Irene Adler's perfume, Casmir is a very discreet fragrance. It easily blends with your skin and you almost forget it, until it suddenly resurfaces.
Adlock drabble, 100 words exactly.
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He never knows for sure whether she's wearing perfume until he buries his face in the crook of her neck.
Her perfume doesn't waft around her in pungent clouds, it sinks into her skin and it stays there, buried. Like a treasure for him to unearth.
The thought makes him almost greedy. He wants to inhale the redolence of the heady mix of skin and perfume, to trap it in his lungs, but the fragrance escapes him as soon as he tries to break away. So he stays close and he buries his nose further.
And he breathes in, deeply.
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I like to imagine that Irene brings out the greedy boy in Sherlock :)