Irene crept out that night as silently as she had arrived. When Sherlock awoke the next morning and saw she was gone he smiled slightly.

The pair texted but didn't meet again immediately following their pre-Christmas tryst.

One day, weeks later, Sherlock lay in the bath at Baker Street, his long fingers tented together, eyes closed, brow furrowed, meditating over his latest case.

His phone moaned. The Woman. He opened his eyes and rose from the bath. Wrapping his wet body in a towel he grabbed his phone.

Ready? Better stay on your toes Mr. Holmes.

Sherlock pondered if this was about the sex or something else. He knew he didn't love her - love was a simple chemical imbalance, a disease for idiots. She was playing with him.

I'm always ready. Is it your professional mandate to never get straight to the point? SH

Funny Mr. Holmes. It's just you're so much fun to tease.

He was annoyed.

Get our of my head. I'm busy.

He dropped the towel and stepped back into the bath. He closed his eyes and retreated into his mind palace.

He was revived back to the waking world by the click of the door an unknown time later. His eyes remained closed. He already knew what to expect next. Irene Adler slipped silently through the door, dropped her dark silk dress to the floor and stepped into the bath. "Mr. Holmes" she whispered.

"Ms. Adler," he said quietly with a half smile.

She pulled the pins from her glossy brown hair and it tumbled down her back. Irene then folded her body down on top of the detective kissing his forehead gingerly.

"Did you miss me?" She asked him, smiling.

"No," he said nonchalantly. "You should know better by now. To miss someone suggests love for that person, and love is a fool's distraction from more important things. I have thought of our tryst occasionally but wouldn't say I've missed you."

"Very well," she replied.

With that she placed her hands on top of his damp curly hair and forced his head below the water. She was stronger than she looked, a dominatrix's occupational hazard.

He peered up at her with large blue eyes through the soapy water not panicked but not pleased either. As his lungs began to burn with lack of oxygen he thrashed his limbs about in the bath and attempted to bring his head above the water. She smirked wickedly and permitted him to rise. He sputtered and gasped for air, water pouring down his face, his hair sopping wet and full of bubbles. Sherlock ran his hands through his hair, pushing it off his face. "Christ, Irene?!" He sneered. "Was that really necessary?"

"Of course darling," she giggled.

"I'm not your darling, we're not even lovers. We only completed coitus once," he said petulantly.

"Oh Sherlock come now, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it. I know you did," she cooed running her fingernail up the inside of his thigh and smirking.

"It was a mistake that only happened once and it won't happen again," he said. He was being cold with her. It didn't phase her. She knew how to break him if she must.

"Don't be so sure Mister Holmes. I know how to make you beg," she said gripping a fist full of his wet curly hair in her hand and wrenching his head back, to expose his long white neck.

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "I don't doubt that Ms. Adler. It is your calling after all. But I am not one of your clients!"

"No, you're much more than that. You, dear Sherlock, are my personal pet," she said sharply, sliding her lips across the exposed surface of his neck and nipping with her teeth.

Sherlock made a sharp expulsion of breath and flinched under her. His pale skin began to blemish, reddish-purple with blood pooling below the skin.

"Now be a good boy and fuck me," she hissed. Irene released his hair and kissed him hard, reaching between his legs with one hand.

They really were like two puzzle pieces, their two thin, white bodies perfectly interlocking, their minds the perfect sparring partners for one another. Now that it was right in front of him Sherlock did long for her again. Those soft breasts, her warm, wet embrace, her gasping, ragged breath in his ear.

"Oh, Irene," he groaned. "Why do you torment me so when you know I'm busy!"

"You make it too easy," she teased.

She stepped from the bath, let the water pour down her naked body, and glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Are you coming?"

He shook his head and pursed his shapely lips into a thin line. As he stood she could see she could still get to him. Her eyes swept quickly over his dripping, naked form, and she smiled at his erect member, ready and waiting.

Sherlock stepped from the bath and drew her to him, kissing her hard.

"Now what?" he asked, " you've got me here, your move."

"Get down on the floor," she ordered.

"A shag in the loo! Oh that's original!" he sneered caustically.

"And a romp in your bed wouldn't be?" She snapped. "Now get on the floor!"

He got down on his hands and knees and glanced up at Irene, rolling his eyes. She got down on one knee in front of him, smirking. Sherlock grabbed her from under the knee and drew her thigh to his mouth, kissing it.

"That's better" she smiled.

Sherlock got onto his back on the tile floor, looking up at the woman. She came to him, crawling on her hands and knees, her beautiful breasts bobbing closer to his face. He gripped her to him, catching her velvety, pink nipple in his mouth and sucking. Moving from one breast to the other, burying his face in her fragrant cleavage.

Then he flipped her so that he pinned her to the floor. Backing up on his knees on the floor he started with her toes and kissed his way up her gently curving calf to the back of her knee and up the inside of her right thigh. He crawled low to centre his face between her thighs, his warm breath condensing slightly, mixing with the warm water left there from the bath. He kissed the inside of both legs gently before diving into her, making full use of his tongue, nose, and lips. Sucking, licking, doing whatever he could to get a rise from her.

Sherlock could detect the heat of her body rising, feel the muscles of her legs and pelvis contracting and releasing around him as she moaned and writhed on the floor.

"Oh god Sherlock," Irene moaned. "You impress me. I think you've been studying!"

He smiled slightly and continued to dive her velvety depths until he could bear it no longer. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, and feel his heart hammering against the cold tile floor. "Why do you make me want you?!" he cursed between gritted teeth. He ached to enter her again.

She giggled. "Well come and get me!"

He spread her legs wide and entered her forcefully gripping her knees and thrusting in a steady rhythm trying to drill as deep into her as he could. Her warm wet embrace was entpxicating. She gasped and arched her back off the tile floor.

Sherlock picked Irene up gripping her hips and slamming her back against the closest bare wall, her legs knitted around his waist, her arms slung around his neck. She panted hard in his ear as he thrust into her.

"Oh god," he groaned thrusting harder, his pale skin flushing red with exertion, beading with perspiration and humidity. The pressure was rising inside him, his body itching to release. He was trying to hold on, he really wanted to leave the woman who seduced him again begging for more. She cried out gripping the curly strands at the nape of his neck, then feasting on his white neck. He moaned long and low as he came, filling her with his seed. He collapsed in against her, closing his eyes and taking a quick whiff of her damp hair. She smelled of lavender. He smiled. Just then the door flung open.

"Oh for fuck sakes Sherlock! I thought you were taking a bath," John with one arm over his eyes slammed the door again quickly and retreated to the front room.

Sherlock gave Irene his dressing gown and threw a towel around his waist. They headed out to the front room to see John pacing back and forth giggling. Irene and Sherlock exchanges puzzled looks.

"I believe it is common etiquette to knock before opening a closed door," Sherlock said softly.

"God, Sherlock. You are an utter cock. I came in and heard screaming you don't take time in an emergency to bloody knock and wait for an answer!" He raged as he paced. "How long has this been going on for? Were you going to tell me you were shagging The Woman?! All the times I asked you and you said you weren't interested."

"John, John!" Sherlock said quietly at first and then louder until his friend stopped and looked at him. "As you are married I didn't feel it mattered."

"Widowed Sherlock, I am widowed, remember? Mary died saving you. You are supposed to be my best friend, you were the best man at my wedding, and you couldn't be honest with me about this?" he resumed pacing, running his fingers through his silvery hair.

"Well if you're so emotionally involved in my sex life does that mean you are relieved?" Sherlock asked peering at his friend with a raised eyebrow. The emotional needs of people still puzzled him.

"Yes! Thank god, Sherlock! You've proven you must be human after all," said Watson with a smile. "Does this mean there may be fewer severed body parts in the fridge and fewer explosions in the flat?"

"No," said Sherlock with a puzzled look. "It means Ms. Adler and I will meet infrequently for sex."

John chuckled and shook his head, "Sherlock you've still got a ways to go before you're totally human. Now please go get dressed."

Irene and Sherlock left John standing in the front room, gazing out the window and shaking his head. She closed the door and shoved him on the bed. "Ready for round two Mr. Holmes now that we've been found out and Daddy approves?" Irene asked sardonically.

She dropped the dressing gown on the floor, grabbed a pair of handcuffs in one hand, and her riding crop in the other from her coat by the window and turned again to the bed. The detective simply looked deviously at her as she ran the tip of the riding crop down his chest and belly towards his towel. "This is a very dangerous game..."