Sherlock grins.

Mmmm, Bell approves. Her stick stays in her pocket so she has her arms both free to wrap around her girlfriend.

Bell snickers. "Iiiii just burned down the entire Memorial Tower," she whispers.

"You did," Sherlock agrees. "It was very impressive. I am very impressed."

Kisses kisses kissses kisses, only 90% of the reason Bell currently wishes to be out of this dress involves it being stupid. "How long should we hang out here?" she murmurs.

"Not very much longer, perhaps," says Sherlock. "I find myself very much inclined to go home."

"Lead" kiss "the way" kiss "whenever you're ready."

Bell trots after her, trying to gawk more at the fire behind them than at what should be unremarkable Capitol scenery to who she's dressed as.

"By all means, exit the stupid dress," says Sherlock. "And perhaps also the stupid makeup. If there are visitors, we need not see them."

An ensuite bathroom, how perfect. Bell exits the stupid dress, unpins the stupid hat, and, standing in her underwear and twisting her ringlets out of the way behind her head as usual with her stick, starts rinsing away the makeup.

"You are a continual epiphany," says Sherlock, studying this process.

"...What d'you mean? Did I do something unexpected?"

"No," she says. "An epiphany is not the same as a surprise."

"I was thinking it was like a revelation of some kind. What do you mean exactly?"

"I mean that when I look at you I feel as though I have just understood something complex and fascinating."

"I am not sure what you mean."

"Does it - come apart? Resemble useful analogies? Bear similarities to things I already understand?" Bell asks. She buries her face in a towel and comes up dry, and then picks up her jeans.

"I don't know," says Sherlock. "I don't think you feel the same way I do about epiphanies."

"How do you feel about them, then?" Bell asks, pulling her jeans on and fetching her shirt.

"Positively."

"I feel so informed," snorts Bell. Shirt goes on. She looks for the curling iron; it has a flat end she can use to iron out the mess that is her hair.

"Well, I do not feel very informative," says Sherlock.

"Oh well." Flatten, flatten, flatten. It's a slow process. Bell burns her fingers once and has to stop and stick them under the faucet for a minute.

"...Would you like help?" offers Sherlock.

"If you don't mind, yeah, actually," says Bell, popping her burnt fingers into her mouth and handing over the iron. She's harder to understand around her fingertips: "'d go down by isself bu' I don' like i'."

Bell hums happily. There's something that is just so relaxing about having someone do things to one's hair.

Awwwwwwwwwww. Sherlock smiles.

Sherlock runs her fingers through Bell's hair and smiles some more.

"Thank you," Bell chirps. "For fixing my stupid hair. The colors'll probably stay for a week, alas."

"You are very welcome," she says. "And I confess the colour is beginning to grow on me."

"Is it? Maybe if it were all one color, all blue like my original idea, but the half-and-half zigzag part just weirds me out," snorts Bell.

"It's very striking. And of course your face is in the middle of it. That helps considerably."

Bell giggles and squirms self-consciously.

"Are you displeased with that assessment?"

"No, just - I dunno. You're making me feel pretty," Bell accuses, grinning.

"I believe I can live with that result."

Bell reaches up and boops Sherlock's nose. "You're pretty, too," she says contently.

Sherlock is still smiling fondly down at her.

Well, okay then. The time for pauses between remarks in conversations is past and Sherlock is still smiling so that must be okay. Bell smiles back and closes her eyes.

"I believe the remark about epiphanies was related," she adds, consideringly.

"Howso?" asks Bell.

"I think it meant that I love you, and I only just noticed."

"Aww. No wonder I thought it was sweet."

"Astute of you," she compliments.

"I do sometimes flatter myself into thinking I'm clever," snickers Bell.

"You are," says Sherlock. "It's delightful."

Bell grins at her. "We are both clever and pretty, and so we match," she declares.

"What an excellent circumstance."

"It really is. When do we go home again?"

"Whenever Tony's friend decides to send us. It won't be too long, I don't think."

"Hours? Days?"

"Days is likelier."

"Okay. I wonder if there's anything else we should incinerate as long as we're here anyway."

"Shall we find a map?"

"I'm not so much wondering if there are targets as if it would be weird for two buildings to catch fire and burn farther than they usually do in a span of days."

"I expect it would," she acknowledges. "Which is a great pity."

"If I have another opportunity like the train station I'll take that. Otherwise I guess there's nothing for it but to amuse ourselves. Clever ideas?" she asks, peering up. "You know more about where we are and what our safety parameters are for operating here."

"A frequent pastime of mine in the Capitol is to put on a pretty dress and find someone to intimidate. I don't imagine it's much of a spectator sport."

"I think I'd find that very briefly amusing. But not for long enough to be worth putting on my idiot-costume again. Should've gotten it in this morning," Bell sighs.

"Alas," says Sherlock.

"Alas," Bell agrees. "I suppose to join the studio audience for Flicker Talk or go on the Brilliant Promenade or something I'd also have to wear the stupid costume. Maybe this is another job for Milliways? Get Tony to stash us on this end and fetch us on the other? I suppose if you came with me, someone might wonder why you made the trip one way and not the other." Pause. "I suppose visiting the museumified arena where Lynnis died and leaving her a flower would be suspicious in any outfit."

"It would. Unfortunately. You could go to Milliways by yourself, if you wished," says Sherlock.

"I'll do that if I feel like risking trading unoccupied for lonesome," decides Bell. "No guarantee anyone I know will be there, and I've gotten used to company."

"I would miss you, I think."

Bell reaches for Sherlock's hand. She kisses it. "I'd miss you too. I think I'll stay."

"However shall we occupy ourselves, I wonder."

"I am far too innocent to have any ideas," declares Bell.

"Well," says Sherlock, "first, I think I would like to kiss you. And then I think I would like to kiss you again."

"Goodness gracious," says Bell. "One could kill an entire afternoon in this way, I bet." She flips over, ending with her cheek resting on Sherlock's knee, and then shimmies up into a position such that Sherlock can do exactly that if she likes.

Sherlock does, in fact, kiss her.

Mmmm. Bell approves. In fact, it is even possible that she is kissing back.

What a pleasant surprise!

Bell bets Sherlock is just astonished. Perhaps she can get her to faint in shock if there are also snuggles.

Oh good. Awake snuggles and asleep snuggles both strictly dominate fainted snuggles.

Now is definitely a time for awake snuggles. Also, awake kisses. In fact, pretty much anything that involves both affectionate body contact and being awake is on the table here.

Oh, good. Because Bell doesn't seem to have fully decided what to do with her hands, yet, so it's nice to know that nearly anything she might land on is okay.

That is absolutely correct.