A/N: If you followed/liked/whatevered this story for a plot line of some sort. You are lucky even though this story is smutty it still has plot. This chapter is one of those chapters that doesn't have hard-core smut like before. Though this doesn't mean this is the end of smut for my story. So don't unfollow there will still be SMUT with PLOT! Alright go on read. Oh, and it's not just Irene and Sherlock in this story there is still John, Molly, Mycroft, etc. Oh and a virgin is someone who has sex so Sherlock is still considered a virgin in my eyes at least. Okay this is the last thing this story takes place series/season 5…I guess? It's beyond the series 4 and series 3. So maybe Season 5 :D
Sherlock tightened his robe ensuring it covered every inch of his body except his feet and head. "Hello John" he murmured as he cleared his throat. John looked at him nervously. "Umm…Hey…Sherlock..." John whispered barely audible. He then cleared his throat like Sherlock had done only moments ago. "Who is in your bedroom?" John asked. "Irene Adler" Sherlock said with a shrug not understanding this was NOT a good thing. John's eyes widened Sherlock was lucky they didn't pop out of his head. John's mouth formed an "o" shape before continuing "Are you kidding me Sherlock? Her name rhymes with evil. She's slept with everyone including the devil himself!" John screamed loudly. Sherlock nodded his head slightly before saying "Actually a better comeback would have been her name rhymes with mean" he said with a shrug turning on his heels and walking back into the bedroom leaving a pissed of John to think.
When he walked in the bedroom Irene's hair had been released and was fanned over the pillow as she slept peacefully and quietly. The consulting detective laid in the bed next to her attempting to keep his distance. Even though just moments ago distance was something they didn't have only skin on skin contact. Pushing the thought of his head he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift to sleep. Irene blinked her eyes a few times turning to face Sherlock. By then his legs where wrapped along hers one of his hands resting on her bum the other on her waist. She tried to wriggle free but he tightened his grip on her stroking her back gently with the back of the hand that rested on her waist. Finally realizing there was no way she could wriggle free of his grasp she rested her head in his toned chest, once again succumbing to sleep.
After moments of watching crap TV John walked up to Sherlock's bedroom door hearing no noise he assumed it okay to walk in. John thought Sherlock may have wanted to discuss what had happened. When he walked into the room on his tip-toes "Sherlock?" he whisper yelled. He directed his gaze towards the bed to find Irene buried into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock's shockingly slender legs twisted with hers. Their bodies connected in ways John had done to Mary once and still occasionally did. That was till Sherly was born named after the only consulting detective in the world. She was 18 months old, and smart not nearly as smart as Sherlock probably was but she wasn't stupid. Though her English wasn't something to envy it was pretty advanced for her age. Most children her age were just learning "mommy and daddy" but she knew "John and Mary Watson" she was a peculiar child who loved Sherlock yet Sherlock was rubbish with children. They could never even bring her to the house for Sherlock hadn't bothered to baby-proof the house. His experiments still laid across the kitchen table no place for a grown man or a child. John snapped out of his thoughts as Sherlock began to stir. John crept out of the room slowly and quietly.
"Hello there" Sherlock muttered into Irene's ear as she slowly woke up moments after he did. Irene resisted the urge to reach up and kiss his naturally bright pink lips so hard till they were swollen. She resisted the urge to mark his neck so many times the whole world would know that he was hers. The problem was he wasn't hers. He was supposedly married to his work. Though considering recent events he cheated on his work, and from what she observed he enjoyed it. Asexual my ass she thought to herself. Realizing she had been silent for a handful of seconds she blurted out "Hello". He shrugged, most guys after sex cuddled, went another round, smoked a cigarette, murmured "I love you", but not Sherlock Holmes instead he acted like the act wasn't an act of love only lust and it would never happen again. Sadly Irene knew this was most likely true. This would never happen again. It wasn't even real sex it was just oral yet she got more pleasure with Sherlock than any experienced client of hers.
Sherlock leaned on his elbow like a supermodel and continued "Irene I know that what we did may make you feel awkward around me" he paused clearing his throat "I want you to know that it was just lust taking over logic and it meant nothing to me. As grown adults I would like to continue our platonic relationship as just friends" once again he paused this time thinking she could see it on his face he was in deep thought. He resumed "Or whatever our relationship is. I understand this conversation is probably unnecessary due to the fact you're clearly in love with someone else. You just don't want me to know who he is. I respect that." He dipped his head signaling the end of his blurb.
Irene questioned him "How do you know I'm in love?" stroking her hands through her hair she waited for an answer. "It's quite obvious, and you know exactly why" he said with a tiny smile playing on his face. "Who am I in love with Sherlock Holmes?" she asked him. "John Hamish Watson"