The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Screwed Up

 I ended up curled up in a chair, just staring at the stars out the window. That's one thing I miss about my old life. There are no stars in London. I heard the door open and tap quietly closed, and in my perephrial vision, I saw Sherlock remove his coat and sit down on the bed, his back facing me. Neither of us said anything for a moment. I knew he didn't mean it. He was scared, and he saw something he didn't understand, so he had to prove that he was ok.

I sighed, climbing up onto the bed and crawling over to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and put my head on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to tell me what I already knew.

"I know." I whisepred in his ear. "I know." 

"You were wrong, Claudia." He whispered. I pulled away from him, allowing him to face me.

"About what?"

"About women making me uncomfortable." He said. "It's not 'women' it's just you, and it's not discomfort so much as it is paralyzing fear and head-ache inducing confusion. You make me feel things that I have only just begun to understand, and when I think I've gotten you figured out, you pull out something bigger and better and surprise me every single time. " I didn't reply. I just sat there, watching him, waiting for him to say something else. "Much like what I saw on the moor, you are something that I can't explain...and for me, that is the most terrifying thing I have ever faced." I nodded.

"You don't have friends." I repeated. 

"I've just got one." He replied. "I'd say our relationship has surpassed friendship status, wouldn't you?" I sighed. 

"You know, John may not forgive you as easily." 

"I am aware. But I trust that he will come around."

"He might, but you're going to have to work for it." He nodded in agreement.

"I've got a plan for that." He took out his phone, texting John.

Henry's therapist currently in Cross Keys Pub. S

SO?

Interview her?

WHY SHOULD I?

"He's texting in all caps." I pointed out. he held up a finger, adding an image of the therapist to John. It was a women, and an attractive one at that. I laughed, finally understanding.

Sherlock did too, before placing his hand over mine on the bed, his fingers resting on my wrist. His thumb ran back and forth over my skin. 

"I care about you, Claudia. Quite desperately as it turns out." I chuckled.

"Yeah...I know what you mean." I pulled my hand from beneath his. "You should get changed, get to bed. You must be exhausted, I know I am." I stood up, but he grabbed my waist, pulling me so that I was standing in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"I love you." my eyes widened. 

"Sherlock, are you-"

"I know that everyone assumes that I don't understand...that I have no experience and therefore I do not and will not understand love, but if my hypothesis is correct it feels something equivalent to the way I felt watching you flirt with a tour guide, despite claiming to not know how, to get confirmation on the proof that the hound exists."  I smiled. "Is that correct?"

"I can't tell you what you feel, Sherlock. I don't know for sure...and I am not sure if I can say it back." His hands slipped from my waist. "Not because I don't feel it, Sherlock. I just...you said I screwed you up."

"I wasn't-"

"Just, hear me out." I said, putting a hand on his face. "Maybe I did screw you up, but...similarly, Moriarty screwed me up in ways I can't even begin to explain. You are scared of me because you can't figure me out, and I am scared of you for a whole other reason entirely...one that is unfair to the both of us but I can't..." I sat back down on the bed beside him. "I'm a mess, Sherlock." 

"It appears that the both of us are." I leaned my head on his shoulder, tears in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." I whispered. 

"Don't." I sat up, looking at him. "You have no reason to apologize to me, and it is my suspicion that you seldom will in the future. I don't want to here you say that you are sorry, much less for something that is out of your control." I put a hand on his face, lightly pushing aside the hair on the side of his head aside. I leaned in, my nose brushing against his. I didn't have to close the rest of the gap because he did it for me, pressing his lips against mine before I could. I grabbed his face, pulling him closer to me, and one of his hands slipped down to my waist. I pulled away, leaning my forehead against his. One of his hands came up to my face, and he brushed a stray tear away with his thumb. 

"We really should go to bed." I stated. He nodded, pulling away from me and going over to his suitcase. He pulled it up onto the bed, unzipping it and taking out his pajamas. I walked around behind him, pulling his blazer off. "Leave your shirt when you go change."

To my surprise, he started undoing the buttons right then and there, and slipped it off, handing it to me. My mouth opened in shock at the shirtless Sherlock standing in front of me. He just crossed over into the bathroom without another word. Once I'd gotten over the shock of what had just happen, I took off my clothes, putting on his shirt and a pair of black and blue pajama shorts. I climbed into the bed, turning off my light and laying on my side. A few moments later, the bathroom door opened, and the opposite side of the mattress sagged. I turned to face him, looking at the outline of his hair in the dark, not that I could see it much. I moved closer to him, his chin touching the top of my head. I could feel his warm breath on my hair. 

I fell asleep like that.