Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Forty Nine

She turned the dial and watched the water burst from the shower head. It was cold at first, but steam soon began to rise. She undressed carefully, using one hand to unbutton her trousers and shimmy them down her legs. She lifted her shirt over her head, trying her best to ignore the pain as she moved her arm to take off her bra. She unstrapped her sling and draped it over the sink, turning to the mirror and leaning in close to examine her slowly healing scar, and the swollen bumps and ridges where steel screws sat under her delicate skin. A shiver scuttled down her spine as she thought back the nightmare that had woken her that morning.

She climbed in and tilted her head back, letting the water soak her hair and trickle down her back. The hot water was a relief, easing her muscles and washing away the remnants of hospital that still clung to her skin. She reached for the bottle of body wash on the edge of the bath. The scent was clean and masculine, like she was wrapped in Sherlock's arms.

"This isn't so bad," she said to herself as she rinsed away the bubbles. Thinking back to the argument she'd had with him that morning:

He had insisted she wait to shower until he got back. She would need his help, he said, and what if she slipped. She had responded by reminding him she wasn't an invalid – that she was perfectly capable of showering alone. Then he stormed out with Vaughan in hand, his coat flaring out like a cape behind him.

No, it wasn't so bad at all. She reached for the shampoo, opening the lid with a struggle and squeezing it straight onto her hair. Too much. She groaned as she began trying to lather it with one hand as soap seeped down her forehead into her eyes and she knocked a clutter of bottles into the bath with her knee.

As Sherlock stepped back into the flat, a sense of pride overcame him. He had managed to drop his son off at nursery without a hitch; no uncomfortable interactions and no detours to solve crimes. He took off his coat and tugged his scarf away from his neck as he noticed the faint sound of water running. He walked down the hall and stood at the bathroom door.

"Margaux, are you alright?" He waited a moment, but when he didn't hear a response, he leaned his ear closer to the door. "Margaux?"

"Can you come in please?" she sighed.

He opened the door and stepped into the humid, steamy bathroom, before pulling the shower curtain back.

She looked at him with a pout and a head full of shampoo. "Can you... help me?"

He raised an eyebrow and sighed. "I told you to wa-"

"I know, I know, can you just... help me wash this out? Please. I can't lift my arms, everything hurts."

He took off his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "How do you want me?"

"Here," she said, turning around and putting her head under the stream of water. "If I go here, can you make sure it's all washed out?"

He leaned over the edge of the bath and began running his hands through her hair.

"Ow!" she shouted as his fingers snagged.

"Sorry, it's a difficult angle."

He continued trying to reach her as water splashed his face and shirt. She tried to bend down further, losing her balance and almost slipping. Sherlock caught her by the waist and steadied her again as they continued to struggle. Finally, he gave up.

"Right, just move over," he said before climbing into the shower alongside her.

"Sherlock! Your clothes!"

"It's fine, just... come here." Water dripped from his wet hair as he moved her under the shower head, turning her around to face him. "Now lean back a little bit."