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I Know I'm Not the Only One

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“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. I don’t normally do this kind of thing so I figured I should just do it fast before I regret it.”

John mentally smacked himself as he looked across the table to his blind date. His jaw was hanging from his words and he blushed, shacking his head, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”

His date was the same height as him, which he was grateful for as he kissed her cheek when she had approached him outside of the café and introduced herself. They had been set up by his friend and her instructor, Mike Stamford. He had approached him in the morgue while chatting with Molly Hooper, the resident pathologist. John thought it a bit odd his very professional friend would recommend his young student as a potential partner. But then again, Mike somehow knew that Sherlock would make him an excellent, and complex, flat mate.

Her name was Catherine Moyle and she looked like she was not even close to passing for twenty years old. “You’re a bit young for me, don’t you think?” John had asked when he was able to pull his jaw back up and form words.

Catherine smiled. She had high cheek-bones but full cheeks. Her eyes were dark but not cold or harsh. Her smile took over her entire face. She chuckled, “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Christ,” John said, running a hand over his face, “I feel like I’m robbing the cradle.”

“You’re not the first older man that I’ve gone out with,” she said which didn’t entirely comfort him but he tried to shake the idea from his head.

“I’m sorry,” John said quickly, “Let’s start again. Thank you for meeting me today, Catherine.”

Catherine smiled again, her eyes crinkled with the delight and amusement, “It’s a pleasure, John, but you can call me Cathy.”

“Cathy, right, got it.” John said, nervously knocking on the table with his knuckles. He smiled nervously and said, “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this. I’m sorry that I’m a bit nervous.”

The younger woman reached out and placed a hand on John’s that was still tapping on the table and said, “It’s fine. You’re fine.” She gave him a comforting smile and pulled her hand back. Her skin had been soft and smooth and he almost reached out to take her hand back just to caress the skin. It had been so long. His heart lurched for a moment but he managed to contain himself.

“So,” John exclaimed, trying to making conversation quickly, “Mike tells me your specializing as an orthopedic surgeon. That’s an interesting choice.” He was rewarded for his quick change of topic with another smile followed by a smirk as she replied, “What can I say? I love bringing a grown man to his knees when I pop his pinky back into place.”

John couldn’t help but laugh heartily and genuinely. It had been so long since he had done so and she had caused it to happen within a few minutes of meeting. He was already getting a good feeling about her.

“I’ve had my fair share of that in the army,” John told her with his smile slowing fading. He willed himself to stay out of that dark place where he often trapped himself into thinking about all the violence, loss, and struggle of his time serving Queen and country.

Cathy tilted her head and watched him intently as she mentioned, “Dr. Stamford mentioned that. He said you were shot. Rubbish luck that is.”

John felt his temperature begin to rise. The café felt like it was boiling hot despite the fact a cold breeze gushed in every time a patron opened the front door into the cold fall afternoon. He chuckled nervously, “Yeah, it was a pretty rough recovery.”

Cathy’s kind face fell into a worried frown as she noticed his discomfort. She refrained from hitting herself as she groaned in embarrassment, “Now it’s I who’s gone and put their foot in their mouth. I’m so sorry. It seems like a tender subject. We can drop it if you want.”

John huffed a few times and shook his head but smiled at her consideration, “It’s quite alright but it used to be much worse.” There was a pause and then, “I’ve been getting help.” Another pause. “Therapy. I see a therapist. I might as well put that out there so that I can show you all my crazy early in the relationship.”

A smirk returned to Cathy’s face as she playfully asked, “Who said this was a relationship?” He stuttered nervously, trying to find the right words to say to cancel out his last statement but she giggled and reached out for his hand again, “Relax, I’m playing with you.”

“Oh,” John responded, feeling a bit silly. She continued, “And I think there’s nothing wrong with you seeing a therapist. I happen to have a high regard for mental health and treatment.” He smiled humbly, “Sherlock thinks it’s a waste of time but I’d like to think it really helps with what happened in Afghanistan and with Mary and the baby, as well.” He stopped and went pale, realizing what he had just said as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I’m so sorry,” John began to say with a groan and running his hand through his hair, keeping himself from pulling at it like he tended to when stressed. He looked into Cathy’s dark eyes, “I have way too much baggage for a gorgeous, young woman like you.” He began to get up but she tugged on his sleeve, “Sit back down.” She was surprisingly strong as he found himself plopping back into his seat against his will. He also didn’t put up much of a fight.

“You don’t need to humor me,” John told her but couldn’t look her in the eye again. She let go of his arm but kept her hands close to him just in case he made another move to leave. “We’ve all got baggage,” she said kindly, “This isn’t the airport. I don’t need to search through it and find the things I don’t like. You can tell me whatever you want in your own time. Let’s just enjoy the present for now.”

“Right,” John agreed, feeling a bit more chipper at her calm and collected attitude, “that seems best.”

Cathy sipped at the forgotten coffee in front of her and cringed at the weakness of it. It was no Starbucks but John had asked to meet here as he had told her it was a favorite place of his. She had never heard of Speedy’s and was a bit concerned by the humble shop front but the people inside had been genuinely nice when they took her order and were quite friendly with John.

“So,” Cathy began, “who’s Sherlock?”

John looked at Cathy with a slight amount of amusement and also skepticism. He blinked at her a few times and responded, “He’s my flatmate. A bit of a nutter, really, but he’s also my best mate. If you meet him you’ll probably never want to see me again. He has that affect on people.”

Cathy smiled, “Who says I’m not a nutter?” She was being flirty and he really liked it as it had been ages since he was able to talk to a woman and have her be receptive. He was worried he came across how he felt inside- sad, lonely, and pathetic.

“You’re too lovely to be a nutter,” he chuckled, and then added, “Or single in fact.” He couldn’t help but cheer inside as he watched her blush and respond, “And you’re too handsome to need to be set up on a blind date but here we are.”

“Right,” John coughed but still smiled, “can’t say I did much dating in medical school. There just weren’t enough hours in the day. I can’t be too surprised if you’re single.” He smirked at the memories of medical school. The countless hours studying the human body, the sleepless nights doing midnight shifts in A&E, the uncomfortable gynecological rotations they were all required to complete.

Cathy shrugged, “I don’t find it all too difficult to be social.” She sighed ever so quietly, “Finding someone who fits my standards is another story.” John’s face dropped a bit and cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and tugged his sleeves down to smooth the wrinkles.

“Do-do I fit your standards?” He asked hopefully, causing the young brunette to smile and raise an eyebrow in amusement, “You might.”

John’s face burned red and his stomach somersaulted but he couldn’t help but smile like the total goof he felt like, “How can you tell?” She shrugged, sipping her cooling coffee. Some of her dark hair fell in her face but she made no attempt to move them away. In fact, she used them as a shield as she sheepishly replied, “I’m very good at reading people.” She cleared her throat nervously and continued, “I know it sounds loony but I think I have a sixth sense.”

After years of following Sherlock and handling many cases that claimed anything supernatural, he knew there was no such things as a sixth sense. Sherlock had managed to blow the lid of every case. It had only taken a decade for John to no longer believe in the impossible as Sherlock had always found a way to prove them possible.

“On yeah?” John playfully asked, “What have you read about me?” He felt almost giddy as he waited for her response. The playful banter and the clear attraction between them were making him feel almost euphoric. He hadn’t even noticed when his order of chips was placed in front of him.

“I don’t think I should,” Cathy replied hesitantly, “I don’t want to bring up any baggage again.” John shook his head, “It’s fine. I trust you. Tell me what you think of me.”

Cathy remained hesitant but obliged John. She finally brushed the hair from her face talked the chin length locks behind her ear. Her eyes met John’s for a brief moment and he seemed entranced by her movements. She smiled nervously, suddenly feeling under pressure but bit her lip and decided to tell him what she thought of him but not before giving him one last chance.

“You sure?”

“I am.”

Cathy nodded and took a deep breath, “You seem like a kind man who has an excellent moral compass.” John felt like that was nothing special or unique but he excepted it as a compliment but said nothing and let her continue. “It’s hard for you to relax because you tend to feel responsible for others but that’s also because of you trying to do what’s right.”

Sherlock popped into John’s mind and all the years of cleaning up after him, making sure he was well fed, and keeping him out of prison and away from drugs. He also considered Mrs. Hudson and how he often checked on her flat to make sure wasn’t in need of assistance or repairs as well as be an unwillingly teatime participant to keep her from being lonely. He thought of Greg and how often he checked on him to make sure he wasn’t in a dark place because of his cheating wife and to help him with paperwork from the cases that Sherlock participated in but never felt the need to help with the documentation for the police records. Molly also came to mind as he thought of the nights he had gone out with her to observe her dates when she was afraid to go out after Moriarty had strung her along. Her brief engagement to a tosser named Tom had left her scarred when it was discovered he had been cheating on her and had occasionally smacked her around after a few drinks. He wanted to make sure Molly felt safe on her dates seeing as how Sherlock had regularly ruined many of her attempts at having a personal life. Finally, he thought of Mary and everything he had done for her. How he had forgiven her when her true past had been revealed. He remembered working extra shifts in preparation for the baby that saved their marriage until she brought it crashing down. John wasn’t bitter at his unborn daughter who never had the chance cry when the umbilical cord had strangled her during delivery. Mary had succumbed to grief and blood loss.

John was going into a very dark place.

“I think you had a tumultuous relationship with your wife and it makes you a bit weary of dating again,” Cathy continued, causing John to sharped his gaze out her and hold a hand up to stop her, “Excuse me? But you don’t know a damn thing about my marriage.”

Cathy, who had been leaning onto the table towards John, sat up straight and frowned, “I’m sorry. I just assumed by your wedding band that-”

“What about my wedding band?” John snarled and ran a finger over his plain gold ring. She said nothing as she watched the man who was so sweet and funny immediately change into a man clearly plagued by demons. She felt weary of him but her heart did ache a bit at seeing someone who could never really be at peace.

Cathy wondered if she really should answer him but he growled, “What. About. My. Wedding. Band.” His voice was low and husky and she couldn’t help but blurt out nervously, “You wear it on your right hand and it looks like it’s never been polished.” She watched as John’s eyes began to unfocus and focus. His pupils dilated and contracted. He was looking at her but no longer seeing her. She wondered if she should just leave but thought better of it.

John broke his stare at Cathy and looked down at his wedding ring. A scene flashed in his mind of the first crime scene he had ever gone to with Sherlock. It was the introduction of his current life. He had wrote a blog about; A Study in Pink. He remembered Sherlock examining the murdered woman’s jewelry and correctly deduced her condition of her marital status simply by observing the upkeep of all her jewelry and the clear lack of it in regards to the wedding band she wore.

John’s eyes focused again and he glared at Cathy, “That’s a fairly accurate assumption. Or should I say deduction?”

Cathy looked at him curiously as her eyebrows bunched up together and she tilted her head, “Deduction?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, little girl,” John hissed as he balled his hands into fists. She noticed it and leaned back a bit, afraid that he might actually hit her. It wasn’t hard to tell he was the walking poster boy for PTSD so she stayed still and hoped this outburst would pass.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t,” Cathy whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was observing them. She was relieved to see they were not drawing attention- yet.

John stretched his hands open but then closed them again and laughed almost maniacally but still quietly enough that he wasn’t causing a scene to the other patrons of the small café. She watched him carefully as he said, “It’s always about him, isn’t it? Nothing can ever be about me.”

“What are you talking about?” Cathy asked calmly with a hint of concern in her voice. She wasn’t sure how emotional she should act. She didn’t blame John at all for his behavior. His eyes gave him away. She could tell he wasn’t in a proper state of mind and she had decided to stand her ground and not run away. He clearly needed someone and she was not the type of person to back down when confronted.

“You’re trying to get to Sherlock. I’m not stupid,” John told her and then shook his head in disbelief. She shook her head as well but only to tell him he was wrong. He ignored her and then said, “Go on, then. Tell me what else you know. I’d love to know what Stamford told you about me.”

“Dr. Stamford didn’t tell me anything, John,” Cathy said earnestly but he didn’t hear it. He only demanded she tell him more. She tried to refuse him, “Why good is it to tell you your own story?”

John stubbornly refused to answer and waved a hand at her, not allowing her to avoid her continuing assumptions about his life. She didn’t want to oblige but she also wanted to avoid a scene. She looked him over felt her eyes begin to water but she refused to let a tear fall. She had watched children die in the hospitals, families destroyed by disease and accidents. She could keep a straight face through it all. She wasn’t a soldier but she had faced her own battles.

“Your wife died in childbirth. She was older and more at risk. I’m assuming the baby died then, as well,” Cathy said carefully. She expected him to lash out but he actually calmed a bit and then asked, “How do you know she was older? How do you know?”

“You keep calling me young. I’m not a little girl. You’ve never dated someone as young as I am or you wouldn’t have to keep making me aware of our age difference. I imagine she was as old as you. You also mentioned Mary and the baby. I just assumed,” Cathy explained her assumptions. John smirked in a way that her stomach twist nervously as he asked, “You just assumed? That’s cute. Sherlock will find that cute.”

“What does this have to do with your flatmate?” Cathy asked, confused as to why he had to keep bringing him up. Maybe they were a couple and she was interfering with their relationship? She had no idea what to expect anymore.

“He’s only the most famous detective in London,” John explained almost bitterly. He sounded like a man sick of living in a shadow. He was, after all, the man who took care of everyone else but no one else thought to take care of.

Cathy couldn’t help but roll her eyes and respond starkly, “Good for him but I have no need for a detective.”

“He’s all over the news.”

“Once again, good for him. I barely read the news. I don’t even know who Lady Gaga is because I’ve been too busy trying to do something important with my life,” Cathy couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. She was trying her best to be patient with John but it was hard not to fall to his level and be a little defensive.

John aggressively dug his hand into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, “Let’s just settle this.” He pulled out a crisp 10pound note from the worn leather and slapped it on the table and announced, “Come with me.”

Before Cathy could even protest, John was standing and tugging her arm. He was a bit rough as he yanked her from her seat with just enough time for to grab her purse and coat as he pulled her out of the café. People were now staring at them but since they were leaving, she didn’t care.

“Where are you taking me?” Cathy exclaimed, as he quickly turned right. “To see Sherlock.” He told her as they immediately approached a black door, quickly whipping his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. “What the hell for?” she questioned him.

John spun around to face her before he opened the door, he still had a hand on her arm. “He can tell if you’re lying.” She looked at his angry face and shot back, “What is wrong with you?”

“With me?!” he exclaimed, “You know my entire life story and I want to know how!”

“I told you, I just know!”

“I don’t buy that for a second,” he said, turning away but opening the door and pulling her through the dark doorway. When they stepped inside Cathy looked around and realized they were at the bottom of a tall, narrow staircase. She could see a door ajar at the top of the steps and another on the hallway of the floor they were on.

“Is this your flat?” Cathy asked incredulously, “You seriously couldn’t walk more than ten feet from your front door to meet me today?!”

John bellowed out, “Sherlock!”

“Or were you just planning on an easy shag?”

John let go of the younger woman’s arm and pointed a finger at her threatening, “Even if I wanted to shag you, there’s no chance in hell now.”


A shrill voice called out, “John, dear, you’re back from your date already?” An older woman popped her head out of the door at the bottom of the stairs. She had a surprised look on her face that grew into a smile as she registered Cathy’s presence and cried out happily, “Oh! It must have gone well!”

“Um, hi,” Cathy mumbled. “Hello, dear, I’m Mrs. Hudson, his landlady,” she said with a growing smile on her face.

John looked at his landlady and refrained from yelling at her as she didn’t deserve the brunt of his anger, “Not the time, Mrs. Hudson.” He looked back to the top of the stairs, “SHERLOCK! You better be dressed!”

“Why wouldn’t he be dressed?” Cathy questioned, slightly panicked at the thought of being harassed by a naked stranger. There was finally a reply, “What do you want?!”

A tall man suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs. He had erratic curls and wore a white shirt and black slacks. He looked as if he had been in the process of getting dressed. He was grumpily tucking his shirt into his pants as Cathy groaned, “Please don’t tell me you were shagging him, too.”

“Quiet,” John barked at her, “and I’m not gay.”

“Who are you?” the man, who Cathy assumed was the infamous Sherlock, asked as he ran a hand through his dark hair. John motioned for her to walk up the stairs and as she ascended them she responded, “The traumatized date.”

Sherlock looked past Cathy to John who was walking behind her and looked him over, “You didn’t tell me you had a date. You’re not even wearing you typical date outfit.”

“Oh,” Cathy laughed sarcastically and turned to look back at John who was frowning up at his flatmate, “You have a date outfit? You don’t really lonely.”

“Would you both shut up!” John snapped. He pushed Cathy up onto the last step as she yelled in protest him. John was lost within himself and Cathy did not appreciate his roughness now. She was considering running now more than ever but when she could finally meet Sherlock’s gaze, she found herself scared and intrigued at the same time. Her body was deciding whether fight or flight was the best option but she decided observing might be the best.

John followed Cathy into the flat and immediately slammed the door shut, causing Cathy to jump back. She could hear Mrs. Hudson protesting from downstairs about respecting her property but no one made an attempt to shout an apology back to her. He put his hand on her back and pushed her toward Sherlock and looked to his friend and growled, “Deduce her.”

“What?” Cathy questioned, looking back and forth between the two men. She could feel them both staring at her but John’s eyes were burning at her while Sherlock’s were studying her.

“I thought,” Sherlock said, momentarily breaking his stare to look at John, “you told me to stop- what did you call it?” He called his hands, “Oh yes, terrorizing the guests.”

“Just do it. Now.” John ordered, his military upbringing showing in his voice, his posture, his entire being. If Cathy hadn’t feel threatened by him, she would have commented on how attractive it was.

Sherlock looked back at Cathy, wondering what it was that John was looking for specifically. He could read her like a book but he couldn’t determine what detail was the one that had brought his friend here in a hurry. He was fully aware that John was not right and that he was currently having an episode. It had been quiet a while since he had witnessed his friend in such a rage and he had a few deductions as to why he might be upset. He decided to wait to see what John wanted and what he could deduce before he worried about blaming the young woman for provoking his blogger.

“What on Earth for?”

“She knows,” John huffed, “She knows all about my life. She knows about Mary and the baby and I want to know how.”

With another quick glance at Cathy, he nodded and moved himself to stand directly in front of her. His tall body loomed over her short one but he held a hand out and gently asked, “May I?” She looked up to meet his eyes and did not see any anger so she shrugged, “Can’t be any more dangerous that him.” She took his hand and looked down as he wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist. She realized instantly that the pads on his pointer and middle fingers were gently resting on the pulse in her wrist.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I need you to answer truthfully,” Sherlock said calmly, not breaking his stare from her face. It made her uncomfortable but she nodded.

“What is your name”” Sherlock asked.

“Catherine Moyle.”

“When were you born?”

“March 16, 1988.”

“Where were you born?”


“How did you meet John Watson?”

“Dr. Mike Stamford set us up.”

“Did he tell you about John’s wife and child?”

“Only in passing.”

“How did you know about their deaths?”

“John brought them up and he stills wears a wedding band on his right hand so I assumed.”

“No,” Sherlock said, startling her with the change of pace the questioning had eased her into. She frowned, “What do you mean, no?”

Sherlock let go of her wrist and wiped his hand on his pants. She pretended not to notice or be insulted. He looked to John again and saw he was watching them intently, awaiting his verdict.

“You did not assume. You deduced.”

“Why do you both keep using that word?” Cathy asked with true curiosity as she momentarily forgot the man staring daggers into her back.

“What direction the knocker on the door turned to?” Sherlock asked.

“To the right, why?”

“What color was Mrs. Hudson’s nail varnish?”

“Dark purple.”

“And the color of John’s eyes?”


“She’s telling the truth.”

“What?” John said in disbelief. She looked to John, offended that he still doubted her and her intentions. “That’s impossible. Look at her again.”

“Why do you declare it impossible?” Sherlock asked, almost taunting John but he took the bait and said, “She’s not you.”

Cathy looked at John and asked with an offended tone, “What are you insinuating?” Sherlock answered for his flat mate, “He doesn’t believe it’s possible for you to possess the same skills as myself.”

“What skills?” she asked him. She was getting so confused with everything that was happening. She couldn’t understand how she was still standing in the flat of a stranger and a mad man.

“The power of deduction.”

“It’s not a superpower so why is this such a big deal?” Cathy asked to the two men. John came back to the conversation, “I would know if she was like you, Sherlock.”

“No,” Sherlock stated, “your observational skills have always been lacking. You know what she is capable but you can’t comprehend it. She deduced you, John, but she is no sociopath.”

Sociopath? Did John really think that’s what she was? She did not meet any of the clinical requirements for such a diagnosis but thankfully his eccentric flatmate felt the same. She felt insulted enough and declared, “I think we’re done now. This is not my idea of a good date.” She looked to John, “In case you were wondering how this was going.”

John blushed but could not say anything. Cathy watched for a moment in awe as he seemed to shrink. His shoulders began to roll forward into a more relaxed position, his eyes softened, and his jaw unclenched. He was coming back.

“Perhaps, John,” Sherlock began, “you should take the advice you often bestow upon me and apologize. Though I’d say for dating above your intellect.”

Cathy couldn’t help but laugh and look to Sherlock with a grin, “Why, thank you!”

“Don’t compliment her!” John exclaimed and rubbed in forehead, willing an approaching headache to subside from these events. Cathy looked back at her embarrassed date and said, “Waiting on that apology.”

“I think I’ll leave you to it then.” Sherlock said as he swept to the doorway and grabbed a long, dark coat from a hook on the wall. He threw the door open with gusto and disappeared down the stairs without a backwards glance.

Cathy stared at John expectantly for several moments. He refused to look toward her face until she cleared her throat and said, “Well?”

“This,” John said and paused, “did not go as planned.” The young brunette smirked and raised an eyebrow in amusement, ”Do you normally have your flatmate screen your dates?

“Christ, no!” John exclaimed and then chuckled at the notion, “I normally need to hide them from her or he’ll scare them off.”

“Glad I could be the exception.” Her voice was still playful and the smirk did not fade. It actually confused him as he would not have blamed her for smacking him ages ago and running away as fast as she could. His behavior had been appalling and he couldn’t help himself. He knew it was no excuse and he did not want her pity.

John sighed, “You must think I’m a total ass.” She tilted her head from side to side, humming as she pretended to consider his statement before saying, “Yeah, and I’m beginning to understand why you’re still single.”

Another sigh from John, “You don’t know the half of it.”

Cathy kicked herself as she said flirtatiously, “You just keep tempting me more and more.” She should really run. Why was she picking this up again?

“Tempting you to smack me, most likely,” John joked back. He was beginning to feel the flutters he had felt downstairs. Was he actually going to salvage this disaster of a date? He could only hope.

“No,” she replied, “I prefer to be the one being smacked.” She paused and then said with a playful wink, “On the ass.” Her face went red as she realized what she had said. This was not one of her friends that she could make these kinds of jokes with. She was always vulgar but she instantly that she should not have said that.

“Christ,” John breathed out in a low, deep voice. It barely met her ears and the sound made her knees just a tad weak. She composed herself and then cringed at her own behavior and said, “I’m sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood. That was very inappropriate.”

John let a small smile grow on his face, “Is there even a mood left to salvage?”

“Well, I’m still waiting for that apology.”

John sighed loudly, realizing he was still quite an ass. He ran his hands through his hair and barely met her eyes as he said, “Cathy, I’m so sorry. I really am.” He stopped and thought about everything they had just gone through together and then asked nervously, “You really don’t know how you tend to know things?”

Cathy thought about it for a moment and replied, “I don’t and those things Sherlock said. I don’t know if he’s right but maybe I’m just more observant than I realize.”

“Sherlock’s almost always right. It’s bloody annoying. His brother is exactly the same way. They just look at people and know everything about them,” John explained.

“That sounds intense,” she said, “but I swear I’m not like that.”

“Maybe you are and you just don’t want to believe it.”

Cathy bit her lip as she considered having a skill that she never knew about. It sounded like she had just discovered a superpower when it was hardly that. She considered it and said, “Possibly, but I do know that I shouldn’t have let it go so far downstairs.”

“Maybe,” John agreed, “but of all those you could tell about me, and everything I just put you through, none of it scared you away. You’ve been standing here the whole acting as if this happens to you all the time.”

“Was there supposed to be a question?”

“I don’t know,” he said and smiled warmly, “if I’m more impressed or scared.”

Cathy chuckled and took a cautious step toward John, “Perhaps, we should start over?”

“Again?” John asked in slight disbelief, as he watched the young woman approach him slowly. She shrugged, “Why not?”

“How many strikes am I entitled to?” He asked as he began to reach a hand out to her waist, hoping the touch would be allowed. She didn’t seem to be recoiling. “How many do you think you’ll need?” she asked, allowing his fingers to conform to the curves of her hip. The touch felt nice and wondered for a moment if she was making a huge mistake as she placed a hand on his chest, lightly tapping her fingers over his sternum.

“I’m a work in progress. Like I said, I see a therapist. I’m bound to cock it up a few times,” John said nervously, afraid that stressing the fact that he had a problem would make her come to her senses but he felt he had to lay it out for her again.

“It’s ok,” she said calmly. He looked at her with a bit of surprise, “Really?”


“I’m sorry I struck out today. I really wish I hadn’t,” John groaned, ashamed of his actions but glad she was letting him put his other hand on her waist.

Cathy couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’ll make one hell of a story for Ladies’ Night.”

“That seems pretty fair,” he said and looked into her dark eyes, wondering if he should make the first move. She raised her other arm and draped it over his shoulder as she smiled almost devilishly, “You, at the very least, owe me that.”

John nodded, realizing he was beginning to breath heavily, “I think I owe you more than that.”

“How about you kiss me and we call it even?”

John’s heart felt ready to burst as the request. He gulped and quickly asked, “You seriously want to kiss me after all of that?”

“Why not?” she asked back with a husky voice that began to stir something below the waist. He was afraid she would feel him as she lightly pressed herself closer to his body.

John gulped again, “Maybe, you should be the one seeing a therapist.” She didn’t break the now intense stare she had fixed on him. Her cheeks were beginning to burn red but he knew it wasn’t from embarrassment.

Cathy willed John to close the gap between them and when he didn’t she said, “Please, just kiss me.” It was a plead and all that John need to pull her body hard against him and press his lips against her incredibly soft ones.

Moans filled the air and neither knew who was making what noises. His parted her lips with his tongue and savored the feel of her curling her fingers in his hair. He was throbbing and hard, pushing himself against her hips but she didn’t seem to care. In fact, she was moving her hips in a slow but short rhythm into his. He gasped when she grinded against him once but with more force that caused the most amazing friction between them.

With their lips separated, Cathy took the chance to attack the flesh where his shoulder and neck met. She kissed and licked the sensitive flesh as she began to run a hand from his shoulder, down his chest. He groaned at the feeling as he ran a hand to grope her firm arse, using his hand to push her harder against himself.

John forgot all worries he had been feeling when she pulled away from his neck and whispered into his ear, “I want you.”

It was all the encouragement he needed to push her backwards towards the couch while she made quick work of his belt. She pulled it from the loops in a swift pull and allowed it to drop to the floor, the buckle landing with a loud thud that they ignored. John grasped the edges of her sweater and pulled it up. She raised her arms so that he that he could remove it was ease.

The thin black bra Cathy wore was a stark contrast on her white skin. He looked into her eyes for a moment before leaning forward to kiss her collarbone, biting and sucking his way down her chest while pulling the lace cups down so her breasts spilled over the fabric. He brushed his calloused thumbs over her dark nipples, causing her to groan and grip his hair again.

John had just taken her left nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it when she fell back onto the couch and pulled him down with her. Sherlock had left files on the cushions and he could care less as they fell to the ground, papers scattering across the dusty floor.

After positioning himself carefully on the younger woman’s body, he panted over and asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she breathed out. He watched as she sucked air through her swollen lips before crashing his lips against her’s once more. He enjoyed the feel of their tongues fighting for dominance for a few moments more before he pulled back and tugged his own sweater off, throwing it across the room.

Cathy’s hands quickly went to John’s pants again, popping the button through the fabric hole and carefully pulling the zipper down. He leaned back on his heels to give her the room before slipping off of her to stand up again.

John pushed the fabric of his open pants down, looking at Cathy’s face she watched in anticipation as his boxers were pushed down as well. She smirked up at him as he spring free from the cloth prison. He groaned in pleasure as well as surprise when she pushed herself off the couch and quickly dropped to her knees.

John could not recall a woman he didn’t have to ask to do this. He moaned loudly as she took his length in her hot mouth as far as she could and rather enthusiastically. Her tongue rode along the underside of his cock and swirled around the head every time she pulled back but never letting him pop out of her mouth. He carefully weaved his fingers into her hair, not needing to guide her through her well-executed motions.

It was a little embarrassing but he didn’t want this to end so soon. He took a deep breath and pulled his hips back and grabbed Cathy’s arms, pulling her to her feet. She looked at him without any expression. Her eyes were dilated and lips were more swollen than before and so red. He cupped her cheek in hand and pressed his lips against hers once work, craving the feel of her lips on his.

Without breaking the kiss, John began to push her jeans down with her panties. She helped him by wiggling her hips a few times until they fell down to her knees. He then reached behind her and unsnapped her bra with ease. She normally would have made a snide comment about such a skill but her mind was focused on the deed they were about to perform. John pulled back from the kiss and guided her back to the couch, laying her down so he could pull her jeans off entirely while she tossed her bra away.

John took a moment to stand over her and looked over her entire body. He could not believe this beautiful creature had accepted him. He appreciated her heaving chest, her gorgeous curves, and the flush that covered her waiting body. His eyes snapped to hers and he said sound appreciatively, “You are absolutely stunning.”

He didn’t think it was possible but her cheeks burned redder and he smiled, “I mean it.”

“You are a beautiful man, John,” she panted back and held a hand up to him. He took it in his before he carefully lowered his body back onto hers, groaning at the feeling of her legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed her fiercely as she wrapped her arms around him and dug her fingers into his back. He slid his mouth from her lips and kissed down her neck and then littered his chest with kisses once more. He cupped her left breast in his hand again and lightly bit her nipple.

“John,” she panted, please. Please.”

He released her breast and ran his hand back to her face. Her fingers slipped behind her neck and he pulled her face closed to him as he kissed her again. She moved her body up against him and within a few moments he was perfectly positioned between her legs. He broke the kiss once more and looked into her eyes. They were so dark yet warm, like he could fall into them. She nodded to him as he searched her face for understanding and closed his eyes. With a deep groan, he pushed into her hot, slick cunt. She gasped as he filled her and her legs tightened around him and her fingers pushed deeper into his back.

John buried himself until his hips were flush against her own and took a moment to savor the delicious heat around his own flesh. Cathy’s eyes were shut tight but she did not appear to be in pain. She panted heavily, slowly massaging her fingers into his muscles. He dipped his head and buried his nose in her hair, breathing heavily into her ear. She turned her head slightly and pressed a wet kiss behind his ear and sighed with content.

Cathy slipped her hand from his back brought it between their bodies so that she could rest it over his shoulder to mesh with is hair. She tugged gently on his locks and then whispered, “Fuck me, John.”

That was all he needed to hear as he pulled his hips back and thrust into her slowly but forcefully. Every timed thrust made her shudder and hold him tighter. Her heavy breathing urged him on and he continued for several minutes. He raised his head to look into her face several times to make sure she was ok and never saw any sign to stop. He kissed and bit the flesh on her neck, her shoulders, her chest, and her lips. He wanted to worship her and make sure she knew it.

Cathy groaned louder and louder as he continued his treatment. It was intense- almost too intense but also perfect and exciting. He filled her in a way she had never felt before and his toned body felt like it had been cast to fit against her own. Her hips were angled just right and her legs locked around his waist ensured his pelvis ground against her clitoris just right.

John’s kisses stole the air from her lungs but she never wanted him to stop. She would happily suffocate with his lips on hers. When he panted in her ear she couldn’t help but hold him even tighter, urging him on by pushing her hips into his. They crashed together over and over again until finally she cried out when she felt herself go over the edge that she didn’t know she was standing at. Her entire body pulsed with her rapid heartbeat and she moaned uncontrollably. Her wet lips were against John’s ear. The sound combined with her spasmodic body allowed him to follow her over that edge. With he a long groan he spilled himself deep inside her.

John buried his face into her soft hair again, not capable of pulling himself from her body. Cathy’s legs had relaxed but she had rested her ankles against the back of his calves and stoked his back with one hand and ran her fingers trough his hair with the other. One of his hands had slipped under her back and the other stroked the side of her face gently.

Several minutes had passed before John lifted his head with a groan and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were still dilated but had shrunk compared to the minutes before. He smiled lazily down at her, “That was amazing.” She returned the smile as lazily as he had, “I agree.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, as he glanced back toward their still joined hips, “I should have used protection.”

Cathy frowned, “I don’t normally throw caution to the wind like that. I’m on the shot though and I’ve been tested. I am clean.” She ensured him but he could tell she realized how reckless they had just been. He cautiously braced his weight onto his hands and pushed himself off her body. They both moaned as he slipped out of her.

“I’m clean as well,” John replied back and ran a hand through his hair. He had not expected it to suddenly become awkward. He looked down at the mess between her legs and said, “Let me get you something to clean that up. Would you like to use the shower?”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to me to go?” Cathy asked in response. She could sense John’s nervousness and wondered if he immediately regretted what they had just done. He stopped moving and looked at her in shock, “No! God, no!” He exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you that impression.”

Cathy couldn’t help but smile as his flustered disposition, “I just didn’t want to make you feel like you have to humor me now.”

“I want to humor you,” John quickly said and blushed. He thought that sounded silly. He shook the thought from his head and approached her again and held a hand out to her. She took it without hesitation and allowed him to help her to her feet.

“I’m not sure how well I can stand,” Cathy laughed and braced herself by put her hands on John’s shoulders. He couldn’t help himself as he dipped his head and kissed her quickly. When he pulled back she smiled, he took that as a good sign.

“Perhaps,” John said, “I should help you with that shower.”

“I’d like that very much,” Cathy said warmly.