Chapter Text
We didn't make it back home that night.
Emotions weren't enough to protect us from the impending hypothermia. After walking through the pelting rain for what felt too long, we reached the hotel "Il Palazzo del Lusso" before we reached Stonewood Manor. Once we saw the front gates and the inviting bright lights coming from the lobby, the decision to just book a room and end our wet and cold misery became so easy that we didn't need to agree on it out loud. It was like a safe haven in the raging storm! Too frozen to continue our stroll even a minute longer, let alone the thirty minutes it would have taken us to get to our house if we were lucky, we simply looked at each other, nodded, and then walked through the gates.
A hotel room also had other advantages, such as the option to order hot tea without preparing it yourself while fighting the cold. The thought of tea alone made me smile in anticipation as I picked up the pace.
Eager to get rid of our soaked garments as fast as possible, we didn't want to waste too much time in the lobby. Thus, Sherry walked straight to the receptionist and asked for a room and dry clothes for the two of us without engaging in any distracting pleasantries. At the same time, I stayed a little behind and looked through the illuminated foyer and the connected bar. It was after four in the morning, and only a few guests were still awake. Naturally, all eyes were on us—the soaked, visibly distressed intruders, who were not only the sole entertainment they could get at this hour but also an impossible pair. Where else would you see someone like Sherry book a room with someone like me? I couldn't help waving awkwardly at one elderly gentleman whose gaze seemed shamelessly glued to me to the point he'd stopped blinking. Fortunately, he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his brandy.
After Sherry's assistance in solving a murder less than two months ago, the staff simply couldn't deny his request, no matter the time, and the receptionist offered us two rooms to pick from without letting us wait for too long.
We had already earned ourselves a few curious looks, but choosing the room with the king-size double bed instead of the one with the two single beds made the young (and overworked) man in front of us stare as if we'd just done something unfathomable. I expected his jaw to drop to the floor any minute. I admit all the attention made me nervous, but Sherry was either too oblivious to how all of this seemed, or he simply did not care.
Naturally, the second possibility made him seem much more unshakable and cool in my eyes, so I stuck with it, choosing to believe he was simply that unfazed by other people's opinions.
After signing, he eagerly took the key and said we'd likely check out in a few hours again. Of course, his addition only confirmed the receptionist's first impression of the nature of our relationship. We got a raised eyebrow and a "You can always count on our discretion, Mr Holmes", but Sherry only huffed in response. I was amazed and perhaps a little flustered, too. Not because I had a dirty mind but because it drove the point home even further. We had been painting an obvious picture for all of Cordona to see. Not only today but over the past months.
Not that I minded. I didn't, but being exposed to other people's attention wasn't something I could get used to that fast. Most people need decades to learn not to care.
Then, we finally entered our room, and it was luxurious! It was likely the best room they had to offer, and because of his good relationships within the hotel, Sherry had gotten it for a great price. A four-poster bed was in its middle, with a remarkable dark green canopy and at least six different kinds of pillows. It looked so comfortable that I couldn't resist sighing in delight at its sight. Lighting struck at that moment, illuminating the sky and revealing the breathtaking view out of the window - the dark, raging sea. And when I say breathtaking, I mean it quite literally - I stopped breathing for a moment, amazed by the terrifying forces of nature revealing their might before our eyes.
"I feel like some sort of a king sleeping here," I exclaimed, but my enthusiasm dwindled fast once I began paying attention to my freezing bones again. After entering what was to become our new home for the next couple of hours, I was faced with the fact that getting the cold out of our bodies would be much more complicated than I'd ever expected. Tormented by the awful sensation, it was the last thing I'd wanted to find out that night.
Naturally, my first idea was to draw us a hot bath, not only because I loved baths but also because there was no way to light up the fireplace during summer.
Of course, my suggestion was dismissed. Apparently, jumping into hot water after being exposed to the cold for too long wasn't the way to go unless one wanted to risk falling into a state of shock. The transition into a warmer bodily temperature had to happen slowly and steadily - something Sherry explained while chattering and trembling like a leaf in the wind. And I remember wanting to cry at that reveal because even after getting rid of my wet clothes and switching them for one of the two fluffy navy-blue bathrobes which awaited us on our bed, my body did not seem to get any warmer.
It was quite the opposite - the warmth of our room made me shake even more, to a point where I saw no other option but to accept my defeat and crawl under the sheets, where I intended to wait until I felt better again. There wasn't much else to do either way.
Of course, I had nobody else to blame but myself. The guilt of putting Sherlock through this ordeal simply because I couldn't control my emotions tormented me. He looked awfully pale! Although I felt physically unwell myself, I thought I had no right to complain any more. When he joined me under the covers, perfectly stoic but still unable to suppress the severe trembling, I could only embrace him in an attempt to warm him up, and I mumbled, "I'm sorry."
"It's alright, but please, pick better weather conditions next time you decide to have a fit. I think it's safe to say this isn't enjoyable to either of us," he replied with a shaky voice and buried his face in the fabric of my bathrobe to warm his cheeks. I deserved the response, but the gesture felt rather rewarding. I don't think I deserved that. I still enjoyed it.
Having no other means to warm ourselves up, we eventually ordered a whole pot of herbal tea with honey and lemon to our room. Then we drank it slowly as we held each other close under at least three additional wool blankets we'd found in the wardrobe. The tea didn't taste good, but its delightful warmth made up tenfold for the unpleasant thyme flavour.
Still, it was a long and very weary process because no amount of tea and no number of blankets succeeded in repelling the chill that had seeped deep into our bones for what felt like hours. We were too exhausted and done with the world to talk, so we simply sat on the bed, leaned against the back wall, and watched the storm. Each lightning revealed large, threatening waves and made Sherry tense up at their sight. He hated water that much.
By the time we finally stopped trembling and felt somewhat normal again, a new day had already begun. I'm not going to lie - drained from the previous one and not having had the chance to rest yet, I'd never despised seeing the sun more, and even the beautiful view of the sunrise above the horizon didn't excite me.
"I don't want to think about leaving the bed today. I'm too tired to think or even walk down the stairs again," I muttered after finally closing the curtains and slipping back under the warm covers. I felt a little better, but the warmth of the incredibly soft and comfortable hotel bed was still very welcome. I wished we could take it back home - it was definitely better than ours. I knew we'd have to pay for another day if we didn't leave by noon, but at that point, my whole body was starting to ache from the training we'd done. Hot and cold waves washed over me and made me feel almost feverish. I simply needed to sleep - preferably for a week.
To my great pleasure, Sherry didn't put up a fight.
"I wouldn't mind some rest myself," he said in a weary voice. His eyelids seemed to be getting heavy as well, and he stretched a little before pulling the blanket over me. "We could order some food to our room later. We should have enough to be able to afford this little vacation without risking financial ruin." It was a suggestion I liked, and I finally felt myself relaxing next to him.
"I could try their ceviche... this time, with my real mouth," I added and moved closer. I had not had any alcohol, but my head was spinning, and I closed my eyes.
"As opposed to trying it with your ethereal one?"
I laughed. "Yeah, my ethereal one doesn't really taste things. It can talk just as much, though, so it's not entirely useless."
It was comfortable, existing like this. We had shared a bed countless times, but for the first time, Sherry's closeness felt intentional, and as my mind began drifting away, I pondered how strange that was. It was likely only a switch in perspective, but so much had happened in a couple of hours that I wondered if any of it had happened for real. Lying in the warm, cosy bed with him pressed against me and thinking about these things, I fell asleep.
I know you wonder what changed between us after the kiss we had shared in the rain. The truth is that the change was more minor than one would imagine. We had always been very close. Initially, it was nothing but a subtle feeling of freedom and nervous anticipation to me - the freedom to explore and express these new emotions I carried and to allow myself to have them in the first place without fearing Sherry would mind. And an anticipation of seeing what the future would bring us despite our unusual circumstances.
Of course, I didn't feel this composed and optimistic when I woke up next to him in the hotel on that particular day, only a few hours after the gazebo. In fact, I was quite anxious. I remember almost convincing myself that I had only dreamt of our kiss. From a logical perspective, it made no sense why he'd participate in such tender expressions of love when he'd never shown any interest in them before. I feared I was experiencing what the poets call 'an unrequited love' that had revealed itself to me in my dreams.
And who would ever want to bring up such a dream in front of their best friend who had sworn off such passion forever?
But how was I supposed to not talk about something that had taken over my mind? I couldn't think of anything else!
It didn't take me long to accept that it had not been a dream. After that, I don't think I moved at all for almost an hour. Afraid of waking Sherry up and not knowing what to say and how to interact with him anymore, I lay there as if I had been turned into stone. Because no amount of playing it down helped me calm down. It meant a great deal to me.
That moment at the gazebo had given sustenance to a dormant seed I'd borne in my heart, and something beautiful had sprouted. Feeling his warmth and steady breathing against my skin didn't help me feel any less transfixed by him, either. The memories of how good it had felt to kiss him and to be kissed by him with such fervour made me feel drunk, but I was also very troubled.
"I know what's on your mind," I blurted out the moment he opened his eyes and sat up. He'd turned his back on me, searching the ground for the slippers the hotel had provided us, but my words made him eye me from over his shoulder.
"Oh? Do tell. I presume having you develop psychic abilities isn't as unlikely as it would have seemed two months ago, before you gained a body after walking into a closed door." He looked as amused and cocky as always. I didn't know where this conversation was going, but his nonchalance made me respect him infinitely more. In return, I could only stare at my hands.
"I know you've never wanted any of this. You are scared it will affect you in ways you can't predict," I took a deep breath. "I'd understand if you want us to stop here."
I meant what I said, even though I dreaded to think of ending what had just begun. But the last thing I wanted was love, which came from a place of obligation. If he regretted what had happened between us, then it was over. There was no other option.
"No beating around the bush, then," he sighed. Perhaps he'd wanted to address this at a later point. Or never. "Would you be alright if I wanted us to stop and pretend nothing happened? Would it not hurt you?" I felt choked up by what seemed like a suggestion, but his expression gave away curiosity more than anything else. He was merely asking because he wanted to know what I thought.
Lying was an option, but not one I'd pick - not when it came to this. After a moment of contemplating my words, I replied, "It would. But I would survive it, Sherry. A real friend would never want you to enter a relationship you don't want, and I am your friend before I am anything else. Nothing matters more than knowing that you're happy." Even though I felt something heavy in the pit of my stomach, I meant every word and smiled at him. I felt only love and deep care for him. How could I not put him first?
He didn't reply immediately. There was the old, pensive look on his face again right before he turned away. I knew I'd have to handle it better this time, no matter what came.
But it wasn't rejection that followed. He remained silent for a while, seemingly reflecting. I simply sat on the bed and waited, occasionally spotting a seagull through the tiny crack in the curtains. The rain had long stopped, and Cordona was again full of life and noise. It was odd how everything went back to normal even after the biggest storm.
"I haven't felt like this since yesterday, Jon," I heard him say, and he sounded almost defeated - like he had struggled with it for a while, and lost the battle. "You are right - I am scared, but I have come to realise that fighting these... sentiments is more difficult than anticipated. Believe me, I've tried for some time." He sighed deeply and let himself fall back on the bed. I watched him, puzzled and unable to grasp the full weight of his words at that moment, but saying them aloud seemed to lift a massive weight off his chest.
"You have?"
"I believed I was in control, but then you changed. You were no longer a figment of my imagination but a real person. I don't know how to navigate this situation yet, but you must have figured this out already. I have never been good with people or... feelings. Now I have to face both in you."
"I see," I replied. I wasn't as troubled with his words as with everything he left unsaid. The idea that he'd had to deal with this, whatever it was, all by himself bothered me and made me feel like I had let him down.
I had thought of it many times before - the possibility of him developing feelings for someone had always been present, no matter how much he used to deny it. And yet, I also knew better than anyone how difficult such an occurrence would be for him to handle, and I'd always hoped I'd be the first person he'd share this with, the first person to encourage and root for him and even cheer him up if anyone broke his heart. For many years, I had seen myself as a mere tool to make him happy at any cost. Yet somehow, it had never crossed my mind that I would become this very source of distress to him. I felt both blessed and awfully guilty.
"I had no idea," I finally said.
"That was the point of never telling you."
Many questions were swirling around in my mind, but most refused to be formed into coherent sentences. After a while, I lay down next to him and joined him in staring at the ceiling. I was feeling restless, and his closeness was soothing.
"You prefer men, don't you? I am not an exception; I am the rule, am I not?" It was odd how I'd never considered this before. And there had been signs. Had I been this oblivious, or had I simply been limited due to my previous form of existence? I couldn't tell, but I saw it clear as day now.
Yet he struggled with the answer. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but nothing came out, and I figured it wasn't something he was ready to face yet. So it could wait. I turned to the side to look at him better and placed a palm on his upper arm. "You don't have to reply." A sigh left his lips, and he nodded.
"What about you?" he asked almost instantly, likely eager to switch the subject to me.
And I chuckled. "I haven't gotten a clue. I haven't been around for that long. I don't really know much about myself yet."
"That's quite obvious," he laughed a little and turned to look at me, too. Only a few rays of sunlight fell on the bed, and the tiny dust particles danced in their fire. They made him look like a dream - too surreal to be true. Too perfect, too fragile, too prideful, too devastatingly gorgeous.
"But I know that I prefer you over anyone else."
He smiled at my words, and after a moment of hesitation, he reached out and caressed my face gently.
"So do I."
He was still very tense, and the sweet gesture took great effort, which made it all the more precious to me. It was all it took - just like this, my mind was blown away. The way he looked at me made my heart swell. Before I could question what I was doing, I leaned in, and my lips found his. The air around us quivered at our touch. There was no uncertainty on his part - I felt his hand move away from my cheek almost immediately, and his fingers dug deep into my robe as he pulled me closer and returned my kiss. Without the rain and the cold to intrude my senses, his mouth felt almost too soft when it brushed against mine, and I could only hum in delight.
We didn't really know what we were doing - my knowledge of kissing was based solely on some novels I had read in secret, but the technicalities were the last thing on our minds either way. Not that there was a lot else on our minds. Our lips locked again and again, merely enjoying the feathery touch while we both melted into each other's arms. Then, I felt him grasp me by the shoulders and push me back into the pillow before hovering over me. This side of him - the hungry one, the sensual one, took me by surprise again, but I wasn't going to leave his energy unmatched. Reaching up and tangling my fingers in his hair, I pulled him closer.
It was a bliss. There was a need in me - the need to break both our walls and let our souls coalesce into one, and when I felt him tilt his head and sigh into my mouth, it was almost like I'd fulfilled that. The world around us disappeared. Only he existed to me, and I knew I would never love anyone else the way I loved him. The very idea seemed absurd.
It took a while before we caught our breaths again. We lay there, holding each other tight and placing drowsy pecks all over the face of the other. Then, we ordered some food. We talked for hours on end about everything that crossed our minds, and we were happy. I don't think I'd ever been happier than in those first days. Not before and not after.
And like this, the new chapter of our lives began. He was a man with many boundaries, and I knew I ought to not cross them, but it was not as difficult as that sounds. In fact, loving Sherry was the easiest thing I'd ever done. It felt natural. Unavoidable. Final.
But our little vacation had to come to an end. After spending a whole day and the following night doing nothing but falling for each other, we eventually had to leave the hotel. So we jumped back into our by-then-dry clothes and headed downstairs to pay our tab. And although Sherry still did not bother paying attention to the receptionist's all-knowing gaze, there was somebody else in the hotel lobby he couldn't afford to ignore. Someone I was not prepared to face yet. Someone who knew of my existence.
"Finally. I don't have all day to wait for you to finish playing around." His voice startled me, but I dared not look at the direction it came from. I was petrified - everything around me seemed to freeze, the sounds of daily hotel business fading into a distant echo. I knew that voice. I'd heard that voice almost every day for fifteen years.
It was the voice of Mycroft Holmes. The only other person in the world who loved Sherry as much as I did. And he did not love me.