#benedct cumberbatch

******

You looked out the window of the flat, the fireworks shooting from the sky, illuminating London in all its glory. It was beautiful, you had to admit, but your attention turned towards the living room of 221B, your home now for six years.

The last notes of Sherlock’s violin resonated through the flat, followed by small applause from John, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, and Molly. Everyone raised their glasses toasting in the new year, delighted at the prospects of what was to come while another crackle of fireworks crackled and illuminated the sky of the city you’d come to love.

Sherlock huffed borderline in annoyance and anticipation to have you alone for himself the rest of the early hours of the morning. He sat his violin down on his desk without a care, darting away to the kitchen while you finished making your rounds and suffering through a little small talk, away from the usual topic of murder and cold cases, switching to potential vacations and holidays the others were planning through the year.

Soon enough, everyone retired, and you hugged and spoke your thanks to your close friends who had become like family and welcomed you as their own. John pecked your cheek, grasping your shoulder to steady himself.

“Happy New Year, don’t get too rowdy tonight,” he cast a knowing wink at you before clobbering up the stairs before you could yell at him to be careful like you usually did.

A tired sigh escaped you when you closed the door and you leaned your head back against it if only to capture a few more minutes of silence to yourself. Somehow then you willed yourself to yours and Sherlock’s shared room, rolling your eyes at his purple robe draped carelessly on the side of his bed. You run your hands along the fine material, loving the way it feels and it brings back many a happy memory through the years.  

The fireworks now long gone made way for a surprise for you; the snow began falling as if by magic, timed right as Sherlock walked into the bedroom huffing, the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes.

“I’ve never seen snow like this before, it’s beautiful,” you sighed breaking the comfortable silence while, admiring the way the snow gently fell along the pavement and flittered throughout the sky.

Sherlock's arms wrapped around you from behind, trapping you in his warmth and you leaned into him, welcoming the protection. His lips found your neck with practiced ease and you groaned, melting further as he sucked gentle marks determined to adore you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as if in silent prayer, his hands caressing you gently like you are the most precious thing in his universe, which you are but he won’t admit it out loud. You know deep down he cared but in moments like these you favor, the quiet moments of passion and adoration where you can be close to him.

The snow continued to fall and you fall into the arms of Sherlock, as he claims you over and over in the throes of his unique passions, desperation winning out in the end, for he couldn’t fathom any years alone without you in his life.

Out of the thousand wishes he didn’t believe in, you were the only one he allowed himself to hope for. All he wanted was you and when you kissed him properly, the first one of the New Year, he finally felt complete and full again.

A thousand wishes and you wanted to encapsulate this moment forever never wanting to leave this perfect moment of adoration and peace. But many adventures await in the new year, hope blooming on the horizon.

******

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