Lolita stood in the doorway of the 221B flat. Sherlock was hunched over the coffee table, his fingertips pressed together. He didn't bother changing out of his frayed, worn down robe. He was either far too lazy or far too busy to do that.

"Welcome back, Dolores," he mumbled without looking up. Lo half smiled and approached him. She kneeled before him, resting her head on the edge of the cushion.

He quirked his brow, the thoughts of his newest case vanished to the back of his mind. His only muses were on Lolita now. The girl moved her hand fingers smoothly and slowly up his thigh. He opened his mouth to speak, until a scent—a familiar one, wafted into his nostrils… It was the smell of Marlboro Light and strawberry mint bubblegum.

"Where have you been, Lolita?" he inquired, staring down at her with a solemn look. Her hand stopped near his belt.

"I just went to the diner," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You smell like smoke—"

"Well, I wasn't smoking," Lolita replied quickly, standing up.

"Then who was?" asked Sherlock, crossing on leg over the other.

"A man," she told him honestly. She climbed onto his lap, hooking her arms around his neck. Holmes' heart beat in his chest like a bomb waiting to explode.

"Don't be mad with me. I was just making friendly conversation," she stated as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't care whether the chat was friendly or not. I want to know who the man was," he said sternly. Lolita stared at him with her piercing blue eyes. She leaned in to Sherlock, giving his cheek a tender peck. His eyes widened, but he didn't scramble away from her. He sat there in silence for a moment until Lolita reassured him that the man was nobody.

He cleared his throat and tried to get up, but the nymphet refused to move.

"Move, Dolores," he commanded quietly. Lolita responded with a playful giggle.

Sherlock wasn't really in the mood to play her games. With a sigh, he settled back into the sofa's cushioned back.

"Listen, Lolita—"

This time, she cut him off with a kiss on his lips. They both closed their eyes in the fabulous bliss. Sherlock moved his hand behind her neck, bringing her closer, but Lolita pulled back. She grinned at him with her signature nymphet smirk.

"You were saying?"

Sherlock sat there, forcing himself not to gape. He looked down at his lap, then back into her eyes. They both knew perfectly well what was going on between them, but neither of them acknowledged it aloud.

"Take a bath. The Marlboro is fuming from you," he muttered, forcing his little guilty pleasure to get up. She triumphantly skipped to the bathroom. There was nothing better than watching him squirm. Sherlock moved to the window, promptly getting out a pack of cigarettes and his violin. It was time for him to clear his mind. He certainly needed it.