HOME | DD

Description
You felt Sherlock’s hand on your hip and reached out to find him again, quickly finding your hand in his as he caught it and then brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. You could feel his lips turn up in a smirk when you giggled and then he wove his fingers between yours as you groaned, “How much longer until tomorrow?”

“A while,” he hummed and you sighed, “I’m sorry you have to stay… I know it must be terribly boring for you.”

“I want to stay, (F/n).”

“That’s sweet, Sherly, but it doesn’t make it any less boring.”

“True. Play a game with me?”

You blinked at the ceiling a couple of times and then gave a one-shouldered shrug, “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

You felt him shift to sit cross-legged on the bed, his knees facing you and your hand in his lap, and he pressed your fingers flat as he hummed, “Tell me what you feel.”

Before you could ask what he meant, his fingertips started tracing something across your palm and you shivered slightly at how gentle his touch was. It took you a moment but you realized what he was getting at and let out a soft chuckle, “It’s a cat.”

“Correct,” he chuckled and then, to his surprise, you pulled one of his hands over to you with a grin, “My turn.”

He could see now why you’d shivered as your soft fingertips traced across the plane of his palm and he had to stop himself from giving a soft moan. He closed his eyes to focus on the lines you were drawing and after a moment quirked an eyebrow as he muttered, “A rose.”

“Yup,” you nodded and he pulled your hand back to him to continue the game. This went on for longer than Sherlock had originally intended, escalating in complexity as you went along, and he wondered how you always found a way to keep his interest even with the most mundane things.

You’d just nearly stumped him by drawing a plate of spaghetti when you let out a soft yawn and he snuck a glance at the clock- it was nearly three in the afternoon and you’d been at it for almost two hours. Deciding that it was best if you got some rest, he wound his fingers around yours and pulled you to sitting to help you get situated correctly on the bed as he thrummed, “We should take a break so you can sleep.”

Your fingers tightened around his hand when he moved off the bed and he sank back down as he stated with a hint of annoyance, “I’m obviously not going anywhere, (F/n). Relax”

“Promise?” you whispered and you suddenly felt him lean over you, his lips carefully meeting yours in a chaste kiss before he lowly rumbled, “I promise.”

Content with his answer, you nodded sleepily and gave another yawn before slipping off to sleep. Sherlock moved to the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee as he steepled his hands beneath his chin, and lost himself in his thoughts while you slept. Being patient and understanding was exhausting not to mention difficult, he briefly wondered how John did it all the time before reminding himself that he was doing it for you. You had enough going on in your mind right now without his usual attitude and he had to try to keep himself from accidentally making it worse, which meant watching his every word. He pulled up his folder dedicated you in his mind and took it with him into his mind palace, sitting down in one of the rooms and spreading its contents out around him. He had enough information to get you through this, he just needed to sort through and find the things of relevance.

This was the scene Mycroft arrived to a couple of hours later, having been informed you were awake and made his way over as soon as he was free. When he stepped in the room, Sherlock tensed, “She’s sleeping.”

“I can see that. I’m glad to see you finally decided to visit… and that John was coaxed to leave.”

“She insisted. I don’t understand why we can’t just take her home.”

Mycroft stepped over to his usual place at the window, “John may be a doctor but he does not have the resources of a hospital, Sherlock. You know that.”

A quiet settled over the room for a few minutes until you shifted and, before Sherlock could stop you, rolled onto your injured side, squishing your bandaged arm beneath you. You shot up so fast you nearly fell out of the bed, which in turn caused some additional pain in your ribs as you tumbled a colorful string of profanities in both French and English.

“Should I call a nurse?” Sherlock asked, a definite hint of worry in his voice, and you shook your head, keeping your face in your hands, “Only if it’s bleeding.”

You felt his hands on your arm as he checked and then hummed, “It’s not.”

Mycroft watched the little interaction with curiosity as you began to fidget and Sherlock eyed your hands, knowing you were itching to draw. You raised your head in Mycroft’s direction and he expected you to greet him but you just growled, “I hate this. What am I supposed to do? It hasn’t even been a day and I’m going insane…”

“Welcome to my world,” Sherlock chuckled and you groaned but a small smile played at your lips, “Does this mean I get to shoot the wall?”

“No,” he answered sternly with a hint of laughter in his voice and you gave a mock pout, “Aww come on. All you have to do is wait till John goes out and then point me towards it.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Hudson would appreciate that,” Mycroft offered and you jumped before hissing, “Sherlock, why didn’t you tell me Mycroft was here?”

“It wasn’t relevant.”

You sighed, not bothering to argue with him, “I’m sorry, Mycroft. It was not my intention to be rude though I cannot speak for your brother.”

“It’s alright, my dear,” Mycroft practically cooed as he came to sit on the edge of your bed, earning a hash glare from Sherlock, and you reached out to find his sleeve. You felt him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers went to your chin, tilting your face up towards him, “Is it permanent?”

Sherlock ground his teeth as he watched his brother take up your hand in his and you shake your head, “They said weeks, maybe months.”

“I hope my little brother has been behaving himself and taking good care of you,” Mycroft frowned, giving your hand a little squeeze.

You grinned widely, turning in the direction you knew Sherlock was, “He’s been surprisingly fantastic.”

Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock managed a look between a pout and a smug smirk and you giggled, “He’s pouting now isn’t he?”

Sherlock shot Mycroft a glare in hopes that he wouldn’t answer but his older brother offered a, “That he is,” before standing and stating, “I’m afraid I have to get back to work but it is good to see you awake.”

“Bye, Mycroft. Be well.”

“And you, (F/n). Goodbye.” Mycroft hummed in response, giving Sherlock’s shoulder a squeeze as he walked out.

When his footsteps faded, you softly demanded, “Come here,” and reached out towards Sherlock, who didn’t move until you started waving your hand, reluctantly sitting on the edge of your bed. You found his arm and followed it up to weave your fingers into his hair as you murmured, “Mycroft isn’t going to steal me away from you, Sherly.”

“I didn’t-“

“I’m blind, not stupid, Sherlock, besides I could hear you grinding your teeth.”

He was quiet, contemplating how even without your sight you could still read him, and when you moved your fingers to his cheekbone you could feel him lean into your touch ever so slightly. He turned to look at you finally, your fingers still tracing over his skin, and a frown settled on his face. Your eyes seemed so empty- it hurt his heart to see their usual spark missing from them.

His breath hitched beneath your fingertips as they traced over his lips, causing them to part slightly before you cupped his cheek and pulled him down towards you. You leaned up to press your lips to his and found that after a moment he eagerly responded, his tongue already seeking entrance to your mouth. There was a short battle between your tongues when you allowed him entrance and this time you won, wondering for a second if he had let you as you felt out your new space. He broke the kiss just as your lungs began to scream for air, both of you panting softly as he rested his forehead on yours, and then you tilted up to press a succession of kisses to his lips, mumbling in between, “Do you- think- you- could find me- some- loose paper?”

You could practically feel him trying to deduce what you wanted it for and then felt him nod, “Of course.”

He stood when you pulled away and reluctantly left the room to fulfill your request as you leaned back into the bed with a content sigh- this could work. For a while, you’d wondered… patience from you could only go so far, but now it seemed Sherlock was making his own effort to meet you the rest of the way. It made your heart happy.