Sherlock was… shocked. She hated the word, hated the idea, and yet, there she stood, and it was the only word that would do justice to the strange sensation rushing through her bones. That someone would show such dedication to her at all, let alone after only knowing her a week, was nothing short of extraordinary.
This former soldier –for she was still more of a soldier than she was a doctor, despite what she herself thought- had allowed the detective to pin her to the wall, clearly making a threat, without batting an eye. Not because she wasn't afraid, but because she trusted Sherlock.
Sentiment, ridiculous. Delete, she thought quickly, but the feeling wouldn't go away, and when she looked down all she could see was the straightforward honesty of Jo's face. There was no hiding from that woman, not when she had eyes like that, eyes that saw straight through Sherlock's coarse past and right to the heart of her, the heart she denied ever possessing.
A person could drown in those eyes. Sherlock was startled by the thought; it was very nearly waxing poetic. It occurred to her that she had been standing, pressing Jo into a brick wall only a block from Jim's house, staring into her soldier's face for what would be considered by most to be an inordinate amount of time. But Jo showed no signs of discomfort. In fact…
Enlarged pupils, elevated respiration, increase of pulse and- there. A flickering glance down towards lips, indicative of attraction. Sherlock felt a modicum of pride at having caught things so quickly, before panic set in.
She'd thought she'd made her views on relationships abundantly clear –they were for the weak, for those who didn't have the Work. So why did she find herself leaning in?
Thankfully she caught herself, and stepped back quickly. Sherlock ignored the sudden cold feeling spreading through her chest and stepped to the street and hailed a cab. Jo followed her silently, climbing into the cab after her and allowing her some quiet to think in.
Yet she found her mind circling back to Jo's face, Jo's eyes, Jo's grin. There was a problem with Jim, but she couldn't focus on it in that moment. All she could think about was how near Jo had been to her, how close they had been. It wasn't the first time Sherlock had ignored Jo's personal space, but it felt different somehow. This time, the image of Jo's surprise was firmly fixed in Sherlock's mind's eye, obscuring everything else.
"Sherlock? Sherlock, we're home." Jo's voice sounded in her ears as if from a distance. Slowly Sherlock returned to the present, her eyes focusing on Jo's face as it hovered over her, silhouetted against the yellow streetlights. Sherlock gave a distant nod, not really feeling herself move until she was climbing the stairs to their flat.
When Jo stepped in front of her to unlock the door, Sherlock became suddenly and terrifyingly aware of her body, of every part of her lighting up in response to Jo's presence. This was ridiculous, this biological transport reaction. Yet, here her control was failing her, making her step closer to Jo as the soldier hung up her jacket.
She squeaked slightly when she turned around and saw a figure looming over her, but relaxed when she saw it was Sherlock who stood only a breath away. "Sherlock, remind me to talk to you about sneaking up on people," Jo commented with a shake of her head. Her voice was nonchalant, but Sherlock could see Jo's pulse hammering in her throat, and the way her breath caught slightly on each inhalation.
Sherlock knew exactly how much control she had over herself, prized that knowledge. She also knew precisely how much she wanted Jo, and it had now reached the point where the latter surpassed the former. Without conscious permission, her body moved forward, pressing Jo gently back to the wall.
Once again, Jo's eyes widened in curiosity, wondering what it was Sherlock was up to this time. Something in the detective's eyes must have given her away, because Jo's breathing picked up once again, even faster than before, but not for long. A moment after Sherlock registered this change of pace, she leaned down and captured Jo's mouth with her own.
Why didn't we do this earlier? Sherlock thought to herself. Jo's mouth was soft, softer than she'd have thought anything could be, and tasted faintly of tea and something else indescribably sweet and dark. Jo was making a small gasping noise that Sherlock was swallowing up like air, to the point that neither of them was getting any actual air into their lungs. Suddenly, Jo surged forward, pushing Sherlock across the entryway until her back hit the wall, taking control of the kiss.
Jo slid her mouth down Sherlock's throat, tracing out patterns with her tongue. The detective sighed gently, strangely happy to relinquish control for once. When Jo's lips reached the collar of her shirt, she obligingly unbuttoned it and allowed Jo to help her out of it and her coat in one fell movement.
Her hands worked quickly to divest Jo of her jumper and belt, only letting her go to toe off her boots, giving Sherlock the chance to remove her own. Jo dragged her close for another kiss, skin brushing together in a way that made Sherlock's breath catch in her throat.
"Bed, now," Sherlock managed to gasp, taking Jo by the belt loop and dragging her down the hall to the main bedroom. Jo had taken the upstairs one when she'd moved in, but it was far too far away to work for either of them. They stumbled backwards through the doorway, and fell onto the bed with limbs tangled together.
Sherlock froze, uncertain of how to proceed. The last time she'd done something like this –something that she wanted- had been years ago, when she was still at Uni.
"Don't," Jo murmured, pressing warm kisses to her neck and shoulders, pushing the strap of her bra down her arm. "Don't think."
For once in her life, Sherlock followed directions.
