Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty Eight

Sherlock finally stood up from his armchair and walked to the kitchen. He fastened the buttons of his shirt, hastily covering up the places she had kissed, as if her lips had left scars – brandings of his weakness.

"I'm sensing this is a bad time," said John as he watched him flick the switch on the kettle to re-boil it.

"Not at all," he replied.

The two men turned to Margaux as she sat quietly, her forehead still glued to the table.

"Not a bad time, is it Margaux..." Sherlock pressed.

"No of course not," she sat up. "I haven't had sex since May, but you wanted to pop 'round for tea at half past ten so..." she gave John a sarcastic smile.

"I apologise," he laughed. "But if it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure what I just witness will scar me for life."

Sherlock poured hot water into his mug. "Tea, Margaux?"

"I think I should just go. I'll be back in the morning for Vaughan." She stood up.

"You don't have to go. There's a perfectly good spare bed–"

"'Spare bed'," John scoffed. "Like you weren't about to do it in your armchair five minutes ago."

"And that, John, is why I'm leaving. The moment's gone; the cloud of desire has lifted and he's no longer interested," she said.

Sherlock stared at her blankly. He assumed he was missing her point, but he didn't care much to try and understand.

"I can be alone and sexually frustrated from the comfort of my own bed at home. No need to do it here. Goodnight, boys."

She walked out of the flat and picked up her coat from the floor where Sherlock had hastily stripped it from her only ten minutes earlier. She thought about the story of Jekyll and Hyde and how much it reminded her of Sherlock; the intelligent, tormented doctor who wore his hair neat and his posture proper, who inside of him resided Hyde – the impulsive monster. She wished Sherlock's Hyde had stuck around a little longer that night.

III

They waited until they heard the front door slam shut. John walked to the window and watched as Margaux climbed inside a taxi on the road below. He sighed and re-joined Sherlock at the table.

"Listen I'm sorry for ruining your night. If I'd have thought there was even the slightest possibility that I'd be interrupting... that. I wouldn't have come."

"Don't be sorry, John. It was a lapse of judgement on my part – shouldn't have happened."

"Wha- why not?"

"Because all of this... This 'leaving the kids with a babysitter so mummy and daddy can have date night'. That's not me. I wasn't meant for any of this. Giving in to physical urges and lust... I can't lose focus like that anymore."

"Lose focus from what? Being Sherlock Holmes? You know you'd still be you, right? Sharing your life with someone wouldn't make you any less... you," said John. "Also, just because you've built yourself up to be this cold, pragmatic loner doesn't mean you have to stay that way forever. It's okay to change."

"But I haven't changed."

"Look mate, you can never predict a woman like Margaux Cave walking into your life."

"What do you take me for, John?" he scoffed. "I'm not some simple man who loses all comprehension the second a pretty girl shows interest."

"I'm not just talking about her looks, Sherlock. I'm talking about her. She's perfect for you. I don't know how to put it into words, you're just... you're fire and ice. You've met your match in each other, yet when you come together, that intensity creates..."