A/N: I am so sorry, guys! I haven't written an Ad!lock in forever. I completely forget I promised you wonderful people more, so that's what I'm doing now. I'm giving you more! Here is the link of the video that gave me the inspiration to this story: index?&desktop_uri=%2F#/watch?p=PLE4vQK8PhNXF0ON0Raaos8j-QLntiEJ5O&feature=plpp&v=Lkw1gP0Zc4Q Now to the story!

Disclaimer: Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss own these characters, not me.

Sherlock was sitting on the soft, white couch. Guessing it has to be worth at least six hundred pounds. John sat on his right, sipping his tea quietly. Mycroft sits up strait, talking. Eric next to him seems tense and worried. He should be though. Considering the situation he was in at the moment. The older Holmes opens a suitcase, pulling out a picture and handing it to Sherlock.

"What do you know about this woman?" He asks as Sherlock looks at the familiar image. She had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a face like an angel. Sherlock already knows who it is.

"Irene Adler." He says simply.

"Yes, Irene Adler." Mycroft replies, smirking slightly. "Dominatrix." The detective is a bit shocked by this statement. "Professionally known as "The Woman." This entire sentence takes Sherlock back in time. To about a year ago.

Sherlock Holmes turns around, his face grim. He watches the other people leave, tears streaming down their pale faces. He walks around for a few minutes, watching everyone get in their cars and go home. He kicks around a few rocks, bored. Once all the people are gone, he turns around to go home, but the sight he sees almost makes him want to cry.

Irene Adler was sitting in front of her husband's grave, sobbing. James had been good to her, but a drunk driver had torn him away from her. She and the detective had been friends for a while. Actually Sherlock was the one who had introduced Irene to James. He walks over to her, squatting down. She had her head hidden under her folded arms, as if trying to hide her crying from Sherlock.

She hated looking weak, ever. Especially in front if him. Sherlock was just so strong and never showed any weakness. Why couldn't she be more like that? Two soft hands pulls away her arms and she looks deep into those blue vortexes.

"Come on, let's go have dinner." He says with a soft wink. She grins and stands up. The two hail a taxi. Sherlock tells to taxi driver to stop at a rather nice restaurant. Him and Irene take a seat, both silent. It's Sherlock who begins the conversation. "What's next?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, what's next? How do you plan to move on with your life? I mean, no offense to you, but you don't have a job or hardly any money left. Your husband left you with almost nothing." She nods, understanding.

"Well, I was considering moving to Hertfordshire." She takes a sip of her wine and Sherlock thinks carefully about how he was going to word the next sentence.

"Well, um, you can move in with me until you get back in your feet, if you want." She smiles, finding his awkwardness a little entertaining.

"That would be... nice. Thank you." She puts her hand over his and he freezes, unsure of how to react. She pulls away, feeling bad for putting him in a situation like that. Sherlock had never been in a real relationship before so he didn't know how to react to things like that. Or just feelings in general.

They eat their meal, making small talk. Sherlock manages to make Irene laugh a few times, as a way to drift her mind away from her husband. Well, deceased husband. They go to Sherlock's flat, Irene throwing her coat on the rack and falling onto the couch in sheer exhaustion. He watches her chest fall and rise, just staring at her perfect breasts.

Her perfect hair. Her perfect eyes. Her perfect... everything. Yes he did find her interesting and beautiful, but that was because she was smart. Actually, as smart as him almost. That to him was sexy. This was the only women he's ever wanted. Who he's ever wanted to touch or feel something with. Irene opens her eyes, looking at him.

Damn, he was caught staring.

She smiles at him, getting up from the couch. He watches her hips move, her eyes stare, her breasts bounce slightly. She stands in front of him, only a few inches away. He feels like he should kiss her, but he's afraid it may be too soon. She did just barry he husband a few hours earlier. He almost considers leaning in and kissing her, but then she speaks and his moment of opportunity is gone. It had went as fast as it had came.

"So where can I sleep?" She asks and he scratches his head.

"Um, I only have one bed at the moment so you can sleep in mine and I'll take the couch until I get another. Okay?"

"Alright." Sherlock shows her the bedroom and its simple design. A bed and his wooden dresser with a mirror above it. That was pretty much all. He wasn't much of a designer, never finding those sort of things relevant or important. He finds her a rather large t-shirt to wear to bed. It goes halfway down her thigh.

He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. He makes himself a cup of tea laying down on the couch. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Irene walk up to him, until she had tapped his shoulder and yelled his name a few times.

"You okay?" He asks and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. "Are you crying?" He stands up, wiping her cheek softly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I was just thinking about how much I miss James." She answers, hesitating for a moment. "Sherlock, it's so lonely in that room in that huge bed of yours. I don't know how you've dealt with it all of this time."

He shrugs, it was not ever a big issue for him. "I guess I just got used to it."

"Well, I'm not just yet. Would you mind laying with me? It will only be this one night. I promise." Something in her eyes are desperate and innocent. How could he say no? They walk into the bedroom together again,and Irene lays down on the right side. Sherlock hesitates, standing in the doorway. She props herself onto her elbows, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong? Have you never slept in a bed with a girl before?" She teases innocently.

"Actually no, I never have before." Her face changes to shock.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." He gives a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his curls.

"Well I won't make you uncomfortable, promise." He gets into the bed, laying above the covers. She closes her eyes, facing him. He stares at her again, prepared to pretend he was actually sleeping then staring at any moment. After fifteen minutes she speaks, startling the detective.

"Thank you for everything, Mr. Holmes." She whispers softly, kissing him on the cheek. She turns the other way, her back to him.

"You're welcome." He whispers back, returning the favor. He doesn't see it, but Irene falls asleep with a smile across her face. Thankful to have Sherlock here for her.

I hope chapter one was what you guys were expecting. Trust me it is going to get hotter and sexier like you all requested. Review and chapter two should be pretty soon! ;)