“Ooof.” Sherlock wheezed, his back slamming against the wall. The door flew back as I burst into the cabin.
“Morrie? Where are you?”
The bright lights overwhelmed me, and bursts of neon green and pink danced across my vision. I stumbled toward the back of the room, where I remembered the bed.Please don’t let me see—
“Shhh, gorgeous. I’m here.” A figure emerged from the gloom. Warm arms wrapped around me, and my heart soared as I breathed in the grapefruit and vanilla scent that could only belong to my favorite criminal mastermind.
Morrie.
He’s here.
He’s alive.
“I missed you.” I burrowed my face into Morrie’s neck, savoring the scent of him, the weight of his arm around me, the hard planes and muscles of his body.
“Not as much as I missed you.” Fingers clasped my jaw, tipping my head back as Morrie seared my lips with a scorching kiss.
Mmmmmm. I don’t know what I was so afraid of.Morrie kissed like a man possessed, relinquishing the games he loved to play with me to give in to desperation. He kissed like he needed me to breathe.
Quoth fluttered into the room as his raven and rested on Morrie’s shoulder, head-butting his cheek. Morrie broke our kiss to pet Quoth’s head. “I missed you, too, little birdie.”
I collapsed against Morrie, relief, fear and desire swirling inside me. I didn’t know whether I wanted to throw him on the bed and molest him in the best possible way, or if I wanted to shake the smile off his face and rage at him for getting us into this mess.
A shape loomed behind us. Literature’s greatest consulting detective collapsed into the chair by the fire, peering at me through a veil of wild curls sticking out at all angles from sleep. “What dark specters have disturbed our slumber?”
“It’s Mina.” Morrie tightened his grip around me. “And Quoth. You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I’ve been three days in this room with him and already I’m contemplating Sherlockicide.”
“Morrie, why is Sherlock naked?”
“That’s how he sleeps.” Morrie rolled his eyes, but I couldn’t help but notice he wore only a pair of silk boxer shorts himself. Droplets of sweat clung to his naked chest. “And he hogs all the blankets.”
I stared in horror as the room came into view, and I took in the tangled sheets and pillows thrown everywhere, the crime scene photographs and reports rumpled beneath them. I imagined Morrie and Sherlock lying together, their feet touching as they pored over the details of his case, Sherlock’s arm grazing Morrie’s as he reached for Sherlock’s shoe imprint cast, Morrie’s mouth cocking into that self-satisfied smirk before their mouths met in hot need. “You’re sharing a bed?”
Morrie shrugged as if it was no big deal, but I noticed he kept his eyes on Sherlock. “Mr. Smug Git over there called dibs. It was either share with him or take the armchair, and I found a cockroach nesting in it yesterday, so that wasn’t happening.”
I shuddered. “Don’t mention cockroaches. Why is it so warm in here?”
“We’re burning open flames in a small, poorly insulated box. The temperature will rise,” said Sherlock haughtily.
Morrie glared at his ex-boyfriend, and an unspoken conversation passed between them. My fingers tightened around Morrie’s arm, and I knew I was being possessive and jealous and stupid. Just because they had a history, and they were locked together in this tiny room doing what they did best, using their big stupid brains to solve a puzzle, didn’t mean Morrie would cheat on me—
“Ignore him, gorgeous. He hates that.” Morrie cradled Quoth in his arms and led me over to the bed. He shoved a pile of crime scene material onto the floor and patted the mattress for me to sit down. I heard the flick of a lighter, and a row of candles along the headboard burst to life, tiny fireflies in the gloom. “Tell me what you two doing are here.”
“I needed to know you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Going a little crazy in here with nothing to stimulate my substantial intellect, but nothing a kiss from you won’t fix. How’d you get out here without Hayes following you? He must be watching you like a hawk. Or at least like a pigeon with mild dementia.” Morrie narrowed his eyes. “You did make sure you weren’t followed, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Hayes thinks we’re at a rare manuscript fair in Leeds. He has no idea we’re here. Heathcliff, Quoth and I are following a lead. We signed up for the Wild Oats wilderness survival course.”
“You got Old Sourpuss out of the shop?” Morrie glanced around. “For me?I’m impressed, and a little terrified. Where is he?”
Morrie’s voice caught on the last syllable. My mind flicked back to the kiss he shared with Heathcliff in the shop and the tension that remained unresolved between the two of them ever since. Morrie wanted Heathcliff, and I think Heathcliff wanted Morrie, too, but he didn’t want to admit that. Heathcliff saw being with Morrie as cheating on me, and nothing I said would convince him otherwise.
“He’s back at our camp, looking after our instructor Sam while he experiences a magic mushroom trip.”
“You’re going to have to explain.” Morrie’s voice hitched, like he couldn’t quite decide if he was supposed to be laughing or crying. His grip tightened around me again, like he was ready to crawl inside my skin.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I rolled my eyes, but then I remembered who I was talking to. “Okay, maybe you would. It turns out Heathcliff has a hidden knowledge of edible plants from all those days he spent roaming like a wild beast upon the moors. He’s the teacher’s pet on our foraging course, which is hilarious. Sam entrusted him to forage for mushrooms. Heathcliff put some, uh,specialmushrooms into Sam’s dinner so he’d be out of it and Quoth and I could make our escape to see you. When we left, Sam thought he was a forest fairy and Heathcliff was petting Oscar and about to polish off the last of the stew, so by now they’re probably both as high as kites.”
