The Kiss • Sherlock Holmes
Sherlock Holmes had never thought of himself as an ordinary man.
A man who would yearn for having one specific person in his life, in his bed, in his mind and maybe... His heart even.
Yet right now, he was lying next to a woman, watching her chest heave and a quiet snore escape her lips as she breathed, looking calmer than she did half an hour ago. Her cheeks crimson red, wearing his grey t-shirt with her hand on his chest and leg over his. Not that he minded.
The detective's body was still trembling, not physically but as if it had a mind that tried to comprehend what he had just done. While it was grateful for the great experience, tiredness was trying to shut it down as the detective's eyes laid on every single detail on the woman's face. "Shut up," he murmured as his mind criticised why he would find her beautiful, reminding him of the truth about one's mind's beauty standarts. He did not care.
This feeling, however, was not ignorable. Was it regret? No, certainly not. It made his heart ache. Not pain, not excitement... What then?
Truth is, the detective knew what it was. He just pretended not to. It had been ages since he last felt like this, and now, he wanted to keep it there, buried in his heart and ignored by his mind. Its presence felt, but unknown; even to the great Sherlock Holmes. He admired the idea of it. He loved not knowing, for the first time in his life.
The woman stirred a little, dragging him out of the storm of his thoughts. Sherlock directed his attention to her, feeling his cheeks burn as he realized he'd been staring at her the whole time. The woman whom he kissed half an hour ago.
"God, I'm freezing!" The young woman said as she hugged herself, walking into the lounge. Sherlock was in his mind palace, wandering around the halls of his great mind. He did not have a case that night, and he did this very often: visiting his mind palace every once in a while, going through solved cases and files, and sometimes trying to solve old, unsolved cases for fun. Unexpected from him, he opened his eyes and looked up at his upset flatmate who was wearing one of his t-shirts... Again. She sat down in front of the lit fireplace, closing her eyes and sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, he could see that she was cold and annoyed, but he didn't bother to try and make a deduction. Besides, she asked him not so long ago to actually communicate with her, therefore it was a win-win.
She let out a frustrated sigh, "The heater doesn't work."
The detective raised an eyebrow, the situation somehow amusing him. "I thought you got it fixed last week."
"I did." The woman didn't take her eyes off the flames as the smell and sound of the burning wood calmed her down a bit. She could feel the warmth creep up her body and it made her shiver a little, making her feel embarrassed.
"Well, you can sleep in my bed." Sherlock spoke calmly, watching her turn to him in surprise. "Oh, thank you," she felt her face getting too hot, but didn't know whether it was because of the fire or what he had just said. "But I'll be fine on the couch."
"You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." Sherlock stood up and offered her his hand, which she took immediately. Once she stood up as well, she looked up at him, almost able to see her reflection in his dilated pupils. "It's your bed, so I'll sleep here. But thank you for the offer."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned her around gently, then pushed her towards his bedroom. "Night night."
"Sherlock, seriously, you can't sleep on the couch..." She frowned a little as she turned back to him, "I think your bed is big enough for both of us, isn't it?"
The detective did not expect that. "Um... I guess so."
"You can sleep with me, then. I mean... In bed. Like sleep. Not..."
Sherlock interrupted her with a sigh, "Fine, I will, but don't complain if I crush you in your sleep."
Blushing even more, the young woman nodded and bit her lip from the inside, hoping that he wouldn't notice it. "Okay... " The detective nodded too, then gestured for her to lead the way. She turned around and walked towards his room, feeling a little excited.
Sherlock's flatmate wasn't unfamiliar with his bedroom, she would randomly knock on the door and walk in to borrow one of his t-shirts or remind him go get some milk. However, he could see how differently she acted now. She wasn't calm, a little anxious maybe; probably due to the fact that they were going to sleep together. And Sherlock couldn't help but feel... Odd -in his words- as well.
It wasn't that he had never had a woman in his bed before. The Woman and Janine were the two lucky women, but this time it was different. This woman was someone he admired, respected and actually liked. There wasn't anything special about her; she wasn't a genius like him, not a very important person like Mycroft, not a doctor like John... She was a baker who was extremely good at her job. And he admired her.
Sherlock watched her get into the bed, trying not to take up too much space so he would be comfortable. Taking off his dressing gown, Sherlock got into the bed too after turning off the lights; only the pale moonlight enlightening the room. They could barely see each other's face. There was a reasonable space between them but she was stiff, he could sense that. "Relax... I am comfortable." Sherlock said.
She nodded and took a deep breath, then lay on her side, turning to him. Sherlock looked into her eyes as the young woman whispered, "Thank you."
Her pupils dilated. Though he knew it could be because of the darkness, it wasn't the first time he noticed that. He knew she had liked him, as a friend because no normal human being like her would like him romantically, he reminded himself. He did not need any funny ideas distracting him.
When he found himself caught up in his own thoughts, he genuinely smiled at her, though it was a small one. "It's alright."
The young woman looked at his lips, not caring about what he would think for once, then she moved her hand hesitantly up to his cheek. Sherlock started getting confused, his heart beating faster as if it could prevent him from doing something wrong -despite his impeccably working mind-, he closed his eyes and let his flatmate put her hand on his cheek. She let out a brief breath as if it accidentally left her lungs, and then shifted closer to the detective. Closing her eyes as well, she pressed her lips against his.
They both were holding their breaths, and Sherlock opened his mouth just a little to let her kiss him. The young woman moved her lips very slowly, the tip of her tongue tasting his lips briefly before she pulled back. Her hand remained on his cheek for a little while longer as she started panicking, but he didn't do or say anything. The detective didn't get upset, he didn't even frown, he did not protest.
The young woman withdrew her hand but Sherlock took it gently without opening his eyes, then he placed it on his chest while still holding it. She let out a relieved sigh, keeping her eyes closed as she smiled and whispered, "Good night, Sherlock."
The detective gave her hand a small squeeze as a respond, before letting it go. She kept it there the whole night.
Once he was sure that she had fallen asleep, he opened his eyes to look at the young woman lying next to him, in his bed. Whom he shared a kiss with that could never be taken back.
A/N: I don't usually write for Sherlock, as he is very special to me. I needed to feel some kind of... warmth, I can say, so I wrote this little... I really don't know what to call this one. One-shot? No clue. Anyway, I thought it could help people feel better so I decided to post it here. Besides I knew that @drdaddystrange would have enjoyed this, so... (((: I hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think!!! ❤️
