fic: what you need
what you need, sherlock, sherlock holmes/mary morstan, r, 865 words, characters are not mine.
a/n: porn battle, prompt: mission
She feels sweat trickling between her shoulderblades, it doesn’t disgust her, quite the opposite. She tightens her hand around the gun, waits for the signal even though she didn’t plant to but somehow she thinks John wouldn’t forgive her easily is she would shot his best friend for a second time, so she waits.
Running, someone is running towards her and she hears the whistle, pushes herself from the wall and shots. The man falls face down and lies there without any movement. She had told Sherlock she would need one shot only, it wasn’t that he didn’t believe her but he had given her that smirk along with the benefit of the doubt. Mary wants to wipe out that smirk of him herself and steps closer to him. He’s already inspecting the body, turning it around to reveal a single gunshot to the forehead.
Mary smiles at her handiwork, having a baby didn’t do anything to her skills, not that she doubted that but in between running from a crying infant to heaps of housework, she wondered what had happened to her.
She was happy, yes, she was. She has a loving husband, an incredibly beautiful son and she has Sherlock too, but there were days when it wasn’t enough and today might be one of those.
“Flawless,” Sherlock says and admiration is evident in his voice. Ever since he saw a new person came out of her vagina, he was like this, giving her compliments, telling her things John didn’t always had time to, and it made her stomach turn into knots. She loves John, wants John, but the thoughts come to her, make her imagine feeling a different kind of passion.
Thomas was just three and half months old and she missed killing and running, she missed adrenalin surging through her veins, and Sherlock gave her all of it between midnight and morning feeding. Mary doesn’t want to let go just yet, doesn’t want to go back to being Mary Watson.
It takes one pull, one hand closing around his arm. If he’s surprised he covers it pretty well but she can practically feel the shock once she opens his lips with hers. Mary expects him to protest, to pull away, but even though he doesn’t touch her back, he responds. But touch she does, her hands in his hair, she massages his scalp, slips her hands inside his overcoat and lets it fall to the floor.
It’s too loud in the empty hallway of a London warehouse, but it doesn’t stop her, no Mary is out of control and she loves it, loves the sounds Sherlock makes when she bites his bottom lip, loves how it makes her feel. She’s someone different now, someone she very much tried to forget and couldn’t, and somehow he knew, surprised her in the middle of the night and asked for a backup.
He could have easily taken John, he’s as good shot as she’s, but somehow Sherlock knew that this is exactly what she needed. She briefly wonders if he expected her hands in his pants.
Mary doesn’t get her answer because Sherlock abruptly stops her actions, takes her hand and holds it.
“No,” he says simply and comes closer, raises his free hand she almost doesn’t breathe, just waits for him. Knowing Sherlock made her life less boring, and more entertaining, yes, there were days when she cursed locking away her gun, but the he would do something incredibly sweet like build a baby crib, or take her out to shot a man in his forehead. She wants to be surprised again, wants him to blow her mind with something so much unexpected.
When he opens the button on her pants, she smiles. She was lying to herself, she really didn’t have any clue to what he would do. It was just another thing that made him interesting.
“Let me,” Sherlock continues and his voice has raspy quality that makes her shiver. She shivers again when he slips his hand inside, travels over her belly to her clit. One soft stroke and Mary closes her eyes, lets the wall support her. Soon she feels his other hand on her hip, pushing her pants slightly down. His breath on her head, his fingers spreading inside her underwear and suddenly she’s glad she had enough time to take a shower before she followed him.
Now she feels his fingers on her thighs, teasing her, and she hears her own moans before she feels them coming out of her throat. His touches are almost clinical, touching one place and then the other waiting what kind of reaction he would receive. To Mary, it all feels amazing and she knows she doesn’t need much, once powerful stroke of his palm and she would fall apart. But Sherlock doesn’t want that, he wants to know what she likes, he wants to know what her face does when he swipes her fingers on the spot just too close but not close enough.
Mary thinks it could be a game to him, or simply another experiment. And then he does exactly the right move and she doesn’t think at all.
a/n: porn battle, prompt: mission
She feels sweat trickling between her shoulderblades, it doesn’t disgust her, quite the opposite. She tightens her hand around the gun, waits for the signal even though she didn’t plant to but somehow she thinks John wouldn’t forgive her easily is she would shot his best friend for a second time, so she waits.
Running, someone is running towards her and she hears the whistle, pushes herself from the wall and shots. The man falls face down and lies there without any movement. She had told Sherlock she would need one shot only, it wasn’t that he didn’t believe her but he had given her that smirk along with the benefit of the doubt. Mary wants to wipe out that smirk of him herself and steps closer to him. He’s already inspecting the body, turning it around to reveal a single gunshot to the forehead.
Mary smiles at her handiwork, having a baby didn’t do anything to her skills, not that she doubted that but in between running from a crying infant to heaps of housework, she wondered what had happened to her.
She was happy, yes, she was. She has a loving husband, an incredibly beautiful son and she has Sherlock too, but there were days when it wasn’t enough and today might be one of those.
“Flawless,” Sherlock says and admiration is evident in his voice. Ever since he saw a new person came out of her vagina, he was like this, giving her compliments, telling her things John didn’t always had time to, and it made her stomach turn into knots. She loves John, wants John, but the thoughts come to her, make her imagine feeling a different kind of passion.
Thomas was just three and half months old and she missed killing and running, she missed adrenalin surging through her veins, and Sherlock gave her all of it between midnight and morning feeding. Mary doesn’t want to let go just yet, doesn’t want to go back to being Mary Watson.
It takes one pull, one hand closing around his arm. If he’s surprised he covers it pretty well but she can practically feel the shock once she opens his lips with hers. Mary expects him to protest, to pull away, but even though he doesn’t touch her back, he responds. But touch she does, her hands in his hair, she massages his scalp, slips her hands inside his overcoat and lets it fall to the floor.
It’s too loud in the empty hallway of a London warehouse, but it doesn’t stop her, no Mary is out of control and she loves it, loves the sounds Sherlock makes when she bites his bottom lip, loves how it makes her feel. She’s someone different now, someone she very much tried to forget and couldn’t, and somehow he knew, surprised her in the middle of the night and asked for a backup.
He could have easily taken John, he’s as good shot as she’s, but somehow Sherlock knew that this is exactly what she needed. She briefly wonders if he expected her hands in his pants.
Mary doesn’t get her answer because Sherlock abruptly stops her actions, takes her hand and holds it.
“No,” he says simply and comes closer, raises his free hand she almost doesn’t breathe, just waits for him. Knowing Sherlock made her life less boring, and more entertaining, yes, there were days when she cursed locking away her gun, but the he would do something incredibly sweet like build a baby crib, or take her out to shot a man in his forehead. She wants to be surprised again, wants him to blow her mind with something so much unexpected.
When he opens the button on her pants, she smiles. She was lying to herself, she really didn’t have any clue to what he would do. It was just another thing that made him interesting.
“Let me,” Sherlock continues and his voice has raspy quality that makes her shiver. She shivers again when he slips his hand inside, travels over her belly to her clit. One soft stroke and Mary closes her eyes, lets the wall support her. Soon she feels his other hand on her hip, pushing her pants slightly down. His breath on her head, his fingers spreading inside her underwear and suddenly she’s glad she had enough time to take a shower before she followed him.
Now she feels his fingers on her thighs, teasing her, and she hears her own moans before she feels them coming out of her throat. His touches are almost clinical, touching one place and then the other waiting what kind of reaction he would receive. To Mary, it all feels amazing and she knows she doesn’t need much, once powerful stroke of his palm and she would fall apart. But Sherlock doesn’t want that, he wants to know what she likes, he wants to know what her face does when he swipes her fingers on the spot just too close but not close enough.
Mary thinks it could be a game to him, or simply another experiment. And then he does exactly the right move and she doesn’t think at all.