Sherlock: His Lover Called A [Sherlaide II]

Secure

"You."

Adelaide smiled and knelt down on the floor so that she could face him better, leaning over and kissing his lips softly, "Then you've got me," She hummed and cupped his cheek, "I love you, Sherlock."

"I-I love you too, Adelaide," He replied in a raspy, strained voice. Adelaide noticed and got up to get him some water. A jolt of panic and fear shocked through Sherlock when she stood up. He launched his hand out and gripped her knee, "No! Stay!"

"I'm not leaving you, Sherlock, I was just going to get you some water to help with your throat," She reassured gently and stroked his cheek, "You need to start rehydrating Darling. I promise I'll be back in just a minute."

Sherlock had to put a lot of effort into nodding and letting go of her knee, "A-Alright. Just one minute."

Adelaide hurried to the kitchen and got a cup of chilled water for him, managing to put on a pot of tea as well before returning in the designated timeframe.

He was trying to sit up but couldn't find the strength to do so. Adelaide set the water down and braced under his arms. She raised him into a sitting position and then grabbed the cup again, "Okay, Sherlock, here's the water." He reached out for the cup and she set it down in his hands. He brought it to his lips and slowly took a few sips. Usually he would have preferred hot tea, but the cold water did feel a lot better on his throat.

Adelaide sat down beside him and kept her hand ready to catch the cup if he dropped or tipped it. Luckily he didn't and was able to finish the glass in a few minutes. Once he was finished she took the glass and set it on the coffee table.

Sherlock leaned into her and she slipped her arm around his back, rubbing up and down. The brunette exhaled, "H-How is Missus Hudson?"

"She'll be alright. You scared her and the entire street but I think they'll all be fine if we just quietly let the dust settle," Adelaide replied, "John and the others are fine. But we're all worried about you, Sherlock."

"Reasonable considering I nearly destroyed that wall..."

"Mmm-hmm," She agreed and pressed a kiss to his temple, "But it wasn't because the wall was mocking you, Darling."

He shook his head, "No. It wasn't."

She sighed, "Was it because of Moriarty?"

"Yes. The two men..." He started but faltered. Adelaide rubbed his back and hummed.

"It's alright. You don't have to tell me right this minute, sweetie."

Sherlock exhaled, "Thank you, Love."

"No problem, Darl."

Eventually he got up to use the loo and freshen up. He dared himself to look in the mirror and clenched his fists when he did.

His eyes were bloodshot and his eyelids were swollen red. His hair looked like it had been in a monsoon. And against his skin, which was sickly pallid, he could feel the raging red welts and bruises of every colour that mottled his body. Two against one... My odds were worse than I thought.

Sherlock ended up staring at his reflection for a while. He couldn't remember a time when he'd come out so badly from a fight. He looked at his hands and noticed that dark grey gunpowder coated his fingertips. He spent good chunk of time scrubbing them raw to try and clean it all off. It was a delicate process since his knuckles had been scraped up during the brawl as well.

Adelaide didn't keep track of how long he was in there. She had gone into the kitchen to pour two cups of tea and decide what to do for dinner. But once the tea had cooled she got worried and walked to the bathroom door, knocking, "Sherlock? You've been in there for a while."

He took a breath and let it out, "I'll be out in just a minute, Love."

"Alright. I was going to make Fettucini Alfredo and Garlic Bread for dinner. Does that sound good?"

"Yes, Love."

"Okay. I'll be in the kitchen." She decided to give him a few more minutes. If he still didn't come out then she would have to go in.

Sherlock neatened up his hair and washed off his face, then stepped out of the bathroom, carrying his now wrinkled blazer. He hung it up with his coat and scarf and then walked into the kitchen where Adelaide had started on her homemade Alfredo sauce, "I can do the garlic bread if you'd like." He offered, startling her from behind. She recovered and looked at him.

"You don't need to, Sherlock."

"I want to."

She smiled gently and nodded, "Alright then. The garlic salt is in that cupboard and the french bread is in the fridge. The butter's over there." He smiled and kissed her on the cheek before retrieving the ingredients and setting to work. He'd helped her many times and being productive helped clear his head.

They ate dinner in comfortable silence. And by the time they'd cleaned up, Sherlock was finally ready to talk to her.

Thank you for reading!! 😘