No Shit, Sherlock

I'm All Yours

Waking up beside Sherlock seemed even more glorious today. When I first opened my eyes, I was a bit embarrassed to see him, but the smile on his face washed those feelings away immediately.

"Good morning, darling."

I smile back, "Good morning, my love."

His smile grows, and he leans over to kiss my forehead. "I'll leave you to get ready."

I hadn't realized that he was already fully dressed and ready for the day. It amazes me how he's able to wake up so early.

My feet hit the floor, and I cringe as the cool air bites at my bare skin. I quickly grab an outfit and head over to the bathroom to take a bath. My eyes catch sight of my reflection, and my mouth falls open in shock at the amount of small bruises all over neck and chest.

Memories of last night come flooding back into my mind, and I sink down into the tub. I shake my head, trying to think of literally anything else. The door opens, and Sherlock walks in with a towel. I cover my body in surprise, to which he simply sighs.

"It's a bit late for that, love."

My face burns, more than it ever has before. Sherlock kneels down next to the tub, "I'll wash your hair for you."

I nod and lean back to wet my hair. When my hair is wet, I turn my back to him and allow him to run the shampoo through my hair. My eyes close as he massages my scalp. I never expected to let a man wash my hair for me, and I certainly didn't expect it to be so romantic.

When he's done, I dip my head back and rinse the shampoo out. After I sit up, I notice that he's staring at the floor.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

He shakes his head, looking up to meet my worried gaze. "Quite the opposite, actually."

He dips his hands in the water to rinse the shampoo off his hands, "I'll be downstairs."

He leaves, and I finish bathing quickly, making sure to dry my hair as best as I can. When I put my clothes on, I realize that some of the hickeys are still visible. So, I head downstairs to scold my dear boyfriend.

"Sherlock Holmes, was it really necessary to maul me like an animal?"

He looks up at me, "You seemed to enjoy it last night."

He didn't say it in a cocky way, but in a matter of fact, way. Like he always does. I blush and walk over to him. He takes my hand, and we head outside to wait for the carriage.

"Good morning!" the driver says.

Sherlock greets him back and helps me into the carriage. He holds my hand, "I haven't been to the market since I came here to get Enola."

"How long ago was that?" I ask.

"Almost three years ago."

Enola's told me before about how awkward that day was. I imagine it must've been just as awkward for Sherlock. Maybe even more.

"At the time, I was annoyed to have to deal with her. But, we've grown rather close over the years. I just wish Mycroft wasn't so hard on her."

I nod, "Mycroft seems to be finally loosening up."

"I've heard he's gotten himself a woman now. Maybe she has something to do with it," he says thoughtfully.

What kind of a woman would date Mycroft? Sure, he could be attractive if he shaved and stopped speaking. But his entire personality is just horrid.

The carriage comes to a stop, and Sherlock exits. He holds his hand out for me, which I accept.

The market is even bigger than the one back home. Sherlock tightens his grip on my hand and begins to lead me over to the booths. A few women eye me as we walk by, but I'm used to it by now. Their glares and harsh whispers only make me prouder as I cling onto Sherlock tighter.