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Summary
I previously thought of this as a rather juvenile hurt/comfort style romance that I wrote about Mycroft Holmes and his pretty assistant (portrayed on the BBC series by the lovely and dry Lisa McAllister) back in the days when I was a stressed out, chronically ill working mother.
“Why shouldn’t we, Mycroft? You want me,” Andrea breathed into the chilly air, her words so faint they were almost concealed by the patter of the rain. “You all but admitted it last night.”
Over the years I've come to understand that my best fic is a way for me to process through sexual trauma. Upon reread, this is a surprisingly tender character study about domineering men who come to love injured, tough women, and about those women figuring out how to let kind, domineering men love them. Also about the crossed wires between trauma aftermath and desire that happens for some people.