John would rip into me about this if I stood there for as long as I wanted to. To me, each beat of Sherlock's heart was so important that time would pass slowly for me to enjoy it, but from anyone else's perspective, only a moment or two would have passed. I tried to tear myself away from his body, but as my hands left the confines of Sherlock's jacket, his arms pulled me straight back to him. Both of his arms wrapped around me like a blanket, as I leaned back to look into his face. His eyes darted down to meet mine, and he smiled quickly, before returning his attention to his wall.
I whispered softly against him so John wouldn't hear, “What's this?”
And without breaking his gaze, he breathed back, “It's a two-hug problem.”
I laughed almost silently, as I rested my head back on his chest, happy to stay there for as long as he needed me. After a heartwarming minute, I felt him move, and my heart sank as I thought that it was over already, but I felt the subtle touch of his lips on the top of my head, before he once again returned to his original stance. I heard the out-breath of a smile, and felt his heart-rate increase as I squeezed myself tighter against him and drew circles and lines with my fingers along his back, hoping the future would be filled with many more two-hug problems...
