Prue was just getting a sleep when she felt the bed dip with the weight of someone coming in beside her. As a custom, she slept with one hand under her pillow, holding a knife. She slid her hand with the knife under it and then leaned on top of the person, putting the knife to their throat. "Are you going to kill me, Prudence McGee? It would really be ambitious of you!"
The arrogance, the voice coated with sex and the narcissistic manner of the sentence that was spoken told her it could only be one man. Sherlock. Now the question she was asking was "why the fuck is Sherlock in my room at this time?"
"What are you doing here?" she asked, before sitting up straight - completely unaware that she now straddling his lap. Sherlock sighed and looked at the ceiling to avoid the partially open part of her gown, showing her bra. He was regretting coming in to her room.
"I was bored." he replied.
"Bored? Sherlock I could have killed you!"
"Already you've made my night more interesting! Talk to me. It's Christmas."
She sighed. "What do you want to talk about?" Her question made him think and he shrugged.
"Sherlock this is ridiculous. It's like two 'O' five in the morning. I'm exhausted. Not just physically but mentally. I have a lot running through my head at the moment, and I'm craving a fix again."
"You need adrenaline."
"I do, Sherlock!"
"If anything, I of all people understand! I truly do." he replied. "You need stimulation. The kind that tests your limits."
"You get me."
"And you me." he replied to her. Their eyes locked.
"You can stay if you like. We'll talk and then sleep. Half an hour?" she suggested.
"Mental chess match?"
"Why do I feel like I am body guarding a child sometimes?2
Wen she woke up in the morning at around six, Sherlock wasn't there. Yet, she was far too tired to get up so she fell back asleep again. Once again she felt the weight of the bed dipping. This time it was with someone jumping on it. With one eye opening she looked to see who it was. "Hey, Tatum."
"Hey. We've got problems." she told me.
"Can't they wait. It's Christmas and I'm kind of tired."
"What Moran's new master?"
"Yeah. He's ten times worse than Moran. By the way a John Watson has just texted you. Apparently Sherlock's hacked your email to email him."
She jumped up and run upstairs. "Sherlock! You can't just take my laptop and hack into my email!" I scolded before I took it off of him. Tatum shook her head and told Sherlock what she told me. He went quiet. "There's nothing we can do until, he makes contact. He's playing a mind game."
"Mycroft needs you to do another fitness test to make sure you're capable of body guarding, Sherlock. Also he wants to run a more complicated psyc evaluation on you."
"Tell him that I can't. It would mean having to leave him on his own and I'm not doing that! They come first! Tell Mycroft that I don't care if I have a bullet in my brain I will not stop until every man, woman, and child that is out to murder him is wiped out from existence. And I'll put my own life on the line, more than a thousand times over! Is that enough for him?!"
"I'll let him know. You're both invited to Christmas dinner at Mycroft's house. I do expect you to come. By the way, I've left a bag with your clothes you'll be wearing at the front door."
"I beg your pardon?" snapped Prue. The thought of new clothes, didn't appeal to her.
"It's a purple dress. You like purple!"
"I like it on Sherlock there's a difference?"
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Do share!" he, prompted.
"Bugger off!" she replied. Tatum laughed and shook her head.
"Besides, dresses come off easier." Tatum whispered to Prue. Prue scowled and then walked downstairs.
"So Sherlock, how are you?" grinned Tatum.
Dinner at Mycroft's house was boring both Sherlock and Prue. They ended up playing mental chess playing. "Knight to E5." Sherlock played.
"Queen to E5. Checkmate." she replied.
"It's rude to do that at dinner." Tatum, said to Sherlock and Prue. "Didn't your parents teach you guys manners?"
Mycroft snickered and Sherlock rolled his eyes but Prue got up to excuse herself. "Was it something I said?" Tatum asked.
"Don't you know about her parents?" Sherlock asked.
"What about them? All I know is they must be pretty lame if she's not gone to them for Christmas."
"They're dead. Died, when she was very young."
"Oh, no." Tatum replied before standing up.
"I'll go." Sherlock replied. "She needs to go home."
"Honestly I am fucking perfect!" Prue, explained to Sherlock when they got back to the flat.
"I want to be sure. Stay in my flat tonight." Sherlock, replied.
"Sherlock I am not going to take drugs. I swear. Just because I want them..."
"Sometimes that's enough. When I look at you...I see me! How I used to be!"
"Sherlock. I'm too tired to cope with the high. I'm so tired..."
"And yet you feel so in need of something to make you feel alive."
"I know. Exactly...you understand."
He pressed his lips against her forehead before making his way upstairs. He expected her to come up very soon but she never and so he decided to check on her. He found her struggling and getting frustrated with the zip on the back of her dress and he snickered. She turned around and pouted.
He helped her and it went to slide but she caught it. "Thank you."
That night she fell asleep in Sherlock's room with her head on his chest. It was so easy to fall into slumber with him there. She felt safe. As an assassin she made it so that others couldn't be safe but not once did she ever stop top think about what it meant for her. It meant being with Sherlock.