Author's Note:

Hey guys, so I'm starting a new story here with FemJohn! I don't think it will be a remarkably long story but I hope it will be a fun one. Please leave me your comments and reviews. Also, if you haven't already, please give my other story The Strange Case of Doctor Watson and Mr. Holmes a read. I very much appriciate all the reads and comments I get. Thanks :)

Oh, also I don't claim any right to the characters, they belong to the wonderful BBC and author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I'd always found Sherlock Holmes attractive, as did most women, and some men, but in the entire time we'd lived together Sherlock had never once made any sort of "move" on me. At first, I assumed that it was because he was gay, but he told me otherwise himself. Then I thought maybe it was just me, but then he introduced me to Molly Hooper, who was so infatuated that you could almost smell the pheromones, but he ignored her too. After a while, it became clear to me that Sherlock Holmes simply didn't seem interested in the sexual aspects of life.

So I got used to it and put all thoughts of a possible relationship with Sherlock out of my mind. I've never been an overly sexual woman, I mean, I enjoy sex, but I don't feel that I need it to survive, so living with an attractive man had never really bothered me. Not until one fateful day, but we'll get there.

Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant man and can remember more information than I ever thought humanly possible. That being said, he only remembers things he decides are important. He often forgot things he believed to be trivial such as holidays, birthdays, basic knowledge (like that the earth goes round the sun and not the other way round), or even days of the week. Really, my story begins with one of the times Sherlock failed to remember something I had told him time and time again: my work schedule.
It was a Friday morning in early October. I was sitting on the living room couch in the flat Sherlock and I shared at 221B Baker Street in London England, a blanket draped over me and a book open on my lap.

Down the hall I could hear Sherlock in the bathroom taking a shower. He'd been in there for quite some time, and currently was singing some song in what I believed to be Italian.

Thinking nothing of it, I simply went on reading, but when I heard the water finally cut off and the bathroom door open, I set my book down and waited for him to come into the living room so I could make some snide remark about the length of his showers.

My mouth was open and ready to say my comment when Sherlock came into the room, but no noise escaped my lips and my mouth hung open when I set eyes on Sherlock. He had stepped out of the shower and walked into the room completely naked.

The breath was knocked out of me and my jaw remained slacked open. Involuntarily my eyes trailed all over his pale body. His sharp cheek bones were slightly red from the heat of his shower, his dark curls clung to his forehead, and beads of water were rolling down his frame.

He stood there, rooted to the spot while I stared. I'd seen him shirtless before, but not like this. My eyes made a trail from his smooth jawline down his throat over his pecs across his flat stomach and dipped down along his hip bones. God those hip bones. They jutted out prominently, forming a perfect v that ended in a black mess of curly pubic hair.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, causing my eyes to shoot back up from where they had been staring at his nakedness.

"I..." I cleared my throat and tried to sound nonchalant. "I live here."

"Shouldn't you be at work?" So he didn't realize I was here. He didn't do this on purpose. God this is embarrassing.

"Sherlock, if I've told you once I've told you a thousand times, I don't work on Fridays." I added an eye roll trying to make it perfectly clear that the situation was not affecting me.

He cocked his head to one side and placed a hand on his hip. "Is today Friday?" His pose reminded me of a marble statue of a Greek god. My eyes flickered down once more to look at his long fingers against his pronounced hip bone. The sight sent an electric charge straight through my body down to my groin. I was fast becoming wetter than he was.

"Yeah it is. Is this what you normally do when I'm gone? Walk around the flat in nought but your skin?"

"Does that bother you? Because yes I do. It's nice not having to get dressed sometimes."

I swear I can feel my pupils dilating. "Well I'm not at work today so could you please go put some clothes on?"

He let out a huff and mumbled "tedious," but none the less turned to go to his bedroom.

As I heard him walking away, a dared a glance up at his behind. How can he be that...hot? I watched him walk away and I felt like I was melting under my blanket.