Intimacy
Chapter 2
By: phaedraphelan
4318 words
Summary:
Disclaimer: This "Elementary" story is not-for-profit and is purely for entertainment purposes. The author and this site do not own the characters and are in no way affiliated with "Elementary," the actors, their agents, the producers, the CBS Television Network or any station or network carrying the show in syndication, or anyone in the industry.
Summary: We will follow our couple as they come to terms will their true feelings for each other. Can they remain platonic or will it become much more than either could have anticipated?
Joan felt her normal healthy self a couple days after her being laid low by menstrual cramps. She took up her morning jogs again and the first morning that she went out for a run Sherlock had coffee waiting when she came back home. She was sweating and flushed and definitely not feeling especially attractive as she came panting back into the brownstone.
"Oh, Sherlock!" she said, a bit startled to see him sitting waiting for her at their table.
He nodded nervously. "I thought I'd wait to have coffee with you, if it's all right."
"Sure. Just let me go upstairs and . . . and freshen up. I'm a bit sweaty from the run. I really need a shower."
"You look just fine to me, Watson, but . . . do as you wish. I will just wait down here for you. I just wanted to have coffee with you. I am so accustomed to . . . to being with you and . . . I enjoy it actually." Sherlock flushed as his eyes met Joan's.
Ever since he had attended to her so tenderly when she was suffering with her painful menstrual period, things had changed between them. Sherlock found himself just sitting and staring at her as she did the normal things of her day. He forgot about the case they were working on; he forgot about the project he wanted to finish. His feelings for Joan blocked out everything else. And Joan found that when she looked up into those piercing blue eyes, her heart just seemed to do a somersault in her chest. She could not forget the sensation of his warm body against hers in her bed when she was chilled and shivering, or the concern in his eyes when he saw her in pain, or his holding her tightly as she retched over the toilet.
Joan thought about all this as she stood under the shower after her morning run. There were things that had happened that she was not pleased with—the matter with Jennifer Sayles, the matter with Mycroft that she seriously regretted. But she didn't really know Mycroft in comparison with Sherlock and Sherlock certainly did not have a history with Jenn. These were incidentals. Was she prepared to be monogamous with Sherlock? She absolutely was. He was the only man she wanted and this had been the case for a long while. Was Sherlock prepared to be monogamous with her? If the look in his eyes when she came in from her run was an indication of anything, or the anguished pain in his voice when he realized that she and Mycroft had been involved, she had her answer.
That night when the realization that Joan had been with Mycroft hit him like a ton of bricks and the shock trauma made Sherlock so violently ill was still in the forefront of her memory. She had feared that she would have to take him to the hospital that night. She had never seen him like that, so suddenly weak from fever and from his bowels giving way that his impressive parts lay flaccid and exposed and all he could do was apologize as he tried in vain to cover himself. When she had finally gotten him settled, she had taken his soiled things away and put them in the washer and then put fresh pajamas on him and covered him with his blankets and lay down beside him in his bed for the rest of the night to monitor his condition. He almost immediately fell into healing sleep, but Joan lay beside him crying silently till sleep claimed her.
Now Joan sat on the side of her bed after her shower, trying to decide what to do next. She hadn't dressed. She was naked; her hair was still wet, her damp towel still loosely wrapped around her.
There was a soft knock at her door that was slightly ajar.
"Yes, Sherlock, you may come in."
Sherlock's mouth dropped open when he realized her state of undress.
"I . . . I brought your coffee up."
He brought the coffee over and set it on the chair by her bed. Joan patted the spot beside her on her bed and Sherlock sat down beside her. He was incredibly jittery, clenching and unclenching his hands, his knees bouncing.
"Thank you, Sherlock. Is there something that we need to address?"
"Joan . . . I am so sexually aroused, that I think it's fair to say that I cannot think a rational thought right now."
"I must ask you if it is safe for us to be 'together' like this? I am clean, Sherlock. I had my checkup last week. Before that there was no one that I was with that way for months, until the instance when I was with . . . Mycroft briefly."
"I was checked for insurance the same time as you were, so I am fine on that score. I have never had a any disease of that sort. That is what condoms are for."
"As you have surmised, I am taking the pill. There will be no need for condoms between us, Sherlock. If I have you, I want all of you, every bit of you. I trust you and I expect you to trust me."
"I trust you implicitly, Joan. I find it most difficult to sit here next to you as I see you. Joan. . . Joan, please have mercy on me."
"Would you like me to remove this towel?"
Sherlock could only nod, reaching for her hand and then kissing it and trembling as he drew her into his arms letting the towel slip away from her body.
"Oh, Joan . . . Joan, you are so beautiful . . . so beautiful. Your skin . . . so soft like silk . . . like silk, like I imagined."
Sherlock eased her back onto the bed and just stared at her, letting his fingers trace all over her body, his blue eyes wide, his pupils fully dilated as he absorbed every detail of her. But as he touched Joan, she gasped as she realized that no man's touch had ever affected her this way. He kissed her all along her slender legs and hips and then he kissed each of her breasts, suckling at each one gently and then growling and sucking powerfully so that Joan cried out as passion overtook her. Then he caught her up to him and kissed her mouth. The taste of her and the taste of him mingled. They were hungry, so hungry for each other, drinking wet passionate kisses in long satisfying draughts.
"Sherlock . . . is this our moment of truth?"
"Yes, Joan, Yes!"
Joan pulled his shirt off, and completely loosened his trousers so that they dropped below his knees and Sherlock easily kicked them off along with his shorts onto the floor.
"Sherlock . . ."
"Joan . . . please, I need you to touch me . . . everywhere."
Joan touched him—his hairy muscled chest with the weblike tattoo on his left shoulder, his firm belly and then Sherlock drew her hand to where he desperately wanted her to touch him and he gasped her name as his flesh responded.
"Joan! Joan! You occupy all my sensual thoughts, Joan, so much. I can't think about anything else except that I need to be with you. Do you think of me as well?"
"Yes, constantly, Sherlock. I can only tell you the truth. Lately I can hardly look at you without passionate thoughts taking over."
They both lay in Joan's bed together, not rushing to intercourse, but savoring every moment of discovery. They were touching, tasting and rubbing each other all over, moaning and sighing in delight at discovery of each new point of pleasure in each other, each spot that had intrigued the other for so long.
"I have cared for you for such a while, Joan. But it is beyond reason what I feel for you now. I need you so. I need to be close to you. I have never needed to be close to anyone till you. I don't even understand it myself."
"Perhaps we will never understand it, Sherlock."
"I want to be with you, Joan. I need to be with you. Will you share your lovely body with me?"
Joan finally pulled up her knees and thus opened her thighs completely to Sherlock so that he could see all her intimate parts in the morning sunshine beaming in from her bedroom window, and he blinked in disbelief, overwhelmed at the sight of her this way.
"Yes, Sherlock . . . the Jade Gate, I give it all to you," Joan said softly.
The next instant, Sherlock cried out his joy as he buried his face there. Joan trembled and shook in his arms as they rocked together and Joan sobbed and literally saw stars as he held her and caressed her so intimately.
"A lotus blossom, a lovely orchid in a lush forest hidden from everyone's eyes but mine!" Sherlock declared as he got to know her this way.
"Sherlock, it has been so long . . . so long. I've wanted you for so long."
For the first time in his life, Sherlock was engaged sexually with a woman that he had loved and wanted long enough to know her, want her on every level. This was Joan, his partner in every other aspect of life, the woman he had dreamed of sexually for months, who possessed his every sensual thought for so long that just passing close to her or catching the scent of her caused his member to twitch in need. This was the woman who took away all desire for sex for simple release in a biological sense and elevated it to the level of the most intense human experience short of a spiritual revelation.
Sherlock lifted his head and claimed Joan's lips again.
"The sight of your womanly parts overwhelms me. You are so lovely . . . beautiful . . . I beg you to accept me."
"Yes, Sherlock, yes!"
And the next instant they came together without further ado. At first he was gentle with her, remembering the woman who a few days earlier was doubled over in pain with her menstruation and remembering as well his own substantial girth.
"I don't want to hurt you, Joan. Please . . . Please don't let me hurt you."
"Sherlock, I . . . I will not break. Don't . . . Don't hold back with me, baby."
"Oh, God, Joan . . . Joan, my beautiful Joan . . . "
Her words were not lost on him and Sherlock began to gasp and snort. He was like a wild horse on her claiming Joan completely, ravishing her, bringing her to ecstasy again and again. Joan trembled and fluttered in his embrace, crying his name out helplessly as she finally surrendered to him in a precipitous plunge that left her conquered and gasping his name.
"Sherlock! Sher . . . Sherlock, baby!"
"Joan, luv, have mercy on me!"
At the sight of Joan's capitulation Sherlock could no longer hold back and the climax took him and shook him to his foundations in a stunning moment when his brain exploded in blue and white lights and he babbled incoherently as the familiar powerful spasms surged that caused his essence to spurt from his body.
"God! Oh, God! Joan!" he cried out as a paroxysm gripped him in a moment unlike any he had ever experienced in his life. The man who had been everywhere and done everything now, for the first time, found true sexual communion and he began to sob in gratitude.
They lay finally whispering to each other in an afterglow like neither of them had anticipated.
"Joan . . . Joan, I care for you so much. I've wanted you since the day you walked into this house. I could not help myself, Joan. I tried, but I couldn't help falling for you. Beautiful Joan . . . Beautiful . . . your lovely plump breasts . . . your soft belly . . . this lovely arse that hypnotizes me when you walk . . ."
Joan held him tightly, well aware of what had happened to them, as Sherlock's continuing flow of love words assured her that they had made the right decision. No man ever had talked so much when making love to her, the words that filled his heart spilling forth in a torrent as he held her and continued to kiss her till suddenly they were gone again, climbing to that same place. Sherlock cried out Joan's name as she wailed his name again and again as they they saw that kaleidoscope of brilliant colors again exploding like a series of astronomical sprites in their heads.
They could not stop till they had climbed that mountain two more times and they finally lay sated, satisfied and nearly passed out in each others arms. Then they slept.
It was after midday when they wakened. The room that was bathed in sunlight earlier was in the afternoon shade now and when they wakened entwined together, they reflected on the point they had come to together. Sherlock, the man who never had craved physical intimacy, wakened Joan with his kisses and cuddles and whispers of some words Joan had never heard from a lover, words that described all her parts in detail as his marvelous mind had catalogued each aspect, words that made Joan blush to hear them from his lips.
"Please let's not get up right now, Joan, luv. I just don't want to leave this bed."
"I don't want to either, but we have not eaten today, Sherlock. Don't you want to eat, love? That coffee you brought me is stone cold now."
"Only if you promise me that you will come back to bed, luv."
Sherlock's eyes were fixed on Joan as she got out of bed and wrapped herself in his shirt before going down stairs to retrieve some snacks for the two of them.
She made tea and peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwiches for them and brought all of it upstairs on a tray.
Sherlock was sitting up in bed now, staring at her as if he were mesmerized. He saw the effects on Joan of their morning's activities, from her gentle softness of expression when she looked at him as well as the puffiness in her lips from his passionate kisses and the flush on her cheeks and chest that still remained to the slightly bluish bruise marks on her upper arms where Sherlock had held her so tightly.
"Are you all right, Joan?" he asked solicitously, tenderly kissing the bruise marks on her arms. "Please forgive me for bruising you. I think I got carried away a bit. It has been a while since I have felt the intensity of coitus to such a degree. In fact, I don't remember ever feeling anything so intensely. I was and I am completely intoxicated with you. My desire for you had built up to such a point that I was lost in my feelings," he said almost shyly. "I cannot describe what we shared today, Joan, luv."
"You said such beautiful words, words no man has ever said to me. The yang in you is so powerful, so strong, Sherlock. It was amazing to see you carried away, to feel you carry me away like that, to hear those words from you. You were like a wild horse on me, baby."
"Only with you, Joan, only with you."
Joan stood for a moment with her hands on her hips staring back at Sherlock. The sheet had dropped away and he was "there" at full attention in all his masculine glory.
"Now, Sherlock, we did not discuss this, but I presume that we are going to be monogamous. All of this must be mine and only mine. Because I don't plan to share that with anyone. I will take care of you in this department. No Lynch sisters, no Jenns."
"You . . . you don't have to fret, Joan. I can't imagine being with anyone else. It was beyond description being with you, luv."
Sherlock held out his hands to her.
"Please eat with me . . . and drink with me. I called Gregson and told him that we would not be in today . . . that we were attending to a pressing matter here."
Joan smiled and sat down beside him on the bed and poured the Earl Grey tea and gave it to him. Sherlock simply sat against the pillows and stared at her. The shirt was not buttoned and he could see the curve of her breast and her navel and where her thighs came together in such a lovely way.
Joan stared right back at him and smiled. He was happy, content, and completely unselfconscious in his own nudity as he sat drinking tea with Watson, totally relaxed and satisfied in his flesh. Joan took a bite from one of the peanut butter and jam sandwiches and then she crawled up into Sherlock's embrace and passed the sandwich to Sherlock. They often shared their food these days, mostly without even thinking about it. Sherlock took another bite of the sandwich and passed it back to Joan who took another sip of tea and another bite of sandwich.
"I know that what we have together is the most amazing thing that has ever happened in my life, dear Joan. I beg you to indulge my need for you, my overwhelming desire to make love to you."
Sherlock's eyes were full of his passionate feelings, his finely shaped nostrils dilated, as he took the remains of the sandwich from her hand and set it aside and then drew her onto him so that she was straddling him. Slipping his shirt from her body, he began to kiss her over and over, his fingers stroking her slender form, giving and receiving the tactile stimulation that made Joan gasp and sigh and melt onto him.
"I need you, Joan Watson. Oh, God, I need you!"
"Sherlock . . . Sherlock . . . just hold me tight, Sherlock!"
Later they couldn't remember how long they lay in bed together that day, that day that they simply floated in and out of lovemaking till the day was over and on into the night when they simply fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Joan wakened during the night and realized that Sherlock was not in bed with her. She missed him and so she got up and went looking for him. Sherlock was sitting at the table downstairs drinking tea. He looked up as he saw Joan coming from the stairway and into the kitchen.
"I missed you when I woke up and you weren't there."
"I woke up and . . . I felt so keen to be with you again, Joan, but you have been so generous to me with your charms. And you were sleeping so soundly. I was hardly able to restrain myself, darling. I wanted to wake you up and be with you. . . make love to you again." Sherlock flushed and smiled tenderly at Joan.
Joan did not respond with words, but just nodded and smiled back shyly.
She was wearing her robe to ward off the nighttime chill in the house and so she came to Sherlock, picked up his mug of tea and sipped the hot liquid from his cup. She reached out and smoothed Sherlock's hair. She found him especially adorable fresh from sleep, his stubble grown out, his blue eyes seeing nothing but her.
"Sherlock, I am here for you now. We have both been holding in our feelings for a long time and we have some catching up to do. I love that you want to protect me, but I'm a big girl. I can handle your need. Just tell me—talk . . . talk to me and tell me what you want."
Sherlock drew her down onto his lap and kissed her . . . soft searching kisses upon her face and her neck and, pushing her robe aside, he found that special place he had discovered on her shoulder and kissed her there and then his lips found the bruises on her arms and tenderly kissed each one of them. His hand then felt for her thigh and hip and slipped under her knees, drawing her up into his embrace.
"Oh God, Joan, I want you. I can't get enough of you, woman. I was so lonely before you came into my life . . . " he said, rocking her in his arms as he continued to kiss her over and over, opening up her mouth so that he could taste inside her lips, gently sucking and nipping as he kissed her.
"Let's go back to bed," Joan whispered in his ear as she kissed him there.
Sherlock picked Joan up and carried her back upstairs and laid her on the bed and lay down beside her, never stopping kissing her and whispering to her all the words of his passion.
"Oh, yes, talk to me, Sherlock. I love you to talk to me, baby," Joan crooned in his ear as they lay together and Sherlock told her everything that was in his heart as his hands roved over her body.
"I can't help it, Joan. The words just seem to flow, the words I've held in my heart for so long. They're just coming out now. I can't hold them back. The way you look at me that lets me know that you are glad to see me, the way your hips move when you walk for me. You know that I love to watch your hips move. It's you walking for me, Joan, swinging your lovely arse just for me, making me want you so, deep down in the pit of my belly. I love it so when you have just gotten up and you're wearing those short pajamas. I have wanted you, Joan. I have lusted for you, just lying in bed late at night groaning for you, woman, needing you to take care of me. Oh, God, I have wanted you, Joan. I have held myself back, but I couldn't hold this back any longer. You have changed me more than any one that I have ever known. Every day . . . every moment of the day when my thoughts turn to you, it just goes all through me. And then I see you and catch the scent of you and your perfume and I'm done for. I look into your eyes and I see the only truth in my life. Please take me again, luv. Please."
"Yes . . . yes . . . Sherlock"
Joan opened her arms and took Sherlock as he crouched over her now and welcomed him again. They were perfectly attuned and they both cried out without restraint when they came together as the perfection of their joining, the marvelous fit of them together took them to edge of sanity and then tipped them over that edge in a brilliant climax.
Neither of them could talk then, all coherent speech gone in that moment when all reason left them, when the physical spasms of orgasm and its psychological phenomena merged into something that neither of them had experienced with anyone else, leaving them babbling incoherently to each other.
Sherlock groaned and wept in Joan's arms and finally when he spoke again, he just croaked out the words in anguish for the first time.
"I love you, Joan . . . I love you. Please tell me you love me too."
"Yes! Yes! I love you, Sherlock. Yes. . . Yes, God, yes!"
It was morning when Joan wakened again. She heard the shower running and knew that Sherlock was up getting ready for the day. He always got up first . . . sometimes he didn't even sleep so she really usually saw Sherlock only after she had gotten up and taken her shower. She smiled as she reflected on the change that had occurred in their relationship as they had finally come face to face with their feelings for each other.
Sherlock finished in the bathroom and Joan heard him go down stairs. She got out of bed and went to take her shower and get herself ready for the day.
She stood staring in the mirror and could see the effects of being with Sherlock all over her face. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses and there was a permanent flush on her cheeks that hadn't been there the day before as well as a new understanding of the things of the flesh that showed in her gaze.
My goodness! Anybody that looks at me today will know I've been with my man. I can't hide it. She dropped her head, realizing how difficult it was going to be to keep their secret. As she stood under the shower, she realized how satisfied she felt in her flesh. Not since Liam had she been so calmed. But even Liam's skills paled in comparison with Sherlock's. When Sherlock was with her he was solely focused on bringing her pleasure. But there was no doubt than Sherlock derived the most intense pleasure himself from the act. And that moment when it overtook him, when he called upon the Lord, when he snorted like a wild horse and his eyes rolled back into his head and his body shook in a seizure of ecstasy was forever imprinted on her mind. Up to that point Sherlock was so patient with her, giving her time to respond to his blandishments, delighting to see her driven completely out of her mind. Joan knew that she had cried out again and again, moaning his name. She had always found it difficult to hold the sounds of her pleasure back, but she had always tried. But Sherlock had unleashed everything in her and she had lost all restraint when she was with him, wailing his name as he pleasured her. Now as she washed her body, everywhere she touched she remembered Sherlock touching her there and how she had responded to him by surrendering completely. That was something that had eluded her in previous relationships—surrender, capitulation. She always feared that a man would take advantage of her and at the last always held back something of herself. But when she climaxed in Sherlock's arms and took that roller coaster ride and plummeted in complete surrender, she knew that she had held nothing back and it frightened her and thrilled her at the same time.
Joan finally managed to get out of the shower and began to get ready for the day. When she went back to her bedroom, she discovered that Sherlock had stripped their mussed sheets from her bed and remade it with fresh ones. He had also laid out his selection of clothes for her for the day as usual but today he had added his selection of bra and panties as well. It was a bright crimson set that she kept for special occasion. The bra was all red silk trimmed with lace and the bikini panties as well.
Joan smiled as she slipped the panties and bra on and then put on the grey cashmere sweater and leather skirt that Sherlock had selected. She paused for a moment, reflecting on this complicated man that she now had come to know in the fullest sense. How many men that she had known were disposed to change their bed after a sexual marathon! There were none. And then she remembered his words, his nonstop flow of words of love and passion as he held her and brought her to the heights again and again. Words that she had never heard from any man, words that made her blush all over again as she remembered them, words she would never forget as long as she lived.
Joan went downstairs to Sherlock. He had made a huge breakfast and was finishing off making the pancakes as she came into the kitchen.
"Oh, Joan, luv, you're just in time. Everything is just now ready. I know that you are as ravenous as I."
Sherlock bent to kiss Joan upon her lips and then took her hand and drew her to the table, seated her on the same side of the table beside him for the first time and poured coffee for both of them.
"I want you closer to me when we eat, Joan. I need you close. Do you mind sitting so close?"
Joan patted his thigh affectionately as her answer. Nothing else needed to be said.
He was full of energy this morning, his virility seeming to exude from his person, testosterone seeming to burst from every cell of his body as they ate quietly, sitting side by side, stealing glances at each other, wanting to talk about what had happened, but not knowing where to start. Finally Sherlock spoke.
"I want to say, my dear Joan, that I adore you. And I thank you for sharing your lovely charms with me. I have never been as satisfied and happy as I am right now. I hope that you feel the same, that I did not disappoint you in some way."
"You did not disappoint me, Sherlock. It was beyond my wildest dreams." Joan blushed. "I just don't know how I will show my face today. Everyone will know."
"You do look quite ravished, luv," Sherlock teased, reaching out to smooth a tendril of her hair from her face. "I know that I am not your first man, but you look this morning like you just had your first man, like you just gave it away for the very first time. I see knowledge in your eyes, that I did not see before."
"You see my knowledge of surrender, Sherlock. You ravished me, Sherlock. I was taken as I have never been taken before in my life. And you did that to me, Sherlock. I'm a bit embarrassed because I could not stop from being so . . . noisy. I wasn't very ladylike." Joan flushed and cast her eyes down.
"I felt you give yourself, Joan. Each time you surrendered, I felt it, and it was the most beautiful gift I have ever received from a woman. And I loved the sound of you having pleasure. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. With all my grunting and gasping I'll wager that we were quite the pair."
"You called on the Lord, Sherlock," Joan teased gently. "I thought you were having a stroke when it happened for you." Joan melted in his arms. When she began to tremble helplessly in his arms, Sherlock drew her onto his lap and just hugged and hugged her till the trembling ceased.
"Don't tremble, luv. It's all right."
"I'm afraid now. It is so wonderful. Maybe I am dreaming and it will all go away."
"No, luv, this is reality. And I'm never going anywhere without you."
"Sherlock, I can't help myself. Please hold me tight. I've wanted your arms around me for so long . . . so long."
"You are very passionate, luv. I must be sure to take care of all your needs. How you must have suffered these past months!"
Joan nodded and dropped her head onto his shoulder, relishing the solid feel of him, the fresh masculine scent of him, the taste now of honey and coffee on his lips in kiss after kiss.
Finally they tried to calm themselves and Sherlock managed to speak About the business of the day.
"Gregson called, wants to consult with us about a case. Do you think you can manage it today?"
"I'll try my best, Sherlock."
"You look especially beautiful this morning, Joan."
"I see that you have added to you selection of my wardrobe and have decided to pick out my underwear now, Sherlock?"
"Do you mind, Joan?"
"Do you mind my asking why you decided to do that?"
Sherlock flushed slightly.
"Actually I love to imagine you putting on your clothes. I imagine the knickers slipping against the silkiness of your skin as you pull them over your lovely bum, and then your soft round breasts plopping into your lacy brassiere. I love knowing that the lace really hides nothing; I love knowing that the beautiful shadow of everything is clearly visible, the flowerlike beauty of the aureoles of your breasts, the dark softness that adorns your pudenda. I have the privilege now of seeing and knowing you. That is why I enjoying knowing what you are wearing under your clothes, Joan."
Joan smiled at Sherlock and blushed and just shook her head. She understood the man and it only made her feel closer than every to him. She knew that she belonged to him in every way now and it felt incredibly good to her.
"I think that we should try to drag ourselves down to the precinct, Joan. Otherwise we won't make it out of here today, will we?"
Joan nodded in agreement and they reluctantly got up, cleared the table and prepared to leave for the day.
As they stood at the door before leaving the brownstone, Sherlock bent and kissed Joan hard and hugged her tightly.
"I guess that will have to suffice for us till we get back home this evening. I don't know how I'm going to keep my hands off you."