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In the Name of Crime Solving

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"Bloody hell, I just can't do it!" Sherlock took the case file from the desk in front of him, roughly threw it onto the fireplace mantle, and stabbed it with a knife. That case joined a few others that Sherlock had still not solved. You looked at the pile with astonishment. It was the first time you had seen Sherlock not be able to solve a case. He had stated previously that he could not solve three cases but all he said was, "I have been beaten four times- three times by men, and once by a woman." Now beaten five times, Sherlock sat in the cushioned chair in front of you with his hands in clasped under his chin.

"What exactly is it that you can't do? You can't figure out how they did it or you can't figure out why they did it?" you asked, looking up from your thick book.

"You wouldn't understand, (Y/N), you don't have my brain," he scoffed, "Oh, god what is it like to not have a brain like mine? It's boring, isn't it?" He rolled his eyes and leaned his head back onto the chair.

You raised your eyebrows at his insult towards you. You then closed the book and put it down on the floor by your feet. Clasping your hands together as you challenged him, "Try me."

Huffing, he pulled himself from the chair and began to explain the case, "A week ago, an old acquaintance of mine, Sebastian Wilkes, sent me an e-mail. In this e-mail, he asked for my help for a break-in.

"He didn't call the police first?" You asked, confused. Sherlock just rolled his eyes again and continued.

"Anyway, he showed me a painting that had been vandalized by spray paint. However, the only place where one could see it in the office was from a desk of a certain person, in this case, it was Edward Van Coon. So, this was a warning or message of some sort. But, Edward had not been at work that day, so John and myself went to his flat but when we got there, we had to break in. When we got in, everything looked fine but he was lying on his bed, shot through the head. He was murdered by the same person who sent him the message. They left a parting gift. " Sherlock was now standing at the opposite side of the room, and twirling in his fingers was a small, black object.

"What is that?" You questioned, He walked over to your chair and stopped a few feet in front of you. The faint smell of his cologne filled your nose. He held out the lotus and gingerly took it from his fingertips. You admired it. The lotus was weightless as you held it in your palm. Sherlock, still standing in front of you, continued his story.

"A few days after, when I began to use John's computer, I found out that a journalist, Brian Lukis, was found in his locked flat, murdered. The article idiotically stated that that the killer could "go through walls", but I knew that it was the same person who murdered Van Coon. So," he turned around and paced, "I asked the "professionals" at the Yard to inspect Lukis' flat. They let me, and when we went in..." You looked up from the paper flower to him. He had his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed down on the lotus in your hand.

"Also, in his flat, there was a book that had been recently checked out from the library. We went to the library and found more of those symbols where the book was originally placed. They were done with the same yellow spray paint. Now, I can't figure out what the ciphers mean." He walked back towards you and took the lotus from you. His fingertips brushed against your palms. A shiver went down your body. You tried to thumb through the options of who the killer could be when Sherlock pulled you from your thoughts.

"Like I said, you wouldn't understand. God, you're just like John. You think you can find the solution to everything." He shook his head at you. He turned on his heels to go into his bedroom when you jumped up from the chair,

"At least we are trying to help! For God's sake Sherlock, we aren't incapable of thinking. Why must you insist on making yourself above everyone else?! 'Oh, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I make others seem inferior because no one can compete with my massive intellect!'' You shouted in his direction, mocking him.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and slowly turned back around to face you. He then started to walk towards you, the sound of heels resonating through the flat. Your breathing began to turn shallow as he got closer to you. When he stopped walking, his chest was practically on yours. Swallowing, your eyes followed the trail of black, shiny buttons on his purple shirt. Your eyes skimmed over his chest, which was bulging under the shirt.

Your eyes began their trek towards Sherlock's face. Your eyes passed over his jaw and mouth, and then slowly landed on his eyes. The pupils were slightly blown out and the usual blue-green hues were now a stormy grey. Before you could say anything, Sherlock grabbed your face and roughly placed his lips on yours. They were soft and slightly warm. It took a second to grasp what was happening, but then you melted into the kiss. His hand moved to the small of your back and the other at the nape of your neck. You needed to tough him, Your hands flew to his head and clung to his thick hair. Grasping and pulling him harder against you, you were making sure that this was indeed happening. It was. You then felt his tongue swipe in between your lips. He was asking for an invitation. Without hesitation, you let him and felt slowly make his way. Small whimpers you made were swallowed by him. Both of you left each other, huffing and panting for oxygen. You looked at each other and he gave you a small smirk before kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your jawline, and then slowly, down your neck. You sighed when you felt him start sucking your sweet spot. He sucked harder and then started to nip slightly. You then moaned a little. Sherlock's left hand had left your nape and traveling down your back, towards your ass. His fingertips were brushing your spine, creating goosebumps in their wake. The other had found your breast. Once the left one got to your ass, both of them slightly squeezed while he had moved back to your mouth. It was too much for you to handle so you pushed him off of you. He landed on the love seat behind him, while you straddled his hips.

"My turn," You whispered, as you bit on the shell of his ear. He groaned in response. You continued your way down just as he did to you until you landed on his pulse. Sucking and biting. Leaving a hickey. He then again grabbed your ass with both hands, tightly, as he pushed you down onto his hardening bulge. Both of you threw your heads back in pleasure. The pressure from his cock had sent an electric spark through you and made you hungry for more. You ground into his crotch again while he fisted your shirt over head and threw into a dark corner. You found the button on your jeans and roughly unbuttoned it. Then, took them off, leaving you in nothing except your underwear.

"I think... Sherl, you are wearing too much...oh fu-too much clothing." You moaned as he took off your bra and started to play with your breasts.

He let out a dark chuckle. Sherlock started to roll and pinch your nipples. It made you grind harder as he came up and started to take one in his mouth. Him lazily sucking the left one as he continued to pinch the other. Moaning louder this time, your fingers started to impatiently unbutton his shirt. Impatiently, you ran your hands down his chest, feeling his slightly bulging muscles.

You threaded your fingers through his brown curls and slightly tugged. He lightly groaned in response. Taking your fingers out and putting them against his chest, you pushed him away from you. He looked at you quizzically. You then started to kiss the top of his collarbone. Each kiss going across his chest. You went down towards the waistband of his pants. Slightly teasing him, you hooked your finger into his waistband and let go of it, the waistband snapping back on his skin with a dull smack. He grinned down at you as you began to unbutton them, slowly. Once they were unbuttoned, you pulled them down, his underwear as well. Sherlock hissed when his erection sprang free. You looked it over. It was not unbelievably large, it was average, but it would still bring you pleasure. You looked back up at him, he was staring back intently. Smirking, you still looked at him as you brought your finger to the underside of his cock. Your nail slightly scratched the vein. As you got to the head, you swirled around the precum gathering at the tip. He bit his lip and quietly groaned. You took this as a sign to do more. You grabbed his cock and slowly began to move your hand.

"(Y/N)...please..do something." Sherlock begged through gritted teeth.

Obliging his request, you licked his tip. This made Sherlock moan loudly. You did more licks, each one longer than the last. You then put the head in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. Sherlock began to buck his hips, almost making you gag. You pushed your hand down on hips to keep him still. Sucking faster, Sherlock's moaning got louder.

"(Y/N), if you...don't stop.... soon..I'll come."

You stopped sucking and came up with an obscene 'pop'. You looked at him once again, his cheeks red and hands closed up into fists. You smirked and wiped the sides of your mouth with your finger and suck the escaped cum off of it. His hairline had developed beads of sweat. You smiled. In one swift motion, Sherlock pulled you up onto his lap. He turned, leaving your body face up while he was on top. He ran his fingers down your body. One of his hands went to your dripping pussy and glided his index finger across your folds. He put the finger in his mouth and licked his finger clean. This action making you even wetter than last time. You could not take waiting anymore. You needed him. Now.

"Sherlock, please...", you panted. Sherlock obeyed, but as you had done before, he kneeled before you. His hands slid across your hip bones and over your thighs. He carelessly spread your legs. The cool air hit the apex of your thighs and a shiver went up your spine. Sherlock brought his face towards your pussy but suddenly turned his head to the right and began to kiss your thigh. You whined but Sherlock slowly kissed down, closer and closer. You held your breath as he hovered over your pussy. Then all in one motion, he licked a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. He would give kitten licks on your aching clit and then slide his tongue inside of you. You swear that he was twirling the ABCs with his tongue. His tongue had you grasping the couch, legs twisting about, and moaning like there was no tomorrow. Without warning, Sherlock pushed one slender finger into your dripping pussy. Your slick made it easier for him to pump in and out of you. He then put another, which made you feel full but wanting more. You clasped his head, grinding your hips along his tongue. You were starting to feel the welcoming knot in your stomach. Sensing this, Sherlock latched himself onto your clit and sucked just enough to bring you to the edge. Moans turned into pants as you were about to feel sweat release but Sherlock stopped abruptly. You flashed your eyes open and frowned at him. He gave you a lopsided smile and kissed up your chest.

"Do you want this?" he asked, the sight of his mouth and chin drenched in your juices made you come right then and there.

"Yes, oh god yes! Just please hurry." You whined, bringing his face closer to yours: your breaths heavy and hot as they spanned over your faces.

Kissing you again, and the taste of yourself made you moan. He guided his cock towards your aching opening. You face contorted in pain as he slowly began to push inside. He was right, it had been a while... The pain subsided as he fully sheathed himself inside. He remained still until you told him it was okay to move. As you gave the signal, he slowly pulled back out and pushed back in. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you and started to moan. Sherlock began to grunt at your tightness. You wanted more of him, so you asked him to go faster. He agreed and picked up his pace. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, almost forming bruises. Both of you did not think about it, you were solely focused on each other. Bodies shimmering with sweat and hot breath filling the air. He stopped for a slight second, you whined in protest. Your whine formed into a long moan as he hooked your leg over his shoulder and started to thrust again. The pleasure was now ten times better. You could feel every inch of him inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head. He gave a dark chuckle, making you spasm around him. He switched positions, each one better than the last. You were now moaning without restraint. His name rolling over your tongue over and over. It became a praise for the way he was making you feel. It continued until your eyes shot open and a feeling began to spread in the pit of your abdomen.

"Sherlock...I am super...close." You exclaimed as he began to go harder and faster. You could tell he was getting close as well.

The rope in your stomach was tightening more and more. Your moans became screams as Sherlock pushed himself to his limit. His last thrust made the rope in your stomach snap. You convulsed as your orgasm ran through you, your back arching and chest heaving. He lasted two more thrusts as he came. Sherlock's hands gripped your hips, keeping you still as he spilled into you. His face contorting into ecstasy. After getting off of his high, he laid his head down on your chest. You breathed heavily, running your fingers through his hair once again. He kissed your chest all the way up to your lips. Both of you kissing each other passionately, too fatigued to do anything else. It was soon interrupted...

"Sherlock! (Y/N), dear! I heard- OH MY GOD! (Y/N)! SHERLOCK!" She shouted, throwing up her arms, making you and Sherlock jump. You poorly shielded your breasts with your arms and Sherlock tried to prevent Mrs. Hudson from seeing where you and he were still joined. Sherlock started to explain the situation but Mrs. Hudson had already seen enough. She put her hands on her forehead and swiftly left the room. Her hurried footsteps downstairs echoed throughout the entire flat.

You felt absolutely awkward. You had emotionally and physically scarred Mrs. Hudson. You could no longer look at her without feeling ashamed. With a long sigh, Sherlock slid out of you and sat up. You hesitantly sat up and pulled your legs against you. For a few moments, the sound of breathing was between you. Sherlock stood up from the couch and walked to his room. He came back a few moments later with his blue bathroom on. You, on the other hand, were still naked. He avoided your gaze as he gathered up your clothes that were haphazardly thrown about. He gave them back to you and went into the kitchen. He turned on the kettle and leaned on the counter and crossed his arms. You slowly put on your clothes while staring at him. As you slid on your pants, the kettle had beeped, signaling that it was ready to be poured. He mindlessly got out two mugs and set them on the counter and put tea bags in. You wrapped your arms around you and walked towards him as he held out one of the mugs. Your fingers wrapped around it, greeted by intense heat. You blew and slurped the tea, and it left your throat burning as you began to open your mouth to speak. You didn't even get the first syllable out.

"Let's not make this any more awkward, alright (Y/N)?" Sherlock set his mug down. He looked up at you with a detached stare, "I think what we just did...was a mistake. I let my frustration get the best of me."

You were confused and upset. Sherlock just gave you the best fuck- the first one - of the year? And now he was just like the past men you had, throwing you out after they got what they want. You roughly sat the cup down and it's hot contents splattered all over the table. His eyes went to the cup and then back to you. Those eyes, that were once looking at you with such passion and heat, were now expressionless. Upset had turned into anger as you yelled at him.

"Seriously!? Sherlock, you just gave me the best ride of my life because you let your frustration get the "best" of you, and now you are throwing me to the side?!" Your hands were now clenched at your sides. Nails digging into your palms, stinging and leaving crescent impressions.

You waited for his answer. A solid two minutes had passed when Sherlock's phone dinged. Finally breaking eye contact, he grabbed his phone and checked it.

"It's John. He's on his way home. It's best if you leave now," he dismissed as he went to sit in the living room. Hurt by his curt and absent minded dismissal, you did as he said as you snatched your shoes and walked towards the door. You placed your hand on the doorknob and turned around. He was watching you with, what seemed like, guilt-ridden eyes. However, he never said a word as you declared,

"God, they are right, you are a fucking robot." Tears burned your eyes as you slammed the door shut.