The Pull of His Gravity Chapter 3
9,649 words
By phaedraphelan
Summary: Sherlock and Joan deal with the repercussions in the Brooklyn community following the murder of Hadassah Steiner and this requires courage on the part of Sherlock. Sherlock and Joan continue to forge a deeper and deeper relationship. Please review and comment.
Disclaimer: "Elementary" is the artistic property of CBS and no infringement is intended.
Sherlock and Joan were satisfied to solve the case of the young murdered Hasidic woman, Hadassah Steiner, but it left them saddened as well. Seeing young Carlos so grief stricken over the loss of his first love left them both quiet and somber as they made their way back to their brownstone home. Sherlock took Joan's hand and lifted it to his lips as they rode in their taxi.
"It is so very sad, Sherlock, isn't it? Seeing that young man left high and dry like that. He really loved her, you know. He may never find that kind of love again."
"Her name, Hadassah, meant 'fresh myrtle.' I don't doubt that she was in love with him. But he is young and he will find love again. I thought that I would never love again after Irene, but I had no idea what was in store for me. I met you and I couldn't believe it, but I loved you from the start, before I even knew what love was, before that I loved you, from that first day."
Sherlock leaned over and kissed Joan tenderly upon her lips as their cab crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. And Joan, who was craving his touch, his kiss, the very essence that was Sherlock, melted into him, wrapping her arm around his waist, letting her fingers work their way inside his jacket to pull his shirt from his pants so that she could find his warm hard belly and caress him there.
"You are my sweet baby, my 'bubbelah' Joan whispered softly to Sherlock with a tenderness that made his heart leap in his chest. "I used to hear the Jewish girls I went to school with refer to their boyfriends that way. It is a special word that I had forgotten about till I heard Carlos mention that Hadassah called him her 'bubbelah.'"
Sherlock sighed and moaned passionately as he deepened his kiss, overcome by his feelings for Joan.
"We really need to be at home. You know what you do to me," Sherlock gasped, as he tried to gain control of his surging libido so that he would be able to exit the taxi without embarrassment.
When they arrived home, they quickly exited the cab and ran up the steps to the brownstone together where Sherlock unlocked the front door, ushered Joan inside and slammed and locked the door behind them before pushing Joan up against the hallway wall and opening her mouth completely with his passionate kisses again.
"Oh, Joan, Joan, woman, I need to be with you now. Please attend to me, luv. God knows I feel as if I am going to burst from my trousers."
"Yes, Sherlock," Joan acquiesced, and Sherlock picked her up and carried her into his bedroom, kicked his own shoes off and got onto his bed with her, slipped her shoes off her feet and tossed them to the floor and then let his hand caress her from each of her tiny feet all the way up her slender calves, then her thighs, and beyond.
They stared into each other's eyes as they lay facing each other on the bed. Sherlock's pupils took up nearly all of his blue green irises and his nostrils quivered gently inhaling her essence as their gaze locked them into each other.
"I'm going to make love to you, Joan. I am going to help you disrobe so that I can finish touching you all over till you come apart in my arms that way that you do. Because I need you, my lovely Joan, as I have never needed anyone in my whole life. And I do love you as I never believed it possible to love another person."
"Sherlock, please, just put your arms around me and hold me that way that you do."
Sherlock's hands were shaking as he pulled Joan's tights and panties down and off her and pushed her sweater up and off and he cried in exultation as he found the soft breasts that he loved so, as Joan at the same time helped him loosen his trousers and shirt so that their bare flesh could have contact.
"Luv, I've been wanting to feel your skin against mine like this all day long. You make me tremble with the urgency of my desire for you."
"Sherlock, I'm here for you, baby. For whatever you need . . . whatever you want . . . I'm here. I want you so!"
The next moment Sherlock got on top of her and Joan felt him searching for and easily finding and penetrating her special place all at once as she welcomed him.
"Ooh, Ooh! Sherlock! Yes, baby, yes!" Joan wailed softly with each passionate thrust, gripping him, scratching him, her whole body beginning to vibrate out of control as she went into rapture in his arms and the bright blue lights of the climax exploded in her brain.
"God, Oh, God! Joan! Aargh! Aargh! I'm in such ecstasy! Joan! It's about to happen for me! I cannna hold it back, luv!"
"Please don't hold it back! Don't hold it back," Joan wailed.
Sherlock's roars of conquest resounded throughout their house as he found the very deepest part of her and felt that intense pressure in his testicles that portended his blessed moment of release, that moment of revelation when his whole brain seemed filled with white light that revealed his most basic need to be Joan in his arms.
Sherlock rolled onto his back so that Joan was on top of him as the spasms began to surge through his body and he gripped her hips, holding her fast onto him as his blue green eyes rolled back in his head and his teeth clattered in the pure ecstasy of that moment of ejaculation when his semen began to spurt upward into her, every crease disappearing from his face giving him the visage of beautiful twenty-year old man again.
"Sherlock . . . Yes! Yes! Oh, Sherlock!"
"Joan, luv . . . sweetness! You are sweetness! God, yes!"
"Ooh, Sherlock, I love you so much . . . so much," Joan sighed and moaned as she dissolved in surrender on his chest, totally conquered, completely taken.
Sherlock drew up the covers over them and they snuggled quietly as the afterglow settled over them.
"You bring me such satisfaction, luv," Sherlock murmured into Joan's ear as they lay together. "I cannot describe the sensation when we came together tonight. Were your needs satisfied, darling?"
"Yes . . . Sherlock. When you touch me . . . the way you do, you make me lose my mind. Sherlock . . . I love you . . . love you, love feel of you inside me . . . everything . . . "
"It was so beautiful seeing you totally gone like that. I felt the very moment when you gave your body to me. You just melted inside, luv . . . you were so soft, like warm wax, just melting around my flesh."
"Yes, oh, yes! I can't tell you what happens . . . so weak for you . . . love you so much. Oh, Sherlock . . . words cannot describe. . ."
"I have so many words . . . words to say to you, luv, words I have never said to another woman."
They continued to whisper softly to one another till they drifted off to sleep in the warmth of their lovers' embrace.
Sherlock and Joan were awakened shortly before 1:00 a.m. by their doorbell ringing.
"God! Who can that be?" Sherlock groaned.
He struggled to gain full consciousness as he got from his bed and stumbled about searching the room for a pair of trousers to pull over his naked body and grabbing his shirt from the foot of the bed.
"Oh, Sherlock, I'm in no shape to see anyone," Joan murmured from bed, still feeling the effects of their earlier sexual activity.
"Stay there, luv. I'll see who it is."
When Sherlock opened his front door, he was confronted with Carlos Reyes.
"Mr. Holmes, I'm scared . . . so scared!"
"Come in, Carlos."
Sherlock led the frightened young man into the house and to the parlor.
"What has happened?"
"They came by my job looking for me . . . men from the Hasidim. Someone told them that I was the one that Hadassah was seeing. They say they want to teach me a lesson. I can't go to my mom's house. I can't bring trouble to her like that. What can I do? Where can I go?"
"You have family in another part of the city, Carlos?"
"My uncle is in the South Bronx."
"Contact him and tell him that you need to stay with him for a while. Give this time to blow over. These people will not follow you to another part of the city. You can stay here for the rest of the night. We will talk in the morning. Just bed down here. There is a bathroom upstairs. I need to let my . . . partner know that you are here so that she can get back to sleep."
"You and Miss Watson . . . I could see that you are . . . in a .. . "
"We are a couple, Carlos," Sherlock stated as a matter of fact.
"Mr. Holmes, can I ask . . . when did you know, you know, that you wanted to be with her like that? I guess since this happened to me I just want to try to figure out this man/woman thing. It's obvious you and her care for each other."
"Actually, Carlos, I knew it the day I met her. It took a while to come to terms with it. I had not realized how important monogamy can be in your life. But I realize that now. I realize that you are a young man and after your recent introduction to sex it will be difficult to pull back from that now. But you will find that uninhibited sexual license is not the answer."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you will never be satisfied just screwing any girl that will have you. It must be the right one, Carlos. You will not replace Hadassah soon in your life. Take the time now to learn self-control and prepare to be a man so that when you love a woman again it will have meaning, the kind of meaning you found with Hadassah."
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock bade goodnight to Carlos and went back to his bedroom and lay down beside Joan.
"So who was that, Sherlock?"
"The young lad, Carlos Reyes . . . he is afraid for his life . . . from the Hasidic vigilantes who feel that his attachment to Hadassah Steiner led to her death. Somehow that has come to light. It is all very irrational, but nonetheless dangerous for him. He grew up in Williamsburg where the Jews and Hispanics live side by side, but do not mix on any social level. He violated that code and they want to make him pay. If they accost him, he will be the victim, not of one but of a group of men who will be all but impossible to prosecute."
"What can we do to protect him? He is quite a handsome young fellow. No wonder that Hadassah was attracted to him."
"True, but I don't know right now how to help him, Watson. But we have a house guest for the moment. I think that we should try to get some rest and deal with this in the morning."
Sherlock drew Joan onto his chest and she lay there listening to the thump thump of his heart beat in her ear as he smoothed her hair.
"We will help him, Sherlock. . . in the morning."
Joan drew Sherlock's hand to cup her breast and she sighed in response as his fingertips titillated her dainty nipples.
"Carlos asked me about 'us' and I thought about 'us' and how that I have loved you since the day we met. I . . . I need you, Joan Watson. I just . . . need you. I know it's very late and I don't want to impose upon your kindness toward me in my desperate moments, but . . . I am a pathetically needy man tonight."
Sherlock's hips pushed gently, but rhythmically against Joan's begging her to attend to his need, and she turned to face him and graciously welcomed Sherlock, tousling his hair, as he kissed her mouth with kiss after deep passionate kiss till he finally mounted her to make love to her quietly and gently in the early pre-dawn hours.
"Oh, Sherlock, yes . . . yes!" Joan moaned as her body quivered and shook as the climax rolled over her.
"Thank God, Joan. Thank God!" Sherlock whispered.
His body went rigid in a climax of blue and white lights as he spilled into Joan gasping and groaning in her arms as she melted in total surrender to him.
When the sun wakened Joan a few hours later, she realized that she was alone in their bed. The smell of coffee brewing wafted through the brownstone. Joan wrapped herself in her robe and went to prepare for the day. There was no sign of Sherlock or Carlos in the kitchen so Joan dressed and went to find them.
Sherlock and Carlos were on the roof and he was giving him an extensive explanation of bee society. Sherlock was an animated teacher and Carlos an avid student.
"Ah, Watson, come and enjoy the morning on the roof. It is a beautiful day despite any problems that exist for any of us. I was just introducing young Carlos here to the hives."
"Well, I made a pot of fresh coffee and there is toast and Sherlock can make some of his famous scrambled eggs. I guarantee you will like that. Why don't we have breakfast now?"
They descended to the kitchen and finished preparing breakfast together. Carlos seemed intrigued at observing the obvious very personal interaction between Sherlock and Joan, even as they tried to hide it from his eyes.
Finally Carlos just started to laugh at the two of them in spite of himself when they began to eat from each other's plates and drink from each other's coffee. Sherlock and Joan dropped their forks, stopped staring at each other and looked at him.
"We just happen to like everything the same way," they said, practically in unison.
Joan got up from the table to make more toast for their young hungry visitor and Carlos took the opportunity to speak a private word to Sherlock.
"Man, you and Miss Watson have a real case of it. I hope that one day I will find that again . . . with someone."
"You must wait. You wait for that person. Once, sometimes twice in a lifetime, you will know, Carlos. I'm old enough to be your father and Watson and I just found each other not so very long ago."
"So we are having a deep conversation on life and love it seems." Joan said brightly as she brought a second plate of toast.
"Yes, luv," Sherlock said, the endearment slipping easily from his lips as he unconsciously took her hand in his and kissed it. "There is so much to learn. But now our young friend must confront the devastating consequences of falling in love with the wrong young woman. He is currently a target of a group of vigilantes who want to exact punishment on him for his indiscretion."
"And you suggest?"
"I first suggested that he move in with his extended family in the South Bronx. But I don't think that is a good long term solution. I think that we need to visit the Steiner family again. Carlos, you would be wise to maintain a low profile till this all calms down."
"Sir, I would be glad to do some work for you here. I don't have any real money to pay you for your help. I give my mother the rent for our place, so there is not much left."
"Miss Hudson, our cleaning lady, is coming today. Just give her a hand with whatever she needs. Watson and I need to take care of some matters elsewhere today. Come along, luv," Sherlock said, not attempting to hide his giving Joan an affectionate pat on her shapely derrière as he led her from the room.
Sherlock and Joan headed first for the precinct to discuss the case with Captain Gregson.
"Captain, I would really like to speak with representatives of the Hasidic council about this situation . . . first to make them aware that we know of the threats they have made to young Reyes and then to appeal to them to retreat from their hard line position and recognize that times are changing and in spite of the fact of a terrible loss in this case that Carlos is not to blame for her death and that any harm that comes to him because of their vigilante efforts will be met with an immediate response."
"You can make an attempt, Holmes, but these people are pretty difficult to deal with."
"That is why we are going to speak with the Steiner family first and appeal to them to intercede in behalf of handsome young Carlos."
Joan looked at Sherlock with her eyes full of the pride she showed when he was especially courageous.
"Keep us in the loop, Holmes. We don't want to set these people's teeth on edge anymore than they already are."
"Sure," Sherlock said as he guided Joan from the precinct and out into the street.
They arrived at the Steiner's home in Williamsburg at around noon and sat down with Hadassah's parents.
"We are here to ask you to intercede in behalf of the young man who was involved with your late daughter, Hadassah, sir."
"And why should we concern ourselves with him, Mr. Holmes? He knew the rules, that he was not to involve himself in that way with one of our females."
"He was just nineteen years old and your daughter was a beautiful nineteen year old who took a fancy to him. No doubt you remember that time of your life. I certainly do. The unfortunate consequences of their actions have left you with a choice. You can call off the vigilantes who are looking for the young man to harm him or you can see your community involved in some very adverse publicity."
"It is really out of my hands, Mr. Holmes. We have a council which handles these matters."
"But you have input. You can 'call off the dogs,' so to speak. I respect that you have deep religious convictions, Mr. Steiner, but I cannot abide religious hypocrisy."
"Religious hypocrisy?"
"Yes, the religious hypocrisy I have documented in my observations of your male congregants picking up Hispanic prostitutes at the foot of the Williamsburg Bridge. This all seems to be a matter of 'the pot calling the kettle black' to me. That is the adverse publicity that I speak of now."
Mr. Steiner flushed in embarrassment at Sherlock's very precise account of facts that he could not deny.
Gertrude Steiner was weeping quietly, unable to handle the emotions she was experiencing.
"I don't want the boy to be hurt, Sol. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. I . . . I read her diary after it happened. She was determined to be 'with him.' We have known that boy all his life. We know his mother. We remember when his father was killed in the Iraq war."
"The council meets this evening. It is too late to bring all this up. I will not have my daughter's blood go unavenged."
"You know that we have found the murderer of your daughter. Her murder will be avenged. I would be happy to attend the meeting and speak in behalf of the young man."
"Here is the address for the meeting. If you present yourself there, I will introduce you and ask that you be permitted to speak."
"Fine. I will see you then, Mr. Steiner."
Sherlock and Joan left the Steiners' and headed for home.
"It's tragic, Watson, just tragic. That beautiful young woman did not have to die. I will not stand by and see Carlos hurt or even killed."
When they got back to the brownstone, Miss Hudson and Carlos had hit it off and finished giving the brownstone a thorough cleaning. Sherlock closeted himself to prepare himself to face the Hasidic Council and Joan lay down to rest. She needed to recharge her batteries so to speak to be ready to care for Sherlock's needs. She knew that he would need to be attended to when he would come home after the encounter with the council.
Carlos left to let his mother know his whereabouts so that she would not worry about him. He promised to report back to the brownstone by 9:00 p.m.
Sherlock went to the meeting of the council at seven o'clock in Williamsburg in one of their community meeting halls. He waited till the time when the Steiner family tragedy was brought up. Out of respect he donned a cap when he spoke to the council.
The rabbi who conducted the meeting was surprised that Sherlock Holmes would have the evident temerity to interject himself into such a community matter and asked why.
"Actually I have a somewhat personal interest in this case, because my partner and I were the ones that discovered the body of young Hadassah while walking near Peter Luger's. We were interested in the resolution of this case from the beginning. We have determined who committed this crime and put him in the hands if the criminal justice system where he can be prosecuted. Is this not enough pain and sadness for all involved? Do you really want to jeopardize the safety of another young person and risk the adverse publicity that would bring? I have discussed with Sol Steiner the nature of the adverse publicity that will come in the event Carlos Reyes is harmed."
There was uncomfortable silence from the council as Sherlock continued to speak.
"I must say that in that event I will use all of my resources, which are many to be sure, to identify the perpetrators of such a crime. I must assure you that this is a serious matter with me and the NYPD."
The council listened and during their deliberation Sherlock observed a man come to the group and give the chairman a message on a piece of paper.
The chairman of the council sighed and turned to report the information to the others and then he looked at Sherlock.
"Mr. Holmes, I understand what you are saying here. I find that unfortunately the young man in question has already been dealt with. Some things we cannot control. He has been taken to Brooklyn Hospital with his injuries."
Sherlock was incensed, but restraned.
"We will definitely deal with the perpetrators of this crime. You would be well advised to find them and attend to them yourselves before the NYPD. You have been adequately put on notice. You need to ask Sol Steiner how this whole situation developed so as to be aware of the true facts of the matter. I bid you 'good evening.'"
Sherlock snatched the obligatory cap from his head and left the council meeting and headed to Brooklyn Hospital to find out what had happened to young Carlos. On his way he phoned Joan and told her to meet him there. Joan arrived at the hospital at the same time as Sherlock and they immediately wen the emergency room where they were told that young Carlos was in surgery.
Joan approached the medical staff and found out that Carlos had been brought into the hospital emergency room unconscious and badly beaten all over his body. The doctors were trying to determine the severity of his head injury as well as make sure there was no internal bleeding.
"Sherlock, they have him in surgery."
Sherlock was beside himself with outrage at what had happened to Carlos, in spite of their trying to protect him. Finally he sat down beside Joan, but he was so jumpy and upset that Joan took his hand and held it tightly. He gradually calmed enough to recount the events of the council meeting.
"Watson, I am so incensed at this situation. They all but killed that boy because one of their young women fell in love with him! They made sure to hurt him but not to kill him, so as to make the search for a perpetrator a lower priority."
"Sherlock, try to remain calm. We cannot resolve this thing if our anger is carrying us. First we have to help Carlos recover."
At that moment the doctor came to them from surgery with the report on Carlos.
"He's out of surgery now and I feel certain that he will soon regain consciousness. He is in intensive care at least till he wakes up. He has a broken clavicle and a couple broken ribs. The other injuries are basically superficial, even though extensive. He is young and has a good chance at complete recovery."
"Do whatever is necessary, doctor. The expenses will be cared for," Sherlock said.
"Was this gang-related?"
"Yes, in a sense, but not your typical gang. He was the target of a group of vigilantes."
"Well, he's a lucky young man. You can go up to see him now."
Sherlock and Joan went up to see Carlos, who was still unconscious in intensive care. They sat by his bed for a long while not speaking, but just reflecting on the whole situation that had brought him to this life-threatening point in his life.
When it seemed that he was not going to waken, Carlos suddenly began to moan and cry softly.
"I'm . . . sorry, Dassah . . . so sorry . . . sorry."
Joan immediately called the intensive care tech and all were delighted to see Carlos come to full consciousness.
"Young man, you gave us a fright! Lord, I am glad to see you open your eyes," Sherlock exclaimed. "What happened to you?"
"I had to let . . . mom know I was safe. But they must have figured out how . . . to find me . . . so many."
"How many attacked you, Carlos," Watson asked gently.
"Donno . . . eight or ten maybe."
"Cowards," Sherlock muttered in disgust.
"I'm sorry . . . sorry, Mr. Holmes."
"Carlos, you rest now. We are just happy that you are alive. Let us take care of this matter."
Sherlock and Joan left the hospital and went by the precinct to report the matter involving young Carlos Reyes before going home. When they arrived at the brownstone it was well after midnight and yet they were so wired from the events of the evening that they were not able to go to bed.
Sherlock paced and paced, ranting about the injustices of life till finally Joan made him stop and dragged him off to his bed.
"Sherlock, you have to calm down. It is not your fault that Carlos was hurt. You have done all that you can do. I was so proud of your for going to that meeting to face that council."
"You were proud of me?"
"Always, I am always proud of you when you stand up for the underdog like you have in this case, when you show your lack of prejudice, your open-mindedness."
Sherlock continued to bounce restlessly on the bed till Joan reached for his hand and held it tightly just under her breasts and Sherlock immediately stopped and stared at her and then wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hard on her mouth.
"I'm sorry . . . so sorry, Joan, for what happened to that boy."
"We will take care of that tomorrow. Tonight I have you in this bed and I am going to calm you down. Let me calm you, baby."
Sherlock lay stiffly beside her in his bed, still unable to relax.
"Sherlock, I want to make you feel really good." She took his hand. "Will you please just let me get on top of you now?"
"I can't relax. I can't think about anything else. I'm sorry, Watson."
"Sherlock . . . Sherlock, it will work out. Just let it go for now, baby. Let it go."
"Umm, Joan . . . ummm," Sherlock sighed as he felt the softness of Joan's body on top of his and inhaled the scent that he knew so well mingled with the fragrance of her perfume.
Joan kissed him tenderly over and over till suddenly Sherlock groaned out loud, completely engaged, forgetting everything except the woman on him riding him to passionate oblivion.
The next day the first order of business was to visit the precinct and let Captain Gregson know what had transpired, then on to the hospital to check on Carlos, who they found awake and alert although he was black and blue all over from the beating he had suffered.
"I want to know if you heard anyone call anyone by name when you were attacked. Anything that would help identify your assailants will be helpful."
"I didn't hear any name I recognized. Someone called someone on the phone just as I passed out. He said to tell Yosef that it was done."
"That is very helpful, Carlos. We want the leader of the group of vigilantes as well as the Hasidic community leaders to know that we know who he is," Sherlock said sharply.
"When can I leave this hospital, Miss Watson? I don't want to be here."
"You can come home with us tomorrow. They want to run a few more tests, make sure there are no undiscovered internal injuries."
Carlos became suddenly pensive and tearful, breaking down completely.
"What's the matter?" Watson asked.
"It's just that I thought about this whole thing, and you know what? I would not have changed a moment for what happened with me and Hadassah. I don't care if they had killed me. I wish that they had killed me. Without Dassah I don't care what happens to me."
"Well, young man, I understand your feelings , but be thankful that they did not kill you . . . and be thankful that you did get to know young Hadassah. I wish there were more that I could say or do, but there is not. Life is not fair or just."
Sherlock was at a loss for words at the sight of the young grief-stricken man and he turned away and stared into the distance and stepped out into the hallway outside Carlos' room.
Joan looked up at Sherlock, always fascinated when he revealed the compassionate side of his persona. She found him extremely attractive on this day. They had given attention to their passionate needs early that morning, and yet she knew that they both needed more, that he was still as thoroughly stimulated by her in every way as she was by him. When they allowed their eyes to meet, the effect was so startling that they were forced to try to avoid that kind of contact.
"Is everything all right, Watson?" Sherlock asked gently, aware himself that his beautiful partner was quite flushed at the moment.
"I guess, Sherlock," Joan replied.
"I'll get you a bottle of cold water. You seem somewhat . . . warm? Perhaps you are running a temperature?"
"Thank you," Joan said, watching him as he turned to go to the nearby vending machine to get water for her.
For some reason that Sherlock himself was unaware of this day, even the fit of this particular pair of his khaki pants which were of a fabric containing spandex, thus allowing his thighs to stretch them a bit, and causing them to cling somehow to his round firm buttocks was distracting to Joan. His hips had been unusually well developed by his exercise with single stick and attracted her attention again and again. Now that Joan had become intimate with Sherlock, in moments like this when she looked at him, nothing was left to the imagination and the effect was instant and powerful in the pit of her stomach, a tiny gasp escaped her and she bit her lips as she recalled the sensation of his hard muscled hips contracting against hers in that supreme moment when he was carried away with his passions.
Sherlock returned with the cold bottled water and gave it to her, still regarding her intently.
"Watson? I think I should visit the Hasidic Council again this evening and present the information that we have to them. Perhaps we should go somewhere for lunch now."
"I want to be with you . . . but do we have to have lunch?" Joan asked softly.
Sherlock immediately picked up on Joan's state of interest and gave her his complete attention.
"Luv, do you have . . . 'needs' today? You are keen, aren't you?"
Joan flushed suddenly and uncharacteristically beneath his attentive gaze. Her normally bold nature in sexual matters sometimes vanished in the face of her profound attraction to Sherlock. She was wearing a simple black leather skirt and a soft blue cashmere sweater and her hair was pulled up into a pony tail, but all Sherlock saw now was the desire for him in her eyes as he realized that she was in dire need of his attention and the like response in the pit of his stomach stunned him.
"My God, Joan, let's go to the Chatwal and have lunch sent up. We can take care of these other matters later."
They left Brooklyn Hospital and took a taxi to go to The Chatwal, Sherlock's blue green eyes twinkled and he smiled sagely as he regarded his flushed partner at his side, filing this incident away in his mind for future reference and analysis of this woman that he loved.
"You are quite beautiful, Joan, but when you are so stimulated, you are positively ravishing to behold," Sherlock said to her in a gentle tease as he leaned even closer using his superior olfactory gifts to inhale the scent of her arousal.
"It's you in these pants, Sherlock. I love you in these pants."
This time it was Joan who found herself rubbing his thigh through the khaki fabric, and it now was Sherlock who gasped sharply and immediately had to cross his legs in an attempt to quell the resulting powerful reaction in his flesh.
"It's only noon, luv, and you have me at a distinct disadvantage here because I am about to experience extremely visible consequences to your rubbing my thigh. As it is, I will have to carry my jacket in front of me in the interest of common decency."
Sherlock bent to kiss Joan as they rolled up to the hotel. He had called ahead and so he quickly took care of the business with the concierge and led Joan up to their room. He caught Joan by the hand, smacked her soundly on her hind parts and kissed her passionately in the elevator as it soared to their floor.
They went into their room and Sherlock scooped Joan up into his arms as he strode to the bedroom where he carefully deposited her on the bed and then they both proceeded to undress each other playfully.
"Woman, you fascinate me," Sherlock murmured as he pinched her firm hips over and over. "You fascinate me every moment I live with you. You are in dire need today, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. And you fascinate me so, Sherlock. I just couldn't stop looking at your behind today."
"My hind parts? You were staring at my nether parts?"
Joan nodded, and dropped her head and Sherlock chuckled softly and tipped her chin up so that he could look into her brown eyes.
"My dear Watson, forgive me for not being more aware. We must take care of this straightaway."
Sherlock laid Joan back on the bed and crouched over her, kissing her over and over as she squeezed his muscled hips again and again, enjoying the feel of the soft curly hair that decorated them.
"Mmm, you know that I think of Michaelangelo's David when I see these hips straining against your pants. Of course I think you easily win any contest when it comes to the full frontal view. You have quite a package there, you know," Joan said boldly. "Sometimes, just knowing it's there, I can't ignore it."
Sherlock flushed as he heard Joan's assessment of his "gifts" to her.
"Oh, Joan . . . Joan! Oh, God, Joan!" Sherlock groaned as she held him, stroked him and then guided him inside her.
Sherlock gripped Joan passionately as he took her, caught up in his emotions as he made love to her, bringing her to the edge of the climax again and again and then retreating and bringing her again to the very edge till she was pleading, moaning, begging him to take her all the way.
Sherlock rolled off Joan and lay beside her, smiling, watching her need him.
"Sherlock . . . Please don't play with me, baby. Just take me the rest of the way. You know where I want to go. I need this so badly today . . . just the sight of you today with those pants stretched over your buns was absolutely too much for me . . . Oooh, Sherlock!" Joan wailed, her teeth chattering. "Oooh!"
"I'm afraid I'll hurt you . . . I'm so aroused . . . seeing you like this. I can't hold back, luv. Oh, God, Joan!"
"It's all right. Give me bruises, baby! I will . . . forgive you every . . . bruise . . . every single mark. Oooh!"
Sherlock kissed her again and again catching her behind her head, holding her as his mouth explored the tender membrane just inside her lips, nipping her gently.
"Sherlock!" Joan climbed up on him and took him, claimed him as her own, impaling herself upon his tumid member again all at once.
Sherlock gasped and snorted as his passions surged out of control, as he grasped her with all his power as they rocked together. They climbed to the heights and they both cried out loud in the privacy of the sumptuous hotel room when those blue and white lights exploded in their brains.
Sherlock groaned softly, cradling Joan when she went completely limp upon him in his arms in her moment of surrender, kissing her open mouth with deep kiss after kiss as he held her while his ejaculation ebbed till finally they lay quiet, staring into each other's eyes as the afterglow swept them.
"Is milady satisfied?" Sherlock asked in her ear. "I do aim to please."
"You always satisfy me, baby . . . always," Joan whispered softly. "I. . .I just needed you in the worst way."
They slept for an hour and then wakened to eat and to make love again before they finally left the hotel late in the afternoon before they went to the precinct to meet with Gregson on the situation with Carlos Reyes.
"I was trying to contact you earlier but neither you or Watson were answering your phone," Gregson said.
"Watson had a matter that I had to help her with this afternoon."
Sherlock flushed briefly and immediately realized that his friend, the captain, had discerned their situation when he saw the unmistakeable radiance in Joan's aspect when they came to the precinct together.
"Sherlock, you be sure to take care of Watson. If that means you are MIA for a few hours, so be it. Now what do we have on this case?"
"Well, we do have a name. Carlos heard them call someone named Yosef to confirm that they had delivered Carlos his punishment just before he passed out. I will present this information to the council in a couple of hours."
"I'll have Marcus run that down. It shouldn't be too difficult. We do have some insiders in that community who will know exactly who this 'Yosef' is."
"Watson and I will check on Carlos again before heading home. She thinks we should take him on as an intern. He went through a horrific beating from those vigilantes and yet he is not bitter, just a very sad young man, devastated by a tragic loss."
"Keep us posted. The Hasidic Council will have to handle this matter or we will handle it."
A relaxed and radiant Watson came back into the conference room to find Sherlock and Gregson just smiled as they left the room together, trying desperately to refrain from touching each other.
Carlos was considerably improved, so much so that it was decided that he could be released to Sherlock and Watson. They called a taxi and took him along to the brownstone where they ensconced him in the spare upstairs bedroom so that he would have easy access to the bathroom in his injured state.
"I am going to visit that council in Williamsburg again this evening. I will apprise them of young Carlos' condition and the fact that we know the name of the ringleader of the group that assaulted him."
"Be careful, Sherlock. Don't push them too hard. Or they will not accept it."
"I'll be careful, luv," Sherlock said as he bent to kiss Joan before leaving.
It was nearly eight when Sherlock arrived at the meeting and quietly took a seat. The chairman took note and recognized him.
"Mr. Holmes, I believe. You are here representing the NYPD to report on your findings?"
"Yes, I am. The young man, Carlos Reyes, was horrifically beaten. He was just released from Brooklyn Hospital this afternoon. Thankfully, due to his youth he will probably completely recover. The name of the person who ordered the 'hit' was heard in the course of the assault, a certain Yosef. I am sure that your sources will know this person and that you will take care of this matter. We will find him, sir, and bring him to justice. That is the total of my report at this time."
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. The council will attend to this matter. The appropriate individual or individuals will present themselves to the NYPD within a few days."
Sherlock excused himself from the council and took a taxi home, fully convinced that justice would be served in one way or the other.
When he arrived home, Joan was waiting for him.
"That was an exhausting experience, Watson. I am hopeful that I have left this case so that others will be able to see that justice is served, although I strongly suspect that our 'Yosef' will have a trip out of the country to protect him. Some problems are just not easily solved."
"Sit, Sherlock, and I will bring you a hot cup of Earl Grey," Joan said, as she knelt to take off his shoes.
"Umm, such a pleasure to come home to you, luv, to the only reality in my life," he said as he accepted the tea from her as she knelt in front of him in the traditional Chinese manner.
Joan sat on the floor leaning against his leg as they both drank their tea. There was nothing else that needed to be said on this night. Finally Joan stood up and extended her hand to him and led Sherlock off to his bed.
Before falling asleep, Sherlock drew Joan into his arms and kissed her tenderly.
"Thank you, luv, for being here for me. I find myself completely exhausted physically and emotionally."
"Me too," Joan murmured sleepily.
"Did I hurt you today? I was quite carried away."
"Not really. I will be fine."
"Let me see, luv," Sherlock insisted, drawing back the bed covers and then pulling up her sheer cotton nightgown so that he could see her body.
There were blue bruise marks on her hips where he had gripped her in the throes of his passion.
"My darling Joan, I am so sorry," Sherlock's eyes were full as he realized that he had left bruise marks on Joan. "Please forgive me . . . please."
"I forgave you when it happened. I didn't even feel it. I love you so much, Sherlock."
Sherlock kissed her bruised hips and drew her nightgown down over her.
"Wake me in a couple hours and I promise you I will take care of your libido in decent fashion."
"Umm, I know you will, baby," Joan whispered as she ruffled Sherlock's hair with her fingers and began to drift off to sleep.
And at about four a.m. Joan wakened in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock was kissing her all over her face and breasts, begging her to waken and let him have his way with her.
"Please, luv, I need you . . . need you. Help me get through this night, luv."
"Umm, Sherlock . . . Sherlock . . . yes, baby."
Soon they were both caught up in the age old rhythm of a man and woman joined together in coitus, confirming their love once again as they cried out in the darkness.
"Oh, God! Joan, my Joan!" Sherlock snorted loudly as his body was wracked with one guttural groan after another. "Yes . . . yes, Joan!"
"Yes, Sherlock, yes!"
They both trembled as the climax shook them and tossed them over the brink into sheer rapture.
"Dear sweet Sherlock . . . sweet Sherlock," Joan sighed as she surrendered completely to him, floating in his embrace as he tenderly kissed her again and again and then, as the intensity of his kisses increased again, she gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into him.
"Ooh, Sherlock, you're not done with me yet, baby, are you?" Joan moaned softly.
"No, I'm not done, luv. I need more . . . more."
Suddenly they were both wide awake and fully engaged in intercourse again with Sherlock thrusting and Joan responding to each thrust with tiny squeals and gasps of delight that captured Sherlock's heart completely. Their passions did not begin to calm until day was breaking when they fell into an exhausted sleep again.
Late the next morning Joan wakened to find that Sherlock was already up. She stretched slowly, enjoying her body's responses. In the beginning she was often sore after a vigorous session with Sherlock, but her body had adjusted and now she felt no ill effects, only a tremendous and delightful sense of well being and satisfaction.
Sherlock came into the bedroom wearing his worn blue woolen robe and smiled at the woman in his bed.
"Ah, we are awake, luv."
"Yes, I am, Sherlock," Joan said as she stretched seductively in the way that she now knew pushed all of Sherlock's "buttons."
Sherlock climbed onto the bed and drew down the sheet that was covering her. He loved her when she looked like this, her long hair tossed all over, her face fresh from sleep and still bearing that look of satisfaction from the attention that he had given her during the early morning hours, her eyes signaling that she was open to whatever he wanted to do with her at that very moment.
"You are so beautiful when you waken in the morning. Did I ever tell you that?"
"You always tell me that, but I never get tired of hearing those words from your . . . your lips."
"Might you accept company there in bed?"
Joan nodded her acceptance, throwing the covers back and when she pulled up her knees in welcome, Sherlock gasped and his nostrils dilated at the sight of the lush forest that decorated her private parts once again.
"I think you are overdressed, lover," Joan said simply. "I want to look at you too. It's nice in broad daylight, isn't it?"
"It's more than that," Sherlock said as he slipped his robe off and tossed it aside. "You appeared to be quite taken with my hind parts yesterday."
Joan blushed and the flush went all the way down to her dainty breasts as she nodded and caressed his muscular hips and squeezed them hard.
"I couldn't stop thinking about them, and your pants were a bit tighter than usual. Gosh, Sherlock, I love the way you look! Don't you know that?"
"Perhaps I am entranced with your hind parts as well."
"You never said . . . in specific terms . . ."
"The fact that I have not given a dissertation on your lovely arse in no way means that I am not very aware of its features. There is so much to say. Hopefully we will have a lifetime to say these things, to touch one another, to bring pleasure to one another . . . But Joan, luv, will you do something for me? Will you mind kneeling up for me? I have never asked you to, because I love to look at your face when we have coitus, but I would love to give attention to your lovely buttocks from that position if you will permit me."
Joan smiled and turned over and knelt in front of Sherlock and he knelt behind her and began to kiss and rub her all over her hips.
"Such perfect lovely nates . . . a gorgeous arsed woman," he murmured as he continued to kiss her all over her hind parts, causing Joan to whimper and wiggle her hips helplessly.
Then Sherlock smacked Joan's bare bottom hard and she squealed with delight and continued to shake her behind for him as he smacked her hard again.
"Oh, Sherlock . . . Sherlock," Joan moaned, "you know . . . so many things, so many things to do to me. I love you to smack my behind like that."
"Why do you like that, luv? I have imagined this many times, luv, and more besides this."
"Because I know my behind belongs to you. You're my man, so you can smack my butt whenever you want to. It just goes all through me when you do that."
Sherlock knelt forward over Joan and suddenly he was inside her and the most incredible sensation gripped Joan as he used her in this different position so that she trembled and trembled and cried out as the pleasure was unspeakably intense.
"Oh, Sherlock . . . Sherlock, have mercy," she gasped.
"Luv . . . luv," Sherlock groaned.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and held them in the perfection of this connection, thrusting at will till the climax came and took them both, leaving Joan with his semen streaming down her thighs.
"Joan, I love you, woman."
Sherlock took Joan down off her knees and crouched over her, kissing her so deeply, with such hunger that Joan lost her head, writhing in ecstasy, her eyes rolling about in her head, her capitulation complete.
Sherlock fell beside her, exhausted for the moment, reaching for Joan's hand and holding it to his lips.
"Thank you for allowing me explore your lovely hind parts. Thank you for giving me the pleasure of smacking your arse. When I do that, I want you to know that you are my woman and I want everybody else to know it too. I hope you realize now that I am quite entranced with your own lovely derrière and all its parts. I will never in my life forget your kneeling for me and letting me have my way with you."
Sherlock then drew Joan up on top of him and continued to kiss her over and over and Joan got onto him and gave herself to him completely, pushing down onto his still ready member, her body completely flushed, perspiration dripping from her armpits and between her breasts as she threw back her head, consumed with the enjoyment of his flesh inside her.
"Ooh, Ooh, Sherlock . . . Sherlock!" she cried as she began to quiver as spasm after spasm seized her.
Sherlock drew her down onto his chest as the same spasms caught him and held him captive.
Sherlock had forgotten they had a house guest as his passions escalated.
"Dear God, help us! God, please!" he cried out.
Sherlock's eyes rolled back into his head in the moment of the apogèe as his body jerked upward and his life force spurted from him, till finally the two of them just lay together quietly whispering to each other in the bright morning sunshine that was coming through the window by his bed as an incredible peace settled over them. Everything was in the open, in the bright light of day and they both had everything they wanted, everything they both needed. There was a sense of fullness emotionally, a sense, a knowing that whatever the other needed would be gladly and generously given.
"You are incredibly gracious to me, my dearest Joan. Your sensual gifts are the most beautiful thing I have ever received in my life. Do you know that, luv?"
"Umm, Sherlock, I will give you whatever you need, whatever you want . . . I love you so much."
"And I pledge to satisfy all your needs as a woman . . . whenever you need me. I will not let you suffer the way you did yesterday, wanting, suffering like that. Don't let me ignore your needs, luv. It was quite intense, what you were feeling, was it not? You walking around hot like that?"
"Every time I looked at you I imagined how it feels when I am with you and you are carried away, taking me the way that you do. I could not focus on anything else when I looked at you. You are a beautiful man, Sherlock . . . your lean hard body, all the chestnut hair everywhere, your tattoos, your blue green eyes that see everything, your muscular hips . . . the way you push and thrust that way you do, when you fill me so with your beautiful Jade stalk that I can barely accommodate you . . . "
Joan blushed now and Sherlock did as well, covering Joan's mouth with tender kisses to keep her from saying any more about his physical attributes.
"I think about you to distraction these days . . . your beautiful eyes, the way your lashes flutter when you are overwhelmed with passion . . . the way your mouth opens to mine when we kiss . . . your thick black hair that lies all over my chest when you sleep in my arms, the softness of your lovely breasts with their dusky flowerlike haloes that crinkle when my lips touch them. I see them and I just want to suckle your tender udders. It's, its . . . all of you, the way you swing your arse when you walk without even thinking . . . and that part of your body . . . that Jade Gate, that garden of exquisite delight that brings me ultimate pleasure.
Sherlock eased downward so he could suckle at Joan's breasts and embrace her around her hips as they lay on their bed. They were both completely bathed in the morning sunlight from their bedroom window as they quickly became lost in their passions again.
Later that day Sherlock got a call from Captain Gregson as they were having lunch with Carlos who was quickly rebounding from his injuries.
"Well, they got Yousef at Kennedy getting on a flight to Israel. He will have to take the whole rap if he won't give states evidence as to who the attackers were. Thanks for your help on this one, Sherlock."
"Time will tell if this has any long time effect on the vigilante activity such as Carlos experienced," Sherlock offered sagely before closing his phone.
"They arrested Yousef at Kennedy airport. The wheels of justice have been set in motion," Sherlock said to Joan and then turned to Carlos. "I think you need an education, young man. Think about what you would like to study. Watson and I will assist you to obtain the schooling you need. If it is necessary to move your mother to another apartment in a different neighborhood, we will assist you along those lines as well. You don't need to live in Williamsburg any longer."
"Thank you, sir. I will try to be worthy of the help you have given me."
"You may stay here till you recuperate and relocate."
Joan looked at Sherlock and her approval of his plan was obvious as she got up to remove the lunch dishes from the table.
Sherlock followed her from the table and hugged Joan from behind and pushed her hair out of the way and kissed her upon her neck as she stood washing the dishes. Joan tried to pretend to resist his blandishments, but was not at all convincing.
"Sherlock, please let me take care of these dishes. I'll . . . I'll attend to you later. You are going to embarrass Carlos, baby."
Sherlock stood back, duly chastised for the moment, the man who never wanted to touch anyone, the man who had always fled from intimacy, unable to resist cuddling up to Joan.
"Carlos, make yourself comfortable. Joan and I are going to take the rest of the afternoon to give some needed attention to the hives on the roof, and to one another. We will see you later in the day, young man."
Carlos smiled as he limped from the table and left Sherlock and Joan to their own mysteries. His father had died when he was in preschool and this was the first time in his life that he had observed a mature male/female relationship at close range, and the whole thing fascinated him and was teaching him important lessons about life.
Sherlock turned back to embrace Joan now that Carlos had left the room. He could not resist her for another moment, turning her around to face him and kissing her full on her mouth as he smacked her gently on her shapely hind parts.
"Woman . . . I need, need to be with you, woman. . . please."
They savored the taste of the Earl Grey in each other's kiss and when they finally did come up for air, Sherlock picked her up in his arms and began to walk toward his bedroom.
"I thought we were going to the roof. . . to check the hives . . . and . . ."
"I changed my mind, luv," Sherlock murmured as he carried her off to his bed.