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“… and yes, there is absolutely no proof, no evidence, not even microscopic, that points to him, but he is our killer.” Sherlock closed the file with a flourish, awaiting his partner’s comments. When none came, he turned to find Watson laying on the floor beside him sound asleep. Apparently, the warmth of the fire and his droning were too much for her to fight. Sleep won. The fact she had spread out an old, fuzzy blanket and several pillows for them to “work” on should have given him a clue about the night’s productivity.
He sat still, permitting himself the pleasure of an old habit - watching Watson sleep. From the onset of their relationship, he had found it soothing, comforting somehow, to be in her presence while she slumbered. It spoke to trust with no ulterior motives on either part. Granted the habit had started by his need to have her awake to share information with, to sound out theories to, but it grew into almost a form of meditation. Remarkably, Watson had understood and allowed the intrusion.
She shifted her position, moving to her side, head facing towards him, still very much asleep. Firelight illuminated her face.
He sat mesmerized … her gentle breaths softly breaking the quiet … the flicker of flames highlighting then clouding her face … her freckles almost dancing in the orange-yellow flares of light….
Her freckles. Sherlock knew each like an old friend. He felt privileged that she shared with him her unaltered visage. He wondered why she often chose to hide them under makeup when she went out into the world. She was all the more beautiful with them… that scatter of tiny constellations … star dust across a perfect firmament … the minuscule lone mark at the hollow of her neck … a natural pendant …
Entranced, his hand reached tentatively to caress. The tip of his index finger hovered momentarily until a small crackle and sputter from the fire broke the spell. Embarrassed at his impulse, he pulled his hand back and away.
Sherlock pushed aside the case files and lay down beside her, watching her until sleep overtook him.
He woke to the sensation of a soft warmth and safety enveloping him. With eyes still closed he took a breath, the familiar scent overwhelmed him and without thinking he burrowed closer into the crook of her neck. The fire was down to embers and they moved closer for warmth, silently adjusting in the dark until they fit. Watson’s cheek lay on his temple, her fingers stroked his nape, and for all the world it felt to him like a kiss was placed near his ear.
Without a word they relaxed against each other and fell back to sleep.