A/N: As this story is rated, this chapter contains some adult material. While many of you, I'm sure, have waited for it, those uncomfortable with it should look elsewhere. I must say, it was difficult to write and I'm not sure what to think of it. Let me know and enjoy, my lovlies!
Anna stumbled up the stairs and into 221B and, just as John said, Sherlock was sitting there….Just sitting. He didn't acknowledge her presence, not even a single glance.
Dumfounded and head still spinning, Anna sat in the chair across from Sherlock.
What had she expected when she got there? What was she actually going to say to him?
Anna had spoken his name, walked passed him back and forth, and even waved her hands in front of his face. However, Sherlock remained there motionless, blinking ever so slowly and staring into empty space in front of him.
She stood up and watched the shadows play on his face, his prominent cheekbones highlighted and his long nose elongated even more. In her jumbled, drunken stupor, Anna could only feel the strong desire to touch his face.
So she did. And it felt good.
Her greedy hands cupped his jaw line. When Sherlock didn't react to her touch, Anna felt an even stronger desire to be bolder.
Such harsh words from such a handsome face, Anna's inner-self observed. Finally, she wasn't afraid to act on any impulse, no matter how ridiculous they were.
She gripped a brown curl and rolled in between her fingers and smiled. Next, Anna placed her hand on one of his shoulders. Still, Sherlock showed no reaction to her touch. So, Anna placed her other hand on the opposite shoulder and pressed a little of her weight into his body.
Still, he showed no conscious awareness of Anna's presence.
With a devilish smile, Anna decided to test her luck.
Sherlock was deep in the corridors of his mind palace, searching for answers and organizing data, making connections and throwing out useless information. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he entered but it didn't matter. His thoughts, as of late, were becoming cluttered.
He was sorting through bits of info he'd gathered through the past few weeks when there was a small tingle from his right ear. Sherlock shook his head a little to get it away and it subsided.
So, he went back to his process.
Once more, a tingling came to his ear, just at the earlobe. Sherlock shook his head, much like a dog would. This time, the tingling didn't disappear. Only, the tingling became sharper and more prominent. It begged for his attention.
It switched to his other ear. It itched and made him groan in frustration as it pulled him farther and farther away from his mind palace.
Just barely in the threshold of consciousness, Sherlock could now feel soft feathery tickles against his cheeks and warm air blowing at the nape of his neck. And then there was the pungent smell of alcohol that lingered.
Sherlock's eyes abruptly opened, though the rest of his body didn't move, but rather observed the current situation.
A girl—woman—was straddling his waist.
Apparently, Sherlock was oblivious of his surroundings and his own actions while in his mind palace as he noticed that his hands were gripping her backside rather firmly. It also seemed that the normal control of his body had been lost as an erection nagged eagerly in his trousers.
It made Sherlock feel like a hormonal teenager.
Occasionally, the woman would wave her hips forward and back against the growing hardness in his groin and she would sigh.
He let out a low growl—barely audible and in the back of his throat—in mixed signals of brief pleasure and frustration.
"You're such an infuriating man," the woman breathed into his ear. Her voice was deeper and a little huskier than normal, but Sherlock recognized it as Anna's voice. He was sure by the smell of her perfume. Although it was tampered with alcohol and musky sweat, Sherlock was sure of it.
"Such an infuriating, horrible arse." Her nose nuzzled on his neck.
Sherlock remained silent but moved his hands to his side and away from Anna's rear.
"You ruined everything but I came running to you anyways. Now what does that say, hmm?" She nipped at his earlobe again, finding the same spot that withdrew him from his Mind Palace. Sherlock let out clear, audible hiss.
"There's the spot, hmm?" Anna leaned back, her hands still roaming on his shoulders and chest, and looked into his eyes.
It was then Sherlock could see how inebriated she really was. Her eyes were becoming red, speckles of her dark mascara began to flake under her eyes, leaving a messy impression of sleepiness. A dark spot on her dress showed where a drink was splashed. Her red lipstick was smeared on the edges of her lips.
He then realized that her small dress had ridden up her thighs as she straddled her legs over his waist, barely leaving anything to the imagination. As ever the observant detective, Sherlock couldn't help but notice the heat emanating from her core.
Anna gave him a sideways smile and leaned in. Sherlock expected to get a sloppy kiss on the lips but she only left soft, moist kisses between his collarbone and jaw line.
"Evening." He whispered.
"Glad I have your attention." Anna continued her ministrations on his neck. Sherlock did nothing.
"Now what?"
Anna leaned back again on her heels and thought a moment. "I hadn't thought that far!" Anna hiccupped a little and started to lean back in. "This is fun, though."
"Get up."
"I don't want to." Anna laughed in his ear and ground her hips deeper again onto Sherlock's still present hardness.
"I've a surprise." Sherlock grinned. "I promise you'll like it."
"Oh, I love surprises!" Anna stumbled off his lap, managing not to trip over her own two feet. Sherlock retreated into the kitchen.
He poked his head through cupboards, looking for a small object he rarely used. He pushed around boxes and cans.
Small giggles and shuffling came from the living room but he chose to ignore it.
Satisfied when he found the desired object, Sherlock pocketed it and returned to the living room only to see Anna disappeared.
"Marco." Sherlock heard from behind him. He turned around to see Anna standing in the doorway of his bedroom.
She had discarded her dress, only leaving a black lacy brazier and matching panties. Her hand had crawled up the doorframe and exposed the length of her body to his gaze. Her pale skin contrasted against the darkness of the room behind her.
She walked forward and placed her hands on his chest. "You're supposed to say polo." Anna sloppily laughed, reaching up to place kisses on his ear once more.
Sherlock's hands had made their way to her hips, just resting at the very top of her body's natural curve. Subtly, he began to guide them into the doorway of his bedroom.
Anna shuddered at the contact of his warm skin against her own cool skin. She pulled his head down and coupled her lips to his own, harshly. It was full of her desire and frenzy—to her at least.
To Sherlock, however, it was rather hasty and sloppy.
As she nibbled at his bottom lip, Anna decided to be daring and cupped his bulging erection.
Sherlock pulled away from her and looked down at her face. Pupils dilated, lips swollen, and fingers greedily pulling at the lapels of his jacket. Her drunken state left her dazed and horny.
Then, she gave Sherlock her most seductive grin—at least, given her current state, that's what he assumed it was. It seemed rather lopsided.
"Goodnight."
Her grin disappeared and an eyebrow rose. Before she could say anything else, Sherlock pushed her into the room and shoved a key through the door lock and twisted it.
"What the hell!" Anna banged on the door several times. "Sherlock!"
"That was easy." Sherlock mumbled to himself. He brushed off his sleeves and straightened out his jacket.
Early the next morning, John returned home. As he pushed open the door, he noticed Sherlock stir. He tossed around on the cushions and groaned. When he heard John's footsteps, Sherlock sat up straight.
"You've the nerve!"
John smiled at him.
"Rough night?"
A/N2: Also, for my fellow Americans, happy early Thanksgiving! I hope you all spend the day with friends and family, and find something to be thankful about in your lives.