"Bored." BANG "Bored." BANG "Bored." BANG.

Esme Elleroy glanced at Sherlock, her steel grey eye narrowing in his direction. Every time another bullet hit the wall she flinched, it had basically been going on all morning. All because there was no cases, well there was but none appealed to Sherlock. Esme sighed as another bullet hit the wall, she fiddled with the edge of her slightly oversized cream sweater the fabric cool against her tanned skin. The sweater covered a white half shirt and the tops of her white wash skinny jeans, her cream coloured boots rested near the side of the chair. John came crashing into the room, a worried look plastered onto his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" it was half shouted, half shrieked; all disturbed. Esme glanced up and her jaw clenched as she heard Sherlock mumbled that retched word. "bored."

"What?"

"BORED!" He jumped to his feet and John covered his ears as once again bullets entered the plaster. John rolled his eyes and waved slightly to Esme before he left again, she nodded in return. Esme held out her hand as the gun ran out of bullets and took the gun from Sherlock as he headed back to the couch. He collapsed back into sitting on the couch staring at the yellow spray-painted smiley face on the wall.

After five minutes, Esme threw her book down on the coffee table and got up. She walked over to be standing in front of Sherlock, he glanced up at her round face his iceberg blue eye filled with curiousity for once in his life. She slid down to straddle his waist, keeping her hazel eyes on his.

"Estelle…What are you doing?" he asked, his velvety voice sending shivers down her spine. She lent forward her cheek brushing softly against his and she got closer to his ear.

"Simple. You said you were bored…I'm entertaining you." she whispered simply before pulling back and kissing him gently. Her cheeks reddened slightly, feeling embarrassed she began to pull away until his hand slid up to the back of her neck holding her in place, the other hand slipping around her waist the tips of his fingers dancing over naturally tanned skin on the small of her back. His thumb brushed gently against her cheek as his hand pushed her short black hair away from her face. She pulled back for air and blushed deeply, her steel coloured eyes flickering away from his face in embarrassment. He chuckled lightly and kissed her neck gently before pulling her face back towards his. His tongue traced over her bottom lip, not quite asking but instead demanding an entrance. She allowed it as her fingers rakes gently through his dark hair, moaning softly as his tongue explored her mouth.

The southern town girl was lowered onto the couch, Sherlock finger still tracing patterns on the small of her back. His lips moved over her neck, barely touching the skin but his warm breath tingling over her neck. She groaned in annoyance,

"Quit teasing me and kiss me, you bastard." she said, resisting the urge to take control. He chuckled against her skin, nipping her delicate collarbone; she groaned pleasurably.

"I thought you were supposed to be entertaining me. I'm entertaining myself." he voice husky as he whispered close to her ear, nipping the skin below it. A low growl rose in her throat and she flipped him over, the two crashing to the ground, Esme once again straddling Sherlock. She looked down at him, smirking slightly while her glowered up at her. Her fingers danced over his skin were his shirt wasn't buttoned up. She leant down and kissed the pale column of his neck, nipping slightly her hands unbuttoning his dark shirt. His fingers dug into her waist, she chuckled against his skin, her lips sending vibrations through him. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders before jumping to her feet and bouncing away to his bedroom, coaxing him to follow. He chased after her, upon walking into his room he saw…no one. The door closed behind him and Esme's small warm hand walked across his back. He turned around quickly and pinned her to the wall, locking her lips in a bruising kiss. He pulled the sweater over her head along with the half shirt, pulling back slightly to glance down at her athletic figure. She pushed him back towards the bed, smirking as he fell back on the bed and crawled over to him, tracing her fingers down his pale body. She touched her lips against his, tangling her fingers into his dark hair as his hand slid over her lean muscled stomach and around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His hands slipped from her waist as he removed the denim jeans from her lower body and flipping her beneath him. Her traced his fingers over the tribal sun tattoo on her thigh, smirking softly.

"How many tattoos do you have, Win?" he asked. She chuckled, her gaze flickering sharp to his, a smirk dancing on her lips.

"A better question…Is how many have I had?" she said, finger brushing his hair out of his face and pressing for another kiss.

A while later…

John eventually came home, not seeing Sherlock in the living and thinking that Esme would have gone home by now. He checked Sherlock's bed room just to be sure that Sherlock was in fact still in the flat and not out somewhere or dead; hoping he would find Sherlock asleep in his bed alone, he was instead met by the sight of Esme and Sherlock tangled in a mash of duvet and skin. He clamped a hand over his mouth and closed the door silently, walking backwards he headed to his own room; trying to forget the image.