John bit back a growl as his hand hit cold sheets. Where had that damned woman disappeared to this time?

The clock told him that it was midafternoon so it shouldn't be surprising that Helen had slipped out. But this was a vacation and they were keeping very odd schedules. At least this time she had left him his shirt. He pulled on sweatpants and a tank top so he could hunt down his missing lover. That woman was going to drive him mad.

He found her in the kitchen typing away on her laptop. "What are you up to now?" he asked.

Helen hurried closed her computer. "Nothing," she replied, too quickly. "Just checking news."

John snorted in disbelief and took the computer from her. A few quick keystrokes showed him that she had in fact been looking over patient records. With a frown he emailed the records to Will and deleted them. "This is a vacation, love. That means you need to relax, not work."

"I was just checking records, darling. There's no harm in that." Helen looked at him with wide eyed innocence as she reached up to twirl a lock of hair around her fingers.

John knew she was trying to distract him. And damn her to hell, it was working. "There is harm when you begin to obsess over every little detail in them. And we both know you will do exactly that." He looked at the laptop just to avoid looking at her. "How did you even manage to bring this here, anyway? I thought your bags were checked by your staff before you left."

Helen set her herself on the table near him and deliberately stretched out her legs. Good girls in Victorian England did not show so much as their ankles to prospective suitors. Consequently, John had a slight obsession with her legs. Helen loved using that to her advantage. "I have my ways," she purred.

She reached for the laptop but John gracefully set it behind him and then, in the same move, caged her body with his own. "Ah, but I'm not one of your little strays, my love. Those tricks won't work on me."

Helen hooked one of her legs around his. "Are you sure or should we test this theory?"

"Is that an invitation, my dear?"

"Possibly." Helen deftly slipped from his grasp and began to sashay towards the other room. "But you did tell me to relax and what you have planned sounds an awful lot like work."

John followed swiftly after her. Using his powers would have ended the game too quickly. "Perhaps," he murmured, pulling her back against his chest, "we could reach a compromise."

"And what are your terms, sir?" Helen teased. John leaned close to whisper French in her ear. "Damn," she hissed. "I think I might need to ban you from speaking French outside the bedroom."

"Does that mean you agree to my terms?" John asked between kisses to her neck.

Helen struggled to keep her senses while John was doing his best to break them down. "But I haven't stated mine yet." John hummed in the back of his throat and continued to nip and kiss her jawline. "You bastard," she whispered.

"You love it," John challenged.

Helen gave a weak struggle and John just pulled her back to her original position. She could have escaped if she wanted to but that wasn't the point. "If I do what you want, then I should be allowed to do my work."

"You need your rest, Helen."

Helen chuckled as she turned to face him. "How is this restful?"

John's low laugh went straight to her groin. "Because you aren't worn out by the end of this, I'm not doing my job properly."

Helen smiled. "Very well. But I do have work, John."

He pulled her close. "I'll make you a deal; you can do your work after we're done." Helen smiled triumphantly. "If you can still remember what was so important, of course."

Helen's laugh rang through the house as John teleported her back to the bedroom. She didn't remember her work until the next morning.

A/N: John Druitt was SO a leg man. And I have a feeling I might do a version of this for Victorian Snapshots. Let me know what you think.