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"Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
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SHERLOCK HOLMES AND GALINA IVANOV WERE BOTH ADEQUATELY DRUNK as they returned to 221B Baker Street.
They weren't pissed or slobbering, but highly tipsy from several champagne glasses that kept falling into their hands.
"Did you really have to say that to the Комиссар полиции (police commissioner)?" Galina asked, her English coming out choppy with a strong accent thanks to her inebriation.
"Come on, no one believed that his hair was real. I was simply pointing out the obvious," Sherlock laughed, fumbling as he closed the door behind them.
Galina was trying to hold up both her heels and her dress as she made her way to the stairs, but her balance faltered and she ended up tripping on the first step.
Sherlock mumbled something under his breath as he walked toward her.
Galina thought he was simply just going to step over her but she was shocked when he knelt down and tucked his arm under her knees and supported her back with his other arm.
He carried her bridal style up the stairs as they both laughed and she leaned her head on his chest as he swayed her side to side.
When he lowered her down on his feet, he couldn't force himself to remove his hands from her body so he rested them on her waist. He hummed when she wrapped her arms around his torso and looked up at him.
Her braid had completely come undone and this time, he could not resist pushing the stray hairs behind her ears.
She sucked in a short breath as his hands cupped her face and she could feel his fingers trembling from the touch.
No words needed to be spoken to know what was going on in their heads.
Galina wanted something from him.
She wanted him to hold her tighter, to bring her closer, to allow himself to completely melt into her the way she wanted to melt into him.
Sherlock wanted something from her as well.
He wanted to have the galls to dip his head down and brush his lips against hers, to let go of all the anti-sentimental thoughts he had crafted over the years, to allow himself to be open fully at all of life's possibilities.
Galina Ivanov brought out a younger version of himself; the young man he could have been and that he never got to enjoy because of the trauma that had plagued his childhood.
No words needed to be spoken as he lowered his head as far as he could and as she angled hers while trying her hardest to accommodate his size.
However, the universe had a different plan.
An annoying cough resonated through their living room as they broke apart quickly and turned their heads toward the fireplace.
Mycroft Holmes, of all people, was standing in their living room; arms crossed, umbrella resting against Sherlock's chair, eyebrows furrowed, and lips curled into a snarl.
"Mycroft! What a pleasant surprise!" Galina shouted, immediately forgetting the younger Holmes as she bounded toward Mycroft. "Я думала, что ты забыл обо мне (I thought you had forgotten about me)!"
Galina's usually elegant- yet sometimes difficult to understand- English was getting worse and worse as she excitedly told Mycroft about her night.
"Мы ходили на гала-концерт, и это было так здорово! Я соскользнула вниз по лестнице и чуть не подвернула лодыжку. Мы с Шерлоком танцевали, а он пытался спровоцировать бунт с кейтеринговой компанией! Это было просто замечательно!"
If Sherlock was not borderline heavily intoxicated and, if Galina wasn't slurring her words, he might have understood almost everything she had said.
He made it a point to take up a rigorous study in the Russian language the following day.
All he could make of Galina's rant was only a few words; gala, staircase, dance, riot, and catering company.
Sherlock was hoping that she had told Mycroft about his attempt to incite a riot with the employees of the catering company.
It obviously didn't take.
Mycroft eyes slowly moved from Galina to Sherlock as he raised his eyebrows and quirked his head.
"My, it seems that the two of you had a grand time, that is, judging from the alcohol on your breath," he muttered bitterly, which caused Galina to roll her eyes as she slapped his arm.
"Ugh, you are always too...встревоженный...uh..."
"Uptight."
"Спасибо (Thank you), Sherlock. Mycroft, you are always too uptight for your own good, If you two will excuse me, I am headed to bed."
Galina went ahead and gave Mycroft a loving hug as he unwillingly smiled down at her, but the tension was quickly relieved when he saw how wide and bright her smile was.
When she made her way to the door, something caused her to stop.
The sound of her heels landing on the floor vibrated through the quiet room as she flung herself onto Sherlock.
He staggered a bit when he caught her but he held onto her firmly with her hands wrapped around his neck and her bare feet inches from the floor, being supported by only his hold on her lower back.
"Спасибо, моя дорогая, это было прекрасно (Thank you, my dearest, it was perfect)," she whispered in his ear, her face buried in his neck for only a moment before she picked up her discarded shoes and ran out of the room.
Sherlock smiled reluctantly as his hand rubbed his neck, still being able to feel the ghost of her hair tickling his cheek.
Mycroft coughed once again and Sherlock snapped out of Galina's spell and began to violently tug off his bow tie as he let out a dramatic sigh.
"While I normally enjoy your company, as you've been able to surmise this night has been exhausting. If you could-"
"Sherlock Holmes, what exactly are your intentions with Galina Ivanov?"
Sherlock had been in the middle of taking off his shoes when the ridiculous question was posed and he almost fell flat on the floor.
"What?" Sherlock questioned, remembering exactly why he rarely drank when it took him more than a few seconds to figure out what Mycroft was hinting at and when he did, he drew his shaking head back as he knitted his brows. "Oh, you are so ridiculous."
"Well, what do you expect me to think?" Mycroft shouted, sitting down angrily in Sherlock's chair. "I send her to you for safekeeping and you've managed to woo her instead. You're taking her out drinking and dancing, next thing you want to-"
"I would like to point out that sending her to me for safekeeping is highly insulting. What is your point?" Sherlock barked as he ripped his dress coat off, highly debating chucking it at his brother's obnoxious face.
"I need to be aware of these types of developments," he stated matter-of-factly as he leaned back and held his hands in his lap. "It is my right to-"
"You are not her father, Mycroft, which is good because based on what you're insinuating this would have been an even more uncomfortable conversation," Sherlock said with amusement, about to make his way to his bathroom until Mycroft shot out of his seat.
"Is this laughable to you?"
"Entirely."
"Galina is unlike either of us- she's different," Mycroft explained as if he was talking to a child, which Sherlock severely resented. "She feels everything so intently. If you keep going the way you are going, she is going to develop feelings for you and you will hurt her!"
"Alright, that's enough!" Sherlock growled as she marched up to Mycroft. "At first, I was just going to allow you to spout all that foolish shit, but now I am tired. First, you are not her father so don't pretend to be-"
"I practically raised the girl!"
"-woman. You and a gaggle of non-disclosed nannies, correct? This leads me to my second point; she is not a child. She can fully well take care of herself. You are making her sound like a fragile little bird and she is a hawk!"
Mycroft bit the inside of his cheek as he uncurled his hands which had unknowingly turned into fists. "Do not hurt her- emotionally or otherwise. If you do, you might find yourself on another flight."
Sherlock had astonishingly remained calm throughout the entire questioning, but something snapped.
It wasn't that he was offended that Mycroft believed he would hurt Galina; that was a reasonable consideration.
It wasn't the fact that Mycroft had barged into his home unannounced; he did that often.
It wasn't even that he had sat in Sherlock's chair.
Sherlock Holmes would be threatened by no man; especially his formerly obese brother with too much bravado and too little shame.
"Do not threaten my, brother mine," Sherlock seethed, grabbing Mycroft's umbrella and shoving it into his chest.
Mycroft smiled lazily as he accepted the object and cleared his throat.
"Well then, don't make me."
As Mycroft left, Sherlock waited patiently until he heard the downstairs door click shut to unleash all his frustrations.
He screamed as he grabbed the nearest thing he could get his hands on and threw it into the wall.
"I never liked that vase either."
Sherlock was turned to the side with his hands resting on the wall; his head hung down to observe the fragmented shards of glass on the floor.
"Yes, well, the flowers will be disappointed."
Galina let out a nervous sigh. "Since when do you have flowers, мой дорогой (my dearest)?"
Sherlock drew in a deep breath as he turned to face her.
If her beauty was undeniable earlier that night, it was insurmountable at that moment.
Galina had rid herself of makeup even though its evidence lingered; a faint pink stain on her lips and smudges leftover from the mascara she tried to remove.
Her hair was curled in a way only achieved by wearing braids for several hours, and it framed her like a halo.
"Did you come down here for a reason?" He snapped, satisfying the cruel dragon within him when a flash of hurt crossed her face but it was only a flash.
He began to feel regret when she narrowed her eyes playfully and waved her hands dismissively.
"Yes, as a matter-of-fact-"
"Wait," Sherlock said, holding his hand out in front of him as he walked around the glass. "You'll cut yourself."
"That was nice," she applauded as Sherlock carefully presented himself in front of her. "You know-"
"Your reason, Galina," Sherlock insisted, cursing his tone and his expression and his stubbornness.
Mainly, he cursed Mycroft for shooting him down into reality when Galina made him soar through the heavens.
Galina bit the corner of her lip as she took a step closer to him, pleased to see that because of the glass, he couldn't back away from her.
Although, she knew the thought had more than likely crossed his mind.
So, if he wanted to play things that way, she was happy to oblige.
"Help me out of my dress?"
Galina had to bite the inside of her cheek as to not burst out in laughter at his ridiculous expression.
"Mrs. Hudson helped me get dressed and I tried but I can not get it off myself," she explained, turning her back to him as she gathered her hair and pulled it over her shoulder.
"Reasonable," he murmured, rolling his shoulders and standing tall. He approached her cautiously. "That sounds reasonable."
Galina breathed in deeply when she heard the soft thuds of Sherlock's sock-covered feet, crossing the final barrier between them.
She held that same breath when his cool fingers brushed her bare shoulder, pushing away a stubborn strand of hair that blocked his objective.
His fingers were nimble and quick as he began to undo the laces of her dress.
His breaths were even and his mind was calm because he could zone out all the unwanted feelings he held and all the unwanted things he wanted to do because he had one singular task to focus on.
However, when he pulled the final lace, he made the mistake of letting his hand linger on her bareback, he knew that all the unwanted things could not be avoided.
His eyes roamed over her unzipped back; the little pale freckles that littered her skin and the deep royal blue strapless bra she wore.
Only his fingertips were tracing the contours of her back, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to discover what it would be like to just flatten his hand.
Her back was smooth and her skin was warm, more than likely due to the alcohol, but her figure was solid and unwavering.
She was the first one to speak.
"I heard what you said to Mycroft," she admitted, finally allowing herself to shiver as the palm of his hand slid from her upper back to her lower back. "Спасибо (Thank you)."
"It was the truth, that is all," Sherlock stated, moving one finger up her the length of her spine for the last time. He cleared his throat. "It is rather late, so-"
"Why are you acting like this?" she questioned bluntly, turning around while her dainty hand held her dress up.
"I'm not-"
"But you are," she said, interrupting him again as she took ahold of his hand, surprised to see how much it was trembling.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, mesmerized by the way her fingers traced his knuckles and turned his hand over to run her nails against his palm.
"You can not lie to me," she whispered, grabbing his hand firmly as she held it against her chest. "I can feel it. Why can you not just put a name on it? Can you not tell that maybe I am starting to feel the same way?"
His head snapped up and he inched closer to her, tilting his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes curiously at her. "What are you saying?"
Galina chuckled lightly as she rolled her eyes, bringing her other hand up to rest on his bicep, not caring that her dress was barely clinging to her. "Apparently, everyone can see it besides us. Lestrade thinks you are entrapped, Johh believes you are falling for me, and Mrs. Hudson is sure you already have."
"Their opinions are none of my concern regarding the subject."
"But, what about mine?"
Sherlock closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. "Yours is the only one that matters."
"See," she whispered, moving her hand from his bicep to hold his chin and tilt his head down. "Was that so difficult?"
"Tremendously," he replied, not trying to rip his chin away as her emerald eyes melded with his piercing baby blues. "You are a ray of sunshine that attracts everyone and brightens up everything. I have been known to be rude, crass, arrogant, stubborn, and void of regular human emotions. Why would you want a cloud to hide you away?"
"Oh, Sherlock," she exhaled, moving her hand to rest firmly on his cheek. "What makes you think that I do not want you for exactly who you are?"
Her dress began to fall and she was paying it no mind, but Sherlock was. As it was descending her figure, he caught it right before it passed her hips. In his attempt to be a decent man, his knuckles brushed against her flat stomach which sent a ripple of something in his gut.
Her lips were parted slightly and she watched his eyes trail from her stomach to her breasts and followed that pattern one, two, and five times.
"Have you ever had sex?" she asked bluntly, cocking her head to the side as she guided his free hand to her stomach.
To anyone else, it would have been such a personal question to ask someone of his age but Sherlock was not the average man.
Her frank and shameless nature were admired by him greatly.
"I was curious," he shrugged, admitting to her that he was, in fact, not a virgin. "She was there and she was an extremely sexual person. It happened once but I didn't quite figure out why so many people are crazy about the activity, but..."
"But?"
"Seeing you and touching you, it's different."
"And do you know why?" she probed, risking to move closer to him, even though in the back of her mind she knew at any minute he could freak out and run.
She risked it because she was so confident in Sherlock and as she pressed their bodies together so that when she leaned forward, her lips were directly under his, she wondered if anybody had ever held that much confidence in him.
"Why?" he also risked something by asking her this question because he knew what she was going to say, but he couldn't think straight as her breath was fanning his face- laced with alcohol but inherently sweet.
"Because of that thing you claim to despise; настроение (sentiment)."
He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth as he tried to deny what she was saying.
He couldn't deal with it.
He couldn't accept it.
He wouldn't face it.
So, he said the only thing he could think of.
"Have you ever had sex?"
Galina snorted so hard, Sherlock wouldn't be surprised if she had hurt herself. She was laughing to the point where little tears were escaping her lids and her face turned a bright pink hue.
"T-the only men I have spent significant time with were my captors and your brother, make your deductions."
Sherlock cringed but found himself infected by her light laughter. "I don't know why that is pleasant to hear."
Galina had finally calmed her laughter and she wiped tears away from her face as she pulled up her dress. "I do."
They stood there awkwardly, both unaware of the next steps to be taken.
Galina believed that they had come a long way in such a relatively short amount of time- just shy of two months. She believed this was only possible because their situation deemed them bound together, living together, with no possibility of escape.
It wasn't until Mrs. Hudson had given her the little nudge in the right direction, that she began to realize what had been brewing within her all that time; attraction.
Sherlock couldn't fathom how such a seemingly polar opposite of him had managed to draw all these sentiments from him. Lust, care, admiration, respect, and an overwhelming need to please.
He believed this was only possible because she was managing to plant herself in a wound that had not fully closed and he would never have been this vulnerable to her charisma if they had met years before.
"So, what happens next?" Sherlock wondered aloud, already missing the warmth her body had provided him.
She smiled softly as she shrugged her shoulders. "I do not know. I am just as inexperienced as you are when it comes to all this..."
"-sentiment?"
"Yes, I suppose..." She took a deep breath before looking up to his eyes with a crooked smile. "I believe I have strong- as you put it- sentiments toward you. I know all the reasons I should not, but you are just so compelling. I admire it."
"I always considered myself asexual," he admitted, quirking one of his shoulders as he tried to reason with himself why he felt so attracted to her in a way he had with no other woman. "It was mostly by choice versus natural disposition. However, you are compelling as well. Although, I still believe that romantic engagements are pointless and dangerous and I have no intention of pursuing one with you. These types of things only weaken a person."
Galina rolled her eyes at his remark, he had in no uncertain terms blown her off, but she could see past it.
She would allow his conflicted and stubborn soul a little respite for the night.
So, instead, she opted for a question he could ponder.
"Do you think I weaken you, мой дорогой (my dearest)?"
"No, and that's the danger."
"Little by little," she whispered, giving him a close lip smile as she hooked their pinkies together. "I believe in you. Despite the part of you that is fighting yourself, I can feel what you want too."
Sherlock smirked as she walked away from him, holding her dress tightly in her dress as it flowed behind her like a foresty train.
"You've never explained to me how that works; your abilities, that is," he clarified, running a hand through his tangled curls.
She looked over her shoulder and quirked her eyebrows up as she shrugged one shoulder.
"A story for a different time, мой дорогой (my dearest)."