221B Baker St.

Falling

A/N  I called this "Falling" because it is both the falling action and Ivy falling totally in love with Sherlock :)

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My mind both went blank, and detonated into a fit of hysterics. I couldn't do anything but close my eyes before it was all over. I hadn't even been bold enough to kiss back.  Looking back on it, I should have at least done something. All I did was experience and remember it.

"Now," Sherlock straightened. "We have to get out of here, but we'll talk when you're safe."

I nodded, wide eyed, as Sherlock pulled me out of the chair. My body was still quite stiff, but with Sherlock's help we were soon rushing down passages and sprinting up staircases. It was all a blur, and with the power of the adrenaline leaving me, I was beginning to feel the deficit of food, water, and sleep. 

We made it to the street. It was late; the street lights were on. In my haze, I was reminded of the lamplighters from Mary Poppins. "Come, Ivy, we're going to the hospital now." Sherlock whispered softly in my ear, while he held me to his side.

I gave the street light a look. "But, Lock, I'm not injured..." 

First he sighed, then he chuckled. "Darling, you're covered in cuts. And you've been under the influence of unknown drugs for the past twenty four hours. You also haven't consumed any-"

"Alright, that's enough!" I grimaced. "I was just curious, you don't need to give me the full report."

Sherlock patted my back as he opened the police car door. I frowned. "Shouldn't I be going to the Yard, you know, for some sort of follow up interrogation? That seems like it would be customary..."

"How quickly I had forgotten all of the questions... St. Bartholemew, right away." Sherlock climbed in beside me, and the nameless cop began driving. "Lestrade and his crew are still at Moriarty's hide away, and will be thus encumbered for some time, processing the place, conducting their investigation and filling out the paper work. You will likely have to submit a formal account of the chronological events, but they won't need you in the time you can be recovering."

I nodded. "That makes sense."

"I always make sense," he replied promptly.

"That's awfully arrogant of you," I disclosed. He stayed silent for a moment, as if to consider this.  

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, but it's the truth. Being arrogant, as you say, is simply me expressing the truth."

"True as it may be, it's demeaning to others in the context, and some find it irritating and enraging."

He considered my words anew. "I suppose you may be right."

"Mhm," I nodded, leaning my head against the window. The frigidness of the glass did nothing to improve my headache; I leaned away from it. "Sherlock?" He looked over at me expectantly. "May I lean on you?"

I watched him as he looked at my face for a moment, processing my question. He then straightened and coughed. "Yes, you may lean on me."

I smiled. "Thank you, Lock." I scooted closer to him on the seat, and leaned against his slight frame. His black coat smelled so familiar; it wasn't long before I fell asleep.

The following hours were long, and boring. I answered many questions, and the medical examiners did many tests. There was an IV, and I fell asleep several times. The nurse brought me food after I woke up the second time, just a small bowl of porridge. I ate it as hastily as I could manage, not taking the time to savor the artificial maple flavor. I was ravenous. 

The nurse informed me after I had finished that I was not to eat any more for another hour, so that my stomach would have time to settle. She did not say why, which irked me greatly. I suppose it had to do with the drugs I'm on. She handed me a cup of water and some pills, and left my room.

I glanced around my hospital room. It was incredibly dull, but I wasn't exactly in any condition to do anything about it. I stared down at my water dejectedly. I was finally talking myself into taking a sip when the door swung open, and Sherlock swept in.

I felt my eyes widen, and a chill run down my back. He stood at the end of my bed observing me, while I sat stiffly observing him. He had been to the flat since I saw him last, handing me over to the nurses some hours ago. He had whispered, "Rest up darling, I'll be back in a few hours." He was wearing a different coat, this one slightly cleaner and newly soaked through with snow at the hem. His wonderful hair was a bit more subdued, as if he had washed it and combed it. I wondered absently if he had done that for me. 

"Ivy," Sherlock said quietly. I looked up at his face. He was staring right into my eyes. "How are you feeling?"

I cleared my throat, which was suddenly quite parched. "I'm fine," I croaked. He raised an eyebrow at me. "No, really." I reached out and grasped the cup of water, feeling it unbalanced in my hand before I watched, as if in slow motion, as it overturned onto my lap. I grimaced and fell back against the pillows. My face flushed a violent shade of red, I could feel the heat spreading across me as the embarrassment filled me completely.

Sherlock was immediately at my side, quickly lifting the cup off the the sodden sheets and setting it on the low table against the wall. "Shh... it's alright darling, it's perfectly normal..." I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt Sherlock's soft fingers brush the tears away. I felt as though the drugs were leaving my system, and I was remembering the horrors of the day before for the first time. I felt... completely ripped apart. That's the simplest way to put it, really. I was in shock because I couldn't believe that it had actually happened to me, and I was sad because I knew I would never be the same person from before it happened. I was angry at Moriarty for what he had done, and scared that it would happen again. And most of all, I felt happy and alive.

I felt myself laughing before I heard it, a dry, chuckling laugh that shook my whole body. I looked up at Sherlock's concerned face, and then down at his hands wrapped safely around mine. My face felt puffy as I smiled. "Ivy..." Sherlock whispered gently, his face suddenly quite close to mine. 

I looked into his intense eyes, my own aching after shedding tears. I let my eyes fall closed lazily, no longer feeling the need to keep them open. "Yes, Lock?"

His forehead gently rested against mine. "I... I'm not very good with feeling, darling. You always have been... I don't know what the best thing to say right now is. But I'm here. I will assist you in your recovery. As long as you want me here, I will always stay." I felt the warm air of his breath against my cheek. 

I slowly opened my eyes, feeling the harshness of the dull hospital room overwhelming my senses. I reached my hand up and lightly turned his chin upward, just like I had seen in movies. I felt the closeness of our lips, and suddenly we were kissing again. And it was so much better than the first time. There really is no way to explain to someone who's never kissed someone they love what it feels like, there just isn't. But I can tell you that it is the best feeling in the world. It is both satisfying and maddening. You're contented, but you feel... alive, in a new, unique way. And you want so much more.

After what felt like too short a time, I pulled away from him. I felt excited, and warm, everywhere on my body. I looked at his still face for a moment, watching as his eyes slowly opened and his mouth curved up into a gentle smile. I inhaled again, feeling somehow breathless from such a simple act. "I would like that very much, Sherlock."

We sat like that for a moment, just smiling at each other. Because it's the best feeling in the world, knowing that no matter what happens, you'll always have this happiness, this light to help you through it.