(Untitled)

[the_damsel]

It wasn't quite summer yet in New York, but it was close enough. The weather had been clear and hot, but thankfully hadn't quite reached the point where it was oppressive. That said, a change for the cooler wasn't unwelcome, and when the front door opened to reveal the t-shirt-clad form of April O'Neil, the wry quirk to her lips suggested she was

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[locked_holmes]

"How picturesque you are," said Holmes. He took the seat beside her without a moment's hesitation, his teacup held in one hand with the fingers of the other smoothing over the curls of her hair. Hands stained with ink and showing the faintest reminder of some recent chemical reaction, he was the picture of weary self-satisfaction.

Their meeting did not occur entirely by chance; he had been waiting for her. He could profess no particular purpose, however, except the somewhat secret pleasure he took in her company.

[the_damsel]

"I do try," April quipped in reply, leaning instinctively into his touch with a wry smile. He'd never been much for public displays of affection, and she likely should have been satisfied with what he'd seen fit to give, but she tipped closer anyway, and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

"Where've you been?" she asked as she drew away, eyes warm with unspoken adoration.

[locked_holmes]

He spoke once she had released him again, the taste of her mouth both smooth and somewhat sweet against his lips. He minded less the taste of coffee, when it was blended with the taste of her.

"Tucked away," he replied. "Working at one or two of the array of little problems presented to me in the last several weeks." None of them extraordinary, but one or two of some interest at least, and one of them now most definitely wrapped up in a tidy solution.

[the_damsel]

"Mmm, of course." April leaned back, taking a large swallow of coffee. "And judging by the look on your face, I will guess that you're happy enough with how that's going."

[locked_holmes]

"I should be happier, as always, were they problems of a more challenging nature," said Holmes, placing undue emphasis on the adjective. The subtle brightness to his eyes showed off his general good humour, nevertheless. "But yes, everything should conclude shortly, and in good order."

The longer strands of his wide-cast net around Moriarty remained, awaiting the subtle tug of the spider from the center of its web, nature in reverse with the spider stalked by the fly. The image appealed to Holmes' sense of irony.

He gave April a sideways glance, arching one darkly eloquent brow. "And does everything go equally well at home?"

[the_damsel]

"Typical," April answered, and slid from her stool, coffee cup in hand. "Pretty quiet." She leaned unabashedly against the long lines of Sherlock's body, pressing a kiss at his hairline. There were things she thought to say, but didn't. How her home seemed less like her home, now. That she missed London when she wasn't in it, even with all the required quirks of propriety. That even when he ignored her in favor of work, she would rather be with him.

[locked_holmes]

Whether he intentionally ignored her might always be a source of debate, as he had habitually treated Watson in just the same fashion--foregoing communication entirely for weeks or even months on end, and then quite suddenly bursting through the door with one case or another to pursue to its inevitable conclusion.

In truth, he dared not try her patience quite so much, as she plainly hadn't any patience at all with his eccentricities. He slid one arm lightly around her waist, less wary of returning her physical advances here in the bar than at home at Baker Street. "How marvelously dull," he replied, voice dry, as the description was rather apt to how he had been thinking of 221B recently.

[the_damsel]

"I was waiting for you to come sweep me off on an adventure," April teased, nosing against his temple. "You're falling down on the job, buddy." His arm felt arm and familiar, and it was difficult to keep from pushing closer, seeking more of his addictive warmth. She managed, but just barely, and only for him.

[locked_holmes]

Somewhere rather less public, he would certainly not have protested. As it was, his hand splayed lightly at her hip, touching more of her at once, still subtle. "My latest adventure involved being lowered into a well," he replied, definitely droll, "and I cannot say that it proved to be anything but an experience both damp and dark. And singularly uninformative, to my frustration."

He slanted her half a smirk. "Though next time I shall be quite sure to invite you. Or rather, to sweep you."