I am a little paranoid about the rating on the chapter. It isn't very explicit (I don't think…), but there are definitely some descriptions of sex so…
Well, whatever. As promised, nothing explicit (I don't think…) so if you think I can keep it at teen, please say something, and if you think I need to move the rating up a bit, let me know.
This chapter is set a probably right before Reichenbach… or after Hounds of Baskerville, however you choose to look at it. Let's just say it's after ASiB and before the Great Hiatus. *sigh* it shouldn't be this hard for me to nail down a time period… Okay, READ!
Lestrade was heading up the stairs to 221B. Sherlock had promised to have the case solved by seven o'clock. Seven had come and gone, but there was no word from Sherlock. The detective was getting worried. He knew what sort of shenanigans Sherlock could get up to in his spare time.
Mrs. Hudson let him in on her way out. HE smiled and thanked her and made his way upstairs.
He took a deep breath and started to make his way up the rest of the stairs, but he stopped when he heard voices…and Sherlock laughing.
"So?" a female voice was saying.
"So what?" Lestrade heard Sherlock say, almost breathlessly.
"How was it?"
"…Amazing." Sherlock breathed, almost reverently. Well, as reverent as he was about anything.
"Good. I was really aiming to impress."
"Oh, you did." Sherlock said to the woman, chuckling a little. His chuckling became full on laughing, and Lestrade's eyes widened as he eavesdropped. Listening wasn't enough anymore. He peeked through the crack of the door to John and Sherlock's flat.
Sherlock was lying on the floor, naked from the waist up (and probably from the waist down, had it not been for the blanket). His chest rose and fell as if he was out of breath and one arm was pillowed behind his head. Two glasses of red wine sat forgotten on the coffee table. Lestrade could see that a woman was lying next to Sherlock, but he could not see her properly. He was silently frustrated.
Because Sherlock didn't do normal things like shag women with sexy voices. And even if he did, on the floor of the living room of the flat he shared with his best mate? It seemed Sherlock would at least go to his room. Then again, the mysterious woman could have had something to do with the couple's placement.
"What the hell are you laughing for?" the woman asked, and she twisted to look at Sherlock. Only then did Lestrade get a clear look at her. Damn, how does Sherlock get that? The woman was pale (like Sherlock), had an angular face (like Sherlock) and dark wavy hair (like Sherlock). It was like they had been made in a pair. She even had blue eyes, though hers were not as pale as Sherlock's. Still, it was rather eerie.
"You told me you'd make me beg for mercy twice."
"And?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"You didn't." Sherlock said, smirking at her. "Sorry, Ms. Adler."
"Oh no, Sherlock. I'm sorry—did you think I was finished with you?" She pushed herself u from the floor, apparently not caring that the blanket had fallen and was no longer covering her (rather perfect) breasts. She kept close to Sherlock, but swung one leg over his body, then scooted down—all the while keeping eye contact—until the blanket was no longer covering Sherlock's nether region. Lestrade didn't see anything, but it was still much more of Sherlock than he ever wanted to see.
Sherlock looked at the woman with widened eyes—though not widened in fear—more like lust, or desire or hunger. The woman—Mrs. Adler he had called her—was now straddling the consulting detective. He gripped her thighs, and she leaned down and seemed to be sucking Sherlock's neck.
Greg had been thinking it best e leave, but his gut feeling was affirmed as the anonymous woman appeared to bite Sherlock's neck and he heard an obscene moan escape the man's mouth. Sherlock shifted the woman who was sitting on top of him, and flipped her so that he was now on top. She chuckled and beckoned that he come closer. He did, simultaneously moving his hands downward.
Lestrade colored, and tried to leave as quietly as possible. He'd made it down two steps before he heard the woman sigh: oh, Sherlock!
Lestrade's blush deepened and spread. HE hustled to the front door. John was coming in as he was going out. "Hullo, Lestrade. What—"
"John! Hey, um…lets head to the pub down the street! I was…uh…looking for you. To—to invite you and you're e here now, so, uh, let's go!"
"Um, okay?"
He practically dragged John from the flat, blaming his blush on the cold weather.
The next day, Sherlock and John came in to solve the case the Sherlock was to have solved yesterday. And when Lestrade saw the bite mark on Sherlock's neck as he put his scarf back on, he kept the observation to himself.
Okay, once again, if you think the rating ought to go up to M over this chapter, please let me know. If you think it's fine as T, tell me and I will just leave it.
Aside from that, I am out for suggestions about any future chapters. If they are kind of nonsensical, like "Sherlock and Irene go skydiving," understand that I will not take it seriously, but if it's anything from "I want more Nero" to "Sherlock, Irene, and Nero go to a Yard picnic and Nero breaks his arm and…" I will certainly consider it. Understand that it is inevitable that I will slightly tweak any super detailed prompts.
But yeah, out for prompts. Personal Message or Review them.
Speaking of reviewing…REVIEW!
