Distraction - Sherlock Fanfiction

Hat Deductions and Bonfires

For some reason, Wattpad is telling me that 'The Fall' didn't publish, is that the case? Because if it didn't I'm really sorry and these new chapters probably seem strange and out of place. It's published now so go back and give it a read!

The next morning, Beth and Sherlock were sprawled out in bed. It was much too late into the morning for Sherlock to be having a casual lie-in, but the vice-like grip Beth continued to have on his now grey bed shirt restricted his movement. She was laid out partially on top of him, with her head resting under his chin, legs intertwined, and one hand in his own whilst the other was gripping onto his shirt just under his left pectoral.

"Beth, I won't be going away again." Sherlock assured, drawing small patterns on a bare part of Beth's shoulder where her bed shirt had fallen.

"You shouldn't have gone in the first place." Beth shuddered slightly at the tickly feeling Sherlock was leaving behind with his finger.

"I had to. I couldn't risk Moriarty's men finding out I was still alive, they would have come after you and John."

"So, you should have told us. Me. That's what couples do, Sherlock." Beth rose her head slightly so she could peer down at Sherlock who seemed to be pondering.

"You still want this? After two years, after what I did?"

"I meant what I said that day, Sherlock. I love you, and I still love you." Beth's face was sincere as she gazed down at the detective. Leaning down, she pressed her lips onto his, "And of course I still want us, you silly man, I didn't spend two years grieving and wishing you weren't dead for nothing."

Sherlock leaned his head up and brushed his lips to hers, lingering longer than she had, "I meant it too."

~~~

The two were forced out of bed from an unexpected call from Mycroft who said that he didn't want to come to the flat to find the two engaged in any acts outside of the ordinary. Or as Sherlock put it when he hung up, 'Mycroft is coming over in ten and doesn't want to catch us performing sexual acts so I think it's best we get dressed and act like he didn't just cock block us.' Beth just blushed and rushed off to the bathroom.

The ten minutes gave Sherlock enough time to dress in his usual shirt and trousers with a red dressing gown thrown over the top - Beth had stolen his blue one - and to set up notes, paperwork and photographs of potential terrorists planning to destroy the government on the wall behind the sofa. Beth had showered, dressed, and was now watching Sherlock from the arm of his armchair with a piece of toast. Beth couldn't decide if he was talking to her or himself but listened anyway.

"London. It's like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained." By this point, Mycroft had turned up and perched himself in John's armchair, watching Sherlock with a slightly bored face. He then leaned over the table and began to set up a game.

"Sometimes it's not a question of 'Who?'; it's a question of 'Who Knows?' If this man cancels his papers, I need to know. If this woman leaves London without putting her dog into kennels, I need to know." Sherlock then turned to face Mycroft, walking slowly over to his armchair before sinking down into it.

"There are certain people – they are markers. If they start to move, I'll know something's up – like rats deserting a sinking ship."

"All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to Critical." Mycroft moved a piece of the game then signalled for Sherlock to take a turn.