Deducing Tragedy Part Two: Speak No Lies

“I believe in you Sherlock,” she said running her thumb over his cheek bone, “I believe in everything you do. The only question is: can you believe in me too?”

“How can I believe in you,” he began, pulling her hand down from his face and holding it against his chest, “when I don’t even trust you?”

"Trust is irrelevant," She countered, "because trust, in itself, is a lie. A pretty little lie we tell ourselves to justify our sentiment.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “And belief isn’t?”

“Belief goes deeper than trust,” she said taking a step forward so they were pressed together. “John doesn’t trust you as far as he can throw you but, he believes in you more than anything.”

“An interesting notion.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

The corner of his lip twitched as he released her hand and turned away, “Because I don’t know the answer.”

She stood there a moment before bring her hand to her heart and looking after him, “Sherlock,” she warned, “don’t make me prove you wrong. You know the answer.”

He leaned against the window frame, glancing over at her as he muttered, “It’s the wrong answer; laced with sentiment, not logic.”

He eyes widened and her palm pressed flat against her chest, “Sentiment? You-“

“I believe in you,” he whispered, meeting her eyes across the dark room. “Despite my better judgment and all the facts telling me not to…I still believe that you are good.”

She smiled at him, it was quick and fleeting and full of cracks as she took a hesitant step forward. He watched her, her eyes fill with questions he didn’t know, as he crossed the room. His hands, with those long piano fingers, cupped her face to wipe away the tears that had started to fall down her checks.

“I-I didn’t know,” she stammered. “I thought for sure you’d lost faith in me-“

Sherlock tipped her chin up before he pressed his forehead against hers, “How could I lose faith in the woman I love?”

The suddenness of her movement shocked him. And when he felt the warmth of her lips pressed against his, Sherlock Holmes stopped thinking. His hands dropped to her waist as he pulled her small body against him and her nails raked through his dark curls.

She pulled away and lead him over to their chair. He sank into the cushion as she hiked up her dress to straddle her Detective. Her hand cupped his head, her thumbs caressing the soft skin of his cheek as she drew his lips back up to hers. Sherlock didn’t think as he wrapped his hands around her waist to pull her closer to him. He didn’t think about the fact that John could walk in on them at any moment or how Mrs. Hudson would probably be the one to clean up after them. All he knew was her touch, the warmth of her body pressed against his and the surge of desire he felt when she gently, teasingly, bit his lower lip.

“God I missed you,” she purred, sitting up straight and rubbing their cores together.

He choked back a groan, “As did I.”

She laughed, drawing his chin up to look at her, “You didn’t remember.”

Large hands grabbed her hips and slid around her the hem of her dress. His eyes locked with hers and a smirk crossed his lips. “Something’s you just cant forget,” he whispered dragging the fabric up over her ass to squeeze the soft flesh. She pressed her forehead against his as she let out a small moan before his lips found hers again. His tongue swirled around hers, drawing into his mouth as he took control of the kiss. Her hands found his hair again as she greedily took those dark locks into her fingers and pulled. His head followed his hair as he leaned back and she gave him a sly smile.

“Good,” she teased rocking her hips back on his lap. “I would hate to have to reteach you a few things. Virgin.”

He sat up straight, pulling her flush up against him as his lips brushed across her neck. “Call me that again, and I’ll be the one teaching you,” he countered as he gently bit her collar bone, causing her to moan.

“Right, these need to go,” she muttered as she undid the buttons of his suit. “Damn you and your layers.”

He smiled as he undid the zipper on the back of her dress and let her pull off his jacket. “It’s only sensible in this weather. Unlike this dress…” he said pushing her off his lap so the dark fabric pooled around her feet. His eyes raked over her nearly naked body before returning to her face giving her a smirk. “Anything used to cover a work of art is pointless and should be disposed of.”

She laughed again, “You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t know,” he husked out as he reached for her hands, desperate for the heat of her, “You’re the only one I’ve tried it on.”

She smiled as he pulled her in and she set her knee on the chair between his legs, "Smooth, Sherlock, very smooth."

He let go of her hands to run his fingers the length of her torso. Starting on the baby pink bow of her black lace bra in the valley between her breasts and slowly ghosting the down her stomach to the matching bow of her boy shorts. Leaning forward he repeated the action, only with a different part of his body. Planting little butterfly kisses down her body with his Cupid’s bow lips. Hanna smiled at him as she ran her nails through his dark curls. Something like electricity raced across her skin with every kiss causing her to shiver with every touch. He paused just below her navel and looked up to catch her eyes. They were lock on him, half hooded and filled with lust. Her breasts, pale perfect orbs barely contained in the thin lace of her bra, rose and fell with her uneven breaths. “You are beautiful.”

She took one finger and stroked his jaw line, “You didn’t care about things like that.”

He leaned back in the chair, pulling her down with him so that their faces were mere inches apart. His hand rose to caress her flushed cheek and push back the hair that had fallen into her face before he whispered, “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.”

She let out a laugh before kissing him again and returning to her place in his lap. Her fingers trailed down his neck to grip the collar of his shirt and pull him upright in the chair; trying to bring him even closer before she let out a frustrated growl and pulled away. “Buttons, buttons; why do you have so many damn buttons?” she grunted as her skilled fingers began to make quick work of them.

He smirked at her frustration, “to tease you with my dear.”

She popped open the last button before looking back into his eyes, “well then, two can play at that game.” Slowly she pushed off of him and sank down to her knees in front of him, planting small teasing kissed down his smooth, toned chest. She placed her hands on his knees, her thumbs stroking the insides of his legs as she slowly pushed them forward. She paused at the top of his thighs, glancing up at him through thick lashes and giving him a small smirk when she saw the lust and need burning in his eyes. After a moment to let him suffer properly, she slid her right hand over the clear bulge in his slacks. Sherlock choked back a groan and she slowly stroked him through the fabric. When she felt like he had paid for his comment she locked her eyes with his and slowly lowered her head to his groin.

She let out a warm breath as she passed over his cock and he let out a warning growl. She smirked before taking the button of his slacks in her mouth and using her tongue to unbutton them. Sherlock watched her, those blue eyes taunting and teasing him as she took the zipper between her teeth and slowly dragged it down. He stood up so they fell around his ankles and the tent in his pants was directly in front of Hanna’s face.

She reached up, running her nails down his stomach to the hem of his boxers. Just as she was about to pull them down, to join his slacks on the ground, the door to the living room flew open and they turned to see John standing in the threshold with a rather horrified looked on his face.

Sherlock didn’t miss a beat, “Hello, John.”

“Really Sherlock?” Hanna rolled her eyes. “You’re best friend walk in on us in the middle of an... intimate moment, and your reaction is to greet him?”

He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, “your reaction was to criticize mine; neither of us is ordinary.” She laughed as she got to her feet and politely stood in front of Sherlock, hopping John would loss the horrified look on his face. He didn’t.

“John?” she asked stepping forward slowly. “Are you okay?”

Behind her Sherlock shrugged, “Well considering Mary was just kidnapped by your twin sister I think being “okay” is a little out of the question.”