Ginny sat in the car with her arms crossed pouting as she stared out the window blatantly ignoring Sherlock as he drove down the road at mind boggling speeds. (He assured her they had no chance of being pulled over.) To say she wasn't pleased with him was the understatement of the century. She had no interest in this case he was bringing her on even if he claimed it was for her own good.
"You can't ignore me forever," he answered to her silence. She hmphed like a child and looked to the window. "Doctor Walker agrees with me." She still said nothing in return. "We're going to a wedding," he reminded her. "Don't women usually like that sort of thing?" She sat in her bubble of silence making him irritable. "I'm just trying to help!"
"By not giving me an option?!" she shot back at him.
"It's good for you!"
"You only think that cause you're an arrogant prat," she growled.
"Would you like me to apologize?"
"Yes," she snapped.
"Too bad," he retorted making her huff again.
"Sometimes you make me so mad," she shouted kicking the dash.
"Damon's car," he reminded her.
"Go fuck yourself," she replied.
"Your lack of intellectual conversation is appalling," he answered in kind.
"Why did you have to spring this on me?" she whined changing her mood from bitter and angry to upset rather quickly. "We were doing fine. I've even been skipping sessions with Walker."
"Because detective work is part of my life, and if we are going to continue this partnership, it will also be a part of yours," he answered, and although it did make sense, she didn't want it to.
"It could have waited," she grumbled, but then quickly sighed when she realized he probably hadn't taken a case in months because of her. Perhaps she should have taken this as a sign of this slowly returning to normal. She should have been kinder when he had approached her about it two days earlier.
She was suspicious right away when he invited her to dinner in a less than Sherlock fashion. There was no dragging, no surprises, and no dramatics. He had very calmly asked if she would like to have dinner with him even if it was at such an un-Sherlock like place. In fact, the restaurant looked quite a bit like somewhere John used to bring all his more serious dates. The food was overpriced and unpronounceable if you didn't speak French; she had to wear a dress and Sherlock a tie; and the wine list seemed to be endless (she won't be complaining about the last bit).
"I'm confused," she admitted after eating, "and suspicious." She had a right to be. John was the one who pointed out she would be less than pleased at the idea and would need convincing, so Sherlock studied a few badly acted and scripted romantic movies and even picked up a few tips from the king of awful romance- John- to find out how to elevate her mood. He reasoned if she was happy, she would be more likely to agree to his own reasoning.
"I know," he answered simply making her looking at him through half lidded eyes in suspicion.
"Oh God, I'm pregnant, aren't I?" she joked making him roll his eyes in turn making her laugh. "No, but really what is it?"
"Let's go for a walk," he offered pulling her out of her seat and heading to the streets.
"You're worrying me now," she admitted with a frown taking his arm and stopping him outside of the restaurant. Normality was like a symptom of illness running rampant in him, and she was letting worry eat away at her. "Sherlock, what is it?"
"I have a case," he told her only confusing her more.
"That's great," she smiled clapping her hands together once for emphasis. "What's the problem?"
"You need to come with me," he replied making her smile fall. She had once enjoyed going on cases with him- or at least Jen did, but she feared what might happen if she was brought back into that world. She was worried about temptations and where it might lead her.
"Oh, I can't," she shook her head taking a step away from him and nearly falling as she caught herself on him.
"I'm not really giving you a choice," he answered simply after looking at his watch as he watched as she slowly picked herself back up.
"Why?" she demanded as her head began to pound and lights began to lose their solidity as her eyes tried to force closed. She shook her head and snapped back to Sherlock. "Why must you be so insistent? Everything's fine."
"You need this."
"Don't tell me what I need!" she shouted at him pointing fingers. She stumbled again. "I know what I need, and being around murders and kidnappers-"
"I need you in my life, but I won't give up my work for you," he replied at her quickly. "I'm not choosing between two things that can easily coexist."
"What are… what are you going to do!? You can't just… you can't just…" The edge of her vision was slowly fading into black as panic rose in her chest. She started to feel herself turn to puddy. "What did…?"
"I drugged your wine," he answered as he caught her from falling to the pavement and smashing her head open.
"Did you have to drug me though?" she asked him in irritation. "You couldn't just talk to me?"
"You wouldn't have come," he assured her, and she didn't want to admit it, but he was right. She would have fought tooth and nail against him and drugging her was, well, easier.
"And Doctor Walker knew about this?"
"Not about the drugging part of this plan, no, but about taking you on a case, yes," Sherlock replied. "He thinks it's a good idea."
"You'll be the death of me Sherlock Holmes," she sighed heavily admitting defeat. She could be angry with him the whole day, but that wouldn't change what was done. She was in a car on the way to some wedding for some case. "What's the case?"
"And old friend of mine, Victor-"
"Old friend?" she asked suspiciously.
"Yes," he answered with no more of an explanation. "Victor's brother Ian is getting married, and he had received a rather mocking note telling him that he and his new wife would have their fortune swiped out from under them. I can only assume the thief means their wedding ring. It's a priceless antique that's been in the Trevor family for generations."
"Why must criminals brag?" she asked. "It's so boring." He smiled fondly at her. "So Victor Trevor? How do you know him?"
"We went to university together," Sherlock answered. "I was visiting him one summer when his father was killed. I solved the case within a couple days."
"A couple of days?" she teased. "That's a bit longer than usual."
"I was young and inexperienced," he snapped back making her laugh. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Forgiven then?"
"Oh no," she laughed. "That would be too soon, but it's not like I can change anything now. Let's just have a nice weekend, and then I'll be mad at you when we arrive back in London."
"I look forward to that," he replied dryly.
"Will I like Victor?" she asked him curiously never have heard of the man in her life. "Why have you never spoken about him?"
"Victor prefers his privacy," Sherlock answered.
"Is he a graduate chemist like you are?" she asked.
"No, he's an astronomer," he replied making her laugh. "What?"
"Sherlock, your 'old friend' is an astronomer, and you don't even know the Earth goes around the sun," she giggled before the car started to slow. Her eyes gazed forward as she took in the pricey Victorian house before them that hid behind a privacy wall complete with a gate. "Rich apparently too," she mused. "Do all wealthy people know each other? Is there a secret club, and you all make fun of the poor? That's not very nice; you shouldn't make fun of the poor, Sherlock." He scowled at her making her laugh again as he pulled up the car. A man their age came running quickly down the steps.
If Ginny had to describe him, she would say he looked like he had taken one too many caffeine pills and was on the brink of the latest discovery- or at least he thought so. Victor Trevor looked exhausted, yet had this electricity about him that seemed almost alarming. The dark shadows under his eyes were even more prominent against his pale skin. It looked like he hadn't seen daylight in ages. His blonde hair wasn't sure which way it wanted to stick, and his clothes were a bit frumpy, but she had to admit it worked for him as he wasn't bad to look at.
"Sherlock Holmes," he grinned reaching out a hand.
"Victor," he greeted shaking the hand he offered. "I see the insomnia is still prominent as usual. Off your medication?"
"I've been too busy observing the night, and appreciating the beauty of…," he drifted off as his eyes fell on Ginny.
"Hello," she smiled at him stepping up to take Sherlock's side and sticking out her hand. "I'm Ginevra, Ginevra Verown. Ginny if you want."
"Hello," he replied slowly shaking her hand. She smiled at him. "And you are?"
"I'm um…," she glanced at Sherlock. "I'm Sherlock's… girlfriend." She twitched slightly at the word.
"Sherlock doesn't date," Victor told her suspiciously.
"Sherlock also doesn't have friends, yet here you are."
"Hm," he uttered talking a step back and looking her up and down. "Well, she's certainly an attractive woman. Smart?"
"Relatively so," Sherlock answered causing Ginny to roll her eyes.
"Funny?"
"She would like to think so."
"Interesting?"
"Obviously," Sherlock told him making Ginny smile as she rocked on her heels as both men observed her. "Dissociative Personality Disorder. One of her personalities is a serial killer."
"Well. Interesting indeed," Victor nodded. "I would imagine she would have to be for you to take an interest. I've won the bet then."
"I suppose," Sherlock scoffed.
"Bet?" Ginny asked as Victor began moving forward, and Sherlock gestured for her to follow next to him.
"Many years ago," Victor started not turning to face her as they began up a flight of stairs in the grandiose manor, "Sherlock and I had an argument whether or not attachments were worth one's time and effort. Sherlock argued against them while I argued for them, and we both agreed that if one was to yield to these circumstances that a thousand pounds would be paid up by the losing party."
"Oh?" Ginny asked. "And do you have a-"
"Her name is Rory," Victor cut her off.
"There's a Rory now, is there?" Sherlock asked him dully. "Interesting?"
"Obviously," Victor repeated his answered. "I'm afraid you may not get to meet her. She keeps to herself and doesn't much care for crowds. She says there's too much energy. She's a fan of yours, reads the blog." Victor seemed less than pleased with this fact. "She even mentioned bringing you in for this case when the police didn't take the threat seriously."
"Intelligent girl," Sherlock answered casually. "I'm more efficient than Scotland Yard."
"And you brought your girlfriend because?" Victor asked stopping in front of a solid oak door before darting his eyes to Ginny.
"I'm indispensable," she replied for Sherlock with a smile. "That and John's wife is pregnant, and we wouldn't want to keep him away. Besides weddings are a couple activity."
"Not when you're here trying to solve a crime," Victor argued.
"Well, when one is with Sherlock Holmes," she rebutted, "that is the best couple activity." She grinned before looking to the room. "Is this where we shall be staying?"
"Unless you would like two rooms," Victor asked raising an eyebrow.
"Of course not," Ginny scoffed at him opening the door. She glanced at the dark room that lacked all natural lighting due to thick red velvet curtains refusing to let any light in from the three grand windows that would face the gardens below. "So who's home is this?" she asked throwing her bag on the ground near the bed.
"My parents," he answered her. "Though, it's my inheritance."
"What do they do for a living?"
"Oh just a lot of stocks and trades," he told her with a shrugged. "Money runs in the family."
"But you don't like stocks and trades. You like stars," she pointed out. He smiled but said nothing as he changed the subject.
"Dinner will be at six sharp," he told them. "Sherlock, feel free to search the grounds. If you have any question, they can be addressed at dinner."
"Of course," he replied as Victor hurried off to the next floor.
"He seems nice," Ginny told him as she stepped in, and he followed. She gently shut the door.
"Victor is quite amiable," he agreed. "He always has been. Was rather popular with people of the female variety when we were in school."
"I could see that. He's rather attractive," she replied sitting on the bed as she began to remove her shoes. He grunted displeased in his response. "Don't be jealous," she teased. "You are far more attractive, and the most intelligent man I know."
"Hm," he answered trying to sound disinterested, but he turned away trying to hide his smile.
"What do you think about this case?" she asked.
"I think it's a family member," he said right away. "Someone who will be at the wedding, so I will be getting the wedding list from Victor tonight and investigating each person individually."
"Sherlock," she groaned, "with a family like this, this wedding is going to be huge, and I hate mingling with people. There's too many emotions in the room. I don't like it."
"I bought you a dress," he told her giving her an affectionate look trying to get her to play along.
"Will it make me look like a prostitute?" she asked dully. He smiled before he slowly pulled the dress from his bag and laid it out for her. It was green figuring hugging v-cut that would go to her knees and had a little bit or rouching as the fabric was pulled into a small not that would rest about her hip. "Not something I would usually wear," she admitted.
"It'll look nice on your frame," he informed her.
"I like flowing things," she told him.
"The don't flatter you," he replied back making her scowl.
"My green sweater is flowing on me, and I know it's your favorite. You bought me a new one after all."
"No," he told her rolling his eyes. "Your green sweater is baggy. It is not meant to be 'flowing' as you put it. It's simply too big."
"And you like it on me," she reminded him.
"Because it's a reminder that you allow yourself to be comfortable around me," he answered. "If you have a desire to know, I do prefer when you don't dress up, but apparently it's necessary at weddings."
"Will you wear a tie?" she teased.
"If I must," he scowled. She laughed before she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.
"I'm going down to discover the library I know they have to have. I will likely be ignoring the call for dinner" she told him. "You're welcome to come. We could have sex against the shelves." She was teasing him again making him 'hm' before chastely kissing her making her sigh. "No fun."
"The case," he reminded her.
"No fun," she said again as she walked out the door.
She collapsed in bed with a sigh as she watched Sherlock continue to work on a map with red string connecting what seemed like an infinite amounts of guests.
"How was the kitchen?"
"Library," she reminded him as she watched him pin a picture down, "and it was nice. They had a piano, so I composed for a little while. How's the case going?"
"Five hundred people are going to be showing up for the wedding. These," he gestured to what seemed like a hundred pictures on his map, "are the ones I can limit it down to right away. Of course more will be eliminated as suspects once I or you talk to them."
"Me?" she asked. "Why do I have to?"
"Because I brought you here to assist," he replied clapping his hands together. "Besides, who else is going to shamelessly flirt with the men to get them to spill their secrets."
"Sherlock," she whined not looking forward to it.
"Oh, don't complain, Ginny," he scolded her like a child. "It's rather unbecoming."
"You're an arsehole," she growled turning away from him. He waved her off before she scowled and stood slowly pulling off her jeans as they were currently trying to find the best way to strangle her.
"What are you doing?" he demanded having been distracted by her moving about. He found himself alarmed when he turned around to find her taking off her clothes.
"Going to bed," she informed him as she removed her blouse and tossed it to the floor.
"I packed you sleepwear," he said turning around back to his board to try and focus on that. She let out a laugh.
"Oh Sherlock," she grinned. "You know I sleep bare."
"You didn't last night," he reminded her as he saw a flash of red as she tossed her bra to the floor.
"You weren't being an arsehole last night, so I was being considerate to your er... sensitive nature," she reasoned as he saw another flash of red signaling that all her clothes had been removed from her person.
"I'm not sensitive," he told her grinding in every word. She laughed lowly as she crawled back into bed.
"Try not to make too much of a racket," she sighed. "I'm going to try and get a little sleep." She let him have the light on, and when he knew she was finally asleep judging by the pattern of her breathing, he took the chance to be distracted by looking at her. The quilt was mostly covering her except for her bare arms and collarbone as well as her legs. The quilt was hiked rather far up her legs allowing him to see nearly every inch of them and even a little her perfect little- he snapped his attention back forward before cursing himself. He wasn't a teenager anymore; he could control himself. He could practically hear Ginny laughing and teasing him.
"We need to go down there separate," he told her the next day as the prepared to walk down to the wedding. Sherlock didn't sleep the night before, and whether it was because she insisted on sleeping without clothes or because he was working a case was beyond her.
"Why?" she asked smoothing out the dress he bought her. She grudgingly admitted he was right. The shape did look better on her; she just hated wearing form fitted dresses, because they reminded her of Irene.
"The easiest way to get information out of people besides threatening them is flattery. I've used it many times in the past, but both fall for it easier if the other party thinks they stand a chance of worming their way into the your bedroom."
"You're whoring me out, is what you're telling me?" she asked.
"Not necessarily-"
"It's on you if I say yes to someone's advances," she cut him off.
"You won't," he said quite sure if it.
"Are you positive?" she asked. "You do know how needy I am." He scoffed pulling at the dress, so she was brought to him. She smiled and kissed him gently.
"If you find yourself entertaining the idea, consider this: I'll kill him and make it looked like you did it." Her smile grew as she found herself laughing.
"Seriously?"
"Quite," he nodded making her kissing him again.
"Don't worry I'll keep my hands to myself," she told him. "Well, off I go, to flirt with an untold amount of strangers."
Ginny sat next to an attractive blonde man on the bride's side of the family. He was chatting her up before the start of the ceremony, and she nodded and agreed and then remember why she was with Sherlock Holmes as this man was utterly boring her to tears. She was saved as the bride walked in causing them all to stand as she made her way down the aisle.
She crinkled her nose at the sickeningly sweet display of romance. She looked to Sherlock, who's gaze she caught as she made vomit signs like she was a small child. He smiled and nodded in agreement. She didn't understand the concept of marriage.
"The rings if you will," the priest asked the best man, who stuck his hand in his pocket. It was several seconds fiddling before he quickly began checking his trouser pockets in panic.
"They're gone," he gulped. "I had them two seconds ago. I swear I..." Ginny looked to Sherlock, who seemed confused at the sudden change in events.
"I need to talk to all of the groom's men and the groom, now," Sherlock demanded sweeping out of the room.
"Well, the family is at least nice," Ginny told him taking off the beige heels and sitting on the bed. Sherlock was staring at the map, and though silence was his forte, this was a strangling silence. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" she asked. The silence still hung around them. "Sherlock?" she asked as he began to pull at his curls.
"There's too many!" he shouted making her jump.
"Too many?" she asked quietly.
"It could be the sister," he pointed to a picture of a blonde woman, "or the uncle," he pointed to a robust man, "or the client," he pointed to a stern man in a suit. "It could be any of them, and yet, it isn't!" he shouted her making her cringed away.
"Why not?" she asked tilting her head as she looked at the pictures.
"Because they would have stolen it from her hand at the reception not before the wedding! It would be too difficult!" he told ripping down his work in frustration. "The rings were in a safe until just the best man stepped out of the house to head to the church, and he was with no one but the groom's men that whole time."
"Then one of the groom's men did it," she answered with a frown.
"Well, we can eliminate Victor," Sherlock replied. "He has no motive. Tommy Higgins has a tremor in his hands making it impossible to be a pickpocket and have you seen the size of Phil? There's no way he'd get away with it. No, I'm missing something... but what!? What!? There are too many people and too many circumstances! I have too much useless information!"
"Then you need to clear and calm your head," she told him watching with interest.
"I can't just turn it off and on," he uttered. She tilted her head in amusement knowing a divine way to clear his head, and she realized this is what he meant. He wasn't waiting for the right time as in romantic time. He was waiting for the right time in terms of himself. He needed to the proper reason, and this was it, but he didn't know, and she found her heart racing in her chest as she was careful to take calming breaths.
"Sherlock Holmes," she sighed as she pulled herself onto the bed and scooted on her knees toward him. She pulled him back by the hand to force him to turn to her.
"What?" he demanded not pleased with the interruption.
"You've been waiting for the perfect time, and this is the perfect time," she told him in a breath.
"Perfect time for what?" he asked obliviously. A smile slowly crept on her face.
"Mr. Holmes, are you not the world's greatest consulting detective?" she inquired. "You may not be able to deduce all of me, but surely, you can guess what I am speaking about?" He glanced over her from the hand that was practically digging into her leg in some sort of self control to the dilated pupils and increased heart rate.
"Now isn't the time," he scowled, but she stood in front of him taking her hands her legs to her shirt.
"Yes, it is," she answered sternly slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He didn't stop her as he listened to her sound reasoning. "You've told me you are waiting for the perfect time, and you know as well as I do you don't mean some romantic bullshit that everyone else wants. You mean when it is useful for you; when you can use me in a way that is more acceptable, so that I won't be a drug. You brought on this case; this case that had hundreds of suspects for this purpose, and don't you dare disagree. You wanted me to come not because you wanted to bring some sort of normalcy into my life. It was because you, Sherlock Holmes, wanted to loose your virginity in a spectacular manner, and who am I to say no?" Slowly, the stern look disappeared as a playful smile slowly formed on her face as she gently pushed him onto the bed. He didn't object. She was right; damn her.
"And the uh... the case?" he remarked as she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. He was starting to forget what case he was even supposed to be working on.
"This is to help the case," she told him with a smile before she shook her hair out from the bun.
"Mmm, and I'm sure your doing it for that reason," he teased quietly as she straddled him putting her arms around his neck. He was hesitant to put his hands on the small of her back but found it to be the most convenient place.
"Don't be silly, Mr. Holmes," she grinned giving him a gentle kiss. "I'm a creature of sin, and I'm doing it for the satisfaction of knowing I took something you can never get back. I took your name: The Virgin."
"So it has nothing to do with the pleasure? Or the normalcy? Or the... love?"
"All perfectly dull things don't you think?" she was teasing him more than should have been appropriate in their situation.
"Mm," he muttered as he stared at her up and down. His own pupils were dilated, and she could feel his heart pulsing under her hand. She couldn't help but lean in and kiss him as her fingertips gently ran down his chest not completely sure really where to start. How long had she imagined this? Far longer than she cared to admit, but the past year with him had nearly been unbearable. She half-wondered if he knew ,though her mind was mainly on the present. She decided to start simply and pull the jacket off him and toss it to the side on the bathroom floor. He seemed to have just as difficult a time deciding where to start as she felt his hands go from the edge of her bra to the edge of her underwear.
She could feel him shaking practically as his hands wandered. It was rather nerve racking; he knew the credentials of sex, and he certainly knew the act well enough (rapes, pedophile cases, accidental suicide involving BMSD, and a rather large pile of random cases had required the information), but to know and to do where two very different things. Then again, he had been known to do things remarkably well simply by study. Perhaps if he was lucky, this would be one of those things.
"Something wrong?" she asked with a deep breath as she pulled away from the kiss they had been locked in to put her forehead gently on his.
"Nothing," he told her quietly looking away. She felt the a deep frown settle on her face.
"Sherlock," she uttered putting a hand on his face, so that he looked her in the eyes. He was worrying her. Did he really fear sex? "What is it?"
"Nothing," he repeated forcing her to try and read him. She hated trying to do so.
"No, not nothing," she said pulling away and standing breaking the moment. She observed him a minute before she muttered an 'oh' in understanding. "I see the look all inexperienced men have when facing a woman with experience: the will-I-be-satisfactory face." He paused to give her a rather contemplative look.
"How many men have you been with?" Perhaps, it shouldn't have mattered, but he wanted to know what he was facing. He was unsure what to really do, or how to approach this topic or idea. He was at a lose.
"262," she told him with a straight face; he seemed slightly panicked by the number, and she laughed. "I'm kidding!" He relaxed making her smile. "In reality… I don't know… a lot of the men… boys I was with I was too drugged out of my mind to remember, but I can tell you it's definitely not a triple digit number, and in the last ten years, I've only slept with two men, and… that's not exactly a good thing considering one of those men was James Moriarty and the other was Mark."
"Just what I needed to hear: you comparing Moriarty and I in sexual prowess," he told her rather bitterly looking away.
"Sherlock," she muttered kneeling in front of him and putting her own hands over his. "I don't care if you're awful, I really don't, and I would never compare you and Moriarty; that's just sick. I just want to be with you, don't you understand that? I love you; you know that."
"Love and sex are you two different realms, Ginny," he told her closing the distance between them a bit, so that he nearly rested his head on hers. "You did not love all the men and women you've slept with."
"No," she admitted, "I didn't love most of them. I did it to piss off everyone and anyone; I did for conquest; and I did it because I could. Hell, I wasn't even in my right mind when I lost my virginity. I was young, stupid, and spiteful, but I don't care about what was; I care about what is. I don't want to sleep with you out of spite or conquest; I want to because,l well, because even though it's stupidly cliche, I love you." He leaned into her gently nuzzling her neck. "I love you," she muttered as he fell onto his knees in front of her and pushed her to the floor so they ended up sprawled on the floor with him practically laying on top her. He was much more confident in his actions as his lips found a clever spot on her neck make her take a fistful of his curls into her hands. He was quicker to decide as his hands found the clasps on her bra. He moved to her collarbone. His destination was obvious as he moved lower, and her bra was tossed to the side.
One one hand, his brilliant mind was trying to argue with him that woman's breasts are just means to produce lactation for the offspring and to attract mates. This was the side of his mind that always prevented him from seeing physical beauty, but it was overshadowed by a more primal part of his mind that he had yet to fully explore. It was telling him that the soft, milky flesh of her breasts were a divine blessing to be worshiped as his hand found one and sunk into the soft flesh as Ginny could not help the moan that left her lips that only intensified when his lips found the other. She jolted as he nipped her skin rather hard.
"Sherlock, the bed," she reminded him with a breath.
"Beds are boring," he gladly informed as as he pulled away for a moment to realize, she had already worked his belt off and was nearly done with his trousers. He scowled at her making her grin. "I'm starting to think you may be the devil."
"You're not religious," she reminded him as he threw his shirt and to the side, "and even if you were, this would be blasphemous."
"And who's fault is that?" he mocked.
"As if you didn't want it like some common animal," she told him confidently as a grin was plastered onto his face. He scolded her again, and his next act was a form of punishment as he reached down and literally ripped of the lace. "Sherlock!"
"You're the who compared me to an animal," he reminded her. She scowled
"And now I'm naked," she accused.
"And already sexually aroused," he noted looking between her legs as if trying to make a decision on something.
"Says the man who is so very obviously erect," she told him very skillfully using her legs to slip off his boxer-shorts.
"A miracle with your gabbing," he replied making her grin as he pulled her closer to him and filling the gap between them, so he was perfectly positioned above her for the act they were to commit. She was about to warn him not so fast, as she often had to tell boys in her teens, but he already understood not entering her yet but rather kissing her gingerly before his hand trailed up her side and gently touched every sensitive area she had before settling a gently cupped hand on one her breasts as the other became preoccupied with Sherlock's mouth again. She arched her back pushing him against her before she gently, and purposely, raised and lowered her hips grinding up against him making him gently dig his unoccupied hand into her back before dragging it to her most intimate spot stroking, teasing, making her body jolt hard enough for him to feel it this time. He couldn't help but enjoy her squirming underneath him.
"Please," she muttered; he pulled away and looked up at her, "I've never been one for much foreplay. Please, give me what I want." He nodded slowly before he leaned back up and kissed her as he pushed into her making her pull back and let out a sigh of satisfaction. "You are too well endowed to waste away celibate, Mr. Holmes," she told him as he pulled back and pushed back into her. He knew the tactic: slow and steady at first. He tried to keep a level head as pleasure built fogging his mind. He was unsure were the more brilliant half went as he indulged in reckless, wonderful thoughts.
She bit her lip as he gently rocked back and forth in her; she felt her body flinch as he hit a particular spot, and he caught onto it right way. He noticed the signs of pleasure in her and was picking up well-placed signals about what she liked and what she wanted. He cupped her cheek with one of his hands and kissed her gingerly not wishing to loose any sort of intimacy between them. Her hands slid up his forearm that supported him over her as she felt her breathing increase while her body rocked with him. She felt his pace increased ever so slightly, and she let out a moan she couldn't help before she raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist.
"Are you sure," she said asked before taking a deep breath, "are you sure you've never done this before?" He let out a contorted chuckle too focused on the task at hand. She let out a strangled moan tilting her head back as she could feel the very familiar burn of sexual gratification slowly building. She gasped again as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. "More," she begged realizing it was the only word she was managing to grasp at as he increased his own pace and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him creating a welcome friction between their chests. She felt her body trembling under him as she became close; he must have felt it too because his pace increased for the last time. She was letting out heavy breaths mixed with strangled moans and nearly untranslatable 'oh god's' as her lips trembled with her eyes as wide as a doe's right before her body arched against his, and she let out something between a scream and a moan; the most delightful sound he has ever heard as he allowed himself to release inside of her with his own gasp of pleasure.
They both were trying to catch their breath as Sherlock held her close trying to find his mind again having lost it somewhere between her grinding against him and him climaxing inside of her.
Ginny calmed down quicker than he did. As she managed to catch her breath, she looked over to him. "Are you alright?" she asked. "You're shaking." He gave her a smile and pulled her to his chest making her 'omph' and then laugh. "So, Sherlock Holmes, did you enjoy yourself?"
"I believe so," he admitted as the scattered remains of his case slowly seeped into his brain.
"Did it help?" she asked as the beginning of the trip began coming back to him. He slowly sat up with a frown practically causing Ginny to fall to the floor with a thud. "Sherlock?" He looked to her with a frown; he seemed displeased with something. "Sherlock?" she asked again. "Did you figure it out?"
"Yes, Ginny, I believe I did," he told her slowly standing as he pulled his clothes back on, "but for once, I hope I'm wrong."
"Sherlock?"
"I'll be back in a little bit. Go back to sleep," he told her gently kissing her forehead.
"Okay," she uttered as she watched him leave the room. This may be the last moment of bliss they had for awhile, he realized.
He slowly made his way toward the staircase that would lead to the next flight of stairs hoping he missed something. Hoping it didn't really add up like he thought it did, but whatever is eliminated, whatever's left no more how improbable must be the truth.
Sherlock paused in front of the dark oak door. He considered turning around, getting Ginny, and leaving. This could be left in the dark, but instead, he reached out a hand and pushed open the door. She was waiting for him at her desk. Her back was facing him as she hunched over a book. He stepped inside.
"Close the door," a woman said in the dark allowing her wind-chimed voice hang heavy. He did as she asked causing a click to echo in the silence. She slowly stood from the desk she had been slouching in to reveal a small woman no more than five foot. She turned and stepped into the light revealing dark hair that curled in the form of chaos. Dark eyes seemed to bore into his soul seeing everything that made him vulnerable. There was no denying what he was seeing. She was the spitting image of Ginny fifteen years earlier.
"Hello, Rory," he answered, "or should I call you Victoria?"
A/N: I AM SO SORRY IM SO LATE! I've been crazy busy (that stops next week, don't worry.) So I make it up with an extra long chapter with many delicious details. Writing that sex scene was so fucking hard, let me tell you. I hope it was worth the wait. Hopefully, I'll see you all Saturday the 2nd.
Thanks to reviewers: TinkerbellxO, invictusalma, zare . downey . okumura, Dream01, hannahhobnob, and short-skirtbluescarf. Review please! See you all when I see you!