A/N: I made a little somethin' somethin' that I thought represented the story so far ^^
After last chapter, we can now have lots and lots of fluff (yay)!! REALLY QUICK! Thank you guys SOOOO much for over 52 THOUSAND READS!!! I legitimately squealed when I logged back in and saw the numbers. And nearly 3 thousand votes?? Holy crap, thank you thank you thank you!
(Your POV)
The next month was nothing short of absolutely wonderful. Who'd have guessed? Once Sherlock came to terms with the fact that letting a little emotion in wouldn't kill him (not that he hadn't subconsciously been expressing his emotions for months now), he had no problem being open with his affections. Well, open with me, of course.
At first we had tried to keep our relationship under wraps, especially from John. We knew we'd never hear the end of it if he even had the slightest idea... Yeah, that plan lasted for about 8 hours. Just recalling what John said at the next morning's crime scene makes me giggle.
"Oh my God, Sherlock, stop rambling and just kiss her already. We all knew anyways. Oh and Lestrade, Sherlock confessed first. You owe me a fiver."
John was still the same as ever, walking in at the most inopportune times and 'sneaking' pictures whenever he could. Sherlock was still himself as well, performing random experiments and taking the most logical of approaches, even when it came to our relationship. Not that I really minded. Everything was... perfect.
Oh, look, I must have jinxed it.
---
The early February weather was excruciatingly cold with plenty of precipitation, whether it be rain, snow, or a mixture of the two. Eager to be inside, our little trio hurried up the stairs with the groceries, shivering against the icy morning breeze. Sherlock immediately started sniffing the air.
"Quite a wind we've got today." I chuckled as I set the grocery bags down on the table. John followed suit.
"Yeah, it is. Suppose we should start wrapping up a bit more."
I hummed in response, only half-listening. I was more intent on watching Sherlock, who was absentmindedly drifting down the hallway. I frowned. "Sherlock?" I called out. No reply. He walked into the bedroom and abruptly stopped. "Sher-"
"We have a client." He said suddenly and rather monotonously.
Yeah, right. "What, in the bedroom?" I sniggered to myself as I walked down the hall. Really, Sherlock, if you wanted to get me into the bedroom you could just ask... "Ohhh." He wasn't joking. There, laying in his bed, was a fully-clothed Irene Adler, sound asleep. "You've got to be kidding me." Sherlock and I exchanged knowing, exasperated glances.
---
"You let her wear one of my dressing gowns?" Sherlock whispered almost furiously as he guided me out of his room, one hand on my back.
"No," I hissed back, "she just took the one that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. What was I supposed to do, tell her to wear her old clothes again?!"
"She couldn't borrow some of yours??"
"She's not my size!"
Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."
Even though I hated her guts, I figured we should at least make an effort to be hospitable to our not-so-welcome guest. After showering, she had slipped on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns. It was one of his best, too, and he was pouting like a child. Not that I could blame him- this is Adler we're talking about. I basically hate her. Let's just say there's a reason she's named after a snake. Well, okay, maybe not exactly, but it's close enough to give me an excuse to despise her.
We both put on fake smiles as we entered the living room where John and Irene were already waiting. Irene had seated herself in Sherlock's chair (much to his dismay) while John had opted to sit at the living room table, a cup of tea in hand. "So," Sherlock addressed Irene curtly, heading to sit opposite of John, "who's after you?"
"People who want to kill me." She replied in that regal tone of hers I had grown to despise.
I rolled my eyes. "You know; it would help if you were a tiny bit more specific." I said sarcastically, sending her a pointed look. She glared right back at me.
"... Killers." She said with just as much venom.
"Oh, yeah great," I muttered, "perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd-"
Sherlock cleared his throat to silence me, sending me a look that said 'Save it'. Irene noticed. "Oh, look at that," she mocked, "The pet takes orders so well. So submissive..." She turned her head to look at my boyfriend suggestively. "If you ever need a change of regime, well, you know where to find me."
The only thing keeping me from standing up and beating the crap out of her right then and there was John's pleading stare. That, and the fact that Sherlock looked ready to murder. I clenched my jaw and kept silent as Sherlock spoke to Irene. "So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them." He stood up and started pacing, fiddling with the top button on his collared, white shirt. "Impressive."
"Isn't it just?" She sat up a little straighter, tossing her loose, black hair behind her shoulder. "Where's my camera phone?" It wasn't a question at all: it was a demand.
"The safest place I know." Sherlock replied easily. I smirked, knowing that Sherlock had entrusted me with keeping the fake phone we needed.
"It's not here. We're not stupid." John chimed in.
"Then what have you done with it?" She pressed once more. "If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."
"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago." Sherlock rambled off his well-rehearsed lie. This was also the lie we had told John, knowing that he was the type to let the cat out of the bag.
"I need it."
John chuckled, crossing his arms after running a hand through his hair. "Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" There was a moment of silence as John had a revelation. He looked over to Sherlock as if he was having an epiphany and began to ramble off a plan. "Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back..."
I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions."
He shot me an incredulous smile. "Thank you! See Sherlock, you could really take a note or two from (Y/n)." He reached for his phone, and Sherlock and I smirked at each other. Oh, John. "So why don't we... Oh." He stopped short and his face fell as I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the phone.
"Sorry John," I apologized as Sherlock made his way across the room, over to me. "It really was a good plan, though." John muttered something along the lines of teaming up against him, but I couldn't catch what it was he said.
"Thank you, darling." Sherlock said as he took the phone from my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles before turning back to Irene with a smug grin. Irene stood quickly, reaching for the phone, but Sherlock pulled it out of her reach. "The passcode." He insisted.
She said nothing, just kept her hand extended expectantly. He sighed and handed it over. Here we go... The plan was working. Irene typed in her code and frowned. "It's not working." She puzzled. Yes! I did a mental fist pump. All was going according to plan.
Sherlock snatched the phone from her triumphantly. "No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight." Irene looked in my direction and I shot the smuggest smirk I could muster at her, only to have it returned right back to me. Sherlock slid behind her to his chair, grabbing the real phone out from under the cushion. "I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway." He began to make his way over to where I was sitting. I stood up, wanting to see the phone unlock myself.
"You two never tell me anything." John complained as Sherlock entered he code into the real phone.
WRONG PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING.
What? "I told you that camera phone was my life." Irene's smirk was still plastered on her face. "I know when it's in my hand." She looked at the man next to me, sending him yet another suggestive glance, this time with an arched eyebrow. Ughhh. Okay, that's it. I was determined not to let Irene get under my skin any longer. She wants to play that way? Fine. I wasn't going to let her have any more chances to try and seduce my boyfriend. Who is not interested in your stupid face, thank you very much.
I looked up at Sherlock with the same quirked eyebrow as Irene. "Oh, she's rather good." I said breathily, making it sound as sexy as I could. Sherlock looked down at me, shooting me a warning look. I grinned, knowing exactly what that look was for. A few days ago I had whispered something to him in that exact tone (unaware of the trouble it would cause), and it was all he could do to keep himself from pouncing on top of me right then and there. Unfortunately, we were at a crime scene and he could do no such thing. He just had to fidget uncomfortably all afternoon until we returned home.
This time was different. A mischievous glint in his eyes, he snaked his free hand around my waist, drawing me close. "Almost as good as you," he replied with a wink. I knew that he could tell exactly what I was thinking and why I was doing this. I was satisfied, knowing Adler had gotten the hint to back off by now.
But then he did something I didn't expect. He leaned in right next to my ear and growled, "You might not want to use that tone with me again unless it's an... invitation." Oh. He pulled his face away, his nose a mere centimeter from mine, but not before placing a kiss right under my ear. Just the sound of his cello, jaguar-like voice alone sent shivers down my spine and I knew I was probably blushing profusely.
I felt John and Irene's stares boring holes into my head and I knew that I had to pull myself together quickly. So I did just that. "Maybe later," I smiled coyly, thinking I had won. That is, until I saw the determination in Sherlock's eyes.
"Is that a promise?" I didn't need to be a genius to tell that he wasn't kidding in the slightest. I opened my mouth to reply, but John cut me off short by clearing his throat.
"Hamish."
Both of us turned quickly in surprise, almost like two teenagers getting caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. "W-What?" I stuttered out.
"Erm, John Hamish Watson. If you were looking for baby names. Anyways, just... save it for the bedroom, you two." His comment made me blush, despite the fact that nothing of the sort had ever gone down in the bedroom... yet.
"If we could just... turn our attention back to the matter at hand, please." Irene said, a sour look gracing her features.
"Uh, yeah." I said awkwardly, pulling out of Sherlock's hold and sitting back down in John's chair. "Please, eh, continue."
"There was a man – an MOD official. I knew what he liked." She walked a short distance away, concealing her phone while she typed in the key code. Sherlock made his way back over to sit opposite of John, where he had been when this conversation started. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She handed the phone to Sherlock, who took it reluctantly. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you read it?"
"Yes." He answered simply.
Irene nodded. "A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out." I watched as Sherlock leaned forward, intently studying the phone. "What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" I clenched my teeth together and tensed as she leaned over his shoulder. "Go on, impress a girl." I looked away as she kissed his cheek, pretending not to have seen it. Lord help me. I will not stab her. I will not stab her. I will not...
"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." My thoughts shut down as I listened to Sherlock ramble off his deductions. When he finished, all three of us were giving him incredulous looks. I couldn't help but smile. Boy, am I lucky. He looked at all of our faces before sighing. "Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look ..." He beckoned me over.
"Flight 007..." I mumbled as I began reading the screen. "Double oh seven..." I wasn't even listening as Sherlock went on to explain exactly what flight it was. It was Irene's intense voice that pulled me out of my thoughts. "Like... agent double oh seven?"
"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." I froze. I knew that voice- it was my voice. Well, not mine exactly, but the one I had used on him just moments ago to elicit a response from Sherlock. And it was working. The two of them were having an intense staring contest just a few feet from my face. I huffed. The nerve of this woman... Using my own tricks against me.
Sherlock froze, speechless for a few moments before composing himself. "John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?"
John took a moment to respond, a bit overcome by the sexual tension in the air. No really, you could cut it with a knife. He glanced nervously between Sherlock and I before responding. "Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah."
Sherlock turned his words back to Irene, but his eyes had never left her. "I've never begged for mercy in my life." I clenched my fist. She was really crossing a line here, and I was getting kind of pissed that Sherlock kept encouraging her.
"Twice." She insisted.
He looked her over and then proceeded to strike her down in the lowest, most malicious voice I had ever heard him use. "The only person I believe capable of making me beg for mercy is in this room, and it certainly isn't you. If you value your dignity, you'll shut up now." My jaw dropped open just a fraction of an inch. Oh my God, is he talking about... me??
"Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven," John chimed in, looking at the information displayed on his laptop.
Sherlock's attention immediately snapped to his best friend. "What did you say?"
"You're right."
"No, no, no. After that."
"Double oh seven. Flight double oh seven."
Something clicked inside of Sherlock and he pushed Irene out of the way, pacing across the floor. "Double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven..."
"Uh, could it be like agent double oh seven?" I piped up nervously, not sure if I was correct.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared at me.
I shifted awkwardly and repeated myself. "You know, Agent double oh seven." Still no response. I sighed. "Bond? James Bond?"
Sherlock's eyes immediately widened. "(Y/n), you're a genius! Bond Air! Bond Air is go!" He exclaimed before pulling me in for a quick, excited kiss. Little did we know, Irene had used the momentary distraction to send a message. I noticed her the moment Sherlock pulled away.
"Hey!" I exclaimed, rushing over to her and snatching the phone away.
747 TOMORROW 6:30PM HEATHROW
It was too late- the message was already sent. I let out a cry of frustration, then turned to her smirking face. "Who did you send this to?!" Mycroft's secret was out.
Sherlock and John rushed over to me, looking over my shoulder to see who it was. There was no contact displayed- the person wasn't saved in her phone under a name. "See for yourself," She answered, satisfied. I looked down at the phone once more.
Sherlock shook his head. "There's no name, how-" he stopped abruptly when he saw my face pale. Oh God. No no no no... I stumbled back a few steps and almost fell, dropping the camera phone in the process. "(Y/n)!" Sherlock cried out, catching my trembling figure in his arms. "(Y/n), what's the matter?"
"Whoa, hey there, (Y/n). Just breathe, okay? You alright?" John fretted, checking my pulse.
"Yeah..." I answered weakly. "It's just- I know that number... Coffee... Not again..."
Sherlock frowned, concerned and perhaps a little frightened. "(Y/n), you're not making any sense."
I looked up at him, trying to find something in his eyes to anchor me to consciousness as I dealt with the prospect of dealing with the man that had caused me so much psychological damage. "It's him, Sherlock. She's working for Moriarty." Please, God, no. Not him. I can't do it again.
Sherlock sucked in a breath, processing the information. "Are you sure?" I nodded weakly. "Okay. Listen to me." He cupped my face with both of his hands. "You're going to be alright, you hear? I've got you." He leaned in and gave me a long, reassuring kiss. "He can't hurt you, not while I'm here."
"After all this time, he's showing up again..." John let out a tired laugh. "You have to hand it to him, he really is persistent. Keeps popping up, doesn't he?"
"Oh, please." Irene said dramatically, drawing all of our attention to her. "While your little theatrics are truly heart-warming, you won't have to worry about him getting his hands dirty yet. Now's not the time."
I relaxed a little, leaning back to let my head rest on the floor and taking deep breaths. Sherlock scowled. "Then when is the time?"
Irene shrugged. "Dunno. Says he's saving his moves for the problem."
Sherlock shook his head, confused. "What problem?"
"Your problem." She lowered her chin and gave a devilish grin. "The final problem."