Chapter Text
From the alleyway Sherlock places a call to the DI, promising him two smugglers trussed up like a Christmas duck. I'm not entirely on board about using our little trick again to bait them into a corner. If twice is a coincidence and three times is a trend- then once is nothing. I was worried it wasn't reliable, and I couldn't gamble Sherlock's life on it. When we finally manage to disarm and trap them in a phone booth I allow the residual doubt to rise to the surface. At least I can hear the police sirens ringing out a block away.
“That was insane. I don't know how you could trust that it would work. I can't believe I let you risk your life hoping I'd be able to distract from you!” I exclaim. It was close. It was such a near thing that we managed to neutralize them in their surprise, instead of take a gut full of metal. We came away from it. Relief waits patiently to make it's entrance.
“The alternative was to let go two dangerous men, who could identify me to their even more nefarious employer. Could retaliate at any time. Would you have preferred that? Leaving it to chance?” he demands, eyes searching out the reason for my outburst.
“I'd rather take care of it myself!” I shout, blazing with a protective instinct. I try to cram misplaced anger back down my throat. If we're going to be reckless we're better off sharing the danger. Can't think what would happen to me if I refused and Sherlock left me behind. If some fate befell him that I could have hidden us from. He gives me a sympathetic nod that rings of Me too, if it were you. The wash of relief finally sweeps all the way down to my kneecaps.
“And so you did,” he mutters, turning to meet the Inspector I recognize from the cabbie case, Lestrade. Two more officers arrive and tackle the impromptu barricade at the phone booth, ready to take the suspects into custody.
“Couldn't just cuff 'em to a lamp post could you?” jests the DI.
“Have to leave something for you to do, I suppose,” Sherlock sniffs, and I scoff.
“Who's this then?” Lestrade nods at me. I turn to look over my shoulder. We're the only people on the pavement. Sensible pedestrians gave the hammering shouty criminals in a phone booth a wide berth. Sherlock's eyes narrow and dart between us both.
“Detective Inspector?”
“Who, me?” I take a few steps back, like I’m trying to focus a camera and get everyone in the shot. Am I in this scene? My mind races to remember if the two men being apprehended said anything out of the ordinary.
“Yeah, you. Did you have anything to do with this? We'll need to take your statement,” he continues. I give Sherlock an inquiring side glance. He seems to savor the look of utter bewilderment on my face, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles back down at me.
“No need. Dr. Watson will be along with me in the morning about any paperwork. He's currently acting as my-”
“Lackey?” interrupts a nearby member of the police presence. Another officer laughs.
“Can it!” barks Lestrade
“-assistant.” Sherlock finishes firmly. He catches a hand to the back of my elbow and shoots the DI a mad grin before starting to drag me off to the street corner. The DI vainly calls after him something about 'chain of command' or 'custody', but I hardly process it. At the corner, just out of earshot and sight we stop.
“W- what happened?” I stammer out, arms thrown in the air. If I'm going to suddenly be visible again I would expect feeling a bit tingly or something. I almost feel gypped.
“What was different? What were you thinking while we were taking down the suspects?”
“Just, not to be seen. I didn't want them to get the drop on us,” I pause, but he flaps his hand for me to provide more. “Just feeling unnoticeable, like I have been.” I watch as he steeples his fingers at his lips and turns his thought inwards. “Sherlock-”
“After we had them in the booth, what were you thinking?,” I hesitate and he rounds on me, “It's important John, what was it?”
“I was thinking I was glad you were in one piece. I was glad I could confirm it with my own two eyes. Because- in case you haven't noticed that's not as much of a given for me lately!”
He swoops toward me, a sudden mast I could lash myself to in my turbulence. So I do. I pull myself up to and against him, as much height as I can muster. He kisses me to silence while his arms wind around me. His lips brush by my ear and he urges, “Try again,” before letting me go and stepping back.
“Not being seen again? From who?”
“We'll get a cab. Just focus on not being noticed by the cabbie,” he instructs. “And maybe if you do very well, you can make it to your advantage.” With a coy tilt of his head he steps toward the kerb, a summoning arm held high. I recall the morning's cab ride- still stimulated from waking up entangled in this gorgeous creature's hold and gaze. Curious to see how far I could press my remarkable advantage with this remarkable man. If I climbed into his lap in the back of the cab and ground into him, mouthed along his pale neck no one would be the wiser. And he'd just have to sit back and accept it. Yes. I think I can convince my body that this is an experiment worth the attempt.
An empty cab pulls up to us, and with a wink Sherlock opens the door, and makes a fuss of pausing to checking his pockets while I enter before him.
“Yes sir, where to?” asks the driver, and I could practically skip all the way home if I weren't already seated.
“211b Baker Street,” Sherlock supplies. He settles himself in a bit, removing his scarf and stuffing it in a pocket and unbuttoning his coat. I might've licked my lips when he glances at me and puts an arm up along the top of the seat. I shift across the bench and roll onto one knee at his hip, quickly tucking the next on the other side until we're situated. No complaint from the cabbie. Golden.
“Always wanted to get off with someone in the backseat,” I tell him, once I'm settled, and unavoidably aware of him firm appreciation. He quirks a brow and mouths Too polite?. “Never owned a car,” I murmur while ducking my head into his neck. Sherlock hums and bucks into my weight a bit. I lick a stripe up his throat before I pull back to look in his eyes again. The eyes that first saw me and started all this. He's very nearly closed them in satisfaction. “Look at me,” I urge.
His silver scrutiny fixes on me again. I relish in the furtive intimacy we share. I can be only his, any time I choose. I shift against him, slipping my hands carefully into his coat. I feel his arms stir and I whisper to him, “You can look but you can't touch.” I grip into the small of his back, continuing my slow erosion of his patience. A slow exhale, and his eyelids drop. Remind him, “Think solid...rock hard thoughts. Don't want to go disappearing with me, after all.” I litter him with kisses, and hardly notice when the cab pulls to a stop.
*
We quickly prove to be a formidable team. Violet Smith's stalking cyclist was an especially good showcase for my unique abilities, and many more opportunities arise as we pursue Sherlock's work. I don't always tag along visibly with Sherlock. I linger on the edges, sometimes. His secret weapon. His shadow. I become his second pair of hands and eyes, and I take that role happily; tribute to all the difference his hands and eyes have made to me.
“I always wonder something,” I hear myself admit in bed one night. I wriggle closer, nudging my chin along until it finds its favorite homelike divot in his collar bone.
“Hmm?”
“How can you tell when I'm seen and when I'm unseen, if you always can see me?” I've identified now how it feels inside of me, it's something like having just had a drink of cold water and then stepping out into the snow. A blending into the environment from within.
“Well, as you are aware of your state, your behavior changes. You keep closer to me when you're unseen, so that I might part the way for you, sneak" he nips at my nose. Considers. "You're noisier when you're unseen.” I scoff. I have just spent the last hour being both visible and noisy, thank you very much.
“I do like it that you can't tell me to shuttup without looking mental,” I mutter before kising him.
“And you can hardly take your eyes off me.”
“Mmm, but I never can.”