Sorry for the delay, hopefully I've made up for it. Thanks for all the reviews.
As Janine leaves the hospital room, Sherlock finds himself more than a little disappointed, knowing that he has in fact screwed up what could have been an interesting friendship. Despite her frequent attempts at sexual gratification at the expense of the detective, he quite enjoyed her company since the wedding, since he found his flat too quiet, too empty with the departure of his friend and blogger.
He tries to let the thought of her go, close the door to that room in his mind palace, but hearing her name on the lips of the man he detests most, knowing that she had to stand by and allow Magnussen to flick her in the face the way he did John causes him to reach his tipping point. When he pulls the trigger, when Magnussen's lifeless body drops to the ground, he hopes Janine can find peace in knowing that whatever secrets he held over her are now hers to keep, although he hides his intentions behind the veil of protecting Mary and John.
Over the next ten months of tracking down Moriarty, deducing how he managed to survive his own suicide, and watch him being led, shackled, behind the heavy iron doors of a maximum security prison, Sherlock finds himself frequently visiting that room in his Mind Palace that he's tried to shut away. Though his exile was lifted to allow him the chance to take down London's more notorious criminal, Sherlock feels as if life has moved on around him, John and Mary's attention focused on their child, the media frenzy that once followed him dying away until he finds himself sitting in the chair in his flat, violin abandoned next to him, the adventure in his life fading to nothing as he's banned from working with Scotland Yard as part of his punishment for Magnussen's death.
When he can no longer handle the drone, boring life that now surrounds him, Sherlock finds himself traveling to Sussex Downs, his sudden appearance at the door of Janine's cottage only catching her slightly by surprise, the grin that has failed to make an appearance in the past several months finally gracing his features at the sight of her standing in front of him.
Though Sherlock doesn't typically fancy himself for small talk and meaningless conversations, he decides that listening to Janine talk about the bees and the quiet cottage life isn't all that horrible, better than his skull who has been unable to perform at its job of providing a sufficient sounding board since John entered the picture and made talking to inanimate objects far less satisfying.
When Janine's long sentences begin to become marked with small yawns, Sherlock pulls himself off the couch, grabbing their cups of tea and walking them into the kitchen as she follows. She puts up only a small fight when he suggests that she turn in for the night, and he thanks her when she gives him a blanket and pillow to utilize whilst sleeping on the couch, the former consulting detective stripping down to his pants when he realizes he didn't put much forethought into the trip so as to bring a set of pyjamas.
For several hours Sherlock lay on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head as he listens to the steady breathing coming from Janine's open bedroom door, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as he allows himself to think. He finds as he ventures through his mind palace that many doors have been closed off, those doors and corridors containing the large amounts of information he gathered throughout the years of being the world's only consulting detective, that information becoming far less useful as the title was stripped from him in the wake of his becoming a murderer.
The word leaves an unfavorable taste in his mouth, makes him feel as though he's being lumped in with all of the criminals that he's helped put behind bars. The idea that he did it to protect the people he cares about most makes it settle in his stomach a little easier, but the sudden remembrance of Janine's name on the lips of a heartless man reminds him that some damage was already done before he was able to make the fateful decision.
That is the thought that drives him as he finds himself quietly slipping out from under the blanket laying haphazardly across his legs, the distance to Janine's room short as he finds himself in the doorway watching her sleep, the steady rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes stirring arousal that he's been lacking since he last saw her in the hospital room.
She's lying on her side facing him, one arm under her pillow much like he was lying before, the other arm draped over her mid-section. The color of her bra, and the small piece of lace panties barely visible over the top of her blanket are the same color as her bridesmaid dress, the images flooding his groin with heat as he walks around the bed, his moves slow and calculated as he sits behind her, pulling the blanket off of her body with the slightest of touches.
The move causes her to roll onto her back next to him, a sigh leaving her lips, her eyes remaining closed as he climbs over top of her on all fours, their lips centimeters from each other, reminiscent of when she straddled him on the couch. When he places a kiss just at the edge of her lips she doesn't respond, and he moves to her jawline, placing feather kisses down it until he reaches her neck, a slight jolt shooting through his body as he feels fingers slide into his hair.
He expects her to say something, to perhaps push him away after the way they left things in London, but it's obvious the betrayal has at least ebbed away as she arches her back into him, the lace of her bra brushing against his chest as he takes the chance and slips his hand around her back, managing to unclasp it on the first shot.
"Someone's been practicing."
"I've had a bit of free time lately, decided to do some research."
Their grins mirror each other as Sherlock sits back on his legs, Janine putting up no fight as he pulls off her bra and tosses it onto the floor. As he goes back to kissing and licking her neck, slowly moving down to her chest, she manages to get her legs from between his, her knees spreading.
He pays considerable attention to her breasts, teeth grazing over nipples, fingers pinching and rubbing where his mouth isn't. Her moans are interspersed with ragged breathing as she pushes her head back into the pillow, Sherlock making his way further down her body, fingers suddenly hooked in the lace of her panties.
He can feel the heat radiating from her, can smell the intoxicating smell that is uniquely Janine, and he hungers to taste her as he has in the past, feel her thighs shaking as his tongue makes her unintelligible.
As he moves to go further down Janine pulls on his hair, forcing him to look up at her, the look of disappointment for once appearing on his face the way it has on hers so many times as he crawls back up her body, obliging when she pulls him down for a kiss.
"This time it's my turn." She whispers in his ear as they part from the kiss, and Sherlock follows command when Janine pushes on his chest, signaling for him to lie on his back next to her.
She likes this new side of Sherlock, the look of innocence still in his eyes that now mingles with burning lust, his moves more confident, more researched. He seems every bit in control of the situation, as if he's shagged hundreds of women, but they both still know the truth, and Janine wants to see how he handles having the control taken from him as she turns the table around and pulls off his pants, moving to sit between his parted legs.
His body stiffens as she grabs his erection, forcing her to stop, to look for the panic in his eyes that she has seen previously. She finds his eyes closed, his breathing ragged, and she knows he's trying to force the panic down, his hands fisted in the bed sheets.
Her eyes remain on him as she begins a slow rhythm on his penis, hand moving up and down, thumb brushing over the tip and spreading the pre-cum. When she thinks he can handle it she ducks her head down, her long hair brushing the inside of his thigh as she laps at the head of his penis with her tongue, trying to ease him into it as his breathing comes out even more ragged.
She considers letting him switch roles again, turn control back over to him and go at his own pace, but she decides that she deserves this after the stunt with the proposal, still a little bitter that she allowed herself to be fooled so easily.
When she finally takes the head into her mouth she thinks this might be the end of Sherlock Holmes, a strangled cry escaping his lips much to his embarrassment, his knuckles as white as the sheets he's grasping. Research does little to prepare you for the actual act when the porn is scripted, orgasms faked, and though Sherlock thinks he might have made a mistake by initiating this, it's impossible to find his voice when he feels Janine's lips slide even further, taking his entire shaft into her mouth.
As she begins a steady pace, tongue drawing lazy patterns, teeth grazing ever so lightly against the sensitive skin, Sherlock can only hold on for the ride, thinking about how very much not like masturbation this feels. He doesn't do it often, feels like it's a waste of time when he has to, but this is something different all together, and he suddenly realizes why John was always on the prowl for another woman to bed.
Janine knows Sherlock won't last long with all of the new stimulation, thinks he just might pass out before he reaches climax, but she much enjoys the reaction she's getting out of him, heels digging into the mattress as he tries to hold back. When she finally releases him from her mouth, his skin glistening with her saliva, she moves up his body so she's straddling his waist, his eyes still screwed shut as she leans forward, hands on his chest.
When she presses her lips against his it takes him a moment to register it, his hands finally releasing the sheets as he allows her tongue to slide into his mouth, hands finding their way to her hips as she grinds down into him, hardened cock rubbing against her ass.
He faintly realizes that somewhere between sucking him off and straddling him she discarded her panties, and she moans into his mouth when he allows a hand to slip between her thighs, feeling the wetness coating his fingers when he pushes them into her.
"Sherl, open your eyes." He only realizes they're still closed when she pulls away from his lips, their breaths mingling as they try to regain the air lost in the kiss. When she reaches between them to grab his hand he reluctantly allows her, their eyes focused in on each other as she pushes it to the side and grabs the base of his cock, moving her hips so that the head slides between the wet lips, rubbing against the clitoris.
She can see the look of panic returning to his eyes, can feel it beneath her and on her as he holds her hips a little too tightly, his fingers assuredly leaving bruises on her soft skin. She gives him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, his eyes never leaving her, her hand giving his cock a squeeze as she shifts her hips again, positioning him at her opening.
She uses her free hand to brace herself on his chest, his grip getting just shy of unbearable as she sinks down onto him, his breathing stopping all together at the feel of being in her, her walls spasming around him and sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of their bodies.
She remains where she's at for several long moments, allowing Sherlock to adjust, his hands finally releasing their tight grip when he reminds himself to breathe. The heaving of his chest causes the slightest of movement in Janine as she continues to rest her weight on him, and she's surprised when he pulls her hips up, his focus unbroken as he pulls her back down again, exploring the movement.
She finally allows him control of the situation, the look in his eyes reminding her of a child trying to figure out how to operate his new toy, discovering what works and what doesn't. He settles on a steady pace of thrusting into her at the same time he pulls her down, and she soon finds herself being the one who is struggling to keep her eyes open, her nails digging into his chest as she rests both hands on it, her moans and whispers of the former detective's name filling the cottage.
When Sherlock notices her legs shaking around him, he stops his thrusts long enough to roll them over so she's on her back, her legs falling open as he adjusts to the new position. He's quick to find the right pace again, leaning forward as he captures Janine's lips with his own, one hand on the mattress to brace himself while the other cups her breast, his thumb rubbing over the hard nipple.
He pulls away from the kiss to allow her to breathe, tasting the sweat on her neck as he sucks and kisses it, and she finds herself arching up into his body, the change in position causing Sherlock's thrust to brush right against her G-spot. The move sends them both over the edge as they repeat their movements, neither able to keep their eyes open as Sherlock rests his forehead just below her neck, her fingernails drawing small beads of blood from his skin as her orgasm wracks her body.
Nothing else exists but he and Janine in the moment that Sherlock feels the muscles in his abdomen contract, his thrusts more punctuated as he feels himself releasing inside of her, the pain in his back from her grip only adding to the pleasure as they ride the wave of ecstasy.
His thrusts gradually slow until they've stopped all together, the two finding just enough energy for a quick kiss before Sherlock finally rolls off of her, their sides touching as they both stare at the ceiling above them, trying to regulate their breathing.
"So that was-"
"Amazing."
Amazing wasn't exactly the word Sherlock was going to end his sentence with, but he decides that it's befitting enough, realizing that all the words that originally came to mind sounded like John's continued summary of Sherlock's deduction skills. He supposes they could all apply in this situation as well.
When they're finally capable of breathing without the worry of passing out, Sherlock finds Janine readjusting her position until she's on her side, her chest pressed against his side and her cheek resting against his chest. He wraps his arm around her back as he pulls the blanket up over them, her breathing deepening and becoming more regulated as she slips back into the throws of sleep.
Sherlock expects to find his thoughts racing, his mind palace a chaotic mess, but instead he drifts off not too long behind Janine, the only thought on his mind being that he could definitely find ways to enjoy his retirement here with her, in her bed.
And that, my friends, is the end. Hope you enjoyed it. I'm considering writing a follow-up to this, smut free, with a little one running around, but we'll see what happens. Let me know if you think I should, opinions are highly appreciated.