Chapter 1: Frustration
"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.
Chapter 2: Not a Robot
Sherlock finally faces you he had unceremoniously threw you out after your encounter.
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
The crisp, cool London air bit into your cheeks, making you pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked down the pavement. Your heels clicked against it as you walked to the New Scotland Yard. The usual honking of black cabs and squealing of tires on the street did not reach you as you began to think about the other day again for the millionth time. You could not help it. Overthinking was a skill you mastered through years of mixed signals and constant anxiety. It was second nature to you.
The feather like caress of his hand going over your calf. The pleasure of his mouth sucking, pulling, kissing all over your body. The feeling of your hands going through the mountain of curls on his head, pulling at them as your felt him plunge into you. Over and over, and over, over...
"Mistake..." "That's not like me...-"Why? Why? WHY? You were an absolute idiot. You were stupid. Stupid for thinking that professional stoic and sociopath would ever give a care for your emotions. Stupid...
The sound of a bell tone brought you from your mental pity party. It was your cell. Fishing it from your pocket, you looked down to see it was a text from Molly.
Hey (Y/N) I need your help with something when you get here. You know where to find me. Molly :)
A small smile spread on your face. You had not seen Molly in a while. She always made you laugh whenever you felt down. She was the one who introduced you to John and Sherlock. You had walked into the lab, and there you saw John and Sherlock having, what seemed like, an intense staring contest. Molly was confused as much as you, however she managed to pull them out of it and introduced you. John was polite and shook your hand, as well as exchanged some small talk. Sherlock on the hand, shook your hand and proceed to do his signature "deduction". It scared but fascinated you as he had found out pretty personal things just by looking at you. He had managed to deduce that you recently broke up with your boyfriend, Mark. He also figure out your size, clothing and foot, your natural hair color, and the slight tremor in your left hand. Your immediate first impression of him was low, but changed after you moved into the basement flat at 221B Baker Street. John would invite you to have some tea, and eventually, you would all become good friends. That was until Sherlock fucked you up...literally. You responded back and walked a little faster, catching a black cab to take you the rest of the way.
The cab stopped in front of the turning, silver sign of the New Scotland Yard. You knew this building inside and out. You had worked here for a little over four years and you were absolutely in love with it. The people were welcoming, the cases exciting, and the perks were inviting. Being a second generation detective for the Yard after your father meant a nice salary. Your father had worked here in the seventies and retired when you started. Over thirty years of service. He had even trained Greg Lestrade, the current Detective Inspector, who was one of your good friends as well. When your father retired, he entrusted Greg to help you around and enlist you in any cases in order to get you seasoned to the job. Everyone here loved your father, so there was some pressure for you to uphold the reputation of the (y/l/n) family name. Besides all that, it was the best job you ever had and hoped to have until your hair turned gray. You thanked the cabbie, paid him, and then walked inside.
You walked into the crime division, and it was bustling; it probably had something to do with the case that Sherlock was working on. Everyone was calling it the Black Lotus murders, because of that small paper lotus that was left on the bodies. Sherlock had shown you that day. The ciphers that they had left as well was stumping everyone. As always, Greg came to Sherlock to help with them but even he could not figure it out. You made a small detour to your desk on the main area of the floor, and decided to check on messages, e-mails, and some papers left on your desk. All of them were just the usual small incidents like robbery, domestic disputes, and such that you oversaw. Cases like the serial murders of three people with pills, dubbed by John on his blog as, "A Study in Pink", were treats that Greg let you in on, as per request of your father. Sherlock cracked that one and apprehended the killer on his own. Greg almost threw you in the car when he got the call from John about Sherlock. You saw him sitting in the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around him for his "shock". Greg tried to scold him for obstructing the Scotland Yard from the killer's whereabouts but Sherlock merely brushed him off and walked away. That night was a wild ride, but it let you see the blossoming friendship between John and Sherlock start.
God, like a broken record. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock! You let yourself be surrounded by him. Everything is connected to him. No matter what you think, he'll pop in there. God, you are so stupid.
You decided it was time to go see Molly and help her out. You made your way to the doors that led to hallway were the lab was situated, but before you could get there, a rough voice called out to you,
"(Y/n)! I thought you were off today?" The tired, but joyous eyes of Greg met your vibrant, (e/c) ones. His face was relaxed and happy to see yours. He had a lopsided grin and a bit of scruff growing but he wore it well. His salt and pepper hair was a little bit tousled, as if he was napping in his office. He probably was.
You smiled for the second time that day. It felt good. You responded with equal enthusiasm, "Greg! Uh- I mean, Lestrade." You corrected yourself as you cringed. It's not very professional to call your superiors by their first names. It was even worse to do it right in front of everyone.
"(Y/n), I've told you a thousand times, screw the rules, you can call me Greg. No one cares," he shook his and chuckled it off, "But yeah, I thought you were gone for the day?"
"Oh yeah, I was but Mols needed some help in the lab. Probably needs help moving body parts or sorting some samples. I couldn't brush her off, she works so hard all the time."
A confused look spread on his face, "Well, she hasn't been here all day either. Said that she was using one of her sick days for R n' R. Maybe she meant tomorrow?"
You matched his confusion. Why would she send a text today if she needed help tomorrow?
"The only person that's been the lab today has been 'Asshat'. Pardon the french...Sherlock.," he rubbed chin and shrugged, "Well, that's odd. But anyways, uh, how do feel about going to a new crime scene that I was about leave for? It's not the apart of the Black Lotus but it's fun nonetheless."
You're kidding. That explains everything now. Sherlock probably texted Molly to send the message. He probably just wants to use you for help but knew you wouldn't come if he texted you. What a-
"Bastard!" you yelled out loud. It made Greg jump.
"Oh, yeah, that's another name he's known by." He chuckled once again.
You shook your head and huffed, "I'm sorry Greg. I would've loved to come but I have to go. I'll text you later, okay." you said softly as you turned around and hauled ass to the lab.
"Oh, alright, well I'll just-" The door shut on behind you before you heard the rest. You felt bad just leaving him like that but you were about the let Sherlock have it.
And boy, was he going to get his pretty, dickhead self chewed out.
There he was as you looked through the rounded window of the gliding hinged door. Sitting, hunched over a microscope with a pipette, dropping who knows what into a plate. You were so angry, hurt, and confused. It was overwhelming. The last time you felt like this is was six months ago after learning Mark had cheated on you. It was painful and made your head hurt. You had no idea what you were going to say. The plan so far was to just yell out anything and everything he had caused you to feel over the past few days. It was probably going to be useless as he had no shred of sympathy, empathy, or any kind of -pathy to share with you. Other sociopathy, of course. Your hands were cold and clammy, and your chest was pounding.
Get a hold of yourself, (Y f/m/l n) He's not worth a panic attack. You just go in there, guns blazing. No holding back. And absolutely no crying.
Taking one deep breath, you pushed the doors open. They hit the walls behind them, making Sherlock snap his head up to look at you. He set down the pipette and turned off the microscope.
"I see that the theatrics haven't left you. I can also tell that you are still very much upset.." he stated in his monotone deep voice. He cleared his throat as he stood up and buttoned his black jacket.
Blood roared in your ears. You had never been so angry. The comment and the calm demeanor. How could one person be so out of touch? It annoyed you, angered you. You hated it so much. You opened your mouth.
"That was a good move, Sherlock. Really. Getting me up here by using Molly? Solid plan. Does she know what happened the other day? How you let your 'frustrations get the best of you" then fucked me and used me, and then proceeded to chuck me off the side? Because that's exactly what you fucking did! You fucking prick!" you were shaking and shouting to the rooftops. You did not care who heard you other than the statue right in front of you.
"No, Molly doesn't know. She doesn't even know you're here," he reached into his pocket, pulling out Molly's phone, "I borrowed it before she left last night " He set the phone down on the metal tabletop softly.
You threw your hands in the air, "Oh, silly me! I also forgot to mention that you have no regards for people. Whether it be their things or their emotions. God! Do you know how I've felt these past few days?! DO YOU?, he just looked at you, "ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT." he stayed silent, putting his hands at his sides and looked at you.
"You use that fucking excuse...'High functioning sociopath'. People accept it and just say, 'That's just how he is." Well, I won't be those people. I won't let you treat me like a lesser human because of that's what you think I am. Just because I don't have your mind doesn't mean I'm stupid. Just because I am attracted to you does not mean you get to you use that to your advantage. Screw highly-functioning sociopath. That's just a proper term to give to someone who's a shit human being but that can't really say that can they?" The tips of your shoes were barely touching when you stopped walking forward.
There had never heard such venom dripping from your voice. You were surprised that it was you speaking. You did not care very much though. You needed to get everything off your chest. Both of you had managed to keep eye contact. His hazel ones never once left yours during your slander. He was in the same position he had been. He took it like it had not even phased him. It angered you more.
Your voice started to break not just from the yelling, but from the lump forming in your throat. You had told yourself that you were not going to cry but it was overwhelming, "Everything you did that day...was it real? Everything you did...touching me...kissing me...fu-" a hot tear slid down your cheek, and your breath became uneven, "Did you want to do it and you're just scared to admit it? Or, did it really mean nothing to you?" You felt pathetic. A blithering fool who was wasting tears on a man who wanted nothing to do with you. However, there was the other part of you hoping and wishing that he would come to. That he meant everything and he was just scared. Please. You couldn't look at him anymore. Tearing your eyes from his, you buried them in your hands. Small whimpers came out of your lips. Your head hurt. You wanted to go home. You wanted it to end.
It made you jump: his hands softly grasped yours, just like the way he did when he was kissing your neck and you kept moving. His hands took your drenched ones and kissed the back of them. He put them on his cheeks and pressed them there. Then you felt his finger hook under your chin and lift up to make you look in his eyes. They were filled with anguish, and then he started talking,
"(y/n), I know what I did was terrible. That's why I texted you. I knew you wouldn't have come if I had texted from my phone. I've figuring out and rehearsing what to say to you for the past week. I struggled. I knew a simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't make any of this better. I had to talk with you face to face and explain everything. I accepted the fact that you probably were going to give me the biggest scolding I have ever gotten in my life. I'll admit, even my own mother never scolded me like that." he smirked and you shifted as you huffed through your nose, "But then again, she probably would have if she learned about this. The fact is (Y/n), I did mean it. Everything. I had been wanting to talk with you and get to know you more but I was afraid. I was afraid of being rejected, of feeling. I don't like to feel. It hurts me. So, when you mocked me with that smart remark, all of those feelings rushed to me. Irritation, admiration, happiness...lust. I wanted to do it in a way that wasn't going hurt your feelings or make me seem like an asshole in the moment."
He moved your hands from the side of his face down to the center of his chest. You stopped breathing. His heart was beating so quickly.
"I'm not a robot (Y/n). I promise. I am so sorry for doing that to you. And I'm sorry for ever making you feel inferior or lowly. I'm just...I'm so sorry (Y/n)." he gripped your hands and looked down. His heart was still beating fast.
You were relieved but also very conflicted. The battle between forgiveness and punishment raged in your head. This man had mentally ruined you for the past week. It was horrible and heartbreaking. You should have hated him, cursed him, wish for the worst things to happen to him as justice for what he did to you. Before you even could make a decision, the words flew out of you,
"I've always quick to forgive. Sometimes, works in my favor. Then, there are times were it bites me back. I can't help it. I don't want to let people who I care about go. It hurts too much. So with you Sherlock, I should be punching, kicking, slapping you for what you did to me. It will take a little while to fully forgive you" he took a deep breath and began to let your hands go, but in a split second, your hands flew to his face and you placed your lips against his.
It was a kiss between people who longed for each other.
You both had missed each other's touch. His arms wrapped around your waist and brought you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. His lips were soft against yours and you loved it. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and you let him take over. It was kiss that made your head feel full of feathers and your stomach flutter. You never wanted it to end. It felt too good. Both of you needed to breathe, so you pulled away. Your chests raising in sync and your breaths hot against each others face. His eyes were that familiar dilated black, and chuckled. They narrowed down.
"What?" he asked breathlessly.
"Oh nothing, your eyes had me thinking. What are we going to do with poor Mrs. Hudson? She saw everything, and she's been avoiding me like the plague."
He smiled, "I talked to her a couple of days ago. I told her everything. She got rather cross with me when I got to the end."
"What did she do?"
"She put spoiled milk in my tea."
You laughed once, a nice, hearty one. The first one in a week. "God, I love that woman. Good on her, you deserved every bit of that." you wiped the remaining tears from your eyes.
"That I did. However, that was after she gave me some pretty shameless advice about the same thing that happened between her and her husband." You listened intently. "She said that their relationship was tumultuous. It resulted them divorcing and he died."
"Wow, what fantastic advice, Mrs. H." you said uneasily.
"-But," he continued, "the times in between were the most passionate and fun times they ever had in their marriage. A good relationship is never a perfect one. Then she tried to tell me about their encounters...She was actually waiting for us to have sex, you know. She had even made a bet with herself. However, she didn't expect to walk in."
You both laughed hard again, and kissed each other lightly.
You felt at peace. You had to admit, the hurt was still on your mind, but that would dissolve as you let more forgiveness in. If you truly wanted all of this behind you, you had to put it behind you. You would not let it come up in any future arguments or any spats.
"Hey, do you think we should go back to my place and have a cup?" Sherlock pulled away as he grabbed his trench coat and navy blue scarf.
"Hmmm, why not. I'll even make it." you said, with a mischievous hint to your voice. Sherlock rolled his eyes and pocketed Molly's phone.
No, Sherlock, leave it. " you eyed him. He rolled his eyes and put it back on the table. You made your way to the door, but before you could open it, Molly was in front of you. She briefly smiled at you and then looked towards Sherlock. He made a shark-like grin. Determination in her walk, she made her way right in front of Sherlock and held out her hand. With a huff, he gave her phone back to her. She made sure her golden brown ponytail whacked Sherlock in the face as she turned back around. With her head held high, she left the room in silence.
"Okay, I deserved that too." Sherlock conceded, and made his way out the door, following you out.
Well, here's chapter 2, FINALLY. I'm sorry for being super slow. School has been a huge factor and I haven't had anytime. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. There will be another chapter in the near future but not so soon.
Chapter 3: Awkward Tea Time
You and Mrs. Hudson share an awkward cuppa, as she caught you doing a walk of shame back down to your flat.
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Your peaceful sleep was disturbed when you felt the absence of Sherlock's body next yours. You felt around the sheets, and realized he had been gone for a while. Rubbing your head, you looked over and grabbed your phone from the charger.
You sighed and your phone back down. Two days ago, after your "tea-time", you and Sherlock laid down. He got up around the same time as tonight and stressed over the Black Lotus murders. He had no idea what to do, and he was pressuring himself to figure it out. You told him to do it at another time, but his stubborn ways made you scoff and go back to bed. This night was no different. You debated on leaving him alone, but you missed having him wrapped around you. Seeing him peacefully sleep and so comfortable with mundane things like cuddling made you proud. He would look down upon touching or any type of affection. Even though he will not do it in public or around John, he will give kisses and hugs, and the occasional love tap on the butt. You were just fine with that as you did not like PDA either.
Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a discarded purple shirt at the foot of the bed. You threw it on and then pulled the cover around your shivering body. It was unnaturally cold in the flat tonight. All the more reason to argue with him to come to bed. You cringed at the feeling of the freezing floor boards and briskly tip-toed to the door. You cracked it open and saw Sherlock in his blue robe, pacing around and running his fingers through his hair. Slightly chuckling, you walked out to him. He hardly noticed you. Looking down, you saw all of the file papers scattered about. Carefully maneuvering around them, you plopped down on the plushy, red chair and watched him continue to think. He paced back and forth, stopped, raised his hands to his mouth, closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and then laid down on the leather couch to the back of the room. You shook your head at him and chuckled again.
"Sherl, why are you doing this now?" you asked, knowing you would get the same answer he gives you.
"Because, your snoring was distracting me and I needed a quiet place to sleep." He never moved from his mummy-like position. You were a tiny bit offended.
"I do not snore! If anything, I talk in my sleep," you wrapped the cover tighter around you, "Sherlock, seriously, you can do this in the morning. Please, come back to bed with me, it's freezing."
He opened his left eye and turned slightly towards you. Then, he quickly sat up and crossed his arms. He motioned with his head at the array of case file papers in front of you.
"(Y/n), look. I cannot and will not sleep because of this case. There's nothing in this world that makes me so uneasy than a case that is too stubborn to be solved. I have looked and looked at those ciphers and they are almost impossible to solve without the code. I have gone to every person I know with this sort of expertise. I went to Rex-"
"Rex? The graffiti guy? He has expertise in ancient Chinese characters?" You had caught Rex a few times when you started out at the Yard. He was a smug guy and tried to wiggle his way out of a fine by trying to charm you. You still served the tickets and he would never pay them. Anytime you walked by a graffitied wall, he had written a message for you. "Pretty cop lady, I want to shake you up." You laughed every time.
"Yes, and he gave me nothing. That's besides the point. No one know's what these symbols are," he laid back down and put his robe over his eyes.
You studied the papers again, and tried to find a lead that Sherlock may have been missing. You then saw the ciphers and thought of a person that Sherlock had not thought of.
"Hey, what about going into Chinatown and asking for help from the elders? Maybe they saw something like this, maybe some people use it still?"
"We already tried Chinatown. Nothing," he pulled his robe tighter around his face.
"What about the Yard? I'm sure if you talk to them and actually try to be decent, they might have someone who can help?"
He scoffed, "I have someone from the Yard right here. Detective (L/n), please, give me your advice, as I surely need it."
"Okay, okay, sorry. I'm sorry. However, is there anything you can give me? It is actually needed..."
You took it as a sign to go over to him. You gathered the blanket and slowly walked to his tension filled body. When you stood over him, he peeked from his robe. Softly smiling at him, you let the blanket drop off your shoulders. He removed his robe from his face entirely when he saw you wearing his purple shirt. It was baggy, as it was slipping off shoulder and reached down to the tops of your thighs. He studied you for a moment as he sat up. It made your cheeks red and you averted your gaze from his. His intense stare was something you could never get over. You felt his hands grasp your waist and pull you on his lap. Your breath hitched and you steadied yourself on the back of the couch. Sherlock took your hands into his and kissed your knuckles. You softly smiled at the sweet gesture. You took your hands away, but placed them back in his hair. You pulled your fingers through his curly locks and he hummed in appreciation. You had managed to find his weakness. You used it anytime you could, especially when you were getting hot and heavy. You would pull on it and lightly scratch his scalp, and he would practically growl. Just thinking about it turned you on slightly. He had leaned his head back a bit, so you had shift forward. The movement made Sherlock groan and you felt him push lightly against your inner thigh. You bit your lip to keep quiet, but closed your eyes. Still combing through his hair, you opened them again and saw that he had his neck exposed. You rubbed against him again and began to put feather light kisses at his Adam's apple. He sighed, and gripped your hips a little tighter. You felt the shirt ride up your stomach and gasped when his ice cold hands met your stomach. His fingers trailed around your sides and made their way to your back. You shuddered and started pulling on his hair. He had found your weakness too: nails lightly scratching down your back. It gave you shivers all down your spine, and made your hairs stand up. You did not understand why it did, but it felt good. Taking your hand from his hair, you cupped the side of his face. He looked at you with hooded eyes.
You placed your lips just above his and whispered, "Are you getting tired, darling?" You circled your thumb on his cheekbone.
He hummed and encircled his arms around your waist and pulled you on his lips. You hummed back and took his face into your hands. His lips were warm. Everything about him was warm. You were still cold and realized it when your nipples pushed out again the soft material of your shirt. You gasped and Sherlock took the opportunity to softly use his tongue. He lightly sucked on your bottom lip and you rolled your eyes back into your head. He continued to battle with your tongue. You put your hand on his chest and began to trail it down. Slacking his arms, he let your mouth go. Both of you were breathing heavy as your hand got down to his waist band. You teased him by pulling and letting it snap back. He growled in your ear and you felt your core get wetter. You flattened your hand and went in. His breathing became a little quicker as you found his member. He was almost ready. You were practically dripping at this point. As you rubbed him, Sherlock moved your (h/c) strands away from your neck and began to suck the side of your neck. You moaned a little too loudly, and you bit your lip to keep quiet.
"Not so cold now, are you?" he asked smugly in between his kisses. You lightly squeezed your hand around him. He hissed and then chuckled.
You needed something to soothe the ache between your thighs. You took the opportunity to use his thigh. Slowly, you began to grind. The material of your underwear and his muscle hit the right spot. He snaked his arm around to the small of your back and helped your movements. You went a little faster with your hand and he moaned. A guttural sound that made your pussy twitch. Your moans became in sync as well as your speeds. He had taken his mouth off of your neck and was now looking down. He admired the way you were using him. Grinding yourself on his thigh, getting his pants soaked. It excited him to no end. You saw him mesmerized, and took it upon yourself to grasp his chin. Forcing his eyes to meet yours, you ground into him harder. His hooded hazel eyes had become that strong black and almost made you come. His eyes shut as you went faster. He was getting close. You could feel him twitch. You breathed out a laugh and let your head go back. It was too much.
"(Y/n), (y/n)...." he gasped. He was so close. So close. The way he said your name...it was like music to you.
Both of you were so close. Yet, something prevented it from happening. It was John. He had woken up and was making his way downstairs. You rush to grab the cover from the floor and cover any indecency. Sherlock put his arm around you and leaned his head back. You put your's on his shoulder and closed your eyes. John then slowly opened the door and tip toed to the kitchen. You heard him hit the table and he let out an audible yelp. You failed to keep a small giggle and Sherlock chuckled. You covered it by pretending to snore. John then opened the fridge and yelled again.
"Sherlock, you left the hand in there didn't you," you playfully whispered to him. You saw his smile and you laid your head back down.
John tiptoed by you both again and softly shut the door. It was not until you heard his door shut that you and Sherlock made a sound.
"You snored right in my ear." Sherlock pinched your arm and you swatted at him.
"Well, I guess you were right, but at least I don't get my drool everywhere."
"Oh, really?" Sherlock started collecting spit in his mouth and you moved off of him. He jumped up from the couch and chased you down to the bedroom. You almost tripped on the cover, but managed to jump on the bed. He followed and pinned you down. Both of you laughed, but it was short lived as you finished where you were interrupted.
The bright morning sun nearly blinded you as you woke up the next day. You were tangled in the sheets, sprawled over the entire bed. Again, Sherlock had left your side. Annoyed, you grabbed your phone. You checked the time: 12:00 PM. You had slept the whole morning. No wonder it was so bright out. A message flashed: Sherlock.
Sorry I left, John and I went to go look for more leads. I did give you a kiss before I left, so I hope you won't be too cross. -SH
Sitting up, you sighed and responded:
It's alright, you gave me much needed space. Good luck :)- (Y/n)
You looked around the empty bedroom. Sherlock's night clothes were still laying in the corner of the room. The cover was carelessly thrown on the floor as well as some pillows. Chuckling to yourself, you got out of bed. There was a pleasurable soreness between your legs. You grabbed his blue robe off the floor and put it on. It enveloped you in it's softness and his smell. You went out into kitchen and looked through the fridge. You yelped in shock at the mauled hand nonchalantly placed on the second shelf. You had forgotten about it. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door and decided it was best to go freshen up. You had been in his flat for the past two days and ran out of clothes to wear. You could have easily gone down and gotten some more, but your laziness got in the way. The one thing you hoped would be avoided was running into Mrs. Hudson. Mentally preparing yourself, you made the trip downstairs. You carefully put your foot on the quietest boards you could find. She was most definitely up, so you need to be extra careful. You managed to get down the stairs fine and made the impossible task of opening your door. It was the loudest door in the building when you did not want it to be. You twisted the knob slowly, and gently pulled. You were going to pull it just enough to squeeze yourself through. However, the hinges squeaked and you cursed. You looked at Mrs. Hudson's door and saw her shadow through the curtain. She opened her door and looked at you expectantly. Her soft eyes and welcoming smile made your morning. She had been mother, essentially. She had taken care of you the second you moved into 221C. She had gotten painters, professional cleaners, and carpenters to revive the drabby, cold basement flat. She would ask you if you needed anything and would make you a priority. You were forever grateful for her help. In exchange, you would do her groceries and any other thing she would let you do. Seeing her face when she walked in on you and Sherlock still haunted your dreams. You still avoided her, much to your dismay. You hated avoiding her, but you felt ashamed. She still looked at you in her loving way.
"Hello dear, you're up awfully late. Did you get enough sleep last night?"
A blush rose on your cheeks and you cleared your throat. You let go of your door and pulled the robe tighter. You were completely naked under it.
"Actually, come in, dear. I was just starting to make a cuppa, please?" she opened the door wider, inviting you in.
You smiled and awkwardly shuffled into her dainty flat. You passed through her beaded curtain into her kitchen and sat down at the table. She walked to the cabinet and grabbed two mugs, sugar, and tea bags. You slouched down in your seat like a child sitting in front of the principal's office. You knew what she was going to talk to you about it and it was going to be embarrassing. She sat down the mugs and poured the tea in. Once she sat down, she looked at you with a small smile. You placed two sugars and a splash of milk, and waited. The silence was long and awkward.
"Look-" both of you started to say. You let Mrs. Hudson go first.
"You know how much I care about you. And you know how much I care about Sherlock. To me, you are practically my children. Now, it was a bit jarring to see you and him together," she tsked when you put your head in your hands, "Now, you two are both adults and it was wrong of me to intrude. So, there's nothing to fret about, dear. I understand it. I was your age once. I was the same way with my husband. Countless nights of passion, there was even this one time with-"
"Mrs. Hudson, please don't put any alarming images in my mind."
"Well, anyways, all I am trying to say is that you don't need to avoid me. Ever since that day, I have missed seeing your face. You are a gem." She reached over to your hand and rubbed it tenderly.
"I know, I'm sorry Mrs. Hudson. I was just-so...embarrassed. It was like my mother walked in on my with my first boyfriend. It was probably even weirder to see Sherlock in such a way..." you bit on your thumb.
"Why yes, it was pretty weird. But I've seen a big change in Sherlock since you moved in. I remember the first day you moved in. After you left with the movers, he wouldn't stop asking questions about you. John and I had to give him something to shut him up. He's playing his violin more. He's a little more sensitive. Well actually, he's always been a big baby, but he takes people's emotion into a little more thought. That day he came and talked to me about what he did to you, there was regret. He usually wouldn't care, and merely go on about his life. He's changed because you, (Y/n). He's happy. This is a kind of happiness that he's never had. You are his happiness now. I'm so glad that you are," she finished with a large smile.
You were in shock. Sherlock changing for you? Of course, the things you two had been doing were not usually like him; but, you never really realized he had been changing. Not enough like Mrs. Hudson who lived here way before John even lived here. Sherlock had been reserved and a complete dickhead. After John, he got better, but he had his moments. He hid it well from you. He acted distant and brutally honest when you came around him. Now you realized that he was doing it because he probably did not know any other way to act. He had shut himself off to feelings and emotion for the most part. Labeled himself a "highly functioning sociopath" and went on with his life. You were touched, but also embarrassed that someone would change themselves for you. You believed that no one should change themselves for anyone.
"Mrs. Hudson, I like Sherlock a lot. You know that," you gestured to his robe, "but I don't want him to change for me. I mean, yeah, he could be a dick sometimes and not care about people, and as much as I didn't like it, it was him."
"I remember him telling me that you said, "Screw highly functioning-whatever he is-, it's just a proper term to give to someone who's a shit human being," Now, it was a little harsh darling, BUT, that's when it gave him clarity. He knew that he was being a royal ass. So, that night after he and I talked, he sat and apologized to John for everything he's ever done to him. You made him see what needed to be fixed. He's not just doing it for you, he's doing it for John, for me, and most importantly, himself." she leaned on her hand, and hummed, "It's so good to see him happy."
Mrs. Hudson and you continued to talk. You learned a little more things about Sherlock, things that Mrs. Hudson was willing to talk about; and more about her life. You both talked until three in the afternoon. However, soon you left due to wanting a shower and getting some things done before it became too dark. You walked into your flat and tidied up. You never thought that you being gone for just two days would make everything so dusty. You put the last of the dishes up and made your way to your inviting, scalding shower. After washing away the past two days, you decided that you would go the Yard and see what was going happen today in London's rich crime world. You grabbed your heavy trench coat, scarf, and gloves and headed out.
The weather had not let up, in fact, it got worse. You wish you had doubled up on pants and socks. The thin, black slacks you put on did nothing against the wind. The only thing that kept you warm was your maroon coat. Suddenly, an stupid but funny idea came to you. Taking the coats collar, you popped it up. You changed your gait to match the cool, determined one that Sherlock always had. You squinted your eyes and sucked in your cheek bones. You became Sherlock with his signature cheekbones and ridiculous collar. One man who passed you gave you a look, but you ignored it. You flipped your hair and tucked your hands into the pockets. You laughed at yourself. Your phone dinged. You fixed everything back to your liking and stopped walking to check your phone. It was Greg.
"Get here now. Major problem"
Panicking, you flagged down a cabbie. One stopped and you quickly got into the warm backseat. You told him the location and to step on it, you pulled out your badge and he sped off. Your mind was racing, going through anything that went wrong. Did someone die? Did we lose the trail on the Black Lotus people? Was Sherlock alright? John? You felt your stomach drop at the thought of Sherlock or John being hurt. Or worse.
However, distracted by your thoughts, you did not see the suspiciously clad-in-black woman snap your pictures from a far. You also did not see her get into a cab behind you and follow you to the New Scotland Yard.
I know I said not so soon but SURPRISE. I really do enjoy writing this and I am taking every chance I get. I really hope you enjoy it :)