Fic: Femme fatale (Sherlock)
Title: Femme fatale
Author: karlamartinova
Pairing: Sherlock/girl!John
Genre: PWP (porn with plot)
Rating: NC 17 (for sex obviously)
Beta: mygoldenbuttons THANK YOU!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, just playing!
AN: So this idea came from a Persil commercial, yeah, my mind works strangely.
Summary: Sherlock needs a femme fatale, so Joan becomes one.
....
“For the record and for you Lestrade, so you have enough evidence to frame me later. I hate you, Sherlock!” Joan said into the earpiece imagining the grinning faces of those two men. She just knew they were enjoying it, as they were choosing the dress and making too many comments about the hair and make-up.
Joan just changed her mind, she hated both of them.
She knew she should really hate Lewis Poulain or Charlotte Redstock or every single person that pulled Sherlock to this particular case. It wasn’t anything interesting, no murder behind closed doors or serial killer with enough puzzles to keep Sherlock occupied.
It was Mrs. Hudson’s bingo partner Charlotte, whose son was framed post mortem with a rape of fifteen year old girl. She had been devastated, it wasn’t enough that her son was dead but they had to make this terrible accusation and leave the real attacker running on the streets.
Mrs. Hudson begged but only when it was revealed that Mrs. Redstock was in fact that Mrs. Redstock, who sews the best and most expensive shirts in London, was it decided.
Finding the real rapist had taken Sherlock precisely 20 hours. He never needed much sleep.
Lewis Poilain was the owner of one of the posh clubs in London. Theatre was big and noisy and getting there means that you’re either someone famous or someone with good connections. Clara had been daughter of an MP; young Redstock simply had a famous name.
Just a quick meet up with Poulain, left Sherlock with the perfect idea of how to frame him. He enjoyed beauty, walked around the city with two young things on his elbows and when they refused to give him their time, he simply took it. Joan felt sick just looking at him.
But then Sherlock came up with the idea. They need bait; someone who would catch his attention and prove his true nature. It looked easy and Joan just nodded and asked “what?” when every single person in the room looked at her.
“No,” she had said at once and cursed Donovan for having a cold at exactly this time. But she had known she didn’t have a chance. Sherlock swiped her with a long look, a look that made her guts move around in her body and then took her shopping.
“You need to look stunning but not like a slut. You hold yourself high, that should please him. He likes self-confident women. He likes to break them,” Sherlock had talked while moving around the shop, like shopping for women’s clothes was a daily occurrence for him.
Joan felt out of place. Last time she wore a dress, it was Harry’s wedding. She wasn’t even sure what did she do with the dress after.
Sherlock had pulled a dress of the rack and shoved it into her hands. It was red and satin and too short. Joan was pretty pleased with his taste, just not the length.
“Perhaps something longer?” she had asked, looking at herself in the mirror. The dress reached above her knees to the length she would need to shave more than just her shins. Joan already didn’t feel comfortable.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re too short to wear something below you knees, it will only make you shorter and it will just highlight your boyish figure. Go try it,” he had simply dismissed her words and pushed her toward the changing room. Joan was too tired to argue, so she had tried the dress and yes, Sherlock was again right. It suited her perfectly but she would really prefer something longer.
When she had come out he was studying her for a long moment before speaking. “It seems I have more talents I was aware of.” He looked smug and Joan hit him in the arm. But it didn’t help her; it didn’t save her from visiting a hair stylist who cut her hair which reached almost to her shoulders to more modern version. She had even dyed it and now when Joan looked into her mirror, she was actually blonde.
Lestrade whistled when she came into the monitoring car that evening. Joan shot him a dead glare.
It all had lead to this very moment. The moment Joan will shoot a flirty smile at the bodyguard and he will let her in because her name is on the list.
The club was absolutely full and Joan could smell the aftershaves and perfumes of every single person. She moved to the bar and ordered something trendy with sex in the name, drank it in three swift motions and moved to the dancing crowd.
“More sexy, Joan. You’re there to seduce not to teach them about the dangers of alcohol,” Sherlock said into her ear and she gripped her fists and put more movements in her hips. Shook her head and put her hand on her hip before she started to move.
Joan didn’t feel comfortable, the music was too loud, the rhythm was quite difficult to catch and she just didn’t fit in the twenty-something crowd. This was a bad idea, a stupid one. She is a doctor, a soldier, not an actress. She wanted to get out.
“For God’s sake,” Sherlock shrieked in her ear and Joan could hear some shuffling.
“What happened?” she asked, trying to make her words seem like she is humming to the beat. After a while she could hear more movement and then came Lestrade´s voice.
“Sherlock is out. Sorry, Joan, I’m not sure what he wants to do,” he sounded apologetic, maybe he finally realized too what a bad idea this was.
Joan sighed, looked around, and spotted Poulain in the VIP lounge under the DJs stand. He was busy fondling the breast of his companion, a young girl, dark hair, dark skin and probably 15 years younger than Joan. This wouldn’t be working she finally decided and moved to get out. A strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“What do you think you are doing?” she turned to whoever dared to touch her and came face to face with Sherlock. He was standing near her, a bit too close for her liking. His coat was gone; the top three buttons of his shirt were opened.
Sherlock spun her around, caught her by her waist and whispered into her ear. “Making a show, just let me lead you,” his voice sent a shrill of excitement all over her body and Joan tried to blame the drink. She drank it too quickly obviously.
Joan tried to fight him, to stop it and just get out of there but he held her in a very strong grip, moved his hand to her hips and started to move.
Their bodies were suddenly in very tight contact. Joan felt his crotch moving against her arse. He had obviously bent a little to fit her, it felt fantastic. His movements were slow at first but after a while, Joan could tell their bodies were matching the rhythm and she wanted to tease him, to ask him if he was listening to drums in his free time. But he didn’t let her, Sherlock wouldn’t allow her to change their position and after a while Joan just gave up trying and let him move them how he pleased.
Then she closed her eyes, let the music flow through her veins. His hands started to move more bravely, along her stomach, down to her thighs. Sherlock caressed and touched and Joan opened her eyes in shock when she felt his lips brush her neck. She felt arousal going through her body as she felt his cock against her back.
It felt exhilarating. Joan didn’t believe herself to be attractive; she was always just the grey mouse, the invisible one. Yes, she had boyfriends, some girlfriends too, she enjoyed casual sex but she never felt as attractive as now with Sherlock’s erection pressed against her body. He had tried to teach her to feel this way for the whole week in his own strange way but Joan had just needed to feel wanted: she did now.
She snaked her hand behind her and palmed Sherlock’s erection. He gasped loudly in her ear and Joan smirked. She felt powerful; she didn’t want this feeling to stop.
“Let me go. Wait for me with Lestrade at the back door, bring a camera,” she whispered to him and loosened her body from his.
Joan didn’t look back, didn’t look at how dishevelled Sherlock looked, she had quite a good idea about the picture.
She moved to the stairs before she changed mind and already could feel Poulain’s look following her. So Sherlock’s plan worked, they stirred some attention. Good, she thought and stepped over the closed railings that lead to the VIP lounge. The bodyguards didn’t stop her; Poulain already let them know she was invited.
“Nice place,” she commented when she dropped on the place previously occupied by the black beauty. The girl was currently leaving through the back door and shot Joan deadly glares; she ignored her and leant over to Poulain.
“You won’t invite me for a drink?”
He immediately motioned toward to bartender who started to prepare the drink she had before. So he had noticed her before after all.
“To what I owe this pleasure of having you here?” he asked and moved closer to Joan. His hand immediately came to rest on her knee and she moved back down onto the couch. The look he sent her made her shiver.
“I heard a girl can get some excitement here. I was just wondering if you are the right person to ask,” she asked and moved her leg revealing absolutely nothing but his look automatically ended on them. He was easy, too easy and Joan felt stupid for her behaviour. She could have done this without Sherlock and yet, their dancing still left excitement in her belly.
“The most right one,” Poulain grinned revealing a set of white teeth. “Maybe I can show you around?” he offered and stood up, stretching his hand to hers. She accepted and let him pull her up.
He took her down the stairs, to his office and Joan was surprised he didn’t attempt anything. It was up to her then. On their way back, she stopped him near the back door and pulled him towards her.
“Too loud, we need a more quite place, don’t you think?” Joan asked and led him out.
Once outside, Poulain didn’t waste any time and pushed her against the wall forcing his knee between her legs. She didn’t respond, just tried to hold him at bay since she didn’t notice Lestrade coming from behind the wall. He nodded to her and Joan started to defend herself from him, produced a very well acted crying. He didn’t stop, exactly like they had predicted and some nameless police man tore him from her.
“You bitch,” Poulain yelled but Joan stayed near the wall pretending shaking. When he disappeared behind the wall Joan took the coat Lestrade offered to her.
“You were good, very good,” he said smirking and Joan felt his gaze along her body. She hid herself into the coat, she had enough of it for today and there was only one set of eyes she would like to feel on her body.
“Thanks,” she said and turned to leave just to spot Sherlock behind her. Joan didn’t ask where he was till now and he didn’t offer the answer himself, instead he turned to the detective.
“You should bring the girl to identify him,” he said and turned to leave, Joan bid her goodbyes and followed him.
The cab ride was unusually quiet and Joan wondered if this changed something. She always knew she was attracted to Sherlock, he was handsome and brilliant and her best friend. Wanting to have sex with him wasn’t anything new. But he seemed troubled, like letting her know about his desire broke some kind of code Joan wouldn’t be ever able to understand.
But there was another question. Wanting to have sex with Sherlock was one things but actually doing it another. Did she have enough guts to take what she wanted? When she looked back onto events of this night, she found the answer.
Sherlock still didn’t speak when they entered the flat, just hung his coat and turned to leave for his room. It was Joan who stopped him, her hand firm on his shoulder.
“I think we should talk,” she said and he laughed, turning to her.
“I’m almost sure that you want to do things other than talking,” he said with such a certainty that Joan felt herself blush all over her body. Was she really so blunt about it? But he didn’t run away, he stayed in the same spot and looked at her from his height. Their height different wasn’t as much as usual due to her heeled shoes but he was still too damn tall.
His words sounded like challenge to Joan. She had already let herself be challenged today, why not again?
“And what would that be?” she pronounced every word slowly moving to him. The coat fell from her shoulders and Joan stepped from her shoes.
Sherlock looked positively scared and she smirked. She decided to be blunt about it. “Are you really so opposed to that idea, Sherlock?” she asked and stared at his face trying to read any kind of reaction. He gasped and stepped back till he came into contact with the hard wood of their front door.
“I’m not sure how could it influence our relationship,” he sounded raspy, making his voice even sexier. Joan felt her knees go weak. She knew he was right, this could end very badly. Messing things with feelings and sex was never a good idea but Joan wasn’t sure she could stop even if she wanted to.
“So we’ll see,” she said and decided for both of them. Her hand came around his neck and Joan pushed their mouths together. It was like someone whispered “finally” into the empty room and she wasn’t sure if it wasn’t her. But it could as well been Sherlock who despite his doubts was kissing her like she was the biggest mystery of his life.
He let his hand come around her waist, pulled her to him but didn’t step away from the door. Sherlock let her lead and Joan thrilled at how much trust he was putting into her. She didn’t intend to let him down. Her hands wandered under his shirt as far as she could without unbuttoning it. Damn his tight shirts, even though she usually did like them.
“Bedroom,” Sherlock whispered when she planted one soft kiss under his chin.
Joan nodded and pulled him by his hand leading him to her room. She knew where there were condoms and she was sure they would need them any minute. Sherlock followed her; an impressive erection was already showing under his tight trousers.
“Everything will be okay,” she said before she pushed him on the mattress and he nodded closing his eyes briefly. Joan took the time to observe him. From his touches she could tell he did have some experience even though she never seen him flirt with any woman or man. Joan suspected that Sherlock had more experiences with casual sex, that he didn’t mix sex with feeling and yes, Joan was sure that here feelings were very much involved.
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her, uncertainty still in them but he stretched his palm out and she took it. He pulled and Joan fell on him, their bodies touching full length but it still wasn’t enough. They still could be closer, so much closer.
She leaned over him and opened the first drawer taking a small package out of it.
Sherlock smirked at her. “Always prepared, I see, Dr. Watson,” his voice was even deeper and the way he said her name almost brought her on the edge.
“I see that you are too,” she spoke seductively before she landed on his lap, moving along his erection.
Sherlock’s eyes rolled into his head.
Joan craved what she could do to him, how much she could reduce his speech just by touches, she never felt so powerful and self-confident in her life. She wasn’t able to compare this to anything she ever experienced, the usual experiments at college, the desperate sliding of two bodies against each other when they survived another day in the war zone. That all faded into dust with one look from Sherlock.
“Beautiful,” he whispered and this one word meant so much more coming out of his mouth.
Joan leant to him, kissed him passionately only to move back to quickly remove her knickers. She straddled him again and didn’t waste more time, she wanted it and for now Sherlock wanted it too. She didn’t plan on waiting till he changed his mind.
The sound of the zipper sounded almost as obscene as the opening of the plastic package. Joan rolled the condom on him and raised herself above him and looked at Sherlock once more before sinking in. They both stilled at the contact, let their body to get used to the sensation.
But then he reached for Joan’s hand and that smirk was back on, it was a green light and she started to move, slowly at first. Sherlock still held her hand in his but as soon as she started to move more forcefully, the bed squeaking under them and making soft thumping noises against the wall, he needed more of her.
He pulled her to him, bit at her lower lip winding his hands behind her to pull at the strings holding the dress on her shoulders. They didn’t have a chance and Sherlock pulled the dress lower, uncovering her breasts. No bra, he forbade her to wear one on purpose. He was even more thankful for it now.
Joan could feel him stare at her. He still didn’t lose his sense of control and she wanted to change that, raised herself and sunk back down, repeating it again and again and after a while she could see him thrusting up to her, meeting her halfway.
The headboard thumped against the wall loudly and just before the world shattered behind her eyes, Joan hoped that today was one of the Mrs. Hudson’s bingo nights.
...
In the morning Joan noticed two things. The place next to her was empty and she felt very nice soreness between her legs. If someone could bring her tea and make her bladder stop bothering her, the world would be perfect.
But nature didn’t let her push it away and she crawled from the bed collecting her robe from the floor.
Sherlock was in the kitchen when she descended the stairs. He was already fully dressed and to her shock she noticed he was cooking.
“I must have been very good,” she exclaimed when she came closer and Sherlock turned from the stove, a spatula in his hand.
“Actually, we both were. You don’t think mutual climax can be achieved just with one side present, do you?” He sounded absolutely serious and Joan had to laugh. Even with apron and spatula, Sherlock was still the same.
Joan moved around him and took a tea bag from the counter and sat at the table waiting for him to pour her water, this stereotype was too comfortable and she hoped that the previous night wouldn’t change it.
“Joan, yesterday you were excellent, more than that and I was thinking that we might use it in our advantage,” Sherlock said and sat opposite her.
Joan’s head shot up. “What are you proposing?”
He looked at her sheepishly and a she had a feeling that this morning’s show might not be a result of a night full of fantastic sex. No one could blame her for being suspicious.
“We could use you newly found womanly powers, we could get to places...Joan!” Sherlock yelled at her disappearing form. She jumped from the table at the words ‘womanly powers’. “NO!” she yelled back but still could hear him talking about security guards, police officers, and the new worker at Bart’s. But Joan tuned him out and instead locked herself in the bathroom.
And when she looked into the mirror, she really could say that the blond suited her.
Author: karlamartinova
Pairing: Sherlock/girl!John
Genre: PWP (porn with plot)
Rating: NC 17 (for sex obviously)
Beta: mygoldenbuttons THANK YOU!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, just playing!
AN: So this idea came from a Persil commercial, yeah, my mind works strangely.
Summary: Sherlock needs a femme fatale, so Joan becomes one.
....
“For the record and for you Lestrade, so you have enough evidence to frame me later. I hate you, Sherlock!” Joan said into the earpiece imagining the grinning faces of those two men. She just knew they were enjoying it, as they were choosing the dress and making too many comments about the hair and make-up.
Joan just changed her mind, she hated both of them.
She knew she should really hate Lewis Poulain or Charlotte Redstock or every single person that pulled Sherlock to this particular case. It wasn’t anything interesting, no murder behind closed doors or serial killer with enough puzzles to keep Sherlock occupied.
It was Mrs. Hudson’s bingo partner Charlotte, whose son was framed post mortem with a rape of fifteen year old girl. She had been devastated, it wasn’t enough that her son was dead but they had to make this terrible accusation and leave the real attacker running on the streets.
Mrs. Hudson begged but only when it was revealed that Mrs. Redstock was in fact that Mrs. Redstock, who sews the best and most expensive shirts in London, was it decided.
Finding the real rapist had taken Sherlock precisely 20 hours. He never needed much sleep.
Lewis Poilain was the owner of one of the posh clubs in London. Theatre was big and noisy and getting there means that you’re either someone famous or someone with good connections. Clara had been daughter of an MP; young Redstock simply had a famous name.
Just a quick meet up with Poulain, left Sherlock with the perfect idea of how to frame him. He enjoyed beauty, walked around the city with two young things on his elbows and when they refused to give him their time, he simply took it. Joan felt sick just looking at him.
But then Sherlock came up with the idea. They need bait; someone who would catch his attention and prove his true nature. It looked easy and Joan just nodded and asked “what?” when every single person in the room looked at her.
“No,” she had said at once and cursed Donovan for having a cold at exactly this time. But she had known she didn’t have a chance. Sherlock swiped her with a long look, a look that made her guts move around in her body and then took her shopping.
“You need to look stunning but not like a slut. You hold yourself high, that should please him. He likes self-confident women. He likes to break them,” Sherlock had talked while moving around the shop, like shopping for women’s clothes was a daily occurrence for him.
Joan felt out of place. Last time she wore a dress, it was Harry’s wedding. She wasn’t even sure what did she do with the dress after.
Sherlock had pulled a dress of the rack and shoved it into her hands. It was red and satin and too short. Joan was pretty pleased with his taste, just not the length.
“Perhaps something longer?” she had asked, looking at herself in the mirror. The dress reached above her knees to the length she would need to shave more than just her shins. Joan already didn’t feel comfortable.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re too short to wear something below you knees, it will only make you shorter and it will just highlight your boyish figure. Go try it,” he had simply dismissed her words and pushed her toward the changing room. Joan was too tired to argue, so she had tried the dress and yes, Sherlock was again right. It suited her perfectly but she would really prefer something longer.
When she had come out he was studying her for a long moment before speaking. “It seems I have more talents I was aware of.” He looked smug and Joan hit him in the arm. But it didn’t help her; it didn’t save her from visiting a hair stylist who cut her hair which reached almost to her shoulders to more modern version. She had even dyed it and now when Joan looked into her mirror, she was actually blonde.
Lestrade whistled when she came into the monitoring car that evening. Joan shot him a dead glare.
It all had lead to this very moment. The moment Joan will shoot a flirty smile at the bodyguard and he will let her in because her name is on the list.
The club was absolutely full and Joan could smell the aftershaves and perfumes of every single person. She moved to the bar and ordered something trendy with sex in the name, drank it in three swift motions and moved to the dancing crowd.
“More sexy, Joan. You’re there to seduce not to teach them about the dangers of alcohol,” Sherlock said into her ear and she gripped her fists and put more movements in her hips. Shook her head and put her hand on her hip before she started to move.
Joan didn’t feel comfortable, the music was too loud, the rhythm was quite difficult to catch and she just didn’t fit in the twenty-something crowd. This was a bad idea, a stupid one. She is a doctor, a soldier, not an actress. She wanted to get out.
“For God’s sake,” Sherlock shrieked in her ear and Joan could hear some shuffling.
“What happened?” she asked, trying to make her words seem like she is humming to the beat. After a while she could hear more movement and then came Lestrade´s voice.
“Sherlock is out. Sorry, Joan, I’m not sure what he wants to do,” he sounded apologetic, maybe he finally realized too what a bad idea this was.
Joan sighed, looked around, and spotted Poulain in the VIP lounge under the DJs stand. He was busy fondling the breast of his companion, a young girl, dark hair, dark skin and probably 15 years younger than Joan. This wouldn’t be working she finally decided and moved to get out. A strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“What do you think you are doing?” she turned to whoever dared to touch her and came face to face with Sherlock. He was standing near her, a bit too close for her liking. His coat was gone; the top three buttons of his shirt were opened.
Sherlock spun her around, caught her by her waist and whispered into her ear. “Making a show, just let me lead you,” his voice sent a shrill of excitement all over her body and Joan tried to blame the drink. She drank it too quickly obviously.
Joan tried to fight him, to stop it and just get out of there but he held her in a very strong grip, moved his hand to her hips and started to move.
Their bodies were suddenly in very tight contact. Joan felt his crotch moving against her arse. He had obviously bent a little to fit her, it felt fantastic. His movements were slow at first but after a while, Joan could tell their bodies were matching the rhythm and she wanted to tease him, to ask him if he was listening to drums in his free time. But he didn’t let her, Sherlock wouldn’t allow her to change their position and after a while Joan just gave up trying and let him move them how he pleased.
Then she closed her eyes, let the music flow through her veins. His hands started to move more bravely, along her stomach, down to her thighs. Sherlock caressed and touched and Joan opened her eyes in shock when she felt his lips brush her neck. She felt arousal going through her body as she felt his cock against her back.
It felt exhilarating. Joan didn’t believe herself to be attractive; she was always just the grey mouse, the invisible one. Yes, she had boyfriends, some girlfriends too, she enjoyed casual sex but she never felt as attractive as now with Sherlock’s erection pressed against her body. He had tried to teach her to feel this way for the whole week in his own strange way but Joan had just needed to feel wanted: she did now.
She snaked her hand behind her and palmed Sherlock’s erection. He gasped loudly in her ear and Joan smirked. She felt powerful; she didn’t want this feeling to stop.
“Let me go. Wait for me with Lestrade at the back door, bring a camera,” she whispered to him and loosened her body from his.
Joan didn’t look back, didn’t look at how dishevelled Sherlock looked, she had quite a good idea about the picture.
She moved to the stairs before she changed mind and already could feel Poulain’s look following her. So Sherlock’s plan worked, they stirred some attention. Good, she thought and stepped over the closed railings that lead to the VIP lounge. The bodyguards didn’t stop her; Poulain already let them know she was invited.
“Nice place,” she commented when she dropped on the place previously occupied by the black beauty. The girl was currently leaving through the back door and shot Joan deadly glares; she ignored her and leant over to Poulain.
“You won’t invite me for a drink?”
He immediately motioned toward to bartender who started to prepare the drink she had before. So he had noticed her before after all.
“To what I owe this pleasure of having you here?” he asked and moved closer to Joan. His hand immediately came to rest on her knee and she moved back down onto the couch. The look he sent her made her shiver.
“I heard a girl can get some excitement here. I was just wondering if you are the right person to ask,” she asked and moved her leg revealing absolutely nothing but his look automatically ended on them. He was easy, too easy and Joan felt stupid for her behaviour. She could have done this without Sherlock and yet, their dancing still left excitement in her belly.
“The most right one,” Poulain grinned revealing a set of white teeth. “Maybe I can show you around?” he offered and stood up, stretching his hand to hers. She accepted and let him pull her up.
He took her down the stairs, to his office and Joan was surprised he didn’t attempt anything. It was up to her then. On their way back, she stopped him near the back door and pulled him towards her.
“Too loud, we need a more quite place, don’t you think?” Joan asked and led him out.
Once outside, Poulain didn’t waste any time and pushed her against the wall forcing his knee between her legs. She didn’t respond, just tried to hold him at bay since she didn’t notice Lestrade coming from behind the wall. He nodded to her and Joan started to defend herself from him, produced a very well acted crying. He didn’t stop, exactly like they had predicted and some nameless police man tore him from her.
“You bitch,” Poulain yelled but Joan stayed near the wall pretending shaking. When he disappeared behind the wall Joan took the coat Lestrade offered to her.
“You were good, very good,” he said smirking and Joan felt his gaze along her body. She hid herself into the coat, she had enough of it for today and there was only one set of eyes she would like to feel on her body.
“Thanks,” she said and turned to leave just to spot Sherlock behind her. Joan didn’t ask where he was till now and he didn’t offer the answer himself, instead he turned to the detective.
“You should bring the girl to identify him,” he said and turned to leave, Joan bid her goodbyes and followed him.
The cab ride was unusually quiet and Joan wondered if this changed something. She always knew she was attracted to Sherlock, he was handsome and brilliant and her best friend. Wanting to have sex with him wasn’t anything new. But he seemed troubled, like letting her know about his desire broke some kind of code Joan wouldn’t be ever able to understand.
But there was another question. Wanting to have sex with Sherlock was one things but actually doing it another. Did she have enough guts to take what she wanted? When she looked back onto events of this night, she found the answer.
Sherlock still didn’t speak when they entered the flat, just hung his coat and turned to leave for his room. It was Joan who stopped him, her hand firm on his shoulder.
“I think we should talk,” she said and he laughed, turning to her.
“I’m almost sure that you want to do things other than talking,” he said with such a certainty that Joan felt herself blush all over her body. Was she really so blunt about it? But he didn’t run away, he stayed in the same spot and looked at her from his height. Their height different wasn’t as much as usual due to her heeled shoes but he was still too damn tall.
His words sounded like challenge to Joan. She had already let herself be challenged today, why not again?
“And what would that be?” she pronounced every word slowly moving to him. The coat fell from her shoulders and Joan stepped from her shoes.
Sherlock looked positively scared and she smirked. She decided to be blunt about it. “Are you really so opposed to that idea, Sherlock?” she asked and stared at his face trying to read any kind of reaction. He gasped and stepped back till he came into contact with the hard wood of their front door.
“I’m not sure how could it influence our relationship,” he sounded raspy, making his voice even sexier. Joan felt her knees go weak. She knew he was right, this could end very badly. Messing things with feelings and sex was never a good idea but Joan wasn’t sure she could stop even if she wanted to.
“So we’ll see,” she said and decided for both of them. Her hand came around his neck and Joan pushed their mouths together. It was like someone whispered “finally” into the empty room and she wasn’t sure if it wasn’t her. But it could as well been Sherlock who despite his doubts was kissing her like she was the biggest mystery of his life.
He let his hand come around her waist, pulled her to him but didn’t step away from the door. Sherlock let her lead and Joan thrilled at how much trust he was putting into her. She didn’t intend to let him down. Her hands wandered under his shirt as far as she could without unbuttoning it. Damn his tight shirts, even though she usually did like them.
“Bedroom,” Sherlock whispered when she planted one soft kiss under his chin.
Joan nodded and pulled him by his hand leading him to her room. She knew where there were condoms and she was sure they would need them any minute. Sherlock followed her; an impressive erection was already showing under his tight trousers.
“Everything will be okay,” she said before she pushed him on the mattress and he nodded closing his eyes briefly. Joan took the time to observe him. From his touches she could tell he did have some experience even though she never seen him flirt with any woman or man. Joan suspected that Sherlock had more experiences with casual sex, that he didn’t mix sex with feeling and yes, Joan was sure that here feelings were very much involved.
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her, uncertainty still in them but he stretched his palm out and she took it. He pulled and Joan fell on him, their bodies touching full length but it still wasn’t enough. They still could be closer, so much closer.
She leaned over him and opened the first drawer taking a small package out of it.
Sherlock smirked at her. “Always prepared, I see, Dr. Watson,” his voice was even deeper and the way he said her name almost brought her on the edge.
“I see that you are too,” she spoke seductively before she landed on his lap, moving along his erection.
Sherlock’s eyes rolled into his head.
Joan craved what she could do to him, how much she could reduce his speech just by touches, she never felt so powerful and self-confident in her life. She wasn’t able to compare this to anything she ever experienced, the usual experiments at college, the desperate sliding of two bodies against each other when they survived another day in the war zone. That all faded into dust with one look from Sherlock.
“Beautiful,” he whispered and this one word meant so much more coming out of his mouth.
Joan leant to him, kissed him passionately only to move back to quickly remove her knickers. She straddled him again and didn’t waste more time, she wanted it and for now Sherlock wanted it too. She didn’t plan on waiting till he changed his mind.
The sound of the zipper sounded almost as obscene as the opening of the plastic package. Joan rolled the condom on him and raised herself above him and looked at Sherlock once more before sinking in. They both stilled at the contact, let their body to get used to the sensation.
But then he reached for Joan’s hand and that smirk was back on, it was a green light and she started to move, slowly at first. Sherlock still held her hand in his but as soon as she started to move more forcefully, the bed squeaking under them and making soft thumping noises against the wall, he needed more of her.
He pulled her to him, bit at her lower lip winding his hands behind her to pull at the strings holding the dress on her shoulders. They didn’t have a chance and Sherlock pulled the dress lower, uncovering her breasts. No bra, he forbade her to wear one on purpose. He was even more thankful for it now.
Joan could feel him stare at her. He still didn’t lose his sense of control and she wanted to change that, raised herself and sunk back down, repeating it again and again and after a while she could see him thrusting up to her, meeting her halfway.
The headboard thumped against the wall loudly and just before the world shattered behind her eyes, Joan hoped that today was one of the Mrs. Hudson’s bingo nights.
...
In the morning Joan noticed two things. The place next to her was empty and she felt very nice soreness between her legs. If someone could bring her tea and make her bladder stop bothering her, the world would be perfect.
But nature didn’t let her push it away and she crawled from the bed collecting her robe from the floor.
Sherlock was in the kitchen when she descended the stairs. He was already fully dressed and to her shock she noticed he was cooking.
“I must have been very good,” she exclaimed when she came closer and Sherlock turned from the stove, a spatula in his hand.
“Actually, we both were. You don’t think mutual climax can be achieved just with one side present, do you?” He sounded absolutely serious and Joan had to laugh. Even with apron and spatula, Sherlock was still the same.
Joan moved around him and took a tea bag from the counter and sat at the table waiting for him to pour her water, this stereotype was too comfortable and she hoped that the previous night wouldn’t change it.
“Joan, yesterday you were excellent, more than that and I was thinking that we might use it in our advantage,” Sherlock said and sat opposite her.
Joan’s head shot up. “What are you proposing?”
He looked at her sheepishly and a she had a feeling that this morning’s show might not be a result of a night full of fantastic sex. No one could blame her for being suspicious.
“We could use you newly found womanly powers, we could get to places...Joan!” Sherlock yelled at her disappearing form. She jumped from the table at the words ‘womanly powers’. “NO!” she yelled back but still could hear him talking about security guards, police officers, and the new worker at Bart’s. But Joan tuned him out and instead locked herself in the bathroom.
And when she looked into the mirror, she really could say that the blond suited her.