I promise I didn't forget about this fic, I've just been dealing with some horrible writer's block. It still isn't 100% gone, but at least I've managed to crank out a chapter.

Almost a week goes by before Janine finally gives up on waiting to hear from Sherlock, the memories of that night only managing to sustain her for so long before she can't help herself, wanting more from the consulting detective.

She shows up at 221b to find him laid out on the couch in his pyjamas and dressing gown, his fingers steepled under his chin with his eyes closed. She thinks he doesn't notice her, seeming to forget that this is the Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective letting a smirk play on his lips when he says "your thoughts are inappropriate," his eyes remaining closed.

"I'm hardly to blame, you're the one that put them there." The words are said as she makes her way over to the couch, sitting on the edge of it at Sherlock's side, his eyes still closed.

"Your inebriations put the thoughts in your head."

"That tongue put the thoughts in my head." With that response Sherlock finally opens his eyes, an exasperated expression crossing his face.

"Yes, well, please do contain your hormones, I'm on a case."

Sherlock notices the playful pout, rolling his eyes before closing them again, trying to refocus his attention on whatever it was that he was thinking about previously. He finds it hard to, however, when Janine is suddenly straddling his lap, leaning forward so that their lips are only centimeters apart.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're exhausting." Her breath is warm against his lips, their noses almost touching as she continues to lean close, noticing that his hands are resting on her hips. Sherlock seems confused, thrown off by the sudden distraction as he finds himself struggling to remember what he was thinking about before being interrupted.

A case, something about a case. It takes him a moment but he finally remembers where he left off, returning to his thoughts as if she weren't even sitting on him. Janine knows he isn't focusing on her, the look in his eyes obvious that his mind is elsewhere, but part of the fun is trying to distract a man that is otherwise unbreakable.

She leans forward, her hands slipping up under his shirt and rubbing up his chest as her mouth finds the side of his neck, her tongue licking at the skin. His light grip on her hips tighten just enough for her to notice when she starts to grind down against him, and she soon realizes that his breathing is gradually picking up. He's losing the battle.

She licks and kisses up the side of his neck until she reaches his mouth, eager to feel his tongue on her body, moaning as she remembers the feel of his tongue on her clit.

It becomes a standoff, Janine holding her ground, the tip of her tongue running along his lips, trying to convince him to let her in. She can tell his resolve is breaking down, her hands sliding down his chest, lower until she reaches his crotch.

The sudden feel of a hand massaging him through his pyjama bottoms causes Sherlock to gasp, Janine taking the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth, and almost immediately Sherlock finds himself back in the room of his mind palace occupied by her. Despite his alcohol induced stupor the night of John's wedding, Sherlock can most definitely remember Janine's taste and the look on her face when she reached her orgasm.

When he begins to kiss back, Janine knows she's got his full attention, her hand still rubbing him, feeling him beginning to get aroused under her. She wonders how often he gets aroused, if he takes care of himself when he does or if he tries to will it away instead. The thought of him wanking on his bed, or even in his chair makes Janine wet, her hips grinding down into Sherlock as their tongues participate in a fierce battle, Janine finally coming out on top when Sherlock suddenly pulls away.

For a moment she thinks he's going to request to stop, but when she looks down at him she notices his eyes closed, his respirations rapid and shallow as he tries to hide the pleasure she is obviously causing him.

With his eyes closed, Janine takes the chance to pull the dress she's wearing up off her body, revealing nothing but a bra on underneath with her nipples straining against the thin lace material. When Sherlock finally opens his eyes again his breath catches, his hands on Janine's thighs, his eyes taking in the sight of the woman on top of him.

He's seen naked women before, mostly while utilizing John's laptop, but he usually only sees them for a brief second, never bothering to spend much time studying them while on a quest to solve a case. This is different though; he can feel the warmth and softness of Janine's skin as he slides his hands up her thighs, making the hairs on her arms stand on end as he gets close to her vagina, his thumbs massaging deep circles into her inner thighs as she moans his name.

After a moment, watching Janine's eyes flutter close at the feel of his movements, Sherlock slides his hands up her body around to her back, his curiosity piqued as he attempts to remove her bra. At the feel of him fumbling with the clasps Janine looks down at him, a grin playing on her lips, the same look of innocence on Sherlock's face that he had the night of the wedding.

"Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective trying to remove my bra. You are a bad boy."

He lets his hands drop away from her back, a slight blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He's starting to think maybe he should have spent more time analyzing the videos John loves to watch so much, realizing he's in way over his head with the look of empathy that Janine is giving him at the current moment.

Her comment does nothing to instill confidence either, and suddenly he doesn't want to be in this situation anymore, vulnerable, unsure of how to deal with the new onslaught of feelings coursing through his veins. He closes his eyes, his breathing rapid but not from pleasure, a panic rising up in him. He can only imagine what Mycroft would say right now, seeing him like this.

Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side, brother mine. Perhaps if Mycroft were a better brother, he wouldn't be in the early stages of a sexual arousal induced anxiety attack.

"Sherlock."

"You have to go."

"Sherl-"

"I'm in the middle of a case."

Janine can feel the panic radiating off of Sherlock as she finally removes herself from his lap, grabbing her dress off the floor. She pulls it back on but doesn't leave, returning to her original spot sitting next to Sherlock on the couch.

"I didn't mean to push you, Sherlock." His eyes remain closed, his breathing still rapid but slowly coming down. He doesn't respond to her, doesn't even acknowledge her presence until she's about to get up, Sherlock's hand suddenly but gently grabbing her wrist to keep her from going.