Mrs. Holmes [Book III]

Chilly Cuddles

December 4

Sherlock had woken up early to finish up a few experiments, leaving Susanna to sleep in longer with Ziva as her mini-Radiator. The cat, despite her size, still insisted on snuggling up to Susanna's chest, often by nesting under her shirt or nightgown, and peeking her head out the top. Contrarily, Ziva enjoyed stretching herself along Sherlock's sides or burrowing into them, or cuddling in his lap. Luckily he had a primarily dark wardrobe so her fur was normally camouflaged, but the wardrobe had joined Susanna's in that most of it had enough cat fur for it to be a listed textile component.

Long story short, Ziva had cuddled up with Susanna that morning, so Sherlock left them alone. Susanna had had a long day and deserved the extra hour or so.

In the back of his mind as he measured out Silver Nitrate, Sherlock acknowledged that the flat's equilibrium temperature had dropped. It tempted him to consider returning to bed and spooning Susanna, but he couldn't abandon the experiments. So he stayed in the kitchen to finish them.

A calculated hour passed before he heard stirrings from the bedroom. Moments later the familiar prance belonging to Ziva alerted him to the feline's arrival. She beelined for the food and water dishes, slicking against his legs on her way. Sherlock concluded his experiment and put on some tea in preparation for Susanna's eventual appearance. Another half and hour passed before she walked out of the bathroom, damp haired and dressed warmly.

"Morning," She greeted with a yawn, "Is it just me or did Missus Hudson lower the thermostat last night? It's frigid."

"No, I believe the weather is to blame for the cool temperature in 221B this morning." He replied, storing away his equipment under the sink and fetching the tea.

"Thanks, darling."

He nodded and kissed her cheek, "It appears you rested well."

"I did, actually."

"Good."

Susanna opened the refrigerator and grabbed the eggs and bacon, "Could we perhaps turn up the thermostat by one degree?" Sherlock chuckled.

"By 'we' you mean me," She gave him a look, "I'll see." If Sherlock hadn't grasped married lingo while observing Mary and John, he was beginning to grasp it now. Susanna used the 'we' to indirectly ask him to do something, every so often. It didn't as much bother him as intrigue him.

He popped downstairs and negotiated with Missus Hudson to increase the temperature by one degree. She wanted him to try the new biscuits she'd picked up, and so by the time he returned to the kitchen breakfast was halfway done. Sherlock crept up behind her and slipped his hands around her hips, "What're you up to now, Sherlock?" Susanna cheekily inquired. He leaned against her and settled his chin in the niche of her shoulder and neck.

"The thermostat has been altered by one degree to the positive."

"Thank you, darling."

Sherlock watched as she finished scrambling the eggs. What he lacked in cooking skills, she had in spades, which was a seeming pattern in their relationship. He'd long developed the habit of observing her work while holding onto her. Not so oddly enough, he felt another impulse to cuddle her as the heat from the new stove, purchased after Jerome's detonator ploy, warmed them both.

In barely two minutes the eggs joined the bacon, tea and orange juice on the table and they sat down for breakfast. Sherlock deduced that Susanna was in a similar mood to him because they both ate silently and quickly, cleaning up in record time. His deduction was confirmed when she beelined for the sofa and sat down, gesturing for him to join her. He grabbed his thick camel dressing gown and then joined her.

At first they just sat side by side. But one look and Sherlock pushed Susanna backwards against the cushions. As he followed her trajectory he drew his whole body onto the sofa, covering them both with the dressing gown. Sherlock lavished her with kisses before settling down against her chest and tucking his arms securely around her frame.

She held him and carded her fingers through his unruly chocolate curls, taking the opportunity to trace down his back and leave several kisses on him in return. The peaceful combination made Sherlock go  blissfully limp in her arms. He buried his face in her chest and emitted soft noises of relief and pleasure every so often. The cold morning was no longer their concern.

To top it off, Ziva hopped up on the sofa an hour later and perched heavily on Sherlock's back. Susanna giggled and Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Cat." With some coaxing Ziva laid down and sprawled out, evenly distributing her weight across his back and purring heartily.

"I wish I could get a picture of this." Susanna hummed a while later.

"... Trouser Pocket," Sherlock answered, hia voice muffled. Susanna chuckled and extracted Sherlock's mobile. She snapped a few photos and then returned the device to its original place, "How long will she stay like that?"

"As long as we do."

He tilted his head up and pressed a loving kiss against her neck scar, "That might be a while then." They both chuckled.

"Indeed," Susanna agreed, "I love this kind of morning."

"As do I."

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