Selfless | Sherlock

Tense

To my dismay, John returned shortly after the show had begun, leaving both Sherlock and I extremely frustrated. Although I was much more obvious about my discontent than the detective. Despite my annoyance, the negative emotions quickly dissipated when I saw that John had a bag full of takeout in his arms.

"I got you something, since you always make Sherlock and I food I thought I'd take care of dinner for once," John beamed.

"He was hungry and there was a sale," Sherlock corrected from the couch as I snatched a case with my name on it from the bag before sitting down at the barely used dining table.

I heard John hand Sherlock his food just as I opened mine, revealing the mouth watering goodness below. The plastic fork felt like gold beneath my hands as I used it to shovel into the meal, which consisted of some sort of pasta. Cheap noodles had not tasted so good since Sam brought me some ramen after a difficult hunt.

"Thank you," I mumbled through the heap of pasta I had forced into my mouth.

"No problem," John laughed, walking over to sit beside me while Sherlock merely stayed on the couch.

I made quick work of the mountain of pasta before deciding to call it a night. Recent events involving Moriarty were enough to dictate my decision of staying in 221B for the time being, or at least the night. One could never be too careful when it came to the criminal mastermind. Sherlock offered me his bed, which I accepted gratefully and quickly leapt into. The detective entered soon after, despite his usual sleeping habits, or lack of.

"Cold?" his deep voice startled me as I curled up into the blankets.

"A bit. Could I borrow something to sleep in? Jeans are rather uncomfortable," I asked cautiously, staring in order to detect any reaction.

No words were spoken as the curly haired man went to his dresser and threw me a pair of sweats as well as a simple T-shirt.

"Thank you," I chirped, relieved that I would not sleep in such intolerable clothes.

Although I had gone many nights sleeping in regular clothes after long hunts or cases, work clothes were unpreferable to their comfortable counterparts. As I sat up to slip off my jeans, Sherlock watched nonchalantly. At his blatant staring, I cleared my throat and motioned for him to turn around. The detective's lip twitched but he turned to face the wall nevertheless. I took the time to admire the back of his lithe body as I stripped myself of my shirt and bra to pull on the shirt he had provided, sure to move quickly in order to decrease the time he was out of my sight.

"Alright, thank you Sherlock," I sighed earnestly, wrapping my bra in my shirt before placing it on the floor beside the bed.

The man turned back to face me and gave a slight nod before gesturing to the bed in which I currently resided blissfully.

"May I join you?" he asked quietly, his sudden shyness making me giggle.

"Of course! It is your bed," I laughed, rolling to one side of the bed in order to leave him room.

I had to force myself to avert my eyes as the detective unbuttoned and removed his shirt before turning off the light and sliding under the blanket beside me.

"So you're actually sleeping tonight?" I asked, turning to face him.

The sudden closeness of our faces seemed to create a slight air of tension in the room, but it quickly dissipated after a moment.

"Hopefully. This case will surely become increasingly stressful," he trailed off, shifting as though uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" I asked as he rolled his shoulders which caused them to crack loudly.

"Fine," he said curtly.

"Sore? You were bending over that microscope for hours," I realized.

The detective stared at me, but gave no response.

"Well you won't sleep well like that, may I help?" I asked tentatively, the darkness slightly obscuring my view of his face.

"Yes."

"I need you to lay on your stomach," I instructed, pulling the blankets off of both of us so that I could sit up.

The shifting of the mattress indicated that the detective had done as he was told, making me smile at his obedience. Carefully, I place my knees on either side of him in order to have full access to the vast expanse of his back. When my fingertips first met the cool skin of his shoulder blade, he started. The jolt nearly made me retract my hands, but I instead chose to gently rub his shoulders. My movements started off slow and soft but the pressure was soon increased as I skillfully worked out the knots of muscle that had formed in his neck and shoulders.

"You're tense, please relax Sherlock," I said calmly, working the balls of my palms in circles down his back.

His body shuddered but soon relaxed at my touch, allowing me to use my thumbs at the base of his neck to relieve any pressure caused by taut muscles or tendons. The action elicited a muffled moan from Sherlock, making me shake my head in silent laughter as I continued my ministrations. My hands made their way across his pale, yet muscled back rhythmically, only stopping when confronted with an unusual bundle of nerves or muscles. By the time I was done, the detective's breathing had slowed and he showed no signs of his usual alert nature.

When my job was complete, I rolled carefully off of his body and back onto my side of thy mattress. A text alert from my phone made me sigh quietly as I snatched it off of the floor. The glowing screen displayed an unfortunate message from my boss, informing me that I would be needed the next morning. I dropped the device quietly before lowering myself back into the welcoming bed, pulling the blanket over Sherlock and I carefully. My hands were a bit tender after the strenuous task, but the soft snoring emanating from Sherlock reminded me that it was worth it. Now the detective could sleep soundly and prepare for what-or who was sure to come: Moriarty.