No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Pertaining to Visitors and Mind Palaces

"E-excuse me?" Celestia's eyes were wide, and the door knob had been obviously forgotten.

"Will you really make me say it again?" Sherlock asked with a slight chuckle; a warm, deep, beautiful laugh.

"No I just-" She took one look at Sherlock's softened features, the perfect crinkling of skin around his eyes and ran into his arms. Her face was unable to hold the elation that coursed through her. "Wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming," she finished, wrapping her arms around his neck. She fought the water that sprung into her eyes, tears of disbelief and exuberance and happiness.

Sherlock's face lit in alarm and concern as he pulled her out at arms length.

"What did I do? Why are you upset? Was it me?"

Celestia laughed lightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "No, of course not. I just can't believe I'm even in the same room as the most brilliant man the world has ever seen."

"You're one of the few that think so," Sherlock replied bluntly.

"Lucky for me then, isn't it? If everyone saw what I did, you'd have people queuing up outside."

Sherlock turned his head down with a light shake. Their eyes met, the colorless clouds of Celestia's meeting the kaleidoscope of colors in Sherlock's.

The kiss was gently, not much more so than the first. Two individuals so strong on the outside understood the fragility underneath. The passion was not absent, but while some show love through ferocity and intensity, this kiss radiated with gentleness and compassion. They treasured this moment; treasured each other as cautiously as one might precious jewels. Sherlock felt as out of his league as Celeste did, if he was perfectly honest with himself. If he would admit it, he'd also find that he was scared senseless at the unknown peril of a true relationship with anyone. His mind was abuzz with released emotions as he leaned down and kissed the hard line of her jaw gently.

The sound of the door closing behind some uninvited guest sent the two springing away from each other, hurriedly facing the entryway. There were two visitors actually, a familiar man and woman. Mary had her hands on her hips, smirking playfully. She elbowed John who had stepped in beside her. "Told ya." She winked in Celestia's direction. Celeste felt her cheeks heat up as she racked her brain for something to do.

"Tea! I'll go make us all a nice cup of tea!" Quickly, Celeste bustled out of the room and into the adjoining kitchen, busying herself with the fine art of brewing tea.

"So that's new," Mary teased in a low voice, sliding into the couch next to her husband.

"Quit ridiculing the poor guy!" John commanded. "I, for one, am proud of you Sherlock. Branching out like this, as long as you aren't using her," he warned in an even lower voice. He threw Sherlock a look that threatened consequences if that happened to be true.

"Oh John, lighten up! He had to deal with all your girlfriends, don't go killing the fun."

"Who said anything about dating? You know what, never mind. Why are you here anyway?" Sherlock interrupted.
John brushed off Sherlock's slightly rude tone and informed him that he had been told of the murders and wanted to know what was going on. Sherlock explained the situation with James Welsh, well, Sebastian Moran, relating the riddles and messages back to the couple.

"Oh, you owe me, Mister," Mary said to John when Sherlock had finished his account.

"What do you mean?" interjected Celeste, laying down the cups on the coffee table.

"Well, John bet that you wouldn't be together until January at least, but I put my money on this week," Mary elaborated. "How romantic; and it's Christmas too!"