The next morning they had woken up wrapped around each other, Sherlock's face buried in her hair while their fingers were interlocked around her abdomen. Neither one of them dared to comment on it, simply detangled themselves and went about getting washed and dressed for the day.
The rest of the morning had passed easy enough, all of them sat at the table for breakfast, and Sherlock did in fact eat a decent amount of food, even pinching some strawberries from Evelyn's bowl when he'd finished his fry up. She'd smacked his hand with her spoon, leaving yogurt smeared over the back of it.
Even Mycroft seemed in a much better mood than the night before, and that in itself felt like a miracle worth celebrating.
Once most of the food was cleared away Evelyn had offered to make tea for the room, and of course, Sherlock had to follow her into the kitchen.
Once each cup had been placed down with the requested beverage ingredients, Evelyn switched the kettle on and turned to settle against the cupboard while waiting for it to boil. They'd been chatting away between themselves when Sherlock suddenly slotted his leg between hers slightly, leaning on his arms against the kitchen surface, holding her in place.
Eve felt heat rise up her neck as she flushed, trying to move further back into the counter. "You've got to appear more at ease with our physical contact or this won't work. My parents are watching us." He said quietly.
"Sitting with your arm around me and holding my hand is one thing, but this feels..." Too intimate.
Sherlock tipped his head. "I'm going to kiss you, Eve."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"We've been here for almost twenty four hours and haven't made any sign of kissing once."
"I figured we'd just say we're private."
Sherlock leaned in closer, moving a hand to rest against her hip, whispering into her ear. "As far as we would know, we're in private. Everyone is in the other room."
"I'm supposed to be making tea." She squeaked.
Sherlock chuckled lowly. "I'll let you make tea in a moment. I think we've waited it out long enough, my mother's not going to look away." Sherlock pulled his head up and glanced at his supposed girlfriend, the hand on her hip increasing in its grip. Nervous. Sherlock was nervous. For some reason that made Eve feel better. "Can I kiss you now?"
Evelyn was terrified, be useless to deny that, and she just hoped this felt worth it. "You better kiss me like you love me." She whispered, almost too quiet for him to even hear it, but he most certainly did.
He smirked cockily, leaned down, lips parted, mouth catching hers before she could say anything else to try and take back or apologise for her words. After the second press of his mouth to hers she sunk into him, fingers curled against his trouser loops, feeling like she might fall over. He stepped impossibly closer, the hand on her hip moving to hold the back of her head, fingers slipping into her hair. The hand he had resting against the kitchen worktop circled around her waist, pressing their bodies together. He sighed gently as he let her lips go, only to claim them again after a breath, kissing her languidly, his tongue slipping against hers. He kissed her like he was trying to rise a sound from her, make her vocalise how much she was enjoying it.
Suddenly, John's voice breached their bubble. "Oh wow."
They pulled apart harshly, Evelyn almost stumbling on her feet as she crashed back to reality, her back hitting the edge of the counter. She tried to play nonchalant, but couldn't help the hand that came up to touch her still tingling lips.
Sherlock looked lost for a second, then cleared his throat, shifting to flick the kettle back on again, it seems to have finished boiling and got a bit cold in all that time. "I do apologise, we got carried away. I'll make the tea now."
Well, she thought, this is a disaster.
John continued to stare at the pair as if they had both grown extra limbs. Sherlock raised an eyebrow back. "My mother was watching us." He whispered harshly.
"Not sure she was."
"She was."
"Not for that long."
Sherlock rounded on him. "Can we help you?"
John shook an empty mug at him. "Was coming for another cuppa."
Sherlock took the cup, glaring daggers at his friend. "Like I said, I'll make it now." Eve offered Sherlock an anxious smile, and he returned it easily. "You can go sit down if you like, I'll do this."
"Nothing like team work though."
John slowly backed away from the pair, who seemed to suddenly forget he was even in the room at all. Mary will be so pissed she missed that.
———
Sherlock bent at the waist to press a kiss against her quickly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "You okay?" She nod. "I'm going to mingle." He looked uncomfortable with the word, expression forming a grimace. "As I've been told being antisocial with ones family is rude."
She scrunched up her face fondly. "Is a bit."
"Hm." He closed the gap between them once more, lingering longer this time. Her mouth opened slightly under his as she relaxed into him. Then he pulled back, grinning at her. "If you need anything, find me. I won't be far."
Evelyn was full on beaming up at him. "Mary is with me, I'll be fine." Sherlock suddenly looked tense, glancing at Mary sitting opposite Eve. It appeared he'd forgotten she was there.
Mary wiggled her fingers at him with a smug smile.
Sherlock cleared his throat. "Sure you will." His hands seemed to itch at his sides for a moment, then he quickly turned and walked away.
Mary snorted at his retreating back. "Honestly, I want to bash your heads together."
Evelyn frowned. "What have I done?"
"You're not silly, Evie. Come on." When all Mary got in response was a blank stare, her eyebrows drew together. "You really don't see it?"
Before she got the chance to respond, Violet Holmes appeared from nowhere, handing Eve another glass of wine. "Oh, thank you."
She set one on the table for Mary, pulling a chair out and joining them on the patio. "I've got to say, Evelyn, I have never seen my son look at anyone or anything like that." She says.
"Sorry, what?" Evelyn watched Mrs Holmes cautiously, sipping the drink forced into her hand.
"The way he looks at you. It's truly something else. I never thought I'd see the day." The two younger women were waiting for her to elaborate. "Have you never noticed?"
Eve's head shook. "How does he look at me?"
"Oh, Evelyn. That boy looks at you as if he only gets to bask in sunlight when he's within your gaze. I saw it this morning, when you came back to join us at the dining table, the moment you walked into the room his entire demeanour changed. He sat up straighter, his eyes softened, he smiled without even realising he was doing it." She took hold of one hand. "I never imagined Sherlock would settle down but when he looks at you... I've never seen so much love in someone's eyes."
Evelyn swallowed heavily, looking at Mary out the corner of her eye. Why wasn't she saying anything?
"I'm sorry, I'm sure that must be a lot to process, but I see it in you, too. You relax when he's around, you look happier. I know he makes you breathless, I've seen that myself," Mrs Holmes touched Eve's cheek softly. "I'm glad you found each other." Violet finally looked away and moved her attention to the baby in the pram, oozing with maternal adoration. "Oh Mary, isn't she a darling." She claps. "Look at me getting distracted, I better get back to making those drinks, I'll leave you, but I will be back for a cuddle!"
Evelyn watched Mrs Holmes walk away, a bit bewildered. "I think you need to be careful." She looked at Mary then, the frown back to her features.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm not sure Sherlock is really acting anymore. I don't think he ever was."
Evelyn scoffed. "Of course he is. It's not real."
"Evie, look at him," she does, he's stood talking with John, his father, and who she believes to be the famous Uncle Rudy. There were quick introductions earlier, but as the guest list grew she lost track.
The sun was catching on Sherlock's face as it beams through the leaves of the tree they're stood under, one hand in his pocket while his other was now holding a glass of something that appeared to be whiskey. If she was honest with herself, he looked beautiful. Her eyes immediately softened as they landed on him, and as if by instinct he looks over to her almost simultaneously, smiling delicately before going back to his conversation. "I don't think you're acting anymore either."
"What?" She turns back to her friend, shaking her head, tone defensive. "You're mad, dunno what you're talking about."
"Oh come on, be honest with me. What about those oh so sensual little kisses five minutes ago? Who was that even for? Me? I know this is supposed to be fake. He was kissing you because he wanted to. You two were teetering on the edge of something before this whole fake relationship came about, and now you've both realised what it could be like between you–"
Eve closed her eyes, pressing her palms into the edge of the table. "Mary, stop."
She felt Mary touch her knuckles carefully. "I'm just trying to help, hun."
"I know.. I just– I don't think it's a good idea."
"If Sherlock came over here right now and asked to call this off, the act, and just be together, what would you say?"
"I–I don't know. Nothing. Maybe. I don't know."
"Evie... Come on. You're obviously in love with him."
"What?" She gasped, eyes finally opening. "No!"
"Well... He's in love with you. Eve, I've watched him stumble his way into love with you in front of my own eyes for the past eighteen months."
The pounding in her ears was becoming too much. "This is messing with my head!" Evelyn stood up clumsily, knocking the glass over on the table, wine spilling across the surface. "I can't–"
"Evelyn?" It was Sherlock calling from across the garden, his voice sounding even more muffled from the noise of her own blood whirring in her body.
Mary was saying something, probably apologising, but she couldn't hear it.
All Eve could think in that moment was she had to get away from everyone, so she took her best option and rushed inside the house, finding the nearest wall and leaning against it, taking in deep breaths and gulping in air. Having a panic attack is not exactly ideal when you're in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people.
Suddenly, in a blur, stood before her was Sherlock. "What happened? What's the matter?" His arms trapped her against the wall, but it felt like a relief rather than anything else. "Talk to me. Talk to me, Eve. You're safe. Do you want this to stop? I can take you home if it's too much–"
"No!" She exclaims. "It's not you.. well, it kind of is and it isn't but I– I can't breathe."
Sherlock went to move away and give her some space, but she grabbed him.
"Don't leave." She kept a tight grip on his shirt with both hands, twisting the material to pull him closer, trying to ground herself back to reality against him.
Sherlock looked so far out of his depth in any other circumstance she might have laughed. "I don't know what to do to help you."
"Just– Just–" She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling hot tears drop down her face. "Sherlock–"
"Do you trust me?" She nod, looking him in the eye. "Promise?" She nod again, and before she could blink his mouth was on hers. His hand had slipping to cradle her face, while she inhaled deeply through her nose, the fingers fisted in his shirt tightening, desperately clinging to him as if he was life support. Her breathing had calmed almost immediately.
Sherlock pulled back slowly, their noses still touching. "I apologise if that was–"
"It's fine." She whispered.
"I know when we've done that before it was supposed to be–"
"Shut up, Sherlock." He snapped his mouth shut, definitely still feeling out of his depth. She continued to breathe evenly, resting her head to his.
"Are you okay?" His voice was barely a whisper.
She sighed calmly against him. "I am now."
Sherlock's gaze was flittering around her face, it wouldn't settle, like he was thinking about something too hard to process. "Eve, we should probably talk–"
"Ooh! Sorry!" Mrs Holmes stumbled into the room with a now red dishcloth. She'd obviously cleaned up the mess Evelyn had made, and if she had the brain power she would probably feel embarrassed.
Sherlock flew back from Eve like a caught teenage boy in his childhood bedroom, and Evelyn could do nothing but turn away so her tears weren't obvious. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll leave you to it!" Then she was out again, but the moment had already gone.
"I need to get a glass of water."
She shot off towards the kitchen, but Sherlock immediately followed behind, unwilling to let her go.
"Eve, what happened? What did Mary say?" He continued to follow her every move. As she got a glass out the cupboard, as she moved to fill it in the sink, even when she got a paper towel to wipe up a slight spill. "Eve–"
"Sherlock, stop." She put a hand out, Sherlock walking into it. For a moment she let her fingers spread against his shirt, feeling the warmth under the soft material, the pounding of his heart imprinting into her palm. He was watching her carefully, trying to decipher what on earth could be going on inside her head. "Do it again."
He looked confused for only a moment, then his eyes darkened, taking the glass from her hand and not so elegantly putting it on the worktop, water spilling over the edges. Then he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him, dropping his lips to hers without a second thought.
She reacted in kind, sliding her palms along his chest, up his neck, settling in his hair. She felt the puff of air he released through his nose once her fingers made contact with his scalp. The hands on her back slipped lower, pressing her flush against him.
With a new surge of confidence, she gripped a handful of his curls and tugged. Not hard, just gentle enough to test the waters, and my God did it work. Sherlock's head fell back slightly, a genuine moan slipping from his swollen lips. His eyes were wide. "Sensitive follicles." She whispered, honestly surprised at his reaction.
Sherlock scanned her face. "I don't–" He cut himself off, panting heavily.
Eve had never seen him look so dishevelled. Maybe she'd taken it too far and he was annoyed with her, maybe he'd pack her bag and send her home, maybe– "Oh." She gasped, staring at him. As she had moved to pull away, even with his arm still clamped around her, she'd felt something against her stomach. "Oh. You're– Sorry, I shouldn't have–"
"Don't. Move." He spoke behind grit teeth. Eve watched him for a moment, his eyes were closed tightly, maybe he was wishing his erection away. "Okay." He seemed to have made up his mind about something, but before Eve could begin to wonder what it was, he was pulling on her arm and dragging her through the kitchen.
"Son? Where are you–"
"I need to speak to my girlfriend privately!" He shouted back. "Don't interrupt."
Evelyn only got a second to glance back at who had entered the room with them, and when she saw Siger Holmes grinning knowingly, she wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow her whole.