Ch.8

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   His lips touched mine softly at first in hesitation. I shifted my head closer, feeling the full of his lips on mine. His hand trailed back up my arm, resting at the nape of my neck. Adrenaline filled me and my chest grew tight. Our lips separated, Sherlock's cheeks flushed the lightest tint of pink. Sherlock Holmes, blushing!

    I took in his gaze, his eyes alive and as bright as ever. My mind was whirling, I couldn't think straight, so I said- "You've uh-You've got a bruise on your..Cheek." You should have kept your mouth shut.  His brows knitted together in confusion for a moment, bringing his hand to his face. He softly pressed his finger to the bruise, quickly retracting his hand. Me being the dim wit I am, quickly whisked off to the kitchen to get a damp rag. 

  Sherlock was now sitting on the couch as I came back with a cold, damp cloth. "I'm sorry-" I started, bending down to place the damp cloth on his cheek. He winced, causing me to retract my hand. "No-It's okay." I wasn't sure if he was referring to the cloth or to my apology, but I slowly placed the cloth back to his cheek. "I hadn't noticed it before." Sherlock said softly, his eyes closed. I pulled the cloth away after a while of silence, his eyes opening to meet mine. "Does it uh-Feel better?" I asked as he sat up more, his face closer to mine. "A little..." He started. I leaned in closer, placing a soft kiss to his bruise. 

   His lips curved into a small smile, "Better." He said softly, placing his hand on mine. 

    All the feelings we had for one another all this time seemed to show itself now more than ever. I still couldn't believe he was here. He was right in front of me, his hand on mine. The faint sting of his lips still tingling on my lips.

   I could see the excitement in his eyes, knowing he was a novice to these emotions. A man who seemed so imperturbable in his acts was now acting as though he were a young boy with his first love. Well, he kind of was. 

   "John." He said, his voice soft, nearly to a whisper. I didn't look in his eyes directly, rather slipping my hand out from under his and placing it back to his face. "Hmm?" I asked in a soft hum, I could feel a blush creeping up my neck, trying to avoid eye contact. "Thank you." His voice was louder, but at the same level of softness and full of sincerity. I wasn't sure what he was thanking me for, if anything I should be thanking him. 

   After a moment of silence, I set the rag aside, finally looking up to his eyes. "Why are you thanking me?" I asked, my voice so quiet, I wasn't sure if he had heard it. 

   "You stayed strong." Were his words, which utterly surprised me.

    "But I didn't-I spent nights staying awake because I couldn't stop thinking about you! You were all I thought about, Sherlock. I went days on end without sleep, I had to take a break from doctoring. I felt lost again...I felt as though before I met you, nothing to turn to. There was no reason to get up in the morning. No heads int he refrigerator, no mannequins hanging from the ceiling...-" I chuckled lightly, but only to stop from crying again. I turned my head away, wiping at the tears threatening to fall. 

    I felt a finger run up my chin, turning my head so I was gazing into those eyes. His eyes filled with a seriousness that sent the hairs on my neck up. "You stayed strong for us, John. Showing emotion isn't weakness, it shows you kept your faith in me, John."

   I looked at him for a moment, wondering what Sherlock saw in me that made him think I was anything close to 'strong' these past few months. I felt goosebumps form along my body as he said my name with an intense venom. "Friends protect people." He finished, his eyes now half lidded but still holding their utter most intensity. Nostalgia hit me hard, and it was all I had in me to fight back the tears that were forming on the rim of my eyesHe wrapped his arms around me, scooting over on his couch to allow me room. 

   We sat on his little leather couch, Sherlock's arms around my shoulders, his head leaning atop mine. We sat in silence, neither of us speaking a single word. I felt the rhythm of Sherlock running his fingers through my hair as I tapped lightly on his thigh. My head fell perfect into the crook of his neck, the weight of his head atop mine feeling all the more comforting. I felt as though I myself would fall into a deep sleep, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. 

    "I remember." He said suddenly, his voice liquid metal in the silence. "Remember what?" I asked, not looking up. "My dream." He said, I waiting in silence for him to continue, but he didn't. "What was it about?" I asked, closing my eyes. No reply. I lifted my head slowly, glancing up to Sherlock. He was staring down at me, the smallest of smiles on his lips. "What?" I asked, his face going back to expressionless. "It was rather...Vivid." He said now, moving his gaze to somewhere else in the room.

     I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "What was it about, then?" I asked again, wondering why he was putting it off. I glanced up at him now, his cheeks flushed. I figured it wasn't something he wanted to share, leaving us in silence again. 

    After a while of silence, he shifted, pulling my closer to his as he  tightened his grip around my waist. I did the same, nearly pulling him onto my lap. He glanced down at me with half lidded eyes, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I felt my cheeks grow warm, smiling to myself. He pressed another kiss to my forehead, craning his neck to press another to the bridge of my nose. I turned my head up just as he pressed one to my lips, feeling a blush creep along my neck. I soon felt his tongue flick against my lower lip, a bit surprised by this action from a novice like Sherlock.

    This was all still far too hard to comprehend, and yet here it was happening before my very eyes.   My brain rattled, chest tightened, muscles growing tense. I felt the intensity of his tongue battling mine as his han ran down my thigh. I took in a sharp breath, feeling Sherlock smile. It was one of those moments you would see on a television show and think 'That would never happen in real life.' And here it was, as if it were being scripted in a television show now. 

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