"Hello Mr. Watson, I'm Elizabeth Stark, your new cleaner?" I smiled at the man who shook my hand, a happy smile on his face, sandy blonde hair on his head.
"Ah, yes yes, hi! Call me John, please. Come on up for a cup of tea before you get started, I insist." John smiled, letting me in.
"Thanks," I smiled, walking over the threshhold of- wait- I looked back at the numbers on the door.
221B.
"My roommate, Sherlock, is an absolute nightmare," John smiled as we walked up the stairs.
"Oh really?" I laughed politely.
"Yeah. Really Messy. Sociopathic. Keeps heads in the fridge and dead people's limbs in the bath. He's Asexual-"
I crossed my eyebrows. "Why is that a nightmare?"
"What?"
"Asexuality."
"Oh, er.. Not sure why I said that to be honest," He grinned sheepishly. "Just always rang as odd for me. But every man to his own." He said, guiding me into the apartment.
"Sherlock," He said to a figure, who I couldn't see as he was hidden behind a newspaper. "This is our new cleaner."
The man, Sherlock, didn't stir.
"Sherlock?" John said impatiently.
"John." Sherlock said, folding his paper down so he could see.
Oh, my. Mr. Watson, why didn't you say your roommate looked like.. I don't even know. Oh my god, he's beautiful.
"I'm Elizabeth, your new cleaner," I blurted out. I then proceeded to internally facepalm myself.
Sherlock glanced at me with piercing blue eyes, running a hand nonchalantly through his hair, dark and curly. He smirked, his perfect Cupid's bow of a lip curling in a way that almost made my knees buckle right there and then.
"Mm," He mused, pressing a finger flat down in thought as he looked at me, his head slightly cocked. He grinned, and returned to his paper. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you," He called.
I stripped off in my employers bathroom, then put on my uniform- just a small black skirt, and a dark red spaghetti strap top over my skinny frame (blame the cleaning agency for my slag-tastic uniform). I tied my curly black hair into a ponytail as best as I could, and glanced at myself before going. Big green eyes, too big for my face. I didn't really like them. Rosy cheeks. Pale skin. Hmm..
I left the room with a click and started in the living room, where Mr. Holmes was still reading the paper.
I picked up a feather duster and began to dust everything first, all the crooks in the wall that never got touched.
Just like me, I joked inwardly. A little corner, never getting noticed, never geting touched, constantly forgotten about.
"You missed a spot," Mr. Holmes said, pointing up to the corner directly above his chair.
"I'll clean it when you get up, Mr. Holmes." I said politely, brushing off my irritation. You get some real assholes in the cleaning buisness, believe it or not (sense the sarcasm).
"Please, call me Sherlock. And why not now?"
I sighed. "Because, Sherlock, I'd have to stand on the chair you're sitting in, and I'm wearing a skirt, which would be very awkward, so I think I'll do it later."
Sherlock chuckled. "You have nothing to worry about with me. I'm a gentleman. I'll even help you up."
I sighed. "Fine." Whatever gets your stupid, rude, gorgeous face to shut up.
I walked over to him and stepped up on the arm of the chair, teetering slightly.
"I've got you," Sherlock said dully, holding my ankle up. He kept his eyes on the paper, reading intently, totally disinterested in me.
"Thanks," I murmured, reaching up on tippy-toe and dusting the lonely corner.
I noticed as I stood there, and it was probably just a fiddle and I was reading too much into things as usual, that Sherlock traced his index finger in little circles on my ankle, still reading the paper intently.
Looking down, caught up in his rythm, I stumbled on the arm of the chair and fell.
On my bum.
In his lap.
And I ripped his paper in half.
Oh shit.
"I am SO sorry!" I said breathlessly.
"It's fine," Sherlock grunted, scooping his arms underneath my legs, his fingers skimming my thighs, and getting ready to put me back up arm of the chair.
"Sherlock! I like this girl, don't scare her off." John said as he walked into the room, seeing me balled up in Sherlock's arms.
"I've got a date tonight. Don't wait up, Sherlock. Elizabeth?" He added, looking at me.
"Yes- yes, John?" I said skittishly, getting to my feet and brushing myself down.
"If I pay you extra, will you cook Sherlock dinner? Just this once? Obviously cook for yourself too."
"John, I don't need feeding," Sherlock said. "I never eat when I'm on a case-"
"Sherlock, you haven't eaten in four days, and I'm an abysmal cook. Would you, Elizabeth?" John smiled. "Please?"
I shrugged. I wasn't doing anything that night, and to be perfectly honest, an evening in with that man, who despite his brusqueness, was really freaking sexy, that kind of toe-curling, charming, irritating, 'I-want-to-punch-you-in-the-face-then-make out-with-you' kind of sexy.
"Sure." I said coolly. "I don't mind." I looked over at Sherlock, biting my lip.
He cocked an eyebrow at me, and stood up. "I'm going to have a shower."
"Um-" I cut in. "I was just going to clean it."
"Be my guest." Sherlock called as he pranced into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, but not before sending me a smirk, which I blushed at.
"Is he always like that?" I asked John, who laughed.
"I'm gonna pay you a lot more extra." He grimaced. "He could be dangerous."
"How do I look?" John asked, strutting into the living room. I giggled.
"Maybe not the bow tie with the corduroy jacket," Sherlock said. "You look like a clown."
John blushed, and took the bow tie off.
"I thought you looked sweet," I lied, grinning politely.
"Elizabeth, it did look quite bad," John cocked an eyebrow at me and I just laughed.
"Do you like pasta, Sherlock?"
"Yes," Sherlock said. "Thankyou."
John raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide.
"What is it?" I asked, getting a bag of angel hair pasta from under the cabinet.
"He just never says thankyou," John said. "That's all."
I shrugged. Hmmm..
John looked at his watch and his eyes widened. "I've got to be off. I'd say have fun but.. it's Sherlock." He grinned, leaving me in the kitchen.
"I heard that, John!" Sherlock called as John left the apartment. I heard the door shut and me and Sherlock were alone. My inner goddess was doing backflips with excitement.
"So," I said, putting some tomato sauce in a saucepan and letting it simmer, adding spices occasionally.
Sherlock came into the room, leaning on the doorframe, the first few buttons on his dark purple shirt undone.
Ooft.
Again, he was being completely unaware of the effect he had on me.
"Dinner.. looks good," He said, raking his eyes up and down me.
Or was he aware? Oh jesus, no, Elizabeth, stop. John said himself, 'Sherlock's Asexual!', blah blah blah. Why are all these unbelievably good-looking men famous, married, gay or in my case, a-bloody-sexual.
"You're doing it wrong," Sherlock said, pointing to my saucepan.
"What am I doing wrong?" I asked with an inward eye-roll.
"The stirring. It should be counter-clockwise."
"Well," I said, irritation cracking over the attraction now. "If you're so bloody clever, you do it." I threw the spoon down in the saucepan and walked into the living room, trying to keep my cool.
I stood outside the window, staring out at the night, breathing in, out, in, out.
I heard Sherlock put the radio on, and walked to the window, standing behind me. The singer on the radio crooned with haunting words, filling the screaming silence between us.
*NOTE: RATED M FOR MATURE FROM HERE ON OUT, KIDS*
"Come with me into the trees
We'll lay on the grass and let the hours pass.
Take my hand, come back to the land,
Let's get away, just for one day."
He swept my hair across my shoulders, running his fingers along the nape of my neck.
Okay, screw pasta stirring tactics. My inner goddess is screaming with joy, possibly on a pogo stick, a banner saying 'I Heart Sherlock' in her arms.
"I've been taken with you from the moment I saw you." His dark voice whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
Taken? Oh my.. Definite pogo stick. Multiple banners, no doubt. "You only met me this morning Sherlock, I-"
"Mr. Holmes," Sherlock murmured. I felt his lips, his voice, brush against the nape of my neck now. "Call me Mr. Holmes."
I bit my lip as I felt his midnight voice spill over my skin.
"Didn't you hear me?" He said. "I said, call me-"
"Mr. Holmes." I said, my voice breathy as I struggled to keep myself together.
"Let me see you stripped down to the bone.
Let me see you stripped down to the bone.
Let me hear you make decisions without your televisions.
Let me hear you speaking just for me."
"There's something you should know about me." He said darkly. His voice was so smooth, but so rough, like some sort of silky gravel.
"I like control, Elizabeth." He said, running a long finger from my ear, right down my neck where he stopped and traced my collarbone.
"Nothing new there." I breathed bravely. I could see from the corner of her eye, a dark smile etched lightly on his lips.
"You know what I mean." Sherlock growled in my ear. It wasn't harsh, it was seductive, and I felt his salacious smile on my neck as he kissed the skin that was bared to him. "Don't you?"
"Let me see you stripped down to the bone."
"I thought.." I stuttered stupidly. "I thought you had never.."
He chuckled, deep in his throat, that certain chuckle that sent a warm chill through my soul.
"Is that what John told you?" He murmured with another one of his dark smiles. The way he said it made me feel stupid for even asking.
"Yes." I whispered.
"John's wrong." He said, smiling a wicked smile at me before leaning in and kissing my neck, nipping at my collarbone occasionally. "Have you ever been with a man, Elizabeth?"
"Let me hear you speaking just for me.
Let me hear you crying just for me."
No, I haven't. And I'm damn scared. Oh sweet Jesus, what is he doing to me?
I ignored his question and lifted my hands with intentions of running my fingers through his dark curls, but I gasped with shock as he grabbed my wrists and held them suddenly behind my back.
"No." He said, his midnight voice a whispering growl in my ear.
"Why can't I touch you?" I asked, my voice heavy and breathy. I looked at him, his eyes were darker, his pupils bigger than before.
So I do have an effect on you.. I thought, a smile on my face now.
"What are you grinning about, Miss Stark?"
"Elizabeth," I corrected him, feeling bold.
He cocked his eyebrow at me, his face stern now. "Is that how were going to play?" He mused darkly.
"I don't play." I said. "I just win." Oh I'm on fire..
"I'm in control, Miss Stark." Sherlock growled, kissing me hard on the mouth.
"Let me see you stripped down to the bone."
The heat and force of his kiss made me dizzy, and I surrendered to him as his tongue parted my lips, exploring my mouth. He still held my hands behind my back and I struggled, my need to touch him overbearing now.
"Please," I begged, trying to pull my hands away.
He eyed me carefully, and let me go, running his fingers through my hair now.
My fingers fumbled with the hard buttons on his shirt, and I ran my hands over his taut, toned chest. I ran them lower down, lower and lower..
Sherlock gasped slightly at my touch, his head falling back slightly, his eyes fluttering closed.
I smiled.
But soon enough, my fun was over as he grabbed my fingers from him and looked me deep in the eye.
His eyes were dark storm clouds, misted with lust. He grabbed me at the hips, suddenly, making me gasp with alarm. He moved me, his thumbs digging gently into my hipbones, and pushed me softly down to the floor.
My breath hitched, cold and excited, as Sherlock knelt over me, his knees on either side of my hips. He bent down and kissed my lips, then my jawline, my neck, my earlobe. I growled with pleasure as he bit my earlobe softly, tracing wet kisses down my neck, down my chest, onto my stomach.
"Metropolis has nothing on this.
I'm breathing in fumes I taste when we kiss.
Take my hand, come back to the land.
Where everything's ours for a few hours."
He grinned salaciously up at me before dipping his tongue into my naval. I squirmed slightly underneath him as he awoke the most delicious feelings I never knew I could feel inside of me. He traced a line with his tongue further down my stomach, to the inside of my thigh.
Oh, lord. I let out a short moan as I felt him so close to me, his nose brushing occasionally against.. there.
"Please," I moaned.
"Please, what?" Sherlock said darkly. I could feel his grin against me and I almost convulsed, running my fingers through his hair.
"More," I gasped.
Sherlock hooked his long fingers into the elastic of my underwear, pulling them down slowly, so slow, so treacherously slow that I moaned low in my throat at every touch, every graze against my shaking, sheening skin, every nerve in my body on unabashed fire.
Once I was left in nothing but my bra, he stopped.
He stopped touching me, and I opened my eyes apprehensively. He was reaching back for something, and I held my breath with intrepidation as I watched him.
He was so, so beautiful. Watching him move under the serene and dim light of the room felt like an honour.
I crossed my eyebrows as he leant over me so he was nose to nose with his palms flat on either side of my head, holding his striped blue scarf.
"Give me your hands," He said.
I bit my lip. His voice made my spine tingle in the best possible way, the way it rumbled like the sweetest, most dangerous thunder you could imagine.
I obliged, trembling with excitement, a nervous smile on my lips. He pulled me up so I was sitting, pooled in his lap, and he guided my arms behind my back.
He got his scarf and began to wrap it around my wrists, so slowly I could hardly stand it. He finally tied it with a sharp tug and I bit my lip.
He pushed me back down onto the hard wood of the floor, undoing my bra, which was conveniently strapless.
I felt so bare, so exposed, with my hands behind my back, naked on Sherlock Holmes' floor.
Oh, jesus, what have I got myself into?
He kissed me on my lips again, and I groaned as he skimmed his fingers over my sides, the feeling sending jolts of unabashed pleasure deep in my stomach, pooling there, waiting.
"We haven't even started yet," He whispered in my ear before kissing down my body again, taking his long index finger and placing it down on my body, trailing all the way down, down down down..
I gasped out suddenly, and he chuckled darkly.
"All for me," He said, sounding like a child in a sweet shop as he touched me further.
I bit my lip, suppressing a loud groan, not wanting Sherlock's neighbors to know that he was ravaging me on his living room floor.
He leant up to kiss me again and moved his lips to my neck, kissing me gently. I moaned softly, but cried out as he nipped at my flesh, his teeth grazing me sorely.
"Ow," I moaned, looking him in the eyes.
He cocked an eyebrow, grinning devilishly. "That's what I like to hear," He said lustfully, putting each of his palms on my knees, parting my legs gently.
"This will hurt," Sherlock said genuinely as he pulled down his trousers gracefully and tossing them aside.
I stared at him, alarmed but mesmerized, in all his glory.
"Give me what you've got, Mr. Holmes," I challenged, a dark smile on my lips. He growled, and leant over me. I felt his arousal pressing into my leg, and I looked down, suddenly scared.
"It's okay," Sherlock said, kissing my forehead softly before holding my hips gently in his hands, lining himself up to me. "Are you sure you want this?"
Groggily, as if I was drunk on this unimaginable pleasure he was causing me, I nodded, my eyelashes fluttering slightly.
"Keep your eyes open." Sherlock commanded, as he eased himself gently into me.
I tried, I really did, but a feeling like nothing else, ecstasy and pain mashed together, if that was even possible, coursed through me and I let out a loud groan, my eyes closing.
"Open," Sherlock said. "Or I'll punish you."
I opened my eyes. He had a dark, salacious smile on that beautiful face of his as he moved inside me.
I couldn't help it as my eyes fluttered to a close again, a tight feeling of indescribable pleasure rocking through my body. I suddenly felt a smack against the side of my waist. Not hard, but not soft either, and I cried out slightly, opening my eyes with alarm.
"I told you," Sherlock breathed. "Eyes. Open. Or it'll be harder next time, Miss Stark,"
I blinked at him, my breath hitching as he pushed more of himself into me. My fingers scratched at the floor underneath me as my back arched. I felt myself tighten around him and he groaned, going at a faster pace now.
"Hold your breath," He breathed, leaning down and whispering against my cheek.
"Why?" I groaned.
"Just do it." Sherlock said.
I bit my lip, and inhaled a deep breath, holding it there.
Sherlock rocked up inside of me deeper, slower now, and I had to suppress another groan as I felt my insides squirm deliciously. My throat tightened with asphyxiation, but only for a few seconds, then it made my head go light and beautiful with an overwhelming pleasure, like I was floating, flying even.
Oh. My. God...
I unfolded underneath him, for the first time and certainly not my last, the feeling overcoming my body, running through me like excitable electricity, my eyes shutting. I couldn't help it as I gasped a large breath, and shouted out his name, "Sherlock," it was a mangle of a groan and a scream, mashed with sweat and heat and pounding hearts.
I was only aware of Sherlock coming undone above me, as he let me know audibly with a loud groan, calling my name, fisting my hair in his hands.
I came down from my cloud, and opened my eyes. I could see a sheen of sweat shining on Sherlock's taut chest, and I wanted so much to reach out and touch his marble skin, to repay him for what he had just given me. He pulled out from me, slowly, gently.
"I want to touch you." I breathed.
Sherlock bit his lip. "No."
"Please." I said, still shaking.
Sherlock kissed me softly on the lips, and my heart started beating faster and faster, like I was a teenager on her first date.
"Maybe next time," He murmured against my skin, kissing my neck.
Again and again we cascaded together that night, again and again unfolding in eachother's arms, until the sun rose that morning.
I woke with the sun in my eyes and Sherlock's arm draped over my body, and mine still tied with a stripy blue scarf behind my back.
John's words echoed through my head and I smiled to myself;
"Could be dangerous."
-The End-
Song: Stripped by Shiny Toy Guns
R&R
Was a one shot, but should I continue?