A/N: Ok, so, first of all, this is a oneshot that will probably be in my story 'One Letter Off Perfection' later on, but I felt really bad for not posting anything there for so long, so I decided to post this seperately. I have finally gone back to writing the main story, and there should be a new chapter up by Monday (provided I can use my mate's internet). Secondly, I don't own anything you recognise. Thirdly, if you want to have a better understanding of who the heck Melanda is, go to the main story, but it's not essential. Anyway, enjoy!
"Melanda," Sherlock starts, a confidence about him that could break others, but one that Miranda could see through, as he subconsciously brings his cheeks inward, causing his cheekbones to appear even more exaggerated than usual. "John has brought it to my attention that I should not be snaring at something I have not, myself tried. There is numerous written works published that infer that sex is pleasurable, and, as I do not currently have a case and have apparently been irritating John with my on edge behaviour, he suggested that I 'get some', as it were". The distaste towards John's crude terminology was evident by the slight snarl on his lips as he finished, looking towards the plush red carpet of Melanda's lounge.
Shocked, Mel can't help but do a double take of her oldest friend as she places two cups of tea on the rectangular coffee table, bringing her foot underneath her as she sits on the white couch, staring up at Sherlock still. "Are you insinuating what I think you are?" she asks slowly, head tilting to the side in curiousity.
"I have been told that it is a rather pleasant experience for both parties, and I trust that with you there would be none of that dull awkwardness" he replies, as if he were talking of the weather.
"Absolutely not, Sherlock" Melanda shakes her head in refusal. "No way. If you want someone to do that, hire a prostitute."
"I have no desire to do so, I would prefer to experience this with someone I know, someone I trust" he replies, with an almost childlike look of confusion covering his brow. It was things like this that reminded Melanda just how easy it was to cave in to his desires. Those fleeting moments when he could say something and make her feel like the most important person in the world. But no, she refused to let sex become an experiment.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, no" she answers, softer than before, but still refusing.
"Why? Do you fear that something would happen because of it? I assure you that I would think no differently of you afterwards, and we both know that there is no chance of your getting pregnant. It would be an experiment, nothing more" and he was back, back to the sociopathic tendencies that drove most people far, far away from him.
With a sigh, trying to remind herself that this was just who he is, she continues on. "That's not the point, Sher, and did you have to bring up that I can't have children?" she sighs, shaking her head before sipping from her cooling tea. "Look, you may be able to have sex without emotion or any romantic feeling behind it, but I can't guarantee that it would be the same for me. Even subconsciously I would start to view you differently, and I can't. I just can't."
Sherlock frowns in response, whilst he had partially expected that she would not be able to separate herself from the act in order for the experiment to take place, that did not mean he was not slightly disappointed. It was rare that Melanda ever refuse Sherlock, but when she did it would always come with a reasonable explanation, Melanda trying her best to make Sherlock understand her reasoning, but this was different. It was rarer still that Sherlock would not push the matter, however, over the past twenty or so years, he had learnt the signs that simply meant 'do not push this' or 'that's the end of the conversation, I'm getting uncomfortable' and judging by Melanda's subconscious biting of the left of her lower lip, he knew that the latter was in place.
With a tight nod, he drops the subject, instead moving towards his tea. Perfection, he thought as the tea ran down his throat. But the perfect amount of sugar to tea ratio couldn't distract him from his thoughts on the matter, or, perhaps, his feelings. He always had such a strong hold on his emotions, it was odd to feel something without his consent, especially over something felt held little to no importance. It was, after all, merely sex, something he valued not having in his life as a distraction. So why did he feel almost... disappointed at his oldest friends refusal? It must have been the boredom, he decided, shaking the odd thoughts mentally from his head as he took another sip of tea.
"I need a case!" he complains, a case would be the perfect distraction.
The statement causes Mel to chuckle quietly to herself, as she brings her cup up to hide her smile. Trust Sherlock to go back to normality so quickly.
