SMUT AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER. Hope you like it! Plot twist!

CHAPTER 8 - Shut Up, Go To Sleep

"You believe my story, Sherlock," she commented, making sure it wasn't a question. She turned her attention to finishing her meal, and Sherlock watched her intensely. She felt her face heat up a bit, not appreciating how he stared at her while she was chomping on food. "Stop doing that."

"I cannot believe your story," he finally answered, turning back to his work.

"But you do!" She said it in a sing-song voice as she picked up her plate and threw it into the sink. She made a face at the dishes that obviously needed washing, and decided to do it the next day. It was dark now and she was tired. She glanced at Sherlock, and saw him focused entirely on the computer screen in front of him. Tabitha wanted to get to know him better – to know what he was like before the man in the show script. Right now, though, he was not in this world. No, he was in his own world.

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Time had passed quickly as Sherlock studied all the evidence. It finally came to him just as he found himself dosing off in his chair, slipping slightly enough to jar himself awake. He jumped up grinning, and quickly found his phone to call Lestrade. He dialed and it rang. And it rang. And it rang. Sherlock frowned in irritation – why wouldn't the detective pick up? Finally, someone answered.

"What the hell?" Lestrade cried sleepily. "Its 4 AM on my day off, you prick!"

"Sleeping is boring. I've solved the case. They all had the same babysitter while they were growing up."

"What? The babysitter did it?"

"No, her husband."

"What?"

"Her husband was jealous of the attention she gave them."

"And he waited 20 years to get his revenge?"

"She was just about to start her own day care. Apparently, she crossed a line. I can understand – children are annoying and messy."

"Go to bed, Sherlock." The phone line went dead.

He looked around the room, realizing that it certainly was late. Tabitha was not on the couch, so she must have gone to bed. He didn't see any indication that John had come back from his date – he must have decided to stay at his girlfriend's for sex. Sherlock was relieved – John was very grouchy when he didn't have intercourse for a long period of time. He thought back to that morning – visions of Tabitha in the yellow undergarments popped into his mind. He threw it back into that dark place where his secret memories were kept. She had met up with Ms. Adler after their moment of passion – he could smell the woman's perfume on her clothing.

Sherlock suddenly felt his body shutting down. He hazily thought back to the last time he had slept – four days ago. He stumbled to his bedroom, not bothering to turn off any lights, and literally fell onto the bed. His arm hit Tabitha, who was sleeping on her side facing away from the door, and she yelped loudly. She spring up to a sitting position, and Sherlock growled at her.

"Shut up, go to sleep."

He threw his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and made her lay with her back facing his front. Sleep had already partially taken over his mind, or he would have never done that. He murmured as sleep took him, and he unknowingly nuzzled her hair as he snuggled closer to her. Tabitha wasn't sure what was going on, but she decided to just go with it. Sherlock wasn't going to do this while he was awake.

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After three days of trying to keep himself busy in Tabitha's town, The Doctor was going out of his mind. The TARDIS refused to move, taking its time repairing the infinity of rooms that it had. He didn't want to push his precious box, but it was seriously starting to irritate him. To get his mind off of this issue, he took up a job at the toy store. He grinned as he remembered his time with Craig and Alfie – he wondered how they were doing?

The next few days were a bit easier to handle – he interacted with many children, telling them stories of his adventures, of his home world, and of his best friends. It saddened him, just a little bit, that they brushed it off as fantasies, but that was the way it should be. Everyone would panic if they knew about the dangerous species outside their home world.

Every so often, after work, he'd ask the TARDIS to show him a vision of what the woman was up to. Most of time she was reading, another time she had been talking to a woman, seeming to flirt with every glance. A few times she was talking to a man with an umbrella in an abandoned factory. It didn't faze the Doctor to see her interacting with all the beloved characters of the modern Sherlock television show.

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Tabitha woke up to the sun poking through the curtains. Her eyes popped wide open, and she had the sudden urge to move. She couldn't seem to sit still longer than necessary. Trying to move away, she noticed she was trapped by lanky arms that were holding her tightly. She glanced back at Sherlock, his curly hair flopping into his face. He let out light breaths. She studied his face, which was relaxed and angelic. Something she had never seen before, except maybe on the television show when the character was alone to think. His lips were partially open, and Tabitha had the urge to turn toward him and kiss him soundly. Unfortunately, whatever their relationship was, he was the initiator. Anything that happened would be started by him.

Instead, she laid back down and let him hug her tightly to his body, him spooning her. She focused on relaxing her breathing, trying to doze back off. She felt something back her backside, and realize that Sherlock was aroused. Unconsciously, she pressed back against him, and Sherlock out a soft hum. Tabitha's body responded, and her stomach filled with butterflies, and goosebumps slid over her body. She swallowed and pressed against him again, feeling him respond by holding her tighter. Her breathing became shallow. Visions of what happened the day before came to her, and her face started to heat up.

Suddenly, she was shoved to the edge of the bed, and Sherlock jumped up. She turned her body to face him, confusion written all over her face.

"Why are you doing that?!" he growled, stomping to his closet. Tabitha furrowed her brows angrily as he pulled out his usual outfit, but with a light blue shirt.

"Why am I doing that? You were the one that wouldn't let me go!" Tabitha shot back, pushing herself off the bed. She put her hands on his hips as he pulled his shirt off. Her hair was messy, needing to be brushed, and her usual yellow pajamas were wrinkled with restless sleep. Her ring on the chain bounced off her chest as she stomped toward him. Unfortunately, her nipples had also responded and hadn't quite settled down. Tabitha didn't care, at the moment, though.

"A bad decision on my part, let me assure you," he growled back, turning around in only his pajama pants. She raised her eyebrows and stared pointedly at the arousal in front of his pants. He huffed and took her by the shoulders, spinning her around and pushing her toward the door. "Get out. I have things to do."

Before he had pushed her through the door, she turned on him and pushed on his chest, throwing him off guard. He stumbled back, and sputtered as she slammed the door behind her without looking back.

"How is that going to work with that?" she asked, flicking her finger toward his crotch. She kept her hands on her hips after that, waiting for an answer.

"You underestimate my ability to ignore."

"Like yesterday?" she quipped with a sly smile. His face seemed to flush a bit as he scowled at her.

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It was infuriating that she was correct in her assumptions. There was no way he could ignore the issue at the moment – he had awoken from a fervent dream that included both Tabitha and himself naked, in a dimly lit room full of books. When he looked at any kind of book, now, he would think of that stupid dream. She grinned at him, and took a step closer. Their bodies were just mere centimeters from each other. She looked up at him, and Sherlock kept the scowl on his face.

"I'm perfectly okay with this – sex isn't something that has to involve emotions," she reassured him. She moved her hands to his bare chest, and his stomach dipped with the touch. She slid them up and around his neck. Sherlock's lips parted with a barely held sigh as she pressed her chest against his. He still kept the scowl on his face, but it was obvious to her that he was losing his concentration. "Might as well get it out of the way, yes?"

"Shush!" he stated furious just before he slammed his lips to hers. Tabitha's lips parted instantly, and he swept his tongue into her mouth. His hands found her hips, squeezing tightly as he pulled her hard against his hardness. Sherlock felt and heard the moan she let out, and growled. He slipped his hands under her tank top, desperate to make this bothersome feeling go away.

The top was flung to the ground, and Tabitha stepped back to push down her pajamas. He watched her gracefully pull her legs out of them, and toss them to the side. His body decided to accept the sight as teasing, making his whole body flush with desire and heat. She licked her lips as she stood in front of him, naked, waiting for him to make a move. Her breasts heaved, her nipples puckering under his stair.

"Bed," he murmured, taking her hand and pulling her. They slid onto the bed, and he moved on top of her. She looked up at him, spreading her legs hurriedly, breathily heavily already. He settled between them with his body, and brushed his lips against her neck, one hand underneath her head and in her hair. She tilted her head back as his hand moved to pinch her nipple. Tabitha groaned and clutched his shoulders.

He pulled his head up and took her mouth impatiently. Sherlock's mind was foggy, being overstimulated by her scent and taste. He made a frustrating noise as he kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips. Tabitha took what he gave willingly, and he shoved her thighs apart. His body craved release, and he didn't give a second thought to thrusting hard inside her. Tabitha gasped and cried out as she lifted her hips to meet his. She grabbed him by the cheeks and pulled his lips back to hers.

Their bodies slickened with sweat as he pounded inside her, gripping her hip with one and holding her shoulder tightly with another. His lips moved from her mouth down her jaw and to her neck, nipping and then lapping at the spot with his tongue. She wrapped her leg around his, pulling their hips even closer with each thrust. Sherlock placed that information in that hidden portion she had taken over – that certain spot on her neck make her slicken around his manhood. She pushed at his chest, and he stopped his thrusting, looking down at her, confused. Their breathing was harsh, their panting filling the room.

"Don't say a damn word," she ground out, pushing him so that they rolled over and she took the spot on top of him. He blinked up at her as she placed her hands on his chest to steady herself over him. He moved his hands to her hips, gripped them tightly, and pushed her down onto him. She threw her head back, groaning, and begun to move over him. His breath caught, and he moved his hips with hers. He tried to completely focus on own release, but his eyes never left the beauty that was above him. Sherlock slid his hands up her waist, to her breasts, and gently plucked at her nipples as she let out another moan and rubbed her wetness against him.

She was close, and Sherlock wanted to watch her come undone. Instinct took over, and he rolled them over once more, watching her face, memorizing her expressions as she came close to her own release. He moved his lips to that specific spot on her neck, and moved his fingers to play with the nub between her legs as he thrust. She gasped and bucked against hand, her own tightening in his hair as she let out a cry of pleasure.

The tightening of her around him, plus that pleasure-filled cry, sent him over the edge. He grunted, holding her hips with one hand and holding himself up with the other placed beside her. He spilled himself inside her, humming with satisfaction as her hands rubbed down his back. Tabitha brushed her lips against his cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck. He fell on top of her, breathing hard, his mind hazy. His body was weak, exactly how his body was supposed to feel after such an immense climax. He let her hold him, not willing to admit that she was the one letting him stay close.

After a few moments, he felt himself moving out of her, and pulled away. She quietly let him, and pushed herself up, walking to the loo. She softly shut the door behind her, and Sherlock heard sink being turned on. He lay on his back, his mind racing, trying to make sense of the feelings, the emotions, which seemed to settle in him when they had intercourse. His breathing slowed, and his brain finally pushed away all the sentiment that had come upon him. Sighing, relieved that it was gone for the time being, he pushed himself up just as Tabitha came out from the door.