(Y/n) couldn't help but stare; Sherlock, the Sherlock Holmes was actually laughing; he was smiling and laughing. Admittedly it probably had a little something to do with the Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and the champagne that they were having with the chocolate covered strawberries, as they both sat on her sofa; but whatever the case, she had to admit that she liked it. She liked how the smile made his whole face light up, and how his laughter was deeper than she thought it would be, as it filled the room.

To say that it had been a wonderful evening, would be an understatement, in her opinion; the man that she had to admit that she could get annoyed at, at the drop of a hat, had made her feel like a queen; had done more for her in one evening than, as she had told him, many a boyfriend had done for her in an entire relationship, and she liked it. Liked feeling as though she was special to someone. (Y/n) knowing that it had not been any kind of date night, but it was the closest thing to one that she had had in some time, so, she was going to take it. And she had to think that there were worse men that she could spend an evening with, after all, Sherlock was certainly easy on the eye; (Y/n) aware of how, over the years, she had kissed more than her fair share of frogs, to find that they only stayed frogs; yet even though she had not kissed him, Sherlock was proving to be quite a Prince Charming. And not just any old Prince Charming, a Prince Charming that could cook a souffle and a kick ass steak.

                                                         >>----------------------------------<<

Sherlock couldn't help but feel a little shocked; he, Sherlock, the Sherlock Holmes was actually laughing; he was smiling and laughing because of the beautiful woman next to him. Admittedly it probably had a little something to do with the two glasses of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and the champagne that he and (Y/n) were having with the chocolate covered strawberries that he had slaved over, as they both sat on her sofa; but whatever the case, he had to admit that he was actually liking it. Liking, as well, that she was laughing along with him; liking how her smile made her whole face light up, and how her laughter was lighter than he thought it would be, as it mixed with his and filled the room.

To say that he had thought it had been a wonderful evening, would, to his surprise, be an understatement; the woman that he had to admit he could get annoyed at, at the drop of a hat, had made him feel.......well, accepted, had made him feel as though he was right; had done more for him in one evening than many people had ever done in his life, and he liked it. Sherlock knowing that it had not been any kind of date night that John would speak about with Mary, but it was the closest thing to one that he had ever really had, so, he was going to see it as one; the consulting detective sure that such a thing would somehow help him in the future. That, and he had to think that there were worse women that he could spend an evening with; after all, she was quite beautiful, as well as being intelligent.

Over the years he had never been the most successful with members of the opposite sex, his deductions of them stopping anything before he could get beyond a night like this. But with (Y/n) he felt as though he had got passed that; the fact that they had sort of worked together, and she had given him somewhere to stay when no one else would, that she had put up with him treating her like an interloper in her own home, and she had seen him almost naked, meant that they had moved beyond that period of getting to know one another in his mind; and now......well, now they might be able to move on to something else. Something else that he had found himself wanting more than he thought he could.

                                                             >>-----------------------------------<<

The laughter slowly died away, her brows furrowing as Sherlock reached out and grabbed one of the chocolate covered strawberries that were left on the silver looking tray on the coffee table in front of them.

"What.........?"

"Open.........." Sherlock simply replied, as he held up the fruit. The female detective rolling her eyes, before she did as she was told. (Y/n) slowly opening her mouth, and feeling her heart begin to pound frantically inside her chest, as she looked into Sherlock's eyes and felt the chocolate melt on her warm lips. Her teeth carefully biting into the lush juicy berry. A warm blush rising in her cheeks, as the soft fruit lingered at her mouth. Her mind going back to the morning, to seeing Sherlock, wet, and in nothing more than one of her best towels. To seeing the rivulets of water making their way down from his sodden hair, down his neck and over the muscles of his chest; only stopping as they soaked into the material that hung low on his hips. The breath catching in her throat, as Sherlock slowly moved the strawberry away, and he began to inch closer and closer to her. (Y/n) wanting to keep her eyes open, to make sure that this wasn't all a dream; but try as she might, her eyes closed. Her hands instinctively grabbing at the collar of Sherlock's shirt, as she felt his body press up against hers.......and then.......then........oh, those lips...........