Irene Adler had missed the nit-picking, the challenging, the greatness of their conversations... The stubble on his face rough on her cheeks, his warm hands on her skin… That last kiss lingering in her memory like something she just could not reach in the distance. But she knew how to conceal the urgency inside her.

"Tea, Ms Adler?" Holmes invited, eyebrows raised.

"Why not 'Irene'?" she sighed and leaned in closer to him, smiling softly, eyes still on his.

"Still not answering questions?" he whispered, and not realizing, leaning into her himself. Her smile broadened at his last words and gesture. He had to hold back a growing warmth in his chest by looking away from her, something setting his heartbeat to a quicker pace, increasing along with her smile, and oh, how he wished that her hands, the ones resting on her thighs, were actually his. One of hers reached for his head, and as she ran it along the sides, on his hair, his hat fell to the ground with a silent thud.

"I've always liked your hair," she stated.

He turned back to her.

"Yours is as beautiful as it's always been," the words blurted out of his mouth before he could stop them. Then, her eyes dropped to his lips and she did the unthinkable. She touched her lips to his, barely applying any pressure. As soon as his lips moved, her nails grazed his scalp, all her want pouring desperately out. That bloody woman, he thought, one of his hands on her waist, bringing her closer, the other, entangled in her hair.

The kiss was broken when they parted for air, and only centimetres away, Irene breathed upon his lips.

"Oh, Sherlock..."

And he was on her again, hating himself and her when their lips parted instinctively and their tongues started duelling. Then, he remembered where they were, and forced their bodies apart, holding her at arm's length, as he tried to regain composure, but failing remarkably for the fact that he was panting.

"Irene," he started and she moaned very lightly upon hearing her first name from his lips. "This is getting out of control, and I do not everlose control."

Her heavily lidded eyes had a glassy coat to them; much like her cheeks, her chest was flushed and rising and falling with the effort to catch her breath; her mouth slightly open and her hair ruffled. She did not even notice that there was scarcely anyone else in the park. He inhaled deeply, trying not to think of the fact that she looked like she did right now because of him.

Then it all happened at once. His male pride climbed high with the realization of what he was capable of doing to her, but it faltered a bit when a tingle went up his spine just because one of her hands came to rest of his chest so that she could whisper the painful truth into his ear.

"Oh, we've been out of control for a long time now..."

And that was it; feeling her hot breath in his ear, her hands on his chest - he almost shivered, for God's sake! -,one of his own darted out to rest on her thigh, caressing it up and down to her knee, as she started trailing kisses from the back of his ear to his neck, pausing to nibble on his earlobe, his musky scent filling her nostrils, making her dizzy.

It took a lot of his willpower not to take her there and then when she suggested they left, but to get up and almost forcefully drag her with a firm grasp on her hip to the street, where he got them a hansom.

As soon as she was in and he climbed after her, she pulled him to a lip bruising kiss, but in between hands, breaths, lips and tongues, Holmes managed to speak only the essentials: "221B Baker Street".

"Aye, sir," replied the cabby, but none of them took notice, because her left leg was propped up between him and the seat, while her right one supported her on the ground. She was pressed against the door, with him between her legs, gasping as he kissed and nibbled at the pulse on her neck. Irene Adler was clinging to his arms as for dear life, his hands wandering of their own accord; one pulling her head to side by her hair, to allow his lips better access to her neck, the other, holding her left leg bended near his waist as she felt something hard pressing into her inner thigh, sending jolts of desire throughout her body.

His waistcoat was unbuttoned along with the first buttons of his shirt and his hair stood messy when the hansom halted. He detached himself from her body and stepped out. His skin felt like it was burning. His sense of chivalry a little twisted from the swimming of his thoughts, he pulled her down by the waist while throwing the cabby a sovereign with his free hand. She threaded her fingers through his hair, resting against his back, her face buried in his neck, eyes closed, taking in the scent of London's most famous private detective, who was in turn having a little trouble opening his own front door. When he finally unlocked it and threw it open, she roughly pushed him inside, but he'd already turned to face her and pulled her along with him by her wrist and waist, like in some sort of a twisted dance; their bodies collided as he pinned her up against the door.

Their mouths gravitated towards each other, his hands flying to her back to untie the cords of her dress.

"So, tea, huh?" she breathed. "That was the best you could come up with to get me to come home with you?"

"Irene," he growled in response, "I do not work on lines, my darling, and you seem-" at this point she gasped, because his strong fingers tugged firmly at her dress and it fell to the floor "to agree-" she could feel his smirk against her lips "that I do not need to."

At this point, she had him only in his trousers and half-buttoned shirt, his shoes and socks long gone, but he could not conceive how or when was it that he had been deprived of his clothing. Not that it mattered. Her breathing was deep and slow as she undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt, but soon lost her patience and pulled it over his head. She let her hair loose while taking in the sight of his toned chest - oh, how she missed him...- but the groan that escaped his throat awoke her from her daydreaming. He was looking her up and down and she smiled when he let a most uncharacteristic whispered remark leave his lips, which startled even him, so that he sounded almost surprised.

"You're beautiful!"

Oh, the weakness... But what earthly creature could resist those full lips parted, drawing his closer, those curls cascading down her shoulders, the tops of her breasts evident because of her haggard breathing trapped in a tight emerald green corset, her legs clad in dark thigh-high stockings that ended in high heeled dark green shoes? And her eyes – oh, her eyes - searching his, full of want and something else entirely, something strong but which he could not name. And finally, her hands... Her little soft hands that caused such a destructionupon him, he thought, and the progressive tightness in his pants agreed.

Her patience was running thin. She knew just how to snap him out of musings, and it worked wonderfully, for the fact that her voice seemed to reverberate in his mind and rush through his bloodstream when she said it.

"Come on, Sherlock, you want me..."

Her teeth went to work on his collarbone, one of her hands playing with the hair on the back of his neck, the other on his stomach and heading lower.

"You know..." she started, her lips brushing his nipples, "...I think you want this as bad as I do."

She dropped to her knees, and when the muscles in his abdomen tensed beneath her kisses, she could have sworn she would faint. She sought better support by holding on to the low of his back, and consequently, her chest brushed against the bulge in his pants which made him thrust forward instinctively to increase the friction, and his hands darted to her head to hold her there, just over his belly button, because it just felt so good...

"See what I meant?"

Her voice came from below as she dropped her head lower, and this time, it was her lips that came in contact with him, kissing every inch of his groin over his trousers.

He gripped her arms and pulled her up to her feet, his lips crashing onto hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he supported her at the same time bringing her closer, one hand on her back, the other under her thigh. He climbed up the stairs, bumping into walls with the effort, mouths never parting, tongues never resting. He kicked open the closest door to a room and slammed it behind them, relieved to find a bed there on which to drop her. Just as he was about to follow, a knock came upon the door.

"Doctor? Is everything alright?"

Holmes then looked around and noticing the neatness of the room, realized he was in Watson's bedroom.

"It's not Dr Watson, Mrs Hudson, it's me!"

"Mr Holmes?" questioned the landlady's voice.

Irene was eager, beckoning him to the bed, waving her hands, but he raised his own in a silent signal for her to wait.

"What is going on, Mr Holmes? I just came from collecting a dress downs-"

The door suddenly opened from the inside just enough for Mrs Hudson to see a strange young woman's face come to tell her that 'Mr Holmes' was busy. After slamming the door shut, Ms Adler got rid of her bodice, and Holmes, his back to her, simply stated "I cannot believe you just did that. That was my landlady."

"Yes, I know," she countered, hoping he would turn around to face her. "And now..."

"Now what?" he asked, his back still turned. She silently walked up to him and snaked her arms around his waist to her hands over the volume in his pants. He hissed, trying to keep sane, but finding it hard to do so, her bare breasts against his bare back...

"Now..." she purred, "we pick up from where we left off," she murmured into his neck.

Taking her off guard, he swiftly turned around, and, hands on her buttocks, ground his hips to hers. She gasped and her small hands gripped his shoulders for support just as he breathed on her lips with a smirk.

"Well then, if you're so sure..."

Still breathing hard, she pushed him on the bed and followed, straddling him and grinding - magnificently, he thought - against him. His left hand found her breast in no time, while the other rested on her hip, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on it, and she moaned when his fingers brushed her nipples, while she worked on taking his pants off. He helped her by kicking them away, as she did the same to her shoes, and he flipped them over, still resting between her thighs.

A quick kiss to her lips was followed by a progressive descent of his own along her body. He worked on her neck and collarbone, kissed and licked the valley between her breasts, ran his lips along their sides and around the nipples, and she was already swooning when the hand that was not holding him up took off her lace underwear. His mouth came even lower and he dipped his tongue in her navel, replacing it with his long nose, planting soft kisses on her abdomen. Her skin was tingling and she was aching for more of this, more of him finally in control... He ran the tips of those wonderful violinist's fingers along her inner thighs and brought down her stockings. Presently, he watched as she laid completely bare, back and neck slightly arched upwards, mouth agape with his name flowing out in a breath, so he could not suppress a moan. Her eyes shot open at the sound and their lustful gazes met. She relaxed onto the mattress, and threading a hand through her curls she inquired with a grin.

"Are you coming?"

For an answer he crawled over her and when he was level with her face, he smiled.

"You first, Ms Adler."

She pulled at his under pants right before flipping them over so that she was on top once more. She would not have any more teasing; she rose on her knees and slid down on him. He groaned and grasped her hips with both of his hands. A moan rasping from deep in her throat, she felt every single square-inch of her skin yearning for him. There was absolutely no way she could bring herself to open her eyes; the feeling was surreal. He filled her completely, just hitting that spot that drove her insane. But the heat, oh, it was overwhelming. It dawned on him just how damp her underwear had been when he pulled it off back then, because the cause of it was giving him such an exquisite pleasure now, and she was maddeningly tight around him, so hot, so warm...

His head was swimming, his heart beating hard and fast, and he had very nearly come undone. His grip on her hips turned harder when she rose and came slowly down again, moaning as she did so, driving him infuriatingly close, but he would not let her win again. This time, he would best her; this time he would come out on top. Literally.

In one quick swift motion he rolled her to her back and propped himself on his forearms. Still inside her he kissed her shortly, but heatedly and started moving. His thrusts were deep and hard, and she moved beneath him to meet him every time. He brought one hand down to tilt her hips up, the change in angle making her heart skip a beat. Her left leg wrapped around his waist to bring them even closer, the added strength sending goose bumps up her spine, their hips never stopping. She moaned in time with their movements and he squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure coursing through him like never before. He barely noticed her nails digging into his shoulders and back, because as her head shot back and she arched into him, her inner muscles spasmed, clenching hard around him, her orgasm washing over her like a burning tidal wave that reached all the way to her fingertips, spreading electricity like wildfire. No clear thoughts made their way to his head, and with her body still contracting and lightly trembling, he was only able to complete two more thrusts before he came to the peak of his pleasure. But he did not need to control himself anymore; he'd won.

As they were trying to regain their breath, he rolled off of her and could not help but tease her.

"See? I told you I did not need lines."

She smiled.

"It's okay," she said calmly. "I've still got three points over you."

He was confused, but decided to play along.

"Three?" he panted indignantly. "How come? Well, if you're counting the gem - which you got because I instigated you -, since Blackwood and the sewers, that makes two. And this-," he indicated the tangled sheets around them, "is at least one score for me."

"Alright, conceded. But if that's a score for you, it's one for me too, because, admit it or not, you're very good at it, but so am I."

She emphasized her words with a breath-taking kiss to his lips, to which they both moaned.

"And of course I am counting my wonderfully executed theft of the emerald, but, honey, that does not make two. Remember all those years ago?"

Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing.

"When your dear friend published how much you admired me, right after I slipped through your fingers and you were left with only a photograph - and not the one you were asked to retrieve? Well, darling, that's when I scored one."

When she mentioned Watson right before falling asleep, Irene reminded him that they were on his friend and fellow lodger's bed.

It would only be in the morning that he would recall his hat, fallen over hair compliments to rest beside the autumn leaves on the grass in Hyde Park, near an old bench.

It would also be in the morning that Mrs Hudson would leave the clothes that were scattered all over the house all tidy on the armchair near the fire in the sitting room. On top of them, she would place a beautiful flawless 18-carat emerald she'd found by the girl's dress. She would be marvelled at its beauty and apparent value, but the landlady would never know how much that gem really meant to those two stubborn lovers asleep in the doctor's bedroom.

THE END

AN: Soooo? Please review! I'm crazy to hear what you guys think, and thank you so much for your encouraging and constructive reviews on my first fanfiction ever! This is fun; I think I'll start writing more often. Thanks again for reading!

AN2 (18/12/2011): It's now revised by lazy me! I know, took me a long bloody time, but alas. Btw, to those of you wondering, the photograph incident is depicted in Arthur Conan Doyle's "A Scandal in Bohemia", Sherlock Holmes' first published adventure. If there is still something wrong with it, go ahead and tell me, ok?

- HolmesWoman