Holmes' Book Of One Shots

Dinner || Adlock

There was a strange wailing sound coming from the next room and Sherlock recognised the woman's voice that it came from. It was more of a moaning, but was irritating him quite a bit, so Sherlock insisted on calling it a wail.

It was exaggerated; she was trying to get his attention. She wanted him to investigate and after thirty minutes of the continuous "wailing", Sherlock finally rolled his eyes and stood, making his way to the door of the next room and pausing outside of it, asking himself if he really wanted to.

Oh, what the hell.

He pushed the door open and closed his eyes at the sight in front of him. He let out a sigh, then opened his eyes again.

The Woman slid off the bed, a sly smile adorning her face, her hair pulled up in a sophisticated up do though she wore no clothes.

"Is that a British Browning L9A1 in your pocket?," Irene Adler said, "Or are you just pleased to see me?"

"At this moment," Sherlock said glancing downwards quickly, "I'm afraid it's the latter."

It was exaggerated; she was trying to get his attention. She wanted him to investigate and after thirty minutes of the continuous "wailing", Sherlock finally rolled his eyes and stood, making his way to the door of the next room and pausing outside of it, asking himself if he really wanted to.

Oh, what the hell.

He pushed the door open and closed his eyes at the sight in front of him. He let out a sigh, then opened his eyes again.

The Woman slid off the bed, a sly smile adorning her face, her hair pulled up in a sophisticated up do though she wore no clothes.

"I was wondering how long it take for you to join me," Irene Adler said, taking silent steps toward him. "I had to go to extreme measures to get you here." She stopped right in front of him.

"And what's that?" Sherlock averted his eyes from her breasts, which happened to be within an inch from his chest.

"To be delicate," she said, "pleasing myself with thoughts of you, dear."

"Why?"

Her smile increased. "I'm bored. Why else?"

Irene rest her palm on his cheek, her thumb rubbing circles on his cheekbones. "Mr Holmes, just because I'm a dominatrix doesn't mean I can't please my self." She looked up to him, and their breathes danced together. "So, what do you say, Hat Man?"

"John will be back soon."

"We'll be quiet."

Sherlock raised a brow. "Is that possible with you?"

"Of course not." Her fingers played with the top button of his grey, long sleeve shirt. Her eyes didn't ask for permission.

"If today was the end of the world," Irene said, unbuttoning it, "if tonight was the very last night ..." Another button undone. "Would you have dinner with me?"

It was at that time that Sherlock forgot what it meant to be Sherlock Holmes. His cold demeanour was exchanged for passion as Irene locked her lips with his. He cared not of the state of his attire or the fact that his clothes were quickly making his way the the floor as he pushed Irene closer and closer to the bed. Much to his surprise, the dominatrix never grabbed the detective's riding crop out of his chest of drawers.

As they finally reached the bed, he leaned over her, his lips never leaving hers as they got into a laying position. He pulled back once they were both comfortable, and looked into Irene's eyes.

She smiled, reaching her hand up to move a dark curl away from his forehead. Her other hand wrapped around his wrist, her fingers gently pressing the under side. "Pulse elevated, your pupils dilated; Mr Holmes, I think you might fancy me."

"Brilliant deduction, Ms Adler." Sherlock presses his lips to hers again, and he could feel Irene's smile as he did so.

This was for a little competition between me and my friend from school, @funbunga15 (News Flash: I win). xxx

–OH