You sure you can't come in? Even for a couple minutes, a nightcap, perhaps?" Tessa looked at him quite imploringly, biting her lower lip.

Sherlock shook his head. "I told you, I have early morning business that can't wait. Don't look so disappointed, you can't always have your way after all."

"I suppose…." she trailed off, looking down and downcast; it was her last gambit to get him over the threshold. He knew it too. He sighed expansively. If Tessa had looked at him then, she would've seen his obvious amusement, as he never really intended not to see her into the flat. "Alright then, but only a few minutes." he told her, "One of us has to behave responsibly."

Her delight was more than evident as she took his hand, squeezing it gently, to pull him across the doorway. From there, Tessa headed to the kitchenette, intending to pour him that drink. He followed close behind, wearing a slightly rueful smile. She reached to open the cabinet, which he knew contained his favorite brand of scotch. Tessa had been quite pleased with herself when, several evenings past, he had finally taken her up on her offer and joined her for an after-dinner drink. Sherlock had, of course, deduced she'd have what she had observed to be his brand of choice waiting for him. And as dear as that was, he noticed as well that she'd thought enough about it, to have already opened the bottle and poured off two fingers worth, hoping to leave him with the impression that she hadn't purchased it just for him. As though she'd have drunk a bit herself, which he knew couldn't actually be the case—having seen her reaction upon tasting such spirits, and from her memorable comment at the time "I don't really care for it—unless of course I'm tasting it upon your lips." He found her harmless machinations amusing and rather flattering, so did his best to not let her know when they were that transparent.

"Neat or on ice?" she asked, turning to face him, not realizing just how near he was standing. "Oh," she exhaled in surprise, finding his face so kissably close, her lashes fluttering down a moment as she worked to recover her poise. "What will it be then?" she managed to whisper, "I've also got….hmmm….there's half a bottle of white zin in the fridge, and some…". Tessa trailed off, held in fascination by the intensity in his eyes. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, finishing softly, "Um…anything that piques your interest?"

Sherlock's answer was not as she expected—but certainly as she had hoped. He took her face in is hands, drawing her to him. He started with a few light kisses across her brow, then her eyelids; he brushed his lips against her cheeks, and could feel her growing more relaxed with each kiss. He'd learned his lessons well, and was pleased to give back to her what she had shown him; pleased to feel her happy, and melt into his intentions. When it felt like she might not stand the wait any longer, he finally reached her lips. His hands were in her hair by now, and hers were against his chest, moving slowly upward, to encircle his neck.

They stood locked together timelessly, in her kitchenette, pausing occasionally to catch their breath. He noticed Tessa made little, unconscious sounds of pleasure, which made him feel all the more like he was on the right track. He gradually moved his right hand down to her shoulder, then past it, eventually brushing against her breast and cupping it softly. Her mouth was open against his; she moved back the space of a whisper, but still teasingly close. "About time you got to that; there's a world of wonder below the neckline, if you're game."

In response, Sherlock cupped his hand more firmly and ran his thumb across her nipple, feeling it stiffen. Tessa breathed in sharply and bit her lower lip again (that habit of hers he had come to relish so). As he caressed her other breast she shivered delightfully and her skin began to flush. Sherlock raised his right hand and tucked some of her hair gently behind her ear, outlining it slowly, and then trailing his fingers across her cheek, along her jaw, wonderingly tracing his thumb upon her parted lips. Her eyes half-closed in abandon, opened fully, and she closed her lips on the tip of his thumb, sucking it gently, with a subtle pressure that he felt well beyond his hand. So delicious that feeling, so new and unknown, awakened desires in him that had long been dormant and made his breath catch a moment. He found himself breathing shallowly, rapidly. Tessa was gazing up at him, waiting for more.

He couldn't disappoint her; his right hand continued its journey, brushing the side of her neck, then lingering on its lovely hollow. "Yes, please," she whispered, and then his hand was sliding under her blouse, beneath the lace of her bra, to the skin within, so warm it almost felt feverish. "Oh god" she moaned, then leaned her head against his chest. Sherlock closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance of her hair.

But there was more, and she was kissing his neck, leaning on him, hands on his chest, moving across it, asserting her equal desire to touch him. As heady as it all was, he finally had to hold her off a moment, just to catch his breath and look in her eyes. He saw how open and willing she was to go forward, with a look, a word, a whisper he could have her. But it wasn't time for that, not yet; in truth, this slow dance was all he was ready for and she would have to understand.

She saw it in his eyes, thankfully. She stilled and caught her breath; "Alright then, but when, Sherlock?" her voice husky in her confusion, "I know it can't be tonight, but when?" He looked down, overwhelmed at how fast it had all happened. Tessa went on in his silence, "It's just…..I want…..I want to feel your skin against mine. Nothing between us. It's been so long since I've been touched this way; I'd forgotten how wonderful it feels."

Her eyes were wider and more full of emotion than he'd ever seen. Things had happened so rapidly and he was too astonished to find a ready answer. Certainly there was a part of him ready to forsake his usual caution; yet he knew that would be dangerous for both of them, and in Tessa's case, he didn't dare act rashly. At last he shook his head slowly, clearly regretful but firm in his response "Tessa….darling…." using her term of endearment forhim for the first time, "this is all so new to me. I've honestly never had this kind of relationship before. You need to give me time to work through what's to come next. For both our sakes."

She smiled sadly, clearly resigned to his answer, "Yes, somehow I knew you would say that. And I understand, I really do. It's just…." Tessa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "…very…", again she paused, slowly coming to regain her composure, "…hard, if you can try to understand what I'm feeling."

His sad smile echoed hers, "Now, my dear, you know feelings are not my forte. And you must know I'm doing the best I can in these circumstances." Tessa nodded quietly. "But how about I just sit with you a while, hold you if that wouldn't be too much. I think we both need to relax a bit and just…..be."

Tessa was still smiling, despite her disappointment. "Sherlock, a girl would be a fool to turn down such an offer. And since you're a genius," she said while brushing the curls across his brow," I certainly cannot act such a fool, so yes, I will sit with you a while."

Sherlock felt a mix of relief and regret as he took her hand and led her to the sofa. They settled on it quietly, Sherlock stretching his arm around her so she could rest her head against him. Each remained silent, lost in thought. As the minutes passed, he could feel Tessa's breathing slow as she started to relax. At some point, she placed a hand on his chest; he was sure she could feel his heart beating, and that seemed to sooth her as well.

He didn't feel the passage of time as he concentrated on the subtleties—the sound of her breath, the feel of her hair against his neck, the weight of her hand against his heart. As Sherlock had hoped, Tessa began to drift to sleep; he truly didn't want to say goodnight, preferring to leave while she was comfortably at ease. When he was sure she was soundly asleep, he gently slipped her head from his shoulder, to lie against the sofa back, taking care to cover her with the afghan that sat upon the armchair. He left the light on in her little kitchen so she wouldn't awake in darkness; and as he readied to leave he paused, wondering if he should chance waking her with a goodbye kiss. Tessa looked so lovely and serene, he simply couldn't resist. He bent and kissed her brow lightly, savoring the moment, before he slipped out of her door without a sound.

Sherlock would actually have been surprised to learn—but then she was an actress, and always played her parts well—that Tessa awoke as he moved across the living room, turning off the lights, to leave the kitchen one on for her. She was pleased to know he took such care for her sake, and she knew it was best he leave this way, quietly, for his peace of mind. She wanted that for him, already caring far more for what he needed than for what she wanted. She felt his chaste kiss, and it would be a comfort as she faced what she was certain would be a sleepless night ahead.

It was nearly two AM and Sherlock was lightly dozing, stretched out on the sofa in the front room of his flat. His phone buzzed, not loud, but enough to summon him awake. He was fairly certain that would be a text from Tessa, so checked it immediately.

"My dearest Sherlock—just so you know. I haven't slept a wink since you left, aching still for more of your touch. It was beautiful…..and carnal…..and my rooms now seem cold in the wake of that flame."

Then there was more.

"You are an exceptional man, and for more reasons than you give yourself credit for. I hope a time will come soon when you let me enlighten you as to the wonders of your very human heart."

He read them through a half-dozen times in all, in unexpected wonder that someone had actually written such lovely words about him.

(their story continues with In Her Element)