221c - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Allison

Hey all! I just want to clear up a few things about this chapter. This chapter takes place two years after the last one ends, to speed things up a bit. I couldn't have everything happening all at once, I needed Sherlock and Ally to date for a little while. And I didn't want to have to write a million story parts before these next ones.

Sorry for the long note.

Cheers!

-Lai

"How many times do I have to tell you no?" I asked. It had been two years since Sherlock and I had started dating, and he was trying to get me to agree to him growing his hair out. "If you go through with this, Sher, I will shave it off in your sleep." I thought about that for a moment. "Y'know, maybe not shave, but trim profusely."

He gave me a whiney glare, and began to pout. "For heaven's sake, Sherlock, you are an adult man! You shouldn't be sulking like a child!"

To that he gave a contemptuous sniff and flipped over on the sofa, so that he was facing its back and not me. I got up out of John's chair, and walked into the kitchen.

"Sherlock, I love you too much to let you walk around with hair like Aragorn's. It may have looked good on Viggo Mortensen, but I don't think you can pull it off."

No reply.

How immature.

I snorted and started preparing myself some tea. "I thought you said that you were going to try and stop," called Sherlock from the other room. "We talked about how this constant tea drinking was morphing into a caffeine addiction, Ally."

"Bugger off," I retorted, and took a sip of said tea.

"Are you two fighting again?" Mrs. Hudson came into the flat, holding a newspaper. "You better not be. I don't like it when you do. This place is so much more enjoyable when you get along."

"Shut up, Mrs. Hudson." snarled Sherlock.

I turned to the elderly woman, who handed me the newspaper. "This was at the doorstep." she said.

"Thanks! Biscuit?" I asked, as I picked up the tin from the counter, opened it, and popped one in my mouth.

"No, thanks dear," she said, and left the flat, muttering to herself about how messy and dusty everything was.

I popped another biscuit in my mouth.

"Well, are you going to offer me one?" asked Sherlock from where he was curled up on the sofa. "I might want one y'know!"

"Shut up, you big baby!" I cried playfully and walked into the living room to hand him a biscuit. He took it gratefully. "Truce?" I asked.

"Truce." he conceded.

I plopped down onto the sofa next to him an pulled another biscuit out of the tin. Leaning my head up against his shoulder, I said, "Sherlock, I love you."

He looked down at me and replied, "I deeply regard you as well."

"Why can't you say it?"

"Say what?"

"I love you too."

He fell silent. Oh crap, I had struck a nerve. I cleared my throat. "Y'know, Sher, it's okay. It's fine. Don't even worry about it. Just know that I do. I do love you."