Work Text:
We halted when Appledore Towers vanished behind the trees. My lungs burned, my coat hung torn at one shoulder, and Holmes still gripped the hand by which he had dragged me over the garden wall.
He drew me into a deserted summer-house.
“Are you hurt, Watson?”
“Not in the slightest, though a respectable coat and what remained of my reputation have suffered.”
His breathless laugh startled me. I had never seen him transformed. His eyes shone, his hair fell across his brow, and the thrill of our escape coloured his pale cheeks.
“Holmes,” I said in disbelief, “we have burgled a house, destroyed evidence, and outrun the law.”
“So we have.”
“You appear to have enjoyed it.”
“Immensely.”
His hand had not released mine. I became acutely conscious of his thumb pressed against my pulse and of the narrow space separating us.
“The danger has passed.”
“Do you think so?”
He drew me nearer by our joined hands. I felt the rapid rise of his chest against mine before his mouth descended upon me. The kiss was hot and hungry; tobacco lingered on his tongue, sharp and bitter. I clutched his waistcoat as his tongue sought mine.
A whistle sounded far behind us.
Holmes smiled against my lips. “Shall we run?”
“In a moment,” I answered, and kissed him once more.