Sherlock Holmes was a rash man. The kind of man that would punch someone in the face if ticked of the wrong way but none the less he was a sympathetic man.
- I have no regrets Watson.- he gritted through closed teeth while washing his hands up to his elbows, scrubbing vigorously at his stamina tattoo.
-I’m just concerned, that’s all.- she puffed air at his general direction, keeping an eye on his handwashing technique, the surgeon in her never resting.
-The bird was not well, not ill.- he turned her way, splashing small drops on her forearm.
- And why was it not well?- her eyebrows raised impossibly high on her forehead, irritably so.
- Well…- Sherlock turned adjusting his shirt sleeve unsuccessfully.- I could be wrong but it seems it is but a case of malnourishment, nothing to threat over my dear Watson, now if you will excuse me.- he sidestepped her in the small bathroom they shared only to be stopped by her arm, gripping at his wrist.
-I am not teasing you.- she stated, simply yet slowly, gazing into his eyes. His brow furrowed at her as his eyes cast downwards onto her hand. - Can I tell you something?- she whispered.
-But of course.- his lips remind a thin line but he relaxed under her grip, his muscles unclenching long enough for her to feel how soft his skin actually was.
- I like that side of you.- she finally pushed the words out of her mouth.
-Pardon?- his usually raspy baritone turned into silk, smooth honey, quiet yet sharp with wit.
- The softer side.- her smirk grew larger and larger by the second as she fixed his cuffs.
-I have no idea what you’re talking about, I do not like this line of tough Watson, I have already told you I am acerbic.- his brow furrowed again as he extracted himself from her grip.
- Say what you like but no acerbic man would climb a forty foot tree because he taught he heard a bird in distress.- Watson spoke loudly, exasperated by his inherent denial of the fact that Sherlock Holmes was indeed a gentle man. He reconsidered for a moment weighing his options.
- Let us say I have, how did you put it, a softer side. Let us say I care for people…- he showed small signs of disgust on his face, Watson wasn’t sure was it directed at himself or his current line of taught. His fists clenched and unclenched viciously at his sides, his shoulders stiff and under stress.
- I didn’t say for who you care about.- her arms extended towards him, palms facing up in an open invitation , she means no harm to him.
- I care for you.- the words were rushed, glued together in one hot breath. – It reminded me of you.-
-Who did?- she followed him downstairs to the kitchen table where a small , bluish bird chirped from under small straws of hay.
-Do you know the species of our new little friend?- he seemed nervous yet excitedly happy, well excitedly happy for him that is.
-No.- she spoke with a small voice, knowing she would receive a lesson in the importants of knowing bird species for crime investigation and differencing between their bowl movements at least she taught she would. The only thing she received was a gleeful closed mouth smile, he cocked his head to the side as he observed it still holding a small smile. Watson couldn’t resist and smiled as well, seeing him this happy was a rare thing and she intended to make it last as long as she could.
-yèyīng…- Sherlock whispered in the general direction of the bird now perched on his finger.
- Nightingale?- she stepped closer to him feeling the warmth of his body.
-Yes, Watson.- he drawled impossibly slow glancing sideways at her. –See, it is not ill.-
-And it reminds you of me, why?-
He drew a stiff breath leaning towards her placing the bird gently on her shoulder. -Sing, sweet nightingale, Sing me a song of a night never-ending, Sing, sweet nightingale, And I'll try to pretend That tomorrow's nowhere near And there's nothing to fear.- his throat clenched tightly around the words fearing what her reaction will be. She gazed at him in wonder taken aback by his soft spoken words.
-Did you just quote a Tom Springfield song?- her warm smile thawed at his heart.
-I believe I have.- he exhaled slowly through his nose trying to ignore her lilac scent. – I’m surprised you know it. –
She began humming the melody softly petting the birds head carefully with her index finger while swaying slowly, pressing her hip to his.
-Yun…- Sherlock cooed to the bird.
-Yes?- she replied surprised by the use of her Chinese name.
- The bird Watson, Yun, it fits perfectly.- his much larger finger joined in the petting of their new friend. – When you fall asleep, Yun will continue singing to me just as you do.- his eyes shined with warmth Watson never saw. His arm found it’s way to her waist gripping it softly as he began to sway her lighty.
- Morning please don't come
Surely you see that my lover is sleeping
Morning please don't come
Let the night linger on
When the stars have left the sky
We must say fond goodbye .- he sang softly into her hair holding her warmly against him as the night grew closer.