Fixated

After a short taxi ride in which Sherlock spoke through the whole of it about how he’d never trust another another cabbie again; we arrived in South Kensington. I loved South Ken; the extravagant townhouses, the even more extravagant shops and boutiques. As a little girl I’d always asked my grandmother to take me shopping with her there. Sherlock held the door open for me and I tried my hardest not to wobble seeing as I never was particularly gifted at walking in heels.
We walked arm in arm to an inviting little Italian bistro that, despite its quaintness, looked like it cost an arm and a leg to eat at.
“Mr. Holmes, what a lovely surprise!” An enthusiastic waiter greeted us at the door with a great smile on his face and two menus. “Oh company today, I see…table for two?”
I felt Sherlock give my arm a light squeeze as we were led to a table for two by a large fireplace.
“And for drinks, sir?” Sherlock didn’t even scan the menu and asked for an expensive sounding French wine; leaving me wondering how many times he’d visited this restaurant and whether he was alone when he did. I could definitely see him and John coming here together; seems like it was their kind of thing.

After an extremely filling three course meal complete with (a fair amount of) tasteful wine (two bottles) and surprisingly normal conversation between us; Sherlock waved the waiter over to ask for the bill.
“You know, Sherlock…” I gently nudged his leg under the table, “you never fail to surprise me.”
He slowly looked up at me, a smile playing on his lips, “A life without the element of surprise is boring.”
“But you lead a life with very few surprises, you’re always one step ahead of everything.”
“You surprised me tonight.” I flashed him a puzzled look, “You agreed to go to dinner with me. I don’t ask many people to dinner, so I never knew what to expect but I didn’t assume it would be a ‘yes’.”
He paid the bill and we left the restaurant; hit by London’s brisk night air as we stepped outside.
“So how does a night at the Ritz sound to you?” Sherlock questioned in passing.
“Well you really are spoiling me tonight, aren’t you?” I coyly smiled, wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to stay warm. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to apologize.”
“I suppose you could say it’s an attempt.” As we carried on walking, he placed his signature trench coat over my shoulders commenting on how he’d noticed my goose pimples.

Being Sherlock Holmes had its perks; we’d been given the executive suite at the Ritz hotel for a night completely free of charge. I ran inside and threw myself on the king sized bed, embracing the tipsy feeling. Sherlock opened up the complimentary bottle of champagne and flung himself on the bed alongside me. He then sparked a cigarette and handed me one, “Smoking inside? That’s naughty.” I said, lighting up my own. I took a deep puff, feeling the alcohol rush to my head.
“Is it safe to say I am forgiven now?” He asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“I never said you were.” I demurely replied, avoiding eye contact.
“You know I can read you like a book.” He rolled onto his side, edging closer towards me.
“Is that so?” I turned to face him; our faces dangerously close, our eyes staring holes through each other.
“Flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, noticeably suggestive body language, defenses down…” His voice drifted off a little getting a little deeper. “…you’re licking your lips, pushing your chest out, shortened breath-“
“Oh shut up, Sherlock Holmes.” I pushed him into the bed and climbed on top of him, delicately massaging his chest through his white shirt.
He looked up at me with a defeated expression on his face, a small half- grin dancing across his slightly parted lips.
“It’s not every night you get asked out by Sherlock Holmes.” I hitched up my dress, revealing the thigh high stockings I was wearing avec suspender belt. “Can’t a girl get excited?” Sherlock scanned my body, his expression similar to that of a schoolboy who’d just seen his first pair of boobs.

He attempted to slide his hands up my body and reach for my breasts; I stopped him and held his wrists down beside his head.
“Tut-tut can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” I whispered into his mane of dark curls. He extended his neck and closed his eyes, his lips almost begging to be kissed. I leapt at the opportunity, leant in and let him feverishly kiss me. I couldn’t resist grabbing a handful of his thick hair as he pulled me ever closer.
I pulled off my dress urgently; revealing the matching lingerie set I’d taken the trouble to wear. Unexpectedly Sherlock raised his hand and spanked my arse hard, leaving a handprint and a shiver that ran all the way up my spine. I reacted and bit his bottom lip just as hard as reciprocation.
“Oh you’ve been terribly bad.” Sherlock jeered. “Sherlock Holmes- the man who doesn’t feel…look what you’ve done.” He slapped my behind again; making me woozy from a mixture of sheer pain and pleasure. He then ever so gently ran his hands down the smooth skin on my back and he looked at me in a way I hadn’t seen before. “What I said earlier though, I meant it.”
“What was that?” I purred into his neck; reaching up and tenderly brushing my cheek with the back of his hand, he replied, “You look beautiful. That’s all.”
After that, I wasn’t quite sure whether I was dreaming or not.

I slipped my hand down under his waistband and started softly toying with his manliness; forcing him to let out a frustrated growl. I smirked and closed my eyes, taking in the scent of his skin; the faint smell of smoke and faded aftershave. I always had such a weakness for necks, especially men’s necks…how the muscles and tendons looked when a man was straining, squirming in pleasure. Just as Sherlock was doing at that moment (but trying very hard not to), I kissed him again, open-mouthed, hard and rhythmic; he exhaled shortly and sharply which told me he was extremely enjoying himself. Sherlock pulled me as close as he possibly could as I slid my hand down to his crotch again. He let out a long, throaty moan which turned me on ridiculously, making my hunger grow. He’d quit holding back and started thrusting into my hand, making the occasional grunt. Damn, he really knew how to turn a girl on. So much for ‘inexperience’.

Within minutes all of our clothes were strewn all over the floor again. The animalistic hunger at the bottom of my stomach had grown, rendering me desperate. I picked up the pace, creating friction, distinctly feeling him become very hard, very fast. I lowered myself steadily down onto him; guiding his now throbbing cock into me. Sherlock let out another drawn-out, lengthy moan from his throat and let out a soft whimper of my own. “Moan for me again.” I panted as I lifted myself up and down, riding him forcefully; his hands were placed firmly on my arse guiding me. I grinded against him hungrily after every thrust, leaning down; our bodies squashed together, feeling the sweat against each other’s skin. I tugged on his hair as he flipped me onto my side and began pushing himself into me aggressively. He slid his hand across my stomach, slicked with sweat, and down to my pulsating clit.
“Oh Sherlock!” I moaned as I reached behind and wrapped my hand around the back of his neck; ravenously pulling his face towards mine, our tongues moving in perfect synchronisation.

He rubbed my clitoris gently but fast, in small circular motions as he kissed and sucked my neck causing me to wriggle, my groans getting noticeably louder.
"Oh Sherlock!" I cried as I gave his curls another harsh tug and pushed my arse into him.
"Say my name again." Sherlock growled and gave my neck a small bite. I did as I was told, of course and as I did I began to tense up, waves of sheer pleasure coursing through my body. "Sherlock!" I yelped again; he panted, his thrusts growing. shorter and harder.
"Oh Laura..please-"grabbing my waist tight, his deep voice almost a growl.
He let out a long, deep moan that almost shook the bed as he came; his arms wrapped protectively around me as he did.

We lay on top of the lavish bed sheets, naked and sweaty, our bodies entwined. For a good hour we had engaged in sloppy, sensual, slightly violent but above all, absolutely mind-blowing sex. I’d also successfully made Sherlock beg for mercy…twice. Eat your heart out, Irene Adler.