A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and leaving me reviews! I love them all and they make me smile oh so much. :D

For those that are wondering, the piece I refer to in this piece, I used this YouTube link: watch?v=RM9DPfp7-Ck

It's a good one. Anyways, enjoy!

The next day—a Saturday—Anna stayed in her bed for a long time through the morning. It was glorious. Felix remained at her side, absorbing her body warmth, until she peeled the covers off her body just before the noon hour rolled around.

She took a long shower and threw her hair up in a messy blob of a bun on the crown of her head.

Then, whilst brewing a small pot of coffee and eating a banana, Anna decided it would be a musical day; a day devoted to listening, creating, and practicing music. Her skills were growing rusty and everyone needs one of those personal days where they completely devote their time to something they want.

She walked into the living room and Anna lovingly grasped the neck of her cello. Her seating arrangement from the night before was still set up. Taking a seat, Anna began her repetitious scales and exercises from her university years. Scales in every key, their minor equivalent, and every other variation in between.

Time became irrelevant and, eventually, Anna moved onto repertoire. She played through music for Robert's recital, and then opened another solo piece.

Anna settled it on her stand and straightened it out, remembering everything her professor had taught her and every drill she'd practice to be able to perform this piece. Anna remembered every emotion and every musical thought she'd developed about it.

When she felt prepared, Anna closed her eyes and placed her fingers at their correct positions. Her limbs breathed with her as Anna took a deep breath in.

Upon placing the bow down for the opening chord, her buzzer rang.

A gurgled crunch came from her cello and Anna cringed.

"Let me in." Sherlock came from the intercom.

Anna silently breathed to herself. She'd been avoiding talking to him since that night. She could only imagine how awkward their time together must have been and, although there were questions, it was really something Anna didn't want to talk about.

It's not like Anna didn't find herself sexually attracted to him—she figured that had been there for a long while. But just because there's attraction there doesn't mean they should actually do anything about it.

"I know you're there. I could hear you across the street."

Anna rubbed her face and pulled her instrument away from her body, immediately feeling colder. She placed it in its stand in the corner and pressed the button below the intercom speaker, allowing Sherlock entrance.

"Just come on in." She'd said in the speaker. Anna then walked towards the kitchen and grunted, pouring a fresh cup of coffee. Seeing Sherlock again was really a situation she'd been hoping to avoid as much as possible.

Opposite of Anna, Sherlock had awoken early that Saturday morning. The lack of a right proper case had left him on edge all week and then the previous day's visit from Mycroft certainly sparked his nerves.

What did Mycroft mean 'Stay out of my way'? Why is Anna concerned in this?

She has no felony record and, unless she was a secret mastermind (which she wasn't), her habits didn't portray any sort of hidden motive. There was nothing special to her.

Average woman with a musical talent working in a below average café.

And everything was driving him insane. He was beyond bored, even with the situation Mycroft brought up. Sherlock was plagued by images of Anna in his doorway, which, for some odd reason, he could not bring himself to delete from his memory. It made his skull rattle and it felt as though he was in an endless spiral; in his boredom, his mind would bring him back to these images. It was infuriating beyond reason.

Even four nicotine patches couldn't fix this problem.

Sherlock had abruptly stood up from the chair in which he sat and grabbed his jacket. It was about damned time something changed.

This is when Sherlock opened Anna's front door and strolled into her living room. Anna just finished pouring a cup of coffee and had settled onto her couch. Her legs were crossed beneath her and her hands cradled the warm mug.

Sherlock, not even bothering to shed his jacket, sat across from her on her love seat. His legs were wide and his fingers were laced together. All together, he didn't look all too comfortable. He looked tense even.

There was an uneasy silence for the both of them, but for entirely separate reasons. Anna sipped at her coffee and Sherlock's leg began to twitch.

"Is there a reason why you stopped by?" She quietly spoke.

"No." Sherlock bit back at her.

Yes, he was on edge. But Anna couldn't exactly tell as to why.

"Oh. Alright." Anna sipped at her coffee once more.

They sat there a while longer. Sherlock brewed with his thoughts in his own world and Anna drank her coffee, her own thoughts eventually drifting back to her music.

"Keep playing." Anna looked up from the brim of her mug to see that Sherlock had barely moved. His hands were locked in a bridge and rested under his nose. "The piece from earlier." He waved one hand to move her on and then locked them back together.

"Oh." She uncurled herself and brought her cello back. Anna seated herself once more on her chair and brought her instrument into playing position. She cleared her throat a little bit and looked over at Sherlock. His eyes were closed but his body hadn't relaxed at all.

"This is an Elgar piece." Sherlock still didn't move.

Anna had played it so many times that she could easily watch while she played.

Sherlock kept his eyes closed while he listened to the music coming from her cello. The strings sighed with each stroke of the bow and Sherlock's own rhythmical breathed acclimated to this slow tempo.

However, he was ice frigid.

His fingers dug into the armrest and Anna could visually see the muscles in his neck tensing up and bulging under his skin.

Then he opened his eyes and calmly stood up. Anna was shocked and a small hiccup stuttered in her bow arm.

"Keep playing. Don't mind me."

Anna found herself feeling more nervous and her right pinky began to shake lightly. Sherlock began to circle around her chair and, with every step, Anna could hear a soft tap from the soul of his shoe against the wooden floors.

To concentrate now, Anna closed her eyes and created an image of the music in her mind. She focused on the music on the page rather than the intimidating man around her.

When there was a soft tickle at her neck, Anna took a sharp breath in.

"Keep playing."

She wasn't sure what Sherlock was doing but Anna could now feel her adrenaline rushing, along with a loud pounding in her ears. It rang out like violent drums. Anna was very hesitant and couldn't tell what Sherlock's next action would be.

Anna cleared her throat and tried to concentrate once more. The would-be accompanying orchestra filled in the space between her notes. They responded to her short question-like phrases.

"Just keep playing." Sherlock spoke, barely a whisper.

Then there was another tickle at her neck. This time it grew moister and Anna could see dark curls from the corner of her eye.

What's going on! Just because we had sex one time means I'm free game? We haven't even talked about what happened.

Sherlock's nose traced outlines of circles around the base of her neck. When he reached the back of her ear, Anna's breath audibly hitched and the tempo in her bow arm rapidly increased.

What is he doing?

Justkeepplaying. Justkeepplaying. Justkeepplaying.

Anna pushed on.

His nose went away and was replaced by his fingers. They lightly tugged at the fine loose hairs falling from her bun.

Hmm, it is nice though.

Sherlock's fingers brushed up and down her exposed spine and almost around to her collarbone.

Anna felt her exterior quickly becoming weak and her knees gripped the body of her cello tighter and tighter.

All hope was lost for her when Sherlock brought his lips to her earlobe.

Fuck it. It already happened before.

Within a mere few seconds, Anna placed her cello on its stand a pushed Sherlock onto the couch before he was able to produce a proper response.

Anna straddled his waist and then she kissed him.

It wasn't loving or passionate. It was hard and bitter and angry and lustful.

Sherlock's hands easily found their way onto her hips and pulled her closer into his own body, his growing hardness became evidence.

Anna rolled her hips down onto his and Sherlock responded by digging his fingers deeper into the flesh of her hips. He broke their kiss and his lips trailed along her neck once more, this time without hesitation.

She ran her fingers through his dark curls and leaned her head back, her chest and torso out on display for his liking. His warm mouth left moist kisses deeper and deeper down, past her collarbone and towards the hem of her neckline.

Then, realization hit down on Anna. Hard.

"Sherlock, what are we doing. This—."

Her argument was broken when Sherlock roughly stood up, now gripping Anna by her bum. Her legs wrapped around his torso for support as Sherlock pushed her into a nearby wall.

"Shut up." He said, before kissing her again.

I know it's a bit ooc but all will be (hopefully) explained in the next chapter. Until then, let me know what ya'll think! 3