She's A What?! (2/2)
People tended to forget that the petite woman with the cozy jumpers had in fact served in Afghanistan and knew how to defend herself. Sherlock clearly hadn't taken that fact into account when he propositioned Jane in the worst way possible. As he reached for the blankets covering her rather unremarkable blue pajamas, she reacted. Jane pushed Sherlock off the bed, quickly slipped out from under the blankets and locked herself in her bathroom.
"I knew you were going to pull something mad like this! I bloody knew it!" she shouted at the door, knowing full well he could hear her. "And mentioning my age, Sherlock? Really? How in the hell would rubbing in the fact that I'm spitting distance from forty make me want to shag you?"
"I don't recall that being the activity I suggested," he replied. He sounded far too composed for a man who'd just been launched off a bed. "And you did say I could treat you however I liked because you are mature enough to handle it."
"Did I? Oh, right." Damn, she had said that. Who knew it would go so badly wrong? "I overestimated my ability to tolerate your experiments. Any sexual tests you want to perform will absolutely not involve my person. Are we clear?"
"Dull." The low, lazy response had been spoken directly into Jane's ear. She shrieked (oh God she was a soldier, how embarrassing) and turned around to face Sherlock. Her eyes darted to the open door on the other side of the room. Oh, right. There were two doors to this bathroom. Well done.
"Don't even think about it," Jane commanded, slapping both hands onto Sherlock's chest as he advanced on her.
"It's far too late for that," he informed her. He put his hands on her hips and practically hauled her against his body. She couldn't keep her arms bent uncomfortably between them so she shifted, meaning to get a grip on his shoulders to shove him away. Instead her fingers tightened, clinging as Sherlock slid his hands under her t-shirt and felt the skin on her bare back. The length of his damn fingers was so fucking wrong. She whimpered as he worked the sensitive pads of his fingers along her spine, memorizing the feel and her reactions to it.
"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," she murmured even though she'd pretty much given up fighting him. Jane was far too busy wondering at the feel of him pressed so close and vulnerable to her inquisitive hands. "I need a shower and breakfast. This... this isn't how I start the day." His hands went low, past the waist of her pants, and cupped her arse. "Sherlock!"
"You're very sensitive," he remarked casually. "Given that I hardly think this will take more than twenty minutes of your time." Jane stared at him dumbly. Had he just given her a time estimate for the first orgasm of her life? Oh, for fuck's sake. Jane gripped his hands and wrenched them off her body.
"No. No, absolutely not. Nothing of this nature is going to happen before I'm even ready for the day. I am taking a shower so bugger off!" He pouted at her. Bloody pouted! She was, in essence, being groped by a man with the maturity level of an eight year old. "Out!" He let out a huff of breath and swept out of the bathroom. She gave a little sigh of relief. Jane hadn't been sure that that would work.
In fact, it probably hadn't. The second she got out of the shower Sherlock would undoubtedly pounce again.
Pouncing Sherlock.
Oh, she needed a cup of tea.
Jane turned the knob to blazing hot then stepped naked under the water. It burned, scalding her skin. She winced and swore but didn't reduce the temperature until she was sure that the pain had effectively killed her arousal. With that accomplished she carried on with her normal shower routines. Jane had only just finished washing conditioner out of her hair, which was always her final task, when she heard the door creak open. She didn't bother wondering how he'd gotten past the lock. He probably picked it.
"Sherlock, I am going to beat you to death with this loofah if you don't get out of here," she threatened from behind the, thankfully not transparent, shower curtain.
"A loofah would make a very inefficient murder weapon." Jane heard him talking but she didn't get any indication that he was leaving. She scowled. "Your showers are on average fifteen minutes long. In approximately thirty seconds you will be finished." Jane pulled the curtain back slightly so she could look at Sherlock.
"You've timed my showers?" The consulting detective didn't respond as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it up on the hook on the door. When his hands fell to his shirt buttons, Jane nearly choked. "What are you doing?"
"You're going to be wet," he pointed out as though that explained everything. She jerked the curtain closed once more and tried to drown herself under the spray of water. It didn't work.
"There are probably a thousand things you could be studying right now. I seriously doubt observing my reactions to oral sex is the most important out of all of them." Surely he'd be more interested in learning how to speak Swahili than... than this.
"This takes precedence, actually." It took Jane a moment to connect the dots but when she did she had to pull the curtain back to look at him again.
"Going down on me is more important than the solar system?" That couldn't be romantic. It wasn't. Was it? Sherlock gave a condescending scoff.
"I would have thought that patently obvious." Jane swallowed hard. She outranked the solar system. That wasn't nothing. In fact, that was really quite something.
"Oh." She turned the water off and the trembling in her limbs had nothing to do with the cold. Sherlock's hand appeared beside her, offering her a towel. Jane quickly snatched it and tucked it securely around her body. "I don't think this is a good idea." Sherlock pulled back the curtain with his typical impatience. He generally wasn't shirtless, though. That was new.
"I know what I'm doing, Jane. I made a thorough study of sex when I was younger. This is just a matter of factoring in a new variable." Sherlock should never be allowed to talk about his 'thorough study of sex' without his shirt. He was lean, muscle stretched tightly over bone. Despite that his chest seemed surprisingly solid and Jane really wanted to run her hands over that light sprinkling of dark hair. She just thanked God he hadn't seen it necessary to remove his trousers. She didn't like to think what she might be reduced to if she saw him naked.
"I wasn't worried about your qualifications. I just don't - SHERLOCK!" The infuriating man had reached forward and picked her up, removing her from the shower and practically dumping her on the tile before him. Out of instinct she covered the mass of scar tissue on her left shoulder. "Don't ever do that again! I'm a person, not a doll - mmmfph!" Sherlock pressed his lips to her mouth. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and she parted her mouth on a gasp. He was so very, very good at kissing. Her eyes closed as he did indecent things to her mouth and his hands pulled her close to his body. She forgot about hiding the scars.
Jane felt as though she were in the middle of an intense fever. Her skin was too hot, especially where it was pressed against Sherlock. She tentatively brought her hands up and ran them over his naked back. It was a completely foreign sensation but it was also addictive. Medical examinations had never been like this. She couldn't remember skin having ever felt this soft and hot and good. Jane's knees weakened when Sherlock's hands went under her towel, kneading the muscles in her arse. She whimpered and thought nothing of it when he lifted her slightly then set her down on the edge of the sink. He parted her legs and sank down between them and that was when she remembered.
She'd never done this. She didn't know if she could do this. It felt good and she trusted him. But all the same... "Sherlock?" Jane couldn't remember the last time she'd sounded so young and uncertain. He looked up at her from his crouch between her legs. Slowly, almost sweetly, he stroked her right thigh before lifting her leg and hooking it over his shoulder. The focus of his eyes was reassuring and she felt a little of her uncertainty ease. Then, like the bastard he was, Sherlock winked. Jane bit back a laugh.
Then she was biting back a moan.
He licked her. Several times, up and down, and painfully slow as if he were analyzing the taste of her arousal. And she was most definitely aroused at this point. Jane also thought she might be in shock. A man was tasting the wetness between her legs. It was strange and impossible. And fucking amazing. She reached behind her and gripped the cool porcelain of the sink. Her left leg was fully extended, keeping her up only by the perseverance of her tiptoes. Jane had most of her weight resting on the sink and Sherlock's shoulder. It was hard not to use the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, grind him against her body. His madly curling hair was enough to drive her around the bend as it glided and stroked along the inside of her thigh.
A surprised shout escaped her mouth before she could catch it when Sherlock slipped the tip of his tongue inside of her. He worked the sensitive nerves there before withdrawing to flick his tongue over her clitoris. "Christ," she whimpered, clutching harder at the sink. She was shaking so hard and it was as if someone had wound her body into a tightly packed coil of burning hot metal. It had to stop soon or she would absolutely go mad. No one could endure this with their sanity intact. God, it almost hurt.
Sherlock took her clitoris into his mouth and sucked. Rational thought deserted her. Jane gripped his silky hair and held him to her. For the very first time, she knew what it was to fall apart at the seams and dive into orgasm. It was like dying. But this time there was no sand, no gunfire, no shouts except her own. She was hot and safe and her senses were so overwhelmed she imagined few deaths would be as spectacular as this.
Jane had been so sure nothing like this would ever happen to her. She'd been certain. She let out a shaky laugh. Jane was very happy to be wrong. Body awake and thrumming with miraculous discovery, a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye before she knew she even wanted to cry.
"Jane." Sherlock's voice deepened with concern as he stood, catching the tear with his fingertip. Jane smiled and threw herself into his arms, locking him against her in a hug. "Jane?"
"Do shut up, Sherlock. I'm trying to enjoy the moment."
He shut up.
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Jane supposed it shouldn't have been so easy to get used to Sherlock Holmes routinely slipping into her bed and testing her erogenous zones. At least half the time they weren't even in her bed. The bathroom made up a good third of their encounters with the rest of the flat serving very well the rest of the time. And there was once in that alley... But she'd promised herself never to think about that. She could never focus properly when she thought about that.
The trouble was that it was all so damnably comfortable. It made so much more sense to go with the flow than to resist the current. They worked cases and watched telly and bickered about dismembered body parts in the kitchen. In between those things were kisses, indecent touching and tongue. It fit so well with their routine. Jane wondered if everyone who'd stared at them knowingly had been right and this really was inevitable. That idea always irritated her. This was far more special than anyone on the outside of 221B would ever understand. Sherlock respected her virginity. He treasured it, as a matter of fact, since it was rather vital to all these experiments. She had never been safer with a man in her life. Wasn't that remarkable?
It never occurred to Jane that she would want to give her virginity to Sherlock until they were a good two months into their new arrangement. She had been waiting patiently for Sherlock and Lestrade to come to an agreement about how to go forward with their newest case when Sally Donovan approached her. Jane never got along with Sally. From the day they first met till now Jane had always gotten the impression that Sally hated her for tagging along with Sherlock. The biting comments helped her figure out why after a few confrontations. Sally found it personally offensive that another woman would fall to the charms of Sherlock the sociopath. It was all a sort of insult to femininity thing for which Jane had very little patience.
That day she was in a particularly bad mood. Probably had a row with Anderson about his wife or something equally petty. Whatever it was, Jane was in the path of the storm. Sally came to a stop beside her, checked to be sure Lestrade was occupied before shooting Jane a dirty look.
"I hope he's good in bed. Otherwise I can't think why you'd be shacked up with a psychopath." Jane flinched. She couldn't help it. She always felt sullied when people speculated about her sex life. Usually no one was there to come to her defense but this time the situation was very different.
"Don't be stupid." Both women jumped when they found Sherlock Holmes's attention focused solely on them. "I've told you repeatedly that I am a high-functioning sociopath and it is painfully obvious that Jane is a virgin. Someone like you should have noticed," he said with such heavy disgust that Jane imagined he would only use with the most spectacularly uninteresting bacteria. It was totally uncalled for but that hardly stopped her from feeling grateful. Sociopath or not, he was attached enough to Jane to defend her.
And to out her.
"She's a what?!" Lestrade sputtered, clearly thrown off. The poor man hadn't been expecting the conversation to take that kind of turn. Jane aimed a glare Sherlock's way.
"Say it again, Sherlock. They didn't hear you in bloody Belgium!"
"That's ridiculous," Sally said and it reminded Jane so much of how Sherlock reacted to the news it was almost spooky. Apparently she wasn't the only one since an actual emotion crossed Sherlock's face. It very closely resembled frustrated rage.
"I have been performing a very close study on the subject and I can assure you that it is not ridiculous."
"Oh my God!"
"You've what?!" Jane didn't hear anything else after Lestrade's second bewildered exclamation as she had made a very quick retreat from New Scotland Yard. It was run or strangle Sherlock in front of the police. However, since he'd just publicly announced that he'd been studying her womanhood to all of the homicide department she doubted they would arrest her. Jane wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. She was never going to be able to look Lestrade or Sally fucking Donovan in the eye again. Why did Sherlock have to be so dense sometimes? Why did he have to go and defend her like she was... was...
Special.
Jane froze in the middle of the pavement. Other pedestrians maneuvered their way around her, grumbling slightly, but she wasn't aware of them. She was too busy being in shock.
Unlike everyone else during the long thirty-six years she'd been alive, Sherlock thought what she had to give mattered. He thought it was special. He appreciated her.
"I think I want to sleep with him," she murmured aloud. An elderly woman walking past gave her an absent smile.
"That's nice, dear." Jane blushed and didn't talk to herself again until she was safely ensconced in 221B.
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After having held onto her virginity for far longer than her peers, Jane thought she would take longer than a week to decide whether or not she really wanted to have sex with her flatmate. It was a big decision. The same temptation she’d always had in regards to finally having sex beckoned. She wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. Sex was not just about the mechanics of penetration. It was far more complicated than that. Jane had never been nervous about a moment’s pain and a little blood. It was the connection that frightened her. To her, sex was surrender and a joining of two souls, temporary but profound. The mystery of that frankly scared the bejesus out of her. But if she did it, finally just did it, she would understand. And nothing conquered fear like knowledge.
Of course, there was the downside. She would be just like everyone else. That made Jane sound so condescending but she'd spent so much time resenting the rest of the sexually active world for treating her like a foregone conclusion. She didn't want to join their ranks and start taking the uniqueness of other people for granted. Then again, her involvement with Sherlock had already guaranteed that no one would look at her like any other bird. She was mental for living with him. To the public eye she would be practically certifiable if she started sleeping with him. It was a trade-off and not an entirely unappealing one. There was also the fact that Sherlock was likely the only man she would ever know who'd truly appreciate what she was giving him. It would be a shame to pass that up.
Jane didn't have a formal plan for seducing Sherlock laid out in her head. She had some vague ideas for waiting until he was asleep but that could take weeks. Maybe after a case when he was on an adrenaline high? He'd been rather enthusiastic in his experiments on her after he solved the last case. That could work.
When she walked in on a sulky pajama-clad Sherlock at the end of an admittedly dull week, Jane didn't immediately realize she was going to jump him. In fact the beginning of their conversation didn't hint at that sort of conclusion at all.
"Should I hide my gun?" she asked lightly, walking past the consulting detective slumped in his chair by the fireplace and into the kitchen for an evening cup of tea. Sherlock only grunted his irritation with the question. It was never a good sign when Sherlock was too moody to talk. He was liable to set his bed on fire or start an ant farm without actually buying the farm part. Jane paused in her search for clean mugs. "Er, Sherlock, is this one of those normal silences or one that means you're about to implode? I can't quite tell." Finally his coolly superior voice drifted into the kitchen.
"I've been reading your blog." Jane chuckled and looked around the corner to smile at Sherlock.
"You must be really bored." He scowled at her. Not a good sign. She gave a small internal sigh. "What did I do this time? I tried to lay off the romanticizing a bit since it irks you."
"You haven't mentioned our experiments." Our experiments. That was a nice way to put it. Almost sounded as if she contributed more than her body and a bit of moaning.
"Well, blast, I knew I was forgetting something," Jane quipped. There was no way he could be serious about it, after all. Even Sherlock wasn't that dense.
"Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't believe it's customary for women to so quickly forget screaming as they climax," Sherlock stated with an edge to his voice that informed Jane that he was, in fact, completely serious. She gaped at him.
"You're not wrong. It's also not customary for them to write a blog about the experience when she knows that not only family but colleagues from work and perfect strangers can read it. Where Jim fucking Moriarty can read it!" Sherlock waved away her last objection as though it bored him.
"If he has not surmised our shift in relationship then he is not intelligent enough to trouble me." Jane bit her lip hard before she gave into the temptation to box Sherlock's ears. "As for the rest I hardly see why it would matter."
"And I hardly see why you want everyone and their aunt to know! This is supposed to stay between us. It's private." He glared at her resentfully.
"Why?"
"You're being ridiculous," Jane decided, turning away and returning to the kitchen. She gripped the kettle as though it had done her wrong, thoroughly irritated. It was such a mind-boggling and stupid conversation. The idea of describing in detail in her blog what happened on the numerous occasions Sherlock got curious about her body was mortifying. A good portion of New Scotland Yard read that blog! Sherlock may have publicly announced that he was making a study of her but she didn't need to make it worse with charming anecdotes about the process.
"Ridiculous?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. Oh, God, he wasn't done. Jane began filling the kettle before glancing at Sherlock who had braced himself in the kitchen doorway and was leaning forward with a textbook dramatic pose. If he didn't look so striking with his curls tossed around his face and eyes blazing, she might have scoffed. "Given the facts the only conclusion I can come to is that you are ashamed to admit that you performed acts of an intimate nature with me. But do forgive me if I am being ridiculous." He flung himself backwards and stalked to the couch where he proceeded to curl up in a defensive ball with his back to her. She had to stare at him for a few moments, mouth agape, for anything to make sense.
Jane switched the water off and abandoned the kettle. There would probably not be an opportunity for tea this evening unless she managed to straighten out this frankly baffling misunderstanding. She cautiously approached the sulking detective then leaned a hip on the arm of the sofa near his head. Staring down at him, she still had no idea why he had taken her discretion so personally. It wasn't like Sherlock to get this way.
"Sherlock, I've never been ashamed of you. Disappointed from time to time but not in relation to what we've been doing recently," she hastened to add. The last thing she needed was to imply he didn't measure up. He was in a huff as it was. "I just don't like people staring at me like - "
"Like you're fucking the local freak," he cut her off and the sofa cushions did nothing to muffle the sharp hurt in his voice.
"Sherlock!"
"Go away," he snapped, curling even tighter into himself. Jane pressed her lips into a thin, determined line.
"I'm not going anywhere." She got on her knees in front of the couch and fisted a hand in his hair. He squirmed uncomfortably as she literally pulled him around to face her. The expression on his face was livid. She didn't pay any attention to that. She just leaned close and spoke. "Listen to me, you spectacularly ignorant genius. No one has ever looked at you like you were just like everyone else because even the blind can see how fantastic you are so you can't understand what it feels like to be me. Since I was a kid people have stared at me with this smug, all-knowing look as though any delusions of individuality I might have were nonsense. They believe I'm like them. I just don't want to give them a reason to think they're right." Sherlock had long ago stopped resisting and Jane took the opportunity to stroke his absurdly soft hair.
"You realize, of course, that they will think they're right anyway," he pointed out logically. It wasn't a happy truth but Jane was glad the hurt in his voice was gone. She shrugged, toying gently with his curls. "They never will be." Jane blinked quickly before meeting his eyes.
"What?"
"You have never in your existence been like the rest of the world," Sherlock told her with unwavering certainty. He continued to stare and Jane could hear the words he did not say aloud.
You have always been like me.
There would be no better time, in her humble opinion, to stop being a virgin.
It was a universal truth that Sherlock Holmes had one of the loveliest mouths in existence. Jane was convinced of this as she lifted her free hand so she could trace the curve of his lips with her fingers. This resulted in a puzzled look from the man in question and a quiet thrill down her spine. Everything they had done together up until this point had been focused on her. She'd been so busy letting Sherlock introduce her to what her body was capable of experiencing she forgot at times that he had a body as well that could be touched and tasted. It seemed that on more than a few occasions he forgot as well. It might be nice to remind him.
"Thank you," she murmured before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. She felt the skin wrinkle as he frowned, making her smile. She was still grinning when she pressed another kiss to the tip of his nose.
"Jane, if your intention is to kiss me it would be far more expedient to simply touch your lips to mine. I realize you haven't much experience - " She covered his mouth with her hand, shutting him up. Jane brushed the tips of their noses together while staring into his wide, pale eyes.
"Oh, I will definitely be aiming for lip to lip contact in the near future but right now I have other equally lovely parts of you to occupy me. You'll just have to be patient. I realize you haven't much experience..." she trailed off with a quick grin. She might have been mocking him but she did it with a great deal of fondness. He licked her palm, making her laugh and release his mouth. "You're such a child!"
"Am I?" His voice had gone deep and dark and dirty. Jane shuddered, mouth going dry. God, the man could make a fortune at telephone sex. She hadn't intended to kiss him so soon but she had to after he spoke like that. Jane licked at that soft, gorgeous mouth before sinking in and kissing him properly. He'd spent quite a bit of time teaching her how to kiss. It had certainly paid off.
They separated briefly so Sherlock could sit up on the couch and pull Jane into his lap. She happily straddled him then sank her fingers into his luxurious hair and returned to his frankly delicious mouth. It would be too easy to kiss him for hours. In fact, she might end up doing just that if she didn't stop soon. She pulled back and tried her best not to get hypnotized by the swelling of his cupid's bow mouth.
"You're maddening," she whispered, dipping down to trace one of those perfect cheekbones with her lips. He got his hands under her jumper and began stroking her back.
"So I've heard." Jane pushed away the hair curling around his left ear and wrapped her lips around the sensitive lobe. His breathing hitched. For a moment his fingers tightened on her skin as though he needed to hold on to her for balance. She dragged her teeth lightly along his earlobe as she pulled back then released it with a fast lick from her tongue.
"I want to give you something," she told him, lips brushing against his neck. He wasn't too distracted to think. Sherlock never was. As she was enjoying the texture of his throat against her tongue, his mind was putting the pieces together. She knew he'd figured it out when he suddenly went still. Before he could speak and kill the mood with some logical argument about why she should stay a virgin, Jane started to talk. "This is my choice. I'm not being pressured or coerced. I am not confused. I'm not overcome with passion. I made this decision with a sound mind and I won't be talked out of it. If you don't want to sleep with me, that's fine. I won't force you. But you should know that I've been waiting to give you my virginity for thirty-six years. I'd prefer not to wait any longer." All this time she'd had her face more or less buried in his neck, too nervous to see his expression. Sherlock had to tug briefly on her ponytail to finally meet her eyes. Jane wasn't sure how to interpret the searing intensity of his eyes at that moment. She decided to stay very quiet and wait.
"You've been waiting for me?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Jane offered a tiny smile. Then she gave in to the impulse to be absurdly romantic. It was her first time, after all.
"Of course, Sherlock. It was always going to be you."
"That line could have come directly from one of your ridiculous books," Sherlock complained but his heart wasn't in it. Jane could tell because his eyes weren't narrowed in his 'are you really that stupid?' expression. He'd said the words and part of him probably meant them. Her words had meant something to him, though. That made the smile on her face widen.
"I know. It seemed appropriate."
"Life isn't a romance novel. There are more factors here than two bodies coming together in a passionate embrace." Jane bit down on a vaguely hysterical giggle. Sherlock really shouldn't be allowed to say things like that with his deadly serious voice. He didn't appreciate her reaction and his eyes narrowed in the aforementioned 'are you really this stupid?' expression. "You aren't on birth control and neither of us have purchased condoms. While we are both clean, the chance of unwanted pregnancy is still a factor." Jane had already thought about all this.
"There's a morning after pill for a reason, Sherlock. I've given this a lot of thought and, considering that at this time of the month I'm not particularly fertile, I'm comfortable with the risk." She leaned back and tugged off her jumper. While she pulled the elastic out of her hair so she could shake her hair loose, she tried not to giggle at the way Sherlock was mentally berating himself for forgetting where they were in her monthly cycle.
"It's still a possibility," he maintained, barely paying attention to her pushing his dressing gown off his shoulders.
"And I'll take all necessary precautions after," she promised. It was difficult for Jane to decide whether she should be turned on by Sherlock being so cautious or if it ruined the mood. The thrill of spontaneity had faded a touch but she did still have a beautiful man between her legs. No, the mood was just fine. "If it's not too much trouble, Sherlock, could you please undress?"
“I was under the impression that you wanted to be in control of this little encounter.” In any other tone of voice that statement would have been condescending. Luckily Jane was familiar enough with Sherlock’s voice to recognize a tiny thread of gentleness and even a touch of the fascination he exuded whenever they were at a new crime scene. He wanted to see what she would do next. Jane grinned. She should probably get to it, then. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to walk you through - ”
“Oh, do shut up,” she murmured, silencing his lips with hers. Sherlock never took being silenced well. He frowned against her mouth and she nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth. "Poor Sherlock. Did you want to give me a tutorial?"
"You've made it very clear you aren't interested." She tried not to laugh at that. He sounded honestly affronted. God forbid this man should ever become a teacher. Any time a student didn't pay perfect attention he would be personally wounded.
"I don't mind indulging you just a little," Jane assured him as she slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Sherlock didn't resist. Far from it, he obediently put his arms up to help. However, his expression was cold and aloof.
"I am not a child to be humored." Words really weren't working for them that day. They kept getting into arguments. More or less resolving not to say another word after her next statement, Jane reached under the band of Sherlock's trousers and gently grasped his half hard cock.
"I've noticed," she said flatly. His eyes went molten with heat before he diligently applied his mouth to her throat. He licked, bit and sucked in all the spots he'd discovered made Jane wet and weak. Her thighs clenched around his legs as she tried not to fall to the couch and allow him to ravish her however he liked. She wanted to participate in this. It was her first and only deflowering and she would bloody well make it count.
Jane fisted one hand in Sherlock's luxurious hair, arching her neck so he had easy access to the long line of her throat. At the same time she stroked a hand down his back to feel bunched muscles and surprisingly soft skin. With all the abuse Sherlock heaped on his body he remained astonishingly lovely. She felt the snap on her bra give. Suddenly her breasts were being cupped by warm, slender fingers. Jane whimpered.
"As a doctor, I expect you know every breast has the same number of nerve endings regardless of size." He spoke into her skin. The words thrummed across her neck as the sound of the deepest, richest, most sinful voice Jane had ever imagined curled possessively inside her. She couldn't have responded if she wanted to and at that moment she really didn't. She just wanted him to talk. "Yours are modest, just enough to fill my hands. This may very well mean, my dear Doctor Watson, that you feel more from a simple touch." His fingers stroked the undersides of her breasts. Jane let out a low involuntary moan as she clutched as his skin and hair. He chuckled. Oh, God, the sound of that was nearly as good as his touch. "Condensed nerve endings. So far, so obvious."
"I'm not a crime scene," she reminded him breathlessly, letting his head go so he could look in her eyes. His satisfied grin was maddening.
"Aren't you?"
“The last time I checked…” Jane trailed off, losing focus abruptly as Sherlock licked the tips of his fingers. If she thought watching that lovely pink tongue wet the pads of his beautiful long fingers was overwhelming she was quickly proved wrong when he rolled her nipple between his index finger and thumb. She let out yet another embarrassing whimper and her nipple hardened accordingly. None of this was exactly new. Her breasts had not gone ignored during their experiments but there was something different about Sherlock now. It was a subtle change. He seemed less analytical and more… hungry.
“Do you check to see if you’re a crime scene often?” he inquired politely before lowering his head and taking her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh, God,” she hissed out, fingers clenching harder at his skin. She was sure whatever he’d just said would have made sense to her earlier but at that moment she couldn’t for the life of her understand him. She was too busy dealing with the small forest fire blazing under her skin.
“I thought not.” He had promptly released her breast after she’d invoked the name of a god she barely knew if she believed in, his eerie talent for knowing when parts of her were over stimulated showing itself once again. As Jane caught her breath his quick fingers undid the button on her jeans and tugged the zipper down. Unfortunately she would have to stand up to actually get the damned things off. Then again that might work for her.
“Stay where you are,” she said, which was probably unnecessary. Sherlock didn’t look as though he was about to run off. Far from it, in fact. He managed to roll his eyes at the rather stupid command before he focused them on her body again with thrilling intensity. Jane managed to stand without collapsing or falling over the coffee table. Her hands immediately went to the top of her jeans and she hooked her thumbs into her underwear so that when she pulled down the last of her clothes went as well. She then knelt on the pile of discarded clothes, inserting her body between Sherlock’s parted knees. He opened his mouth to protest, probably to say that he was perfectly capable of doing that himself, but Jane was already tugging at the pajama pants hugging Sherlock’s slim hips.
“Have you - have you thought of what position you would find most comfortable?” Jane’s eyes went to the face of the brilliant consulting detective who had just, perhaps for the first time since she had made his acquaintance, fumbled a sentence. He had his hips angled slightly so it was easier for her to pull his pajamas down around his ankles and his normally crystal clear gaze had gone distinctly smoky. It occurred to Jane that being on her knees in front of Sherlock was having some fascinating effects on the man. Maybe it was time she did some experiments of her own.
Once Sherlock’s legs were bare she leaned forward, sparing the hard cock near her face only a brief glance. She had seen many a penis in her day and they had long ago lost their mystique. Like everything about Sherlock, his cock was long and distinctly lovely. She would give it its due in a moment. Jane pressed her mouth to Sherlock’s inner thigh and drew her tongue along his skin. He let out a raspy breath. A moment later she felt one of his hands slide tentatively into her hair. As she kissed, licked and sucked at his thigh he dragged his fingers across her scalp in slow, easy circles. It felt exquisite. However, as much as she enjoyed the sensation, she didn’t want Sherlock to be able to concentrate on making her feel good. For at least one moment in time she wanted to know she had thrown that brilliant and precise mind into chaos. She wanted to stop his thoughts.
With that in mind she wrapped her lips around his glans head and flicked her tongue in a quick, gentle circle against his flesh. The response was immediate. His hips bucked up, the hand in her hair tightened almost painfully and the only sound he managed to produce from his gorgeous throat was a harsh grunt. “Guh!” It rumbled in his chest and Jane could practically feel it in her skin.
A moment later she was being hauled up by her shoulders into Sherlock’s lap. His tongue plunged into her mouth as his hand slipped between their bodies. She thought she was prepared for his next move but when one of his fingers sank deep into her wet heat she let out a low groan that was muffled by his mouth.
“Sherlock,” she whispered hoarsely once he released her lips. A second finger slid inside her and she wriggled gracelessly against him, trying to force him to touch all the places she wanted touched. He was deviating from his usual habit of efficiently bringing her off. Instead Sherlock concentrated on stretching the narrow passage, adding a third finger when he believed she was ready. The teasing was intolerable. It was responsible and kind of him given her circumstances but also completely intolerable.
“This will be uncomfortable,” his voice, significantly deeper than normal, murmured into her ear. “But not painful.” Sherlock removed his fingers and Jane resisted the urge to whine. She knew in a minute they would be replaced by something quite different. Jane didn’t resist when Sherlock’s hands adjusted her body, positioning her on his lap as he scooted forward slightly on the couch. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, anticipation and nerves making her shake. She tried concentrating on the curve of lush black hair across Sherlock’s forehead while he pulled her legs around his waist.
At this point Jane knew the average man would tell her to let him know if she needed him to slow down. Sherlock wasn’t average. He had made a very precise study of her sexuality. He would know if she needed him to stop before she did. It was stunning and a little frightening. In fact, if she thought about it too long she found everything about her current position intensely frightening. She might have joked to herself about virginal terror but suddenly it seemed very much not funny. Underneath her arousal and confidence in her choice was a writhing mass of petrified uncertainty that just wanted her to run away. As if he could hear her thoughts, Sherlock cupped her cheek and lifted her gaze so that their eyes met. Jane calmed almost instantly. He didn’t say a word because it was unnecessary. All she needed was the familiarity of his piercing gaze, reminding her of just why she wanted to do this in the first place. He was remarkable and she deserved nothing less.
Their eyes stayed locked onto each other as Sherlock slowly introduced his hard member into her slick opening. Jane’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. He gently caressed her cheek, reminding her that even breathing would make this more pleasant. She concentrated on that, wincing only slightly as Sherlock entered her body. He was only about half way when suddenly he stopped, held still. Jane felt massively relieved because dammit but the stretch of her vaginal muscles to accommodate Sherlock was bordering on painful. It didn’t hurt properly yet but it was just as he’d warned her. Uncomfortable. She knew it would get better. In mere seconds a concrete fact of her life would change. Perhaps it was right for it to hurt just a little.
“Sherlock, you can - Ah!” At the first hint that Jane was ready Sherlock had promptly rocked back, pulling her down fully on his cock. Then he brought his legs up and crossed them under Jane’s arse. The position pressed them close together and led to a natural embrace. She hugged his shoulders, briefly resting her forehead against the crook of his neck as she absorbed the feel of him inside her. It had been a shock at first. Now she was full and aching in the best way. She wanted to move. Hell, she wanted him to move, too. Sherlock’s arms came around her waist. Fingers spread out across the small of her back and then pressed, gently massaging the tense muscles. She moaned appreciatively.
Then his hips rocked against her and the moan became something desperate.
Jane understood the basic mechanics of sex but thinking coherently enough to try to establish that age old rhythm was a problem. Sherlock was there for her as she knew he'd be, rolling their hips together with deliberate gentleness. She breathed as calmly as she could manage against his neck. They were so close she could feel their heartbeats thrumming under both their skin. She felt the drumming sound where they were locked together, where Sherlock was actually inside her. It was bewildering and wonderful and so painfully, perfectly unexpected. Jane began to move, taking a page out of Sherlock's book and working her hips against him. He grunted when he slid deeper into her wet passage. She pressed messy kisses to his neck, too far gone to care for precision.
The sensation of another person being a part of her, deep inside where no one had ever been, was overwhelming. It was all the more so because this was Sherlock. A mad, unpredictable genius who she had never seen be gentle with anyone was being so careful as he took her virginity and made every moment as pleasurable as he could. She knew he was noting all the details of what was happening. That was simply who he was. It was even thrilling to think that this moment would be forever carved into his hard drive of a mind, never to be deleted as the information was too valuable. "I love you," she breathed raggedly. Jane hadn't realized she was going to say it but now that she had she didn't want to take it back.
"Yes," Sherlock agreed. "You certainly do." Jane leaned back abruptly to look in his eyes, momentarily sobering enough for coherent thought.
"What kind of response is that?" she demanded. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes before sliding a hand down to where they were joined and finding that bundle of nerves he'd gotten to know so well. The tangled knots of pleasure tightened inside her, making her gasp. She gripped at the skin of his back as he thrust up into her.
"It's honest," he replied roughly even as his thumb gently stroked her clitoris. She whimpered, jerking a little at the stimulation. He wrapped both of his arms around her and held her firmly against his body. Her legs tightened around him as the slow rolling of their hips turned to a more desperate rocking. Then Sherlock pressed his mouth against her ear and whispered, "Everything before this has just been sex. This is the first time I have ever made love to another human being." That was when she came.
Jane panted and writhed as waves of heated pleasure swept through her body. Her muscles clenched down on Sherlock, forcing his own climax. He let out a low, profound groan as he spilled inside of her. She couldn't help but moan a little as well. She couldn't imagine moving so she left her limbs locked around her very first love. Not even a violent triple homicide would persuade her to let go. Sherlock continued to hold her close even after he had gone soft inside her so she could only assume he agreed.
It was hours, and more delicious lovemaking, later when Sherlock asked with an exhausted yet nervous voice, "Was it worth the wait?" Just then an idea occurred to her and she smiled deviously.
"You'll have to keep reading my blog to find out."
--------------------------
A little while later she posted this message on her blog:
I lost my virginity six hours ago. Sherlock was absolutely without a doubt worth the wait.
--------------------------
"Your brother commented on my blog, Sherlock," Jane informed him the next day. She wasn't sure what to think about that. Mycroft never gave any indication that he read her blog, although it stood to reason he would read it for information on his brother. Still, it was odd he'd chosen this entry on which post his first comment.
"Fascinating." The decided lack of interest in the currently lounging genius's tone made her smile. She had seen him smug before but rarely had it led to him basking lazily in his own glory. Maybe she should brag about his sexual prowess on her blog more often. Then again, she didn't really want Mycroft commenting on those, too.
"He offers his congratulations and wants to know if we've set the date. That's the second time he's implied we're getting married." Sherlock let out a derisive scoff.
"Oh, typical. He's going to be insufferable when he gets his invitation."
"I suppose so... Hang on a tick. What invitation?"
The End
"I knew you were going to pull something mad like this! I bloody knew it!" she shouted at the door, knowing full well he could hear her. "And mentioning my age, Sherlock? Really? How in the hell would rubbing in the fact that I'm spitting distance from forty make me want to shag you?"
"I don't recall that being the activity I suggested," he replied. He sounded far too composed for a man who'd just been launched off a bed. "And you did say I could treat you however I liked because you are mature enough to handle it."
"Did I? Oh, right." Damn, she had said that. Who knew it would go so badly wrong? "I overestimated my ability to tolerate your experiments. Any sexual tests you want to perform will absolutely not involve my person. Are we clear?"
"Dull." The low, lazy response had been spoken directly into Jane's ear. She shrieked (oh God she was a soldier, how embarrassing) and turned around to face Sherlock. Her eyes darted to the open door on the other side of the room. Oh, right. There were two doors to this bathroom. Well done.
"Don't even think about it," Jane commanded, slapping both hands onto Sherlock's chest as he advanced on her.
"It's far too late for that," he informed her. He put his hands on her hips and practically hauled her against his body. She couldn't keep her arms bent uncomfortably between them so she shifted, meaning to get a grip on his shoulders to shove him away. Instead her fingers tightened, clinging as Sherlock slid his hands under her t-shirt and felt the skin on her bare back. The length of his damn fingers was so fucking wrong. She whimpered as he worked the sensitive pads of his fingers along her spine, memorizing the feel and her reactions to it.
"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," she murmured even though she'd pretty much given up fighting him. Jane was far too busy wondering at the feel of him pressed so close and vulnerable to her inquisitive hands. "I need a shower and breakfast. This... this isn't how I start the day." His hands went low, past the waist of her pants, and cupped her arse. "Sherlock!"
"You're very sensitive," he remarked casually. "Given that I hardly think this will take more than twenty minutes of your time." Jane stared at him dumbly. Had he just given her a time estimate for the first orgasm of her life? Oh, for fuck's sake. Jane gripped his hands and wrenched them off her body.
"No. No, absolutely not. Nothing of this nature is going to happen before I'm even ready for the day. I am taking a shower so bugger off!" He pouted at her. Bloody pouted! She was, in essence, being groped by a man with the maturity level of an eight year old. "Out!" He let out a huff of breath and swept out of the bathroom. She gave a little sigh of relief. Jane hadn't been sure that that would work.
In fact, it probably hadn't. The second she got out of the shower Sherlock would undoubtedly pounce again.
Pouncing Sherlock.
Oh, she needed a cup of tea.
Jane turned the knob to blazing hot then stepped naked under the water. It burned, scalding her skin. She winced and swore but didn't reduce the temperature until she was sure that the pain had effectively killed her arousal. With that accomplished she carried on with her normal shower routines. Jane had only just finished washing conditioner out of her hair, which was always her final task, when she heard the door creak open. She didn't bother wondering how he'd gotten past the lock. He probably picked it.
"Sherlock, I am going to beat you to death with this loofah if you don't get out of here," she threatened from behind the, thankfully not transparent, shower curtain.
"A loofah would make a very inefficient murder weapon." Jane heard him talking but she didn't get any indication that he was leaving. She scowled. "Your showers are on average fifteen minutes long. In approximately thirty seconds you will be finished." Jane pulled the curtain back slightly so she could look at Sherlock.
"You've timed my showers?" The consulting detective didn't respond as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it up on the hook on the door. When his hands fell to his shirt buttons, Jane nearly choked. "What are you doing?"
"You're going to be wet," he pointed out as though that explained everything. She jerked the curtain closed once more and tried to drown herself under the spray of water. It didn't work.
"There are probably a thousand things you could be studying right now. I seriously doubt observing my reactions to oral sex is the most important out of all of them." Surely he'd be more interested in learning how to speak Swahili than... than this.
"This takes precedence, actually." It took Jane a moment to connect the dots but when she did she had to pull the curtain back to look at him again.
"Going down on me is more important than the solar system?" That couldn't be romantic. It wasn't. Was it? Sherlock gave a condescending scoff.
"I would have thought that patently obvious." Jane swallowed hard. She outranked the solar system. That wasn't nothing. In fact, that was really quite something.
"Oh." She turned the water off and the trembling in her limbs had nothing to do with the cold. Sherlock's hand appeared beside her, offering her a towel. Jane quickly snatched it and tucked it securely around her body. "I don't think this is a good idea." Sherlock pulled back the curtain with his typical impatience. He generally wasn't shirtless, though. That was new.
"I know what I'm doing, Jane. I made a thorough study of sex when I was younger. This is just a matter of factoring in a new variable." Sherlock should never be allowed to talk about his 'thorough study of sex' without his shirt. He was lean, muscle stretched tightly over bone. Despite that his chest seemed surprisingly solid and Jane really wanted to run her hands over that light sprinkling of dark hair. She just thanked God he hadn't seen it necessary to remove his trousers. She didn't like to think what she might be reduced to if she saw him naked.
"I wasn't worried about your qualifications. I just don't - SHERLOCK!" The infuriating man had reached forward and picked her up, removing her from the shower and practically dumping her on the tile before him. Out of instinct she covered the mass of scar tissue on her left shoulder. "Don't ever do that again! I'm a person, not a doll - mmmfph!" Sherlock pressed his lips to her mouth. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and she parted her mouth on a gasp. He was so very, very good at kissing. Her eyes closed as he did indecent things to her mouth and his hands pulled her close to his body. She forgot about hiding the scars.
Jane felt as though she were in the middle of an intense fever. Her skin was too hot, especially where it was pressed against Sherlock. She tentatively brought her hands up and ran them over his naked back. It was a completely foreign sensation but it was also addictive. Medical examinations had never been like this. She couldn't remember skin having ever felt this soft and hot and good. Jane's knees weakened when Sherlock's hands went under her towel, kneading the muscles in her arse. She whimpered and thought nothing of it when he lifted her slightly then set her down on the edge of the sink. He parted her legs and sank down between them and that was when she remembered.
She'd never done this. She didn't know if she could do this. It felt good and she trusted him. But all the same... "Sherlock?" Jane couldn't remember the last time she'd sounded so young and uncertain. He looked up at her from his crouch between her legs. Slowly, almost sweetly, he stroked her right thigh before lifting her leg and hooking it over his shoulder. The focus of his eyes was reassuring and she felt a little of her uncertainty ease. Then, like the bastard he was, Sherlock winked. Jane bit back a laugh.
Then she was biting back a moan.
He licked her. Several times, up and down, and painfully slow as if he were analyzing the taste of her arousal. And she was most definitely aroused at this point. Jane also thought she might be in shock. A man was tasting the wetness between her legs. It was strange and impossible. And fucking amazing. She reached behind her and gripped the cool porcelain of the sink. Her left leg was fully extended, keeping her up only by the perseverance of her tiptoes. Jane had most of her weight resting on the sink and Sherlock's shoulder. It was hard not to use the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, grind him against her body. His madly curling hair was enough to drive her around the bend as it glided and stroked along the inside of her thigh.
A surprised shout escaped her mouth before she could catch it when Sherlock slipped the tip of his tongue inside of her. He worked the sensitive nerves there before withdrawing to flick his tongue over her clitoris. "Christ," she whimpered, clutching harder at the sink. She was shaking so hard and it was as if someone had wound her body into a tightly packed coil of burning hot metal. It had to stop soon or she would absolutely go mad. No one could endure this with their sanity intact. God, it almost hurt.
Sherlock took her clitoris into his mouth and sucked. Rational thought deserted her. Jane gripped his silky hair and held him to her. For the very first time, she knew what it was to fall apart at the seams and dive into orgasm. It was like dying. But this time there was no sand, no gunfire, no shouts except her own. She was hot and safe and her senses were so overwhelmed she imagined few deaths would be as spectacular as this.
Jane had been so sure nothing like this would ever happen to her. She'd been certain. She let out a shaky laugh. Jane was very happy to be wrong. Body awake and thrumming with miraculous discovery, a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye before she knew she even wanted to cry.
"Jane." Sherlock's voice deepened with concern as he stood, catching the tear with his fingertip. Jane smiled and threw herself into his arms, locking him against her in a hug. "Jane?"
"Do shut up, Sherlock. I'm trying to enjoy the moment."
He shut up.
------------------------------
Jane supposed it shouldn't have been so easy to get used to Sherlock Holmes routinely slipping into her bed and testing her erogenous zones. At least half the time they weren't even in her bed. The bathroom made up a good third of their encounters with the rest of the flat serving very well the rest of the time. And there was once in that alley... But she'd promised herself never to think about that. She could never focus properly when she thought about that.
The trouble was that it was all so damnably comfortable. It made so much more sense to go with the flow than to resist the current. They worked cases and watched telly and bickered about dismembered body parts in the kitchen. In between those things were kisses, indecent touching and tongue. It fit so well with their routine. Jane wondered if everyone who'd stared at them knowingly had been right and this really was inevitable. That idea always irritated her. This was far more special than anyone on the outside of 221B would ever understand. Sherlock respected her virginity. He treasured it, as a matter of fact, since it was rather vital to all these experiments. She had never been safer with a man in her life. Wasn't that remarkable?
It never occurred to Jane that she would want to give her virginity to Sherlock until they were a good two months into their new arrangement. She had been waiting patiently for Sherlock and Lestrade to come to an agreement about how to go forward with their newest case when Sally Donovan approached her. Jane never got along with Sally. From the day they first met till now Jane had always gotten the impression that Sally hated her for tagging along with Sherlock. The biting comments helped her figure out why after a few confrontations. Sally found it personally offensive that another woman would fall to the charms of Sherlock the sociopath. It was all a sort of insult to femininity thing for which Jane had very little patience.
That day she was in a particularly bad mood. Probably had a row with Anderson about his wife or something equally petty. Whatever it was, Jane was in the path of the storm. Sally came to a stop beside her, checked to be sure Lestrade was occupied before shooting Jane a dirty look.
"I hope he's good in bed. Otherwise I can't think why you'd be shacked up with a psychopath." Jane flinched. She couldn't help it. She always felt sullied when people speculated about her sex life. Usually no one was there to come to her defense but this time the situation was very different.
"Don't be stupid." Both women jumped when they found Sherlock Holmes's attention focused solely on them. "I've told you repeatedly that I am a high-functioning sociopath and it is painfully obvious that Jane is a virgin. Someone like you should have noticed," he said with such heavy disgust that Jane imagined he would only use with the most spectacularly uninteresting bacteria. It was totally uncalled for but that hardly stopped her from feeling grateful. Sociopath or not, he was attached enough to Jane to defend her.
And to out her.
"She's a what?!" Lestrade sputtered, clearly thrown off. The poor man hadn't been expecting the conversation to take that kind of turn. Jane aimed a glare Sherlock's way.
"Say it again, Sherlock. They didn't hear you in bloody Belgium!"
"That's ridiculous," Sally said and it reminded Jane so much of how Sherlock reacted to the news it was almost spooky. Apparently she wasn't the only one since an actual emotion crossed Sherlock's face. It very closely resembled frustrated rage.
"I have been performing a very close study on the subject and I can assure you that it is not ridiculous."
"Oh my God!"
"You've what?!" Jane didn't hear anything else after Lestrade's second bewildered exclamation as she had made a very quick retreat from New Scotland Yard. It was run or strangle Sherlock in front of the police. However, since he'd just publicly announced that he'd been studying her womanhood to all of the homicide department she doubted they would arrest her. Jane wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. She was never going to be able to look Lestrade or Sally fucking Donovan in the eye again. Why did Sherlock have to be so dense sometimes? Why did he have to go and defend her like she was... was...
Special.
Jane froze in the middle of the pavement. Other pedestrians maneuvered their way around her, grumbling slightly, but she wasn't aware of them. She was too busy being in shock.
Unlike everyone else during the long thirty-six years she'd been alive, Sherlock thought what she had to give mattered. He thought it was special. He appreciated her.
"I think I want to sleep with him," she murmured aloud. An elderly woman walking past gave her an absent smile.
"That's nice, dear." Jane blushed and didn't talk to herself again until she was safely ensconced in 221B.
-------------------------------
After having held onto her virginity for far longer than her peers, Jane thought she would take longer than a week to decide whether or not she really wanted to have sex with her flatmate. It was a big decision. The same temptation she’d always had in regards to finally having sex beckoned. She wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. Sex was not just about the mechanics of penetration. It was far more complicated than that. Jane had never been nervous about a moment’s pain and a little blood. It was the connection that frightened her. To her, sex was surrender and a joining of two souls, temporary but profound. The mystery of that frankly scared the bejesus out of her. But if she did it, finally just did it, she would understand. And nothing conquered fear like knowledge.
Of course, there was the downside. She would be just like everyone else. That made Jane sound so condescending but she'd spent so much time resenting the rest of the sexually active world for treating her like a foregone conclusion. She didn't want to join their ranks and start taking the uniqueness of other people for granted. Then again, her involvement with Sherlock had already guaranteed that no one would look at her like any other bird. She was mental for living with him. To the public eye she would be practically certifiable if she started sleeping with him. It was a trade-off and not an entirely unappealing one. There was also the fact that Sherlock was likely the only man she would ever know who'd truly appreciate what she was giving him. It would be a shame to pass that up.
Jane didn't have a formal plan for seducing Sherlock laid out in her head. She had some vague ideas for waiting until he was asleep but that could take weeks. Maybe after a case when he was on an adrenaline high? He'd been rather enthusiastic in his experiments on her after he solved the last case. That could work.
When she walked in on a sulky pajama-clad Sherlock at the end of an admittedly dull week, Jane didn't immediately realize she was going to jump him. In fact the beginning of their conversation didn't hint at that sort of conclusion at all.
"Should I hide my gun?" she asked lightly, walking past the consulting detective slumped in his chair by the fireplace and into the kitchen for an evening cup of tea. Sherlock only grunted his irritation with the question. It was never a good sign when Sherlock was too moody to talk. He was liable to set his bed on fire or start an ant farm without actually buying the farm part. Jane paused in her search for clean mugs. "Er, Sherlock, is this one of those normal silences or one that means you're about to implode? I can't quite tell." Finally his coolly superior voice drifted into the kitchen.
"I've been reading your blog." Jane chuckled and looked around the corner to smile at Sherlock.
"You must be really bored." He scowled at her. Not a good sign. She gave a small internal sigh. "What did I do this time? I tried to lay off the romanticizing a bit since it irks you."
"You haven't mentioned our experiments." Our experiments. That was a nice way to put it. Almost sounded as if she contributed more than her body and a bit of moaning.
"Well, blast, I knew I was forgetting something," Jane quipped. There was no way he could be serious about it, after all. Even Sherlock wasn't that dense.
"Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't believe it's customary for women to so quickly forget screaming as they climax," Sherlock stated with an edge to his voice that informed Jane that he was, in fact, completely serious. She gaped at him.
"You're not wrong. It's also not customary for them to write a blog about the experience when she knows that not only family but colleagues from work and perfect strangers can read it. Where Jim fucking Moriarty can read it!" Sherlock waved away her last objection as though it bored him.
"If he has not surmised our shift in relationship then he is not intelligent enough to trouble me." Jane bit her lip hard before she gave into the temptation to box Sherlock's ears. "As for the rest I hardly see why it would matter."
"And I hardly see why you want everyone and their aunt to know! This is supposed to stay between us. It's private." He glared at her resentfully.
"Why?"
"You're being ridiculous," Jane decided, turning away and returning to the kitchen. She gripped the kettle as though it had done her wrong, thoroughly irritated. It was such a mind-boggling and stupid conversation. The idea of describing in detail in her blog what happened on the numerous occasions Sherlock got curious about her body was mortifying. A good portion of New Scotland Yard read that blog! Sherlock may have publicly announced that he was making a study of her but she didn't need to make it worse with charming anecdotes about the process.
"Ridiculous?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. Oh, God, he wasn't done. Jane began filling the kettle before glancing at Sherlock who had braced himself in the kitchen doorway and was leaning forward with a textbook dramatic pose. If he didn't look so striking with his curls tossed around his face and eyes blazing, she might have scoffed. "Given the facts the only conclusion I can come to is that you are ashamed to admit that you performed acts of an intimate nature with me. But do forgive me if I am being ridiculous." He flung himself backwards and stalked to the couch where he proceeded to curl up in a defensive ball with his back to her. She had to stare at him for a few moments, mouth agape, for anything to make sense.
Jane switched the water off and abandoned the kettle. There would probably not be an opportunity for tea this evening unless she managed to straighten out this frankly baffling misunderstanding. She cautiously approached the sulking detective then leaned a hip on the arm of the sofa near his head. Staring down at him, she still had no idea why he had taken her discretion so personally. It wasn't like Sherlock to get this way.
"Sherlock, I've never been ashamed of you. Disappointed from time to time but not in relation to what we've been doing recently," she hastened to add. The last thing she needed was to imply he didn't measure up. He was in a huff as it was. "I just don't like people staring at me like - "
"Like you're fucking the local freak," he cut her off and the sofa cushions did nothing to muffle the sharp hurt in his voice.
"Sherlock!"
"Go away," he snapped, curling even tighter into himself. Jane pressed her lips into a thin, determined line.
"I'm not going anywhere." She got on her knees in front of the couch and fisted a hand in his hair. He squirmed uncomfortably as she literally pulled him around to face her. The expression on his face was livid. She didn't pay any attention to that. She just leaned close and spoke. "Listen to me, you spectacularly ignorant genius. No one has ever looked at you like you were just like everyone else because even the blind can see how fantastic you are so you can't understand what it feels like to be me. Since I was a kid people have stared at me with this smug, all-knowing look as though any delusions of individuality I might have were nonsense. They believe I'm like them. I just don't want to give them a reason to think they're right." Sherlock had long ago stopped resisting and Jane took the opportunity to stroke his absurdly soft hair.
"You realize, of course, that they will think they're right anyway," he pointed out logically. It wasn't a happy truth but Jane was glad the hurt in his voice was gone. She shrugged, toying gently with his curls. "They never will be." Jane blinked quickly before meeting his eyes.
"What?"
"You have never in your existence been like the rest of the world," Sherlock told her with unwavering certainty. He continued to stare and Jane could hear the words he did not say aloud.
You have always been like me.
There would be no better time, in her humble opinion, to stop being a virgin.
It was a universal truth that Sherlock Holmes had one of the loveliest mouths in existence. Jane was convinced of this as she lifted her free hand so she could trace the curve of his lips with her fingers. This resulted in a puzzled look from the man in question and a quiet thrill down her spine. Everything they had done together up until this point had been focused on her. She'd been so busy letting Sherlock introduce her to what her body was capable of experiencing she forgot at times that he had a body as well that could be touched and tasted. It seemed that on more than a few occasions he forgot as well. It might be nice to remind him.
"Thank you," she murmured before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. She felt the skin wrinkle as he frowned, making her smile. She was still grinning when she pressed another kiss to the tip of his nose.
"Jane, if your intention is to kiss me it would be far more expedient to simply touch your lips to mine. I realize you haven't much experience - " She covered his mouth with her hand, shutting him up. Jane brushed the tips of their noses together while staring into his wide, pale eyes.
"Oh, I will definitely be aiming for lip to lip contact in the near future but right now I have other equally lovely parts of you to occupy me. You'll just have to be patient. I realize you haven't much experience..." she trailed off with a quick grin. She might have been mocking him but she did it with a great deal of fondness. He licked her palm, making her laugh and release his mouth. "You're such a child!"
"Am I?" His voice had gone deep and dark and dirty. Jane shuddered, mouth going dry. God, the man could make a fortune at telephone sex. She hadn't intended to kiss him so soon but she had to after he spoke like that. Jane licked at that soft, gorgeous mouth before sinking in and kissing him properly. He'd spent quite a bit of time teaching her how to kiss. It had certainly paid off.
They separated briefly so Sherlock could sit up on the couch and pull Jane into his lap. She happily straddled him then sank her fingers into his luxurious hair and returned to his frankly delicious mouth. It would be too easy to kiss him for hours. In fact, she might end up doing just that if she didn't stop soon. She pulled back and tried her best not to get hypnotized by the swelling of his cupid's bow mouth.
"You're maddening," she whispered, dipping down to trace one of those perfect cheekbones with her lips. He got his hands under her jumper and began stroking her back.
"So I've heard." Jane pushed away the hair curling around his left ear and wrapped her lips around the sensitive lobe. His breathing hitched. For a moment his fingers tightened on her skin as though he needed to hold on to her for balance. She dragged her teeth lightly along his earlobe as she pulled back then released it with a fast lick from her tongue.
"I want to give you something," she told him, lips brushing against his neck. He wasn't too distracted to think. Sherlock never was. As she was enjoying the texture of his throat against her tongue, his mind was putting the pieces together. She knew he'd figured it out when he suddenly went still. Before he could speak and kill the mood with some logical argument about why she should stay a virgin, Jane started to talk. "This is my choice. I'm not being pressured or coerced. I am not confused. I'm not overcome with passion. I made this decision with a sound mind and I won't be talked out of it. If you don't want to sleep with me, that's fine. I won't force you. But you should know that I've been waiting to give you my virginity for thirty-six years. I'd prefer not to wait any longer." All this time she'd had her face more or less buried in his neck, too nervous to see his expression. Sherlock had to tug briefly on her ponytail to finally meet her eyes. Jane wasn't sure how to interpret the searing intensity of his eyes at that moment. She decided to stay very quiet and wait.
"You've been waiting for me?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Jane offered a tiny smile. Then she gave in to the impulse to be absurdly romantic. It was her first time, after all.
"Of course, Sherlock. It was always going to be you."
"That line could have come directly from one of your ridiculous books," Sherlock complained but his heart wasn't in it. Jane could tell because his eyes weren't narrowed in his 'are you really that stupid?' expression. He'd said the words and part of him probably meant them. Her words had meant something to him, though. That made the smile on her face widen.
"I know. It seemed appropriate."
"Life isn't a romance novel. There are more factors here than two bodies coming together in a passionate embrace." Jane bit down on a vaguely hysterical giggle. Sherlock really shouldn't be allowed to say things like that with his deadly serious voice. He didn't appreciate her reaction and his eyes narrowed in the aforementioned 'are you really this stupid?' expression. "You aren't on birth control and neither of us have purchased condoms. While we are both clean, the chance of unwanted pregnancy is still a factor." Jane had already thought about all this.
"There's a morning after pill for a reason, Sherlock. I've given this a lot of thought and, considering that at this time of the month I'm not particularly fertile, I'm comfortable with the risk." She leaned back and tugged off her jumper. While she pulled the elastic out of her hair so she could shake her hair loose, she tried not to giggle at the way Sherlock was mentally berating himself for forgetting where they were in her monthly cycle.
"It's still a possibility," he maintained, barely paying attention to her pushing his dressing gown off his shoulders.
"And I'll take all necessary precautions after," she promised. It was difficult for Jane to decide whether she should be turned on by Sherlock being so cautious or if it ruined the mood. The thrill of spontaneity had faded a touch but she did still have a beautiful man between her legs. No, the mood was just fine. "If it's not too much trouble, Sherlock, could you please undress?"
“I was under the impression that you wanted to be in control of this little encounter.” In any other tone of voice that statement would have been condescending. Luckily Jane was familiar enough with Sherlock’s voice to recognize a tiny thread of gentleness and even a touch of the fascination he exuded whenever they were at a new crime scene. He wanted to see what she would do next. Jane grinned. She should probably get to it, then. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to walk you through - ”
“Oh, do shut up,” she murmured, silencing his lips with hers. Sherlock never took being silenced well. He frowned against her mouth and she nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth. "Poor Sherlock. Did you want to give me a tutorial?"
"You've made it very clear you aren't interested." She tried not to laugh at that. He sounded honestly affronted. God forbid this man should ever become a teacher. Any time a student didn't pay perfect attention he would be personally wounded.
"I don't mind indulging you just a little," Jane assured him as she slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Sherlock didn't resist. Far from it, he obediently put his arms up to help. However, his expression was cold and aloof.
"I am not a child to be humored." Words really weren't working for them that day. They kept getting into arguments. More or less resolving not to say another word after her next statement, Jane reached under the band of Sherlock's trousers and gently grasped his half hard cock.
"I've noticed," she said flatly. His eyes went molten with heat before he diligently applied his mouth to her throat. He licked, bit and sucked in all the spots he'd discovered made Jane wet and weak. Her thighs clenched around his legs as she tried not to fall to the couch and allow him to ravish her however he liked. She wanted to participate in this. It was her first and only deflowering and she would bloody well make it count.
Jane fisted one hand in Sherlock's luxurious hair, arching her neck so he had easy access to the long line of her throat. At the same time she stroked a hand down his back to feel bunched muscles and surprisingly soft skin. With all the abuse Sherlock heaped on his body he remained astonishingly lovely. She felt the snap on her bra give. Suddenly her breasts were being cupped by warm, slender fingers. Jane whimpered.
"As a doctor, I expect you know every breast has the same number of nerve endings regardless of size." He spoke into her skin. The words thrummed across her neck as the sound of the deepest, richest, most sinful voice Jane had ever imagined curled possessively inside her. She couldn't have responded if she wanted to and at that moment she really didn't. She just wanted him to talk. "Yours are modest, just enough to fill my hands. This may very well mean, my dear Doctor Watson, that you feel more from a simple touch." His fingers stroked the undersides of her breasts. Jane let out a low involuntary moan as she clutched as his skin and hair. He chuckled. Oh, God, the sound of that was nearly as good as his touch. "Condensed nerve endings. So far, so obvious."
"I'm not a crime scene," she reminded him breathlessly, letting his head go so he could look in her eyes. His satisfied grin was maddening.
"Aren't you?"
“The last time I checked…” Jane trailed off, losing focus abruptly as Sherlock licked the tips of his fingers. If she thought watching that lovely pink tongue wet the pads of his beautiful long fingers was overwhelming she was quickly proved wrong when he rolled her nipple between his index finger and thumb. She let out yet another embarrassing whimper and her nipple hardened accordingly. None of this was exactly new. Her breasts had not gone ignored during their experiments but there was something different about Sherlock now. It was a subtle change. He seemed less analytical and more… hungry.
“Do you check to see if you’re a crime scene often?” he inquired politely before lowering his head and taking her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh, God,” she hissed out, fingers clenching harder at his skin. She was sure whatever he’d just said would have made sense to her earlier but at that moment she couldn’t for the life of her understand him. She was too busy dealing with the small forest fire blazing under her skin.
“I thought not.” He had promptly released her breast after she’d invoked the name of a god she barely knew if she believed in, his eerie talent for knowing when parts of her were over stimulated showing itself once again. As Jane caught her breath his quick fingers undid the button on her jeans and tugged the zipper down. Unfortunately she would have to stand up to actually get the damned things off. Then again that might work for her.
“Stay where you are,” she said, which was probably unnecessary. Sherlock didn’t look as though he was about to run off. Far from it, in fact. He managed to roll his eyes at the rather stupid command before he focused them on her body again with thrilling intensity. Jane managed to stand without collapsing or falling over the coffee table. Her hands immediately went to the top of her jeans and she hooked her thumbs into her underwear so that when she pulled down the last of her clothes went as well. She then knelt on the pile of discarded clothes, inserting her body between Sherlock’s parted knees. He opened his mouth to protest, probably to say that he was perfectly capable of doing that himself, but Jane was already tugging at the pajama pants hugging Sherlock’s slim hips.
“Have you - have you thought of what position you would find most comfortable?” Jane’s eyes went to the face of the brilliant consulting detective who had just, perhaps for the first time since she had made his acquaintance, fumbled a sentence. He had his hips angled slightly so it was easier for her to pull his pajamas down around his ankles and his normally crystal clear gaze had gone distinctly smoky. It occurred to Jane that being on her knees in front of Sherlock was having some fascinating effects on the man. Maybe it was time she did some experiments of her own.
Once Sherlock’s legs were bare she leaned forward, sparing the hard cock near her face only a brief glance. She had seen many a penis in her day and they had long ago lost their mystique. Like everything about Sherlock, his cock was long and distinctly lovely. She would give it its due in a moment. Jane pressed her mouth to Sherlock’s inner thigh and drew her tongue along his skin. He let out a raspy breath. A moment later she felt one of his hands slide tentatively into her hair. As she kissed, licked and sucked at his thigh he dragged his fingers across her scalp in slow, easy circles. It felt exquisite. However, as much as she enjoyed the sensation, she didn’t want Sherlock to be able to concentrate on making her feel good. For at least one moment in time she wanted to know she had thrown that brilliant and precise mind into chaos. She wanted to stop his thoughts.
With that in mind she wrapped her lips around his glans head and flicked her tongue in a quick, gentle circle against his flesh. The response was immediate. His hips bucked up, the hand in her hair tightened almost painfully and the only sound he managed to produce from his gorgeous throat was a harsh grunt. “Guh!” It rumbled in his chest and Jane could practically feel it in her skin.
A moment later she was being hauled up by her shoulders into Sherlock’s lap. His tongue plunged into her mouth as his hand slipped between their bodies. She thought she was prepared for his next move but when one of his fingers sank deep into her wet heat she let out a low groan that was muffled by his mouth.
“Sherlock,” she whispered hoarsely once he released her lips. A second finger slid inside her and she wriggled gracelessly against him, trying to force him to touch all the places she wanted touched. He was deviating from his usual habit of efficiently bringing her off. Instead Sherlock concentrated on stretching the narrow passage, adding a third finger when he believed she was ready. The teasing was intolerable. It was responsible and kind of him given her circumstances but also completely intolerable.
“This will be uncomfortable,” his voice, significantly deeper than normal, murmured into her ear. “But not painful.” Sherlock removed his fingers and Jane resisted the urge to whine. She knew in a minute they would be replaced by something quite different. Jane didn’t resist when Sherlock’s hands adjusted her body, positioning her on his lap as he scooted forward slightly on the couch. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, anticipation and nerves making her shake. She tried concentrating on the curve of lush black hair across Sherlock’s forehead while he pulled her legs around his waist.
At this point Jane knew the average man would tell her to let him know if she needed him to slow down. Sherlock wasn’t average. He had made a very precise study of her sexuality. He would know if she needed him to stop before she did. It was stunning and a little frightening. In fact, if she thought about it too long she found everything about her current position intensely frightening. She might have joked to herself about virginal terror but suddenly it seemed very much not funny. Underneath her arousal and confidence in her choice was a writhing mass of petrified uncertainty that just wanted her to run away. As if he could hear her thoughts, Sherlock cupped her cheek and lifted her gaze so that their eyes met. Jane calmed almost instantly. He didn’t say a word because it was unnecessary. All she needed was the familiarity of his piercing gaze, reminding her of just why she wanted to do this in the first place. He was remarkable and she deserved nothing less.
Their eyes stayed locked onto each other as Sherlock slowly introduced his hard member into her slick opening. Jane’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. He gently caressed her cheek, reminding her that even breathing would make this more pleasant. She concentrated on that, wincing only slightly as Sherlock entered her body. He was only about half way when suddenly he stopped, held still. Jane felt massively relieved because dammit but the stretch of her vaginal muscles to accommodate Sherlock was bordering on painful. It didn’t hurt properly yet but it was just as he’d warned her. Uncomfortable. She knew it would get better. In mere seconds a concrete fact of her life would change. Perhaps it was right for it to hurt just a little.
“Sherlock, you can - Ah!” At the first hint that Jane was ready Sherlock had promptly rocked back, pulling her down fully on his cock. Then he brought his legs up and crossed them under Jane’s arse. The position pressed them close together and led to a natural embrace. She hugged his shoulders, briefly resting her forehead against the crook of his neck as she absorbed the feel of him inside her. It had been a shock at first. Now she was full and aching in the best way. She wanted to move. Hell, she wanted him to move, too. Sherlock’s arms came around her waist. Fingers spread out across the small of her back and then pressed, gently massaging the tense muscles. She moaned appreciatively.
Then his hips rocked against her and the moan became something desperate.
Jane understood the basic mechanics of sex but thinking coherently enough to try to establish that age old rhythm was a problem. Sherlock was there for her as she knew he'd be, rolling their hips together with deliberate gentleness. She breathed as calmly as she could manage against his neck. They were so close she could feel their heartbeats thrumming under both their skin. She felt the drumming sound where they were locked together, where Sherlock was actually inside her. It was bewildering and wonderful and so painfully, perfectly unexpected. Jane began to move, taking a page out of Sherlock's book and working her hips against him. He grunted when he slid deeper into her wet passage. She pressed messy kisses to his neck, too far gone to care for precision.
The sensation of another person being a part of her, deep inside where no one had ever been, was overwhelming. It was all the more so because this was Sherlock. A mad, unpredictable genius who she had never seen be gentle with anyone was being so careful as he took her virginity and made every moment as pleasurable as he could. She knew he was noting all the details of what was happening. That was simply who he was. It was even thrilling to think that this moment would be forever carved into his hard drive of a mind, never to be deleted as the information was too valuable. "I love you," she breathed raggedly. Jane hadn't realized she was going to say it but now that she had she didn't want to take it back.
"Yes," Sherlock agreed. "You certainly do." Jane leaned back abruptly to look in his eyes, momentarily sobering enough for coherent thought.
"What kind of response is that?" she demanded. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes before sliding a hand down to where they were joined and finding that bundle of nerves he'd gotten to know so well. The tangled knots of pleasure tightened inside her, making her gasp. She gripped at the skin of his back as he thrust up into her.
"It's honest," he replied roughly even as his thumb gently stroked her clitoris. She whimpered, jerking a little at the stimulation. He wrapped both of his arms around her and held her firmly against his body. Her legs tightened around him as the slow rolling of their hips turned to a more desperate rocking. Then Sherlock pressed his mouth against her ear and whispered, "Everything before this has just been sex. This is the first time I have ever made love to another human being." That was when she came.
Jane panted and writhed as waves of heated pleasure swept through her body. Her muscles clenched down on Sherlock, forcing his own climax. He let out a low, profound groan as he spilled inside of her. She couldn't help but moan a little as well. She couldn't imagine moving so she left her limbs locked around her very first love. Not even a violent triple homicide would persuade her to let go. Sherlock continued to hold her close even after he had gone soft inside her so she could only assume he agreed.
It was hours, and more delicious lovemaking, later when Sherlock asked with an exhausted yet nervous voice, "Was it worth the wait?" Just then an idea occurred to her and she smiled deviously.
"You'll have to keep reading my blog to find out."
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A little while later she posted this message on her blog:
I lost my virginity six hours ago. Sherlock was absolutely without a doubt worth the wait.
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"Your brother commented on my blog, Sherlock," Jane informed him the next day. She wasn't sure what to think about that. Mycroft never gave any indication that he read her blog, although it stood to reason he would read it for information on his brother. Still, it was odd he'd chosen this entry on which post his first comment.
"Fascinating." The decided lack of interest in the currently lounging genius's tone made her smile. She had seen him smug before but rarely had it led to him basking lazily in his own glory. Maybe she should brag about his sexual prowess on her blog more often. Then again, she didn't really want Mycroft commenting on those, too.
"He offers his congratulations and wants to know if we've set the date. That's the second time he's implied we're getting married." Sherlock let out a derisive scoff.
"Oh, typical. He's going to be insufferable when he gets his invitation."
"I suppose so... Hang on a tick. What invitation?"
The End