A/N: I don't own any of the Elementars characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.
This story takes place early in season two.
The garage that Alfredo had allowed them to use smells of dust, gasoline and motor oil, but that doesn't bother them. His fingers brush up her right hip, slowly, giving her goose bumps. She shivers, not so much due to the action itself as much as due to wondering what will he do-or say-next. Joan can hear a moan escape Sherlock's lips and she feels a jolt go down her stomach. She holds the ruler tightly in her hands, trying to concentrate on the sight in front of her, but that isn't easy with all the nefarious ideas and desires that keep floating her mind. Sherlock's hand moves away and she sighs in relief: but it isn't long before she feels his whole body leaning into her from behind, his hot breath invading her pores as his legs brushing against her lower thighs. Joan can't help but shudder, feeling her cheeks blush. Aiming to prevent her hands from shaking and to stay focused, she tries to find a wire, carefully moving the object back and forth, millimeter by millimeter, doing her best to feel any twitch, or a bump... and she almost jerks the ruler an inch to the left and ruins everything upon feeling Sherlock's warm lips brush against her left ear, his hot breath tickling at it's shell as his hard on presses against her behind, making her pussy throb. Her senses grow alarmed and she fights back a moan, waiting for his words.
"You think you will make it?", he taunts more than asks. His voice is a mixture of almost every strong emotion known to a man. It makes her want to kick him in his soft parts as much as to turn around, stick her tongue down his throat and having her way with him right then and there. Sherlock has proven himself to be a source of many conflicting emotions.
"This hot and bothered?", he continues and this time some lust seeps in, darkening the tone of his voice. Before he even finishes, he trails his fingers up her lower thigh, wiping away the first drops of her juices, growling at the feeling-and the smell. Joan bites her lower lip. She shouldn't have agreed to wear a low cut skirt, but Sherlock suggested that and she wasn't the one to pass on a challenge. She tried questioning him why he had insisted on a black leather skirt, but he had provided some valid arguments. She can't remember any at the moment though.
Sherlock licks her skin up her collarbone: she finally moans, her knees growing weak...
And then something clicks, and she sees the car door lean open.
She widens her eyes, amazed, and let's out a squeal, leaving the ruler still pushed under the driver's side window of a black SUV parked near by. Sherlock moves away, like nothing had happened, and smiles proudly.
"Very good, Watson. It had taken you five tries in a row to master it but now you can do it. A good detective can never be distracted, not even by his or hers most basic of urges. Breaking into cars is what really requires that."
Joan smiles mischievously at him. "Will I get a reward?"
Sherlock seems to flinch for a moment, but he manages to preserve his usual calmness and a playfull look on his face. "Maybe you should lie down on the hood and find out."