Once again, thanks so much for reviewing, favoriting, and reading. Also, don't be afraid to let me know of any grammar mistakes or discrepancies. I know this chapter is a bit short, but I will be updating again with another chapter directly after I post this one.
Oh and just to be warned, there is a sex scene. I tried to be as tasteful as possible. I've never written one before and I'm very nervous about it.

Sherlock felt the evening was going well. He had watched enough television and witnessed interaction between John and other women to be able to behave accordingly. He kept his temper, he smiled at her, and he even flirted with her. He was at his peak, and was giving all his effort. 'Perfection,' he thought. 'Working at full capacity and I haven't slept in 3 days.'

But his perfect stride was shattered when he felt her skin against his.

He blames the cigarette. 'After being without physically smoking for so long, the chemicals had a greater affect on me,' he deduced. It was only logical. The cigarette had caused a rush and threw his brain into overload.

When his hand collided with Norah's, he felt more than he ever had before. During the millisecond of contact and with his brain working at full capacity, he could feel where all the bones in her hand lay. His pupils dilated instantaneously and he found himself analyzing her ivory skin: all the freckles and scars. Suddenly, he found himself overcome with the feeling of 'needing' and 'wanting.' He needed to feel more of her skin and he wanted to run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to hear her laugh and he needed to know what it was like to hold her. All of these thoughts and images of infatuation flooded his mind in one single second, and this sent Sherlock on a wild goose chase within his own mind.

Sherlock wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when he momentarily emerged from his brainwork, she had begun again with organizing her flat. He wondered if he should leave, but the idea of leaving seemed like a terrible thing to do, although he had no evidence to support why. The one thing he was sure of was that he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He began to accept the idea that being strictly neighbors may not be possible.

He found himself analyzing and cataloging her body. She was roughly sixty-five inches tall, and around 145 pounds. He estimated that her measurements were 36-28-32 but he couldn't get an accurate reading through her baggy sweater and jeans. Oh god, her jeans. It was like they were painted on and Sherlock contemplated for a moment the degree of difficulty it would take for him to remove them. He shook his head. 'Focus.' This was the time for answers.

He closed his eyes and situated her room in his mind palace. He made sure to input all of his information before losing focus again. Sherlock figured he might as well make this scientific if he was going to risk succumbing to these medieval feelings.

Recording done, he allowed himself to 'daydream' and lose himself in this feeling. Somewhere along the way, his daydream turned into a literal dream as he curled up in Norah's couch.

He was a few inches from my face. He was speaking quietly about a blood analysis he was conducting. We sat at his kitchen table, side by side. His arms were wrapped around his microscope, but his legs were intertwined with mine. While he spoke, I moved my socked foot up and down his shin, soft fabric against grainy slack. I absentmindedly took notice of his hands as his focus returned to the microscope, nimble hands, turning the knobs. I reached out to touch him. I desired to feel his bony fingers stroking my skin. He broke focus and I found myself eye to eye with his oceans, green and blue swirling together. It was the piercing stare I knew all too well, but there was something else. Hunger, like an animal lusting towards prey.

Within moments, his hands moved from their places on the microscope to my body. He gripped at the fabric of my sweater with his right hand while guiding my head towards him with his left. His eyes darted to my lips and I leaped forwards to merge them. His lips were rough, like he had been out in the cold. The kiss was long and deep; I was breathless within seconds but I didn't dare pull away. I licked at his bottom lip with my tongue and within seconds, he followed suit. His tongue flicked against mine and his hands swept across my body. After a few moments, I let out a light moan, urging him to continue. He stood, grabbed a fistful of fabric from my sweater and threw it off of me in one fluid motion. He looked at me again with hunter eyes and picked me up. As he began moving us into his bedroom, I roughly kissed and bit his neck, leaving a trail little red marks across his skin. He breathed heavily in my hair.

Within a second of entering the room, I was thrown onto the bed with him pinned on top of me. His curls danced across my forehead and I wasted no time unbuttoning his silky, purple dress shirt. He kissed my neck, and made his way to my ear, nibbling in ways that sent shivers across my body. Finished with the shirt, I occupied my mouth with his again. While still kissing, he lifted my torso up and unhooked my bra with ease. Things began to pick up. He massaged my breast while sucking my neck and subtly pressing his pelvis against mine. He made his way from my neck to my nipple, but still continued to massage. I softly moaned between breaths and he began to handle me more aggressively. He moved a hand to the button on my jeans and stripped them off when I nodded, unable to speak, granting him permission. He moved his mouth back onto mine, but he kept his hand at my pelvis, teasing me. I reached down and unbuttoned his trousers, which he then shrugged off. His deep green boxers were then exposed, and I wasted no time shoving them down his legs. He followed suit and ripped my underwear off. Suddenly, there was an urgent feeling in the air and we leapt at each other, stripping away the remaining inhibitions. He was on top of me with my legs around him and he was inching forwards. Locking eyes, I was begging him for it and his eyes looked desperate for it as well. He began to lean into me. Oh god.

And then my phone began to buzz, waking me.