Chapter 29: Our First Date

Emma sat on the edge of the couch, knees bouncing up and down. Sherlock was in the bedroom getting ready, for their first official date. She had celebrated her eighteenth birthday three days before, and this was her present. Sherlock had promised that they would try dating, even though he was still uncomfortable about their age difference.

She understood where he was coming from, but she also thought he was being silly. Emmaline was old enough to make her own decisions. That kiss, the kiss they had shared just days ago, had been wonderful. Emmaline's cheeks flushed as she thought of it.

It had been their first, and so far their last. Sherlock had been very polite with her, giving her coy glances and small smiles when he thought she could not see. But he had told her no more kissing until she was of age, and she had begrudgingly agreed.

Sherlock's bedroom door opened and he stepped out, adjusting his cuff links.

"Should I whistle?" Emma asked, trying to crack a joke.

Sherlock's cheeks turned a light pink as he shook his head, his curls flopping.

"No – no need." He tried to say sounding casual.

They were both nervous; ever since their kiss, they had been awkward around each other. Sherlock had distanced himself, and Emmaline had been trying to get another kiss. The truth of the matter was, they both wanted this to work, simply because they wanted the other in their life. If this failed, could they still be friends? Sherlock knew that he could never go back to being just friends with Emmaline, he wanted this to work. He had much more to see of her; he was not done yet.

"So where are we going?" Emma asked, grabbing her purse.

"Dinner and a movie." Sherlock said, shrugging.

Emma smiled. It was their usual weekend evening, but in this context, it had become something completely different. Even though Sherlock was acting nonchalant about their evening, inside he was a raging storm of nervousness. He wanted the date to go well, and he wanted to make her happy.

"Oh, just one thing before we go." Emma said.

Sherlock turned around to face her. "What?"

Emmaline stood up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Sherlock's neck, and she drew him into a gentle, lingering kiss. Her soft mouth pressed against his caused Sherlock's nerves to ignite with the most delightful sensation. She pulled back and smiled.

"Just wanted to get that out of the way." She explained.

"Good – good." Sherlock mumbled his hands on her waist.

"Did you still want to go to dinner?" She asked playfully.

"Don't tempt me right now." He whispered in her ear warningly.

Emma blushed, his tone sending chills through her, and extricated herself from his hold, taking his hand as they stepped down to the street.

"So we're treating this as the same, friends, but with kissing?" Sherlock asked to clarify.

"Yeah." Emmaline shrugged. "I don't see why not; we already have a great relationship."

Sherlock smiled as they stepped into the restaurant. "We do."

They sat down at their usual table, glad to have this weight lifted off their chest. Both of them had worried how dating would affect their relationship, and really how to carry on. In the heat of the moment, the kiss had not been quite a big deal. The next morning at breakfast however, had been uncomfortable.

Now that they knew how to continue, both were much more comfortable with each other. They talked, and laughed, and enjoyed each other's company just as much as they always had, but now both had a little more on their minds.

"How's your pasta?" Emma asked.

"Good; how are the fish and chips?"

Emma smiled. "Same as ever."

Sherlock chuckled, taking another bite. "I wanted to ask you something; I just never really found the right time, I guess, what with your grandparents."

Emma bristled at the reminder; she was slightly ashamed that she could be so happy so shortly after her grandparent's death, but Sherlock made her smile.

"What is it?"

"Was that your first time dating, here in London?" Sherlock asked carefully.

"Are you asking if Henry was my first boyfriend?" At Sherlock's assent, Emma laughed. "He was my first serious boyfriend; I didn't start dating until I moved here."

"Why?"

"Because I met someone who made me feel OK for being me; I was self-confident for the first time after I met you."

"So, what you're saying is I allowed Henry into your life?"

"I suppose, in a way." Emma smiled at Sherlock's scowl.

She knew he hated Henry, from the way he had treated him at Halloween, and she liked to think that there was a small part of him that had been jealous.

"So – umm – how far did you two…?" Sherlock asked, blushing scarlet, leaving the question hanging in the air.

Emma's cheeks turned pink. "Are you seriously asking me how far Henry and I got?"

"Well I – just want to know – for reference." Sherlock mumbled, turning an even darker shade of red.

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Sure". She took a bite of her fish. "Nothing underneath the shirt."

Sherlock choked on a bite of his pasta, beating on his chest to dislodge it. He looked across the table at a giggling Emmaline.

"Are you serious?" He asked, after taking a huge gulp of water.

"We were together for six months." Emma reminded Sherlock gently.

"Yeah but – that escalated quickly."

"Not really." Emma said, staring at Sherlock.

Sherlock thought back on his past dating experience. He had dated three girls in his two years at University. One for a month, another for three weeks, and the last for eight months. As Sherlock thought of his last relationship, and not how badly she had burned him, things had escalated quickly between them. So he could forgive Emmaline as a friend, but as her boyfriend, hearing how far she had gone with her ex, was painful.

However, she had no idea he had ever been in a relationship with a female. He assumed of course, that she guessed. But he had never outright said he had dated in University.

"No, I suppose not." He amended.

"What were you thinking about?"

"What?"

"You had your thinking face on." She accused.

Sherlock smiled. "I was thinking of an ex of mine – Rachel."

"An ex? Meaning you had more than one?" Emma asked, shocked.

"Three, actually."

"Wow, you go." Emma said.

It was strange to think Sherlock had dated before, but of course, he would have. He was male after all; and attractive.

"Denise, Deborah, and Rachel."

"And how is that relevant?" Emma asked carefully.

"Rachel and I were together for eight months – and you are right, things took a natural course. They moved at quite a fast pace, but a naturally fast pace." Sherlock tried to explain.

"So, how far did you two get?" Emma asked.

It was Sherlock's turn to blush. He took a sip of his water, trying to wet his now dry throat.

"Uhh – why?" Sherlock asked, trying to avoid the question.

"You slept with her, didn't you?" Emma asked, grinning.

Sherlock's cheeks turned darker pink.

"How soon?" Emma questioned.

"About – a month after we got together, I suppose." Sherlock answered.

Emma smiled; as a friend, she was excited to be learning more about Sherlock and his past. As his girlfriend, she wanted to find Rachel and rip her hair out.

"Ready to go to the film?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah."

They were both ready to move to a venue where talking was discouraged; Sherlock was upset by learning how far she had gone with Henry, though a part of him had jumped for joy to learn that she was still a virgin.

Emma was not surprised that Sherlock had had sex, though slightly upset that he had. They walked hand in hand outside, and to the cinema down the street.

ᶓ

"Hey, I am going to go take a shower." Sherlock said when they walked in the door.

"Alright." Emma threw her purse onto the couch.

"Hey." Sherlock kissed the side of her head before walking towards the bathroom.

Emma groaned in frustration once the door was closed behind him. Their date had gone well; dinner had been a bit awkward, what with all the conversation about their ex's, but the movie had been nice. Afterwards they had walked home talking and laughing, having a wonderful time.

Emmaline had been expecting a kiss of some sort once they got home, not what she had gotten. It was almost as if she had been friend-zoned once again. She huffed and walked into the bedroom, changing into her pajamas. It was her turn to sleep in the bed, but she had left her phone and charger out by the sofa.

She walked out to get them, and stopped short. Sherlock was toweling off his wet hair, standing in nothing but flannel pajama pants in front of the couch. Short rivulets of water worked their way down his back, and he reached with the towel to get them, the sinewy muscle in his arms flexing.

Emma took in a deep, short breath as she stood watching. Oh my god, she thought. Finally, she cleared her throat. Sherlock turned, surprised to see her.

"I thought it was my turn for the couch?" He asked.

"It is – I just—umm—forgot my phone…" Emma said, pointing at the end table.

"Oh, here." Sherlock picked up her phone and held it out to her.

Emma took a cautious step forward and took the phone from his outstretched hand. Their fingers brushed and Emma gasped at the electric feeling that passed between them, and that jolted to her core. Sherlock reached a hand forward to grasp her free hand.

"I had a nice time tonight; I don't think I told you that." He whispered.

"Sherlock…" Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, keeping her gaze locked on his.

The temperature in the room had seemed to rise, even though Emma was shivering. The hand that Sherlock held felt like it was on fire, and her belly was a ball of nervous energy. Sherlock brushed a lock of hair behind Emmaline's ear, leaning down.

He was being too slow for her; she dropped her phone and brought her hands up around his neck, straining to stand straighter to reach his mouth. Sherlock moaned deep in his throat and gripped either side of her waist, pulling her against him, needing to feel her. She was a goddess, and he had been denying himself the pleasure of feeling her for too long.

Emma gasped at his forcefulness; usually Sherlock was so gentle. However, she was not bothered by it; in fact, she found it exciting. Emma brought her hands down, running them over the strong sinewy arms she had glimpsed earlier. There was something about his body that spoke to her. Sherlock was in no way muscled or strong; he was lean and corded, just what worked for him. She found it extremely attractive as she ran her fingers over his back, feeling it tense under her roaming fingers.

Her mouth moved to kiss his chin, his throat, and his shoulder. Sherlock groaned and sucked on her collarbone, leaving a bright red mark there. He needed to leave a mark to tell the Sherlock of tomorrow morning that his had happened, that he had experienced this with her. Part of him thought this was a dream, it was so perfect.

At the new sensation on her skin, Emma shivered. His mouth was so soft on her skin, sending shivers up her spine and coaxing the fire in her belly. Emmaline captured his mouth with hers again, needing to feel his passionate kisses. Sherlock brought his tongue to flick playfully against her closed mouth; she sighed in bliss and allowed it entrance as it gracefully danced with her own tongue.

Sherlock ran his hands up and down on her waist, feeling her newly regenerated curved. Her body was driving him insane, he could feel it. He brushed his thumbs across her exposed hipbones, smiling when she shivered and pressed against him. The bottom of her shirt hiked up more, and he brought his hand to rest on the exposed flesh of her belly.

Emma gasped at the warmth of his hand and dug her fingers into his wet hair, pressing his mouth harder against hers. Sherlock felt so right, that there was no denying she wanted him. She could feel the electric pulses in her belly firing off to other areas of her body, and she could tell he wanted her.

Sherlock gasped for breath as he moved his face to bury it in her hair, inhaling that innocent orange scent. It took him back to when he had first fell asleep on her couch, and she had woken him up the next morning accidentally by smelling him. Sherlock smiled at the memory, kissing his way down her delicate jawline.

Emma's fingers traced their way down Sherlock's chest, marveling again, at how strong he really was. She smiled when his belly went taut at the sensation her roaming fingers caused.

"You'll be the death of me." Sherlock whispered in her ear.

She had no time to reply before his mouth was on hers again, with a burning need. Emmaline reciprocated the feeling, crushing him to her, needing to feel him closer. Sherlock's hand worked over her belly, up her rib cage, making her giggle, and to the bottom of her bra. Emma froze as his hot thumb brushed across the bare flesh there. Her hand gripped the back of his neck harder as she bit her lip.

"Too fast?" Sherlock asked, pulling back to rest his forehead on hers.

Emma nodded her assent. "A little; I'm sorry."

Sherlock placed a quick peck on her lips before pulling away from her. "Don't be sorry; I went too far."

Sherlock stepped over to the couch and fixed his blanket.

"It doesn't bother you then, that I'm not ready?" Emma asked, sitting down next to Sherlock.

"Should it? If you're not ready, you're not ready." Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not going to pressure you."

"Thanks." Emma rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Did Henry pressure you?" Sherlock asked seriously.

"A little." Emmaline said, threading their fingers. "The last month we were together, he really wanted to have sex and I didn't want to. I started sending more time with you because I was trying to avoid him, and he called me out on it. He told me he had cheated on me and decided to date Amelia. When I got back to school, I found out that he had started calling me the Ice-Queen and that with Amelia, he had slept with her at a party."

"I'm sorry darling."

"I love it when you call me that." Emma whispered, fighting her exhaustion.

Sherlock laughed, pressing his lips against her cheek. "Go to bed." He urged.

"See you in the morning." She leaned over and planted a quick kiss on his mouth.

"Good night love." He whispered against her lips.

"Good night."

Emmaline bent over to pick up her dropped phone, and ten minutes later fell asleep in Sherlock's bed, holding the pillow like it was him, and they could fall asleep together.