Slave (OC x Sherlock Holmes)

Chapter 2: The First Case

I slowly blinked, bringing myself out of a deep sleep. I was taking up the only spare room, so I felt rather bad, but John told me not to worry. I stood up, gathered clothes, and jumped in the shower. My room was boiling, so the cold water was very comforting. When I climbed out, I dried my hair and such. Walking downstairs, I was surprised to see John up already.

"Morning!" I said. He looked up and smiled. "Sleep well?" I nodded. Getting breakfast, John and I talked, but stopped when Sherlock came downstairs. "Well, are you two going to stay here and flirt, or come with me to the station?" John choked. "Sherlock, no, we're not...uh, no." Sherlock snorted. "Right. Anyways, come if you want."

Two hours later, I was sipping coffee at the police station. I had just finished chatting with Anderson, a cop who seemed a little weird, but nice. I walked to the bathroom, and on my way I ran into Sherlock. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry." He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Miss Miller, you're fine. You don't have to be so nervous and jumpy." His deep voice was attractive and made me shiver. He must've seen my body shake, because a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "John suggested that you start writing down the first case. Are you ready?" I nodded, and followed him to the outside of the station. John was getting a cab. We all piled in, and I was squished next to Sherlock.

Our hands brushed, and I felt myself blushing. Why was my heart getting all fluttery? What the fuck? I was uncomfortable as heck, so I scooted over so I was closer to John. We were all silent, and the awkward level was high. When we reached 221B, John said he had a date, so he got in the shower. I went to my bedroom and grabbed a book. I settled into the red leather chair that I loved to read in. I was mostly trying to avoid talking to Sherlock, although I wasn't really sure why.

John got out of the shower just as I finished the end of my book. Sherlock was conducting a new experiment. John gave me a smile before he left. Gosh, he was so nice. Sherlock finally walked out of the kitchen, and he looked at me with a special look. "Did you file the case?" "Damn!" I cried as I remembered. He gave a dark chuckle. Quickly, I fumbled for my laptop. I finished in forty minutes. I was tired, so I got in the shower.

I was wearing loose plaid pajama pants, and a button-up plaid pajama shirt. It was undone, but I was planning to have a comfy night to myself. I walked out of the bathroom to find Sherlock standing outside shirtless. My breath hitched. "Sher-"

I was interrupted by a rough kiss on the lips. He placed his hands on my hips and leaned into me, pushing me against the wall. I couldn't help but let out a small moan. He pulled off of me, and as soon as he did, he was smirking. "I knew it," he whispered. Roughly shoving him off, I hissed, "Knew what?" He just smiled and walked past me to the bathroom, shutting the door.

I flopped on my bed, shaking. The memory of his lips lusting after mine was amazing. The feeling was overwhelming. I knew what I was going to end up doing tonight, but I couldn't help it. I walked to my door, locking it.

I undid my bra and shimmied under my covers. Slipping my hand under my lace underwear, I found the spot I was searching for. I started to massage my sweet spot, and the memory of Sherlock's lips made the feeling even better. I bit my lip to stop my moans. Rubbing faster, I reached my high. "Sherlock!" The small squeal of pleasure escaped my lips. I finished up, cleaned up, and stayed in my room for the rest of the night. I couldn't bare to see Sherlock's face.

The next morning I woke up feeling groggy. Rain was lightly tapping against the window pane. I got dressed, walked down to the kitchen, and grabbed a cup of coffee. John had stayed with his date overnight, so Sherlock and I were alone in the kitchen together.

We were silent until I spoke up. "Look, Sherlock, I don't know what happened last night, but-" "Oh, I think you know perfectly well what happened last night," he said, cutting me off. "What?" I asked, a little shocked. He smirked evilly, a dark laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Well, Miss Miller, you shouldn't feel bad. We've all been tempted by a little self-love from time to time." My eyebrows flew up. "What? No! I didn't... uh, yeah, no." I backed up into the counter, scared from Sherlock's expression. He took my hand and placed it on his waist. Leaning forward, he whispered into my ear, "Do you want it?"

His dirty words sent chills down my spine. I slowly opened my mouth, answering honestly. "Yes." He smiled with satisfaction. "Well then, Miss Miller, meet me in my bedroom tonight at 9:00 sharp."

It was 8:45. My breathing was too fast; it was obvious I was excited. But was it wrong to be so? Sherlock Holmes was the sexiest man I had ever met. And he was mine. Well, he wanted me. Me. Wait, what? Suddenly, the age gap struck me in the face. He was, what? Thirty? Thirty-five? I was only seventeen. If this developed into a relationship, it would be underage. I bit my lip. Should I turn around? Tell him I had a change of mind? No. It was too late. I had gotten myself into this, so I would stay in it.

I slowly crept out of my doorway, and walked to Sherlock's room. He was laying on the bed, completely naked. I was wearing only a bra and underwear. I turned around, and shut the door behind me.