Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

A Holmes Family Reunion (Part 16) (EXPLICIT)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, guys, this is where it gets steamy. 😘🔥 Skip this whole chapter if you're not into that stuff. 

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Quickly, Sherlock unscrews the fat Yankee Candle on the window sill and arranges a few tea lights around the room, impatiently touching a match to each wick. Once they're flickering softly, he tugs the light pull, sending the bathroom into a cosy, atmospheric dim, and heaps some kindling into the sooty mouth of the fireplace.

It takes seven matches to get it going, the wood a little damp with wet ribbons of vapour curling in the air. When a few flames eventually begin snaking their way across the logs, Sherlock arranges his dripping shirt and sock across the clothes horse, the translucent fabric hanging like cobwebs.

They start to steam immediately, oozing a soggy smell of straw and wet fields.

Like a well-stocked apothecary's, the thick rim of the bath is stacked with curious things that smell delicious and look like confectionery. There's an egg basket piled high with chalky bath bombs and cake-like bars of homemade soap, all carefully wrapped in brown paper. Some are gritty with coffee grounds, others pink like strawberry milk, one black with charcoal, and another knobbly with oats. Like a jumbled-up rainbow, vials of colourful salt crystals stand amongst syrupy shampoos and tubs of butter-like conditioner. There are coarse loofahs on strings and themed hand lotions; Christmas gingerbread, green peppermint, golden honey.

An elegant purple vial catches Y/N's eye, and, when she pours a little into the stream of hot water, foam blooms like a cloud, filling the room with the powdery, sweet scent of lavender.

It mixes peculiarly with their damp garments, filling the bathroom with the grassy, wildflower smell of a meadow.

Her bare toes enjoying the squashy bath mat, Y/N shivers and eagerly sheds the last of her clothes, dropping them over Sherlock's shoulder onto the drying rack.

He falters, turning to her, arrested.

It makes Y/N flush, and his gaze follows the delicate pink in fascination as it suffuses her cheeks, dribbling down onto her chest. "Stop looking at me like that," she chides and gives him a teasing slap with her wet sock.

It makes his mouth twitch with a smile. "Like what?"

"Like you want to bite me." Feeling her skin tighten with the coldness of being exposed and the unfamiliar exhibition of being naked, she lifts one leg over the rim of the bath.

Sherlock's jaw clenches.

The water swallows Y/N whole, searing white hot at first, an iceberg of bubbles rising right up to tickle her chin.

Slowly, however, the heat mellows into a dull, pleasing warmth.

Wetting her hands, Y/N holds them to her face, savouring their temperature, and slides them back, slicking down her hair.

When she raises her head, Sherlock's eyes are wide and dark with a look she hasn't seen on him before. It's tense and hungry and masculine, and it suits him. The look sweeps Y/N's body, pausing deliberately at her plump mouth and the foam clinging to her breasts, the soft light of the fire dancing over their curve.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asks, and, shaking himself out of his reverie, Sherlock grins, crossing the room in one quick stride.

"Very much so." With a rushed urgency, he hops from one foot to the other, throwing off his socks and dragging his belt from its loops like a whip.

Automatically, Y/N's eyes fall to his manhood, swollen from watching her, and she swallows.

It makes him smirk and, his usual confidence returns. Preening a little at the attention, he strikes a subtle pose, noticing her gaze climbing up to his surprisingly defined pecks. His eyes twinkling with characteristic smugness, he shoots her own question back at her: