Closed to statuethief

Martin was out cold for a lot longer than he would have anticipated. Of course, he woke up without much concept of time until he fully was lucid for a few days. He was set up in quite a nice flat. This Irene Adler really held up her end of the deal and he knew he had struck a deal with the devil, but he was loving it.
So on his second week in London, actually capable of moving about, he got himself a haircut and a shave. He now had the funds so he was able to buy a suit and look quite presentable. Nothing like his incarcerated self.
Then he found the guinea pig cafe.
She had to know that he had 'passed' since it was in the news, causing him to wait a while before coming out of hiding. Still, Martin grinned as he approached the tiny cafe, seeing that it was a bit different than what he had imagined from her description of it. He casually walked inside as if he were anyone else.
"Do I just take a seat anywhere or..."
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"Hey, we don't go for the 'L' word now, do we?" She hasn't fully fleshed out where her feelings for him sit. It's somewhere dangerously close to love, but she's not willing to put that label out there.
"The wall bondage was a feature." She grins, "I might need to recreate that, you know, for old times sake."
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“No never. That would be so scandalous. What would people say?” He laughed and shook is head. “If they knew you loved a dead serial killer.”
“You truly do know how to throw a proper homecoming.”
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"You are making some bold claims about my affections." Of course he would believe everyone loves him.
"I try."
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“Bold but how far off?” He winked.
“So your place or mine?” He has been itching to find her for quite some time. “I mean, I would love to see yours. As soon as I knew I was coming here, I kept dreaming of shagging you.”
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She rolls her eyes as she sets the two mugs of tea down.
"Does it matter? I don't think we will make it much past the door in either case."
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He takes his mug and cups it in his hands. "That's fair. I do have pretty posh accommodations." Another perk. Although they were posh because he wasn't to go far.
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She's thrilled that she gets this chance to be with him in a more real way.
"Well, that must be nice. Mine isn't great."
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"Then may you'll just have to stay at mine," An open invitation that is. "If you like, of course. No pressure since we're not in love."
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"I might like your place. But would I disturb all of those hookers?" She grins at him.
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"Well if I have you, will I need any of those hookers?" He tilts his head. "I've always found that I prefer consistency in my partners above all else."
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"If you're in the mood to watch me fuck a hooker, that could be arranged."
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"I would very much be in the mood to watch that." Hell, his own wife would never have been so adventurous. Being dead was really panning out well. "Literally any day of the week."
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"Oh good. We could dominate her together. That's some couple goals shit right there." She's quite adventurous in the bedroom and a bit on the bisexual side.
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"I want to see this fancy new place of yours. I think you're worth closing early, coming back from the dead and all."
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"Worth closing early for!" He exclaimed, "I am honored. He picked up his mug, taking another long drink since it seemed that they would be soon leaving. To my place it is!"
"But first-" he stood and moved over to her, kissing her deeply in a romantic fashion. "Alright, now we can leave."
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"It is a great honour. I usually only close early when I don't want to be here." She smirks.
She wasn't expecting that romantic sort of kiss, it makes her breathless for a moment.
"Let's just pop Hillary back in her home and we can go."
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“Oh Hilary, parting is such sweet sorrow.” He recited before putting her back in her tiny home. Turning back to Fleabag, he offered his hand. “Shall we, my dear?”
It would be only a short taxi ride away to get to the flat. Irene didn’t cut corners which had been greatly appreciated and he had more than enough privacy there.
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"You'll end up seeing her again soon, I'm sure."
There's something simple about just holding hands. And getting in a taxi together, things she never expected to be able to do with her serial killer.
"Don't we look practically domestic." She teases once they're in the cab.
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"Almost," he added, giving her a nudge. "Who knows, maybe we'll even end up at the opera or grocery store together. Scandalous!" However, when he spoke while in the cab, a very distinct English accent came out. He had thought ahead that if he had to keep a low profile, he might as well blend in.
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"Madness." She rests her head on his shoulder. This must be strange for him, to go from a cell to London, free to do whatever he wants. She tilts her head to kiss his cheek.
"I missed you."
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"Oh, 'missed' doesn't quite cover how I felt about you." He had gone at least 2 weeks without any contact from her, he just couldn't and he was psuedo-dead. "But what did you miss about me?"
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"Well I had gotten rather used to our evening texting sessions. And I missed those talented hands, having you close, being able to touch you."
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”Oh, the things I’ve fantasized doing to your body, darling...”
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"You've been without me for too long, right?"
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