#aephereal

"Well isn't this a great start to 'we need to pretend this never happened'." You threw down the newspaper you'd bought from the corner shop near your house this morning, running a hand through your hair.

New Lover for Detective Prodigy?

On it was a picture of you leaving Baker Street the night before, regrettably looking rather dishevelled after the confusing yet very lovely events that took place in the same twenty minutes of the photo being taken.

"Detective Sergeant L/N was seen leaving Holmes' flat at around 4:30 PM on Thursday night, having been in the residence for twenty minutes before exiting after two men, Detective Inspector Lestrade and Holmes' friend, Doctor/Blogger John Watson, entered.

"Although we cannot be sure what transpired in those twenty minutes the Sergeant was in the flat, she has been spotted talking with Holmes multiple times at crime scenes in the past, and is rumoured to be in a romantic relationship with the Consultant. However, this is the first time L/N has been seen at his Baker Street residence, with doubts that it'll be the last."

“Don’t worry about it, honestly. Do you know how many times the papers have written the exact same thing about John and I? And that wasn’t true. It’ll go away with time; people get bored very easily, and the next scandal will come along and take their attention.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t mean you were okay with having your face plastered over London’s news. You also weren’t ready for anyone to know what was going on between yourself and the detective, although admittedly neither of you knew what was going on yourselves.

You stayed silent, sitting on the chair next to your phone as you rested your head on the worn green armrest.

Sherlock broke the silence. “I have to go.” A pause. “Don’t worry yourself over this. Please?” You could hear the cogs turning in his head, wondering whether to continue. “I don’t want to scare you away before we have a chance to explore…us.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the grin consuming your face. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me, Holmes.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yes, you will. Bye.” After hanging up, you sat back in the chair, eyes wandering around the living room. You couldn't quite understand how much your life had changed in such a short amount of time, and it was a lot to take in.

To distract yourself, you picked up some files you'd brought home from work, sifting through them for something interesting enough to take your mind off everything for a few hours. You ended up working for most of the day, despite the fact that it was your day off, and you were just about to give in and wind down for the evening when you heard your phone ringing from across the room.

Walking over, you flipped it round to see that Lestrade was calling you. Damn. There goes my quiet evening. You accepted the call.

"Hi sir. What's up?" You heard a loud sigh from the other end of the line.

"It seems things are coming in pairs this week - double murder, but Sherlock seems to think this one is more 'promising'. What he means by that, I don't want to know." You were about to answer, but Lestrade cut you off.

"Also, I saw the article this morning; I don't think I've ever been closer to pissing myself with laughter than when I read the headline. You and Sherlock?! Ridiculous." You laughed nervously, eyes widening slightly as you struggled for something normal to say.

"Yeah it was ridiculous - I mean, what could we have done in twenty minutes? He probably couldn't fill 2 hours with a woman." You winced at how harsh your words were, but they were believable, because you'd said worse about Sherlock before.

But really, your mind went elsewhere as you thought about what had really happened. His mouth, getting you off so quickly and thoroughly, his fingers, covered in your come and shoved into your mouth, watching as you greedily sucked on them. You quickly shook the thoughts away, listening to Lestrade again.

"Haha, very funny. I'm sending you the address now, I'll see you in a bit." You said goodbye and hung up, going through to your bedroom to change into work appropriate clothes (because grey sweatpants and a Scarface t-shirt wasn't really cutting it).

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You arrived at the murder scene twenty minutes later, quickly parking and making your way over to the house you were directed towards.

The closer you got, the better you could hear the raised voices coming from inside, not needing to even hear the conversation to know who was talking. And it seems you were right as you walked through the front door, greeted by two corpses hung from the banister and Sherlock rolling his eyes at whatever Lestrade was saying.

"That's ridiculous, you're just not looking hard enough."

"Oh I'm never looking hard enough according to you! You know, I used to be capable of doing this job perfectly fine on my own long before you came along, I am actually competent!" Sherlock made a face, disputing his claim.

"Exactly, George, you used to be capable, there's no evidence to show that you still have that capability. Might I suggest early retirement?" You could practically see the steam rise from Lestrade's head as he took a deep breath, turning and walking away from Sherlock before he did something that he probably wouldn't regret.

You tried to hide your amusement at the Detective's snarky remarks, but unfortunately caught the eye of Sally Donovan, who made her way over to you.

"My, my, has hell frozen over?" You rolled your eyes, a small smile still on your face. You and Sally had gone through the Police Academy together, and it was her you were most worried about finding out you and Sherlock were hooking up - you used to bond brilliantly over your shared hatred, but there was a difference between you now. She still hated him and you were thinking about the next time you'd be able to kiss him.

"Well it's always nice to see Lestrade in distress," you joked, trying to steer the conversation towards work instead. "So, what do we have?"

"Well, two murders - according to Freak over there - and hung after death, cause seems not to be strangulation." As Sally continued explaining, you looked around the room, your eyes landing on said Freak (which, despite what you thought of him before, was a little harsh for your liking).

At the same moment, Sherlock turned and caught your eye, smirking almost imperceptibly before returning to his conversation with John. The things that man did to you without even trying was ridiculous, and you'd only just realised that he had that effect on you.

For the next hour, you went on with your job, gathering witnesses from the surrounding houses and taking a look around the house yourself after forensics headed back to the lab. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything that you could remotely call evidence, so you called it a night, heading back to your car at well past 11pm.

As you turned the engine on, your phone pinged with a message.

Sherlock: Leaving so soon?

You chuckled, lifting your head from the screen and looking out the window, only to see Sherlock standing just outside the house, looking in your direction.

You: It's late, I'm going home to get some sleep before the case properly starts. God knows I won't be getting any during a double murder enquiry...

The three dots on your screen jumped for a minute, and you looked up again to see Sherlock typing, slowly pacing as the screen lit up the sharp features of his face.

Sherlock: What if I joined you?

Sherlock: Although I'm going to be honest, we wouldn't be doing much sleeping.

You stared at the message, contemplating your answer, but Sherlock was clearly not a patient man.

Sherlock: Shall I take that as a yes, or am I telling this driver to take me back to Baker Street?

You watched as Sherlock raised his hand, calling over a taxi as you hurriedly typed out a response.

You: 31 Vincent Square. I'll race you ;)

Sherlock got into the taxi, and it pulled away from the curb as you reversed out of your parking spot, taking the fastest route you knew back to your house.

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As you pulled up outside your flat, you decided that Sherlock definitely bribed the taxi driver to get here in record time. Before you got out of the car, the realisation suddenly hit you, what would happen once you were inside.

Or at least, what you hoped would happen. Judging by the look on his face, the way he stared you down through the window of your car, you were in for it big time.

You stepped onto the curb, closing the door behind you as Sherlock took a step forward.

"Nice place." You narrowed your eyes.

"You haven't seen the inside yet."

"I'm sure it'll be just as nice on the inside." You took another step towards him.

"And will you be paying more attention to me, or the interior of my home?" He feigned thought for a few seconds.

"Well, I think it all depends on how nicely you've decorated." By this point, you're stood close enough to him that if you wanted to, you could run your hand down his chest, grasping at the slight bulge you could see forming in his already tight trousers.

At this point, you didn't even really know where your conversation was going, but you hoped it was inside.

So that's exactly what you did. You walked past Sherlock, finding the key to your front door and unlocking it. As you walked inside, you heard Sherlock closing the door behind himself, shrugging his coat off.

"I was right. It is a nice house." You turned to face him, a small smile gracing your features.

"Is that really what you're thinking?" Sherlock smirked, shaking his head. He walked over to you, closing the distance so you were chest to chest again, your back against the banister.

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking, Y/N?"

You nodded your head, but he just raised his eyebrow at you.

"Yes, I want to know." He leaned down slightly so your ear was level with his mouth.

"You have no idea how badly I want to be inside you right now."

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head to Sherlock's shoulder as he brought his hand to your waist, gripping it firmly. You were more turned on now than you probably had been in your entire life, and you were starting to lose your ability to stand.

"Please, I want you inside me so bad." You whimpered, moving to press yourself up against him. Both of his hands were on your waist now, pulling you straight against his cock, impossibly hard in his trousers.

Ever since you'd gotten so close to touching him the night before, you'd been wondering just how much he was packing, and just what he could do with it. You hoped to god that you'd find out now.

"What do you want, Y/N? Tell me." You bit your lip, trying to keep from making too much noise. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself, but he could see what you were thinking as soon as you lifted your head, making eye contact with him.

"No no, don't do that," Sherlock brought his hand up to your face, using his thumb to gently pull your bottom lip from between your teeth. "I want to hear you, how good you feel."

You tilted your head upwards and Sherlock got the message, leaning down to connect your lips, taking your bottom lip between his and dragging it with his teeth as he pulled away. You whimpered at this, eliciting one of his signature smirks.

"Good girl. Love hearing the sounds you make." Unconsciously, you took your lip between your teeth again, but you knew the mistake you'd made as soon as you saw Sherlock's eyes darken a fraction, his hand travelling down to your ass and squeezing you harshly, causing you to gasp.

"If you don't listen to me, there'll be consequences." It was your turn to smirk now.

"And just what might those be?"

"You don't want to know."

"And...if I do?"

"Well," he started, taking a deep breath. "Just keep biting that lip."

"Maybe I will..." You debated whether you wanted to know just what he'd do to you. You had all night to see what was in those trousers of his, so maybe, you thought, you could drag this out a bit more.

Cautiously, you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and Sherlock could see exactly what you were about to do, watching your lips intently as once again, your teeth pulled at it.

"Okay, that's it." In one move, you were hoisted up and over Sherlock's shoulder, him walking into the living room as you laughed in disbelief.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" As he put you down to stand in front of him, you could see that he did not think this was a laughing matter.

"I said if you bit your lip one more time, there would be consequences, and you did exactly that, so I'm not sure why you're surprised, Y/N. Now," he paused, removing his suit jacket and sitting down in the middle of the dark green three seater. "Come here."

Oh. That's where this is going.

If you were being honest, it was possibly the hottest thing that 'consequences' could've meant.

"R-right. Okay." You walked over to stand in front of Sherlock, your heart rate steadily creeping upwards as he placed one hand on the back of your thigh and the other on your hip, pulling you down and across his lap.

"Now, you're going to be a good girl for me and count each one, yes?" You nodded your head, quickly correcting yourself.

"Yes, I'll be a good girl." You whispered, pressing your face into the sofa cushion to try and control yourself, but his hand around your neck quickly pulled it away.

"I want to hear you, I thought we'd established this? Clearly you just aren't in the mood to play by the rules like you were yesterday." You huffed out a whine.

"I'm sorry, you just drive me crazy." You were close enough to him that you could feel his laugh as well as hear it as he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck.

"I can tell. I'm about to drive you up the walls, Y/N, so you better be ready." As he said this, he pulled at the hem of your skirt, sliding it up and over your ass trying to find your tights, but instead was surprised with the black stockings you were sporting; the ones you chose today on the off chance that you were placed in this particular situation.

"Jesus, Y/N, you really want to drive me crazy now?" You giggled, nodding as he pulled your underwear down, your laugh quickly dissolving into a soft moan at the feeling of your backside now exposed. "Okay, are you ready?"

Nodding once more, you waited in anticipation as Sherlock stroked the soft skin of your ass cheek, kneading it lightly in his palms. You had no idea why everyone went around insisting he must have no sexual experience, because these were not the actions of a man with no background of this kind of stuff.

You waited in painful anticipation as Sherlock took his time, your heart beating painfully in your chest. Suddenly he brought his hand down, a crack echoing through the room as the blow went straight to your growing arousal. You gasped, then whimpered as he ran his hand over the now red skin.

"Come on, darling, count for me."

"Fuck, one."

"Good girl." Another slap, on the other cheek this time and harder, a moan escaping your mouth.

"Two." You whispered. After four more, each a little harder than the last, Sherlock pulled you up to straddle his waist.

"God, that's the first time someone's done that to me, and I hope to god it's not the last." Sherlock chuckled lowly, his hands coming to your hips to grind your naked pussy against his still annoyingly clothed erection.

"Trust me, if I didn't want to fuck you so badly, I'd have you over my knee all day." You whimpered at this, resting your forehead against his.

"I'm so turned on it actually hurts. Please, I need you." Sherlock ran his hands up your body, one of them coming to rest in your hair, the other around your throat.

"What do you need, Y/N?"

"I-fuck, I-"

"Use your words, baby." Baby. He called you baby, and that was the last straw.

"I need you inside me." Sherlock shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's not specific enough. You want my fingers again?" He teased. You shook your head.

"No, I-" You tried to compose yourself, bringing your lips to his, only pulling away a little when you spoke again. "I need your cock inside me." He smirked.

"Good girl. I-" Before he could continue, his phone rang from his suit jacket pocket, both of your heads whipping round to look at it as if someone had walked in on the two of you. It kept ringing, for way longer than seemed normal.

"Are you going to answer that?" Sherlock turned to face you.

"Do you want me to answer it?"

"No, but it might be important." You reached across and dug the phone out, looking at the screen. "It's Greg, it must be about the case."

Sherlock took the phone from you, thinking for a second before answering it, mouthing an apology. You shrugged your shoulders, sitting back on his lap.

"Hello?" There was a pause as Sherlock listened to your boss, frowning slightly, which gave you an idea. You shuffled forward on his lap slightly, undoing his belt and the button on his trousers, motioning for him to lift his hips so you could free his now slowly softening cock.

He narrowed his eyes but complied, letting you pull both his trousers and underwear down. His erection sprang free, and you had to bite your lip to stop from moaning out loud. The ache in your core was starting to get painful, and the thought of his thick cock fucking you was...not helping.

Sherlock knew what you were planning to do as soon as you left his lap, getting down on your knees between his legs. You looked up through your eyelashes, making eye contact with him as you wrapped your hand around his cock, giving it an experimental squeeze.

He threw his head back, biting his lower lip to prevent making any noise. With the hand wrapped around him you started to stroke, and with the other you cupped his balls, gently massaging them. By now you were sure that Sherlock wasn't paying any attention to whatever Greg was saying, but that didn't matter now; the unspoken game was for you to get him as close as possible to coming, seeing how quiet he could stay.

It seemed that he could just about handle your hands, and even as you sped up slightly, he just clenched his jaw, keeping his head back against the headrest. You knew why he wouldn't - couldn't - look at you, and it was because he would fall apart at the sight of your hands working him so well.

But that simply wasn't going to work for you, so you lifted yourself up enough that your mouth could reach his cock, using your tongue to start from the bottom and lick your way up the length of him, tasting the precum that'd already leaked from the red tip.

Sherlock fisted the edge of the couch, trying to find some semblance of self control. You continued though, sinking your mouth down and taking him as far as you could, feeling him at the back of your throat before coming back up and repeating the same move again and again. Sherlock's free hand left the cushion and roughly tangled in your hair, starting to control your movement.

You could tell he was getting close as your actions quickened, but before you could get him close enough, Sherlock tugged you up by your hair, his cock falling from your mouth and slapping against his shirt, covered in your spit.

His voice was deep and rough as he spoke, keeping eye contact with you. "Greg I have to go, I need to take care of something. Send me the details and I'll have a look, but I can't promise anything." He ended the call swiftly, chucking his phone to the side before leaning down, kissing you with bruising intensity. "Up. Now."

By this point your arousal was dripping down your legs, and you swore if he didn't touch you in the next minute, you would combust. You got off your knees, now standing between his legs as he took a moment to look at you. You were a mess. Your skirt was bunched up around your waist with your shirt untucked, and the only things you were wearing other than that were your garter belt and stockings.

That meant he had the perfect view of your dripping pussy, but clearly it wasn't enough, so he started undressing you, first pulling your skirt down so he could unzip it, next unbuttoning your shirt and discarding it to one side, but he kept the belt and stockings on. Finally, his left hand rounded your back, skilfully unhooking your bra, carefully pulling it down to release your tits, both nipples painfully hard. The worst thing was that he did this at a terribly slow pace, knowing it was driving you batshit crazy.

"That was a very naughty thing you did back there. Distracting me while I was trying to work, you should know better." As he spoke, his hands made their way up your torso lightly, coming to rest on your tits. He roughly pinched both your nipples, making you arch into him as you whimpered, every little touch making your body more and more sensitive.

"I don't think it would do any good if I spanked you again, that's clearly not working. I think I'll just have to fuck the disobedience out of you." You moaned loudly as Sherlock pulled you down to lie on the couch, positioning himself on top of you after discarding his trousers. You quickly helped him unbutton his shirt before throwing that away as well, now leaving nothing in the way of full physical contact.

He lowered himself onto you, and you could feel his hard cock pressing into your stomach as he kissed you with vigour. One arm rested next to your head to keep himself up as the other one travelled down your body, moving your thigh to wrap around his hip and then between your bodies, guiding his length to your entrance.

"You ready?" You nodded quickly, squirming a little as he got closer. You whimpered as you felt his tip slide into you, his hand moving up to your neck and tilting your chin forward so he could reach your lips.

You gasped into his mouth as he pushed forward, the pleasure becoming unbearable as he filled you completely, your hips flush together. You both moaned, finally in the exact position you wanted to be.

"Sherlock please, fuck me." With one last kiss, he lifted himself slightly, angling your legs around his waist just right so he could thrust into you as deep as possible, eliciting a loud moan from you as he drove his cock into your pussy relentlessly, your tits bouncing up and down each time he came back.

The longer you went, the rougher he got, and the room was soon filled with nothing but gasps and moans from the both of you, the sound drowning the slaps of skin against skin.

You dragged your nails down his back and sank them into his ass, pulling him against you as you desperately tried to reach your high, but Sherlock was having none of that.

"Don't rush this, baby, we have all the time in the world." He spoke breathlessly, taking your hands and pinning them above you, stretching you out beneath him. He looked down at the sight before him. "Beautiful." He buried his head in the crook of your neck, kissing his way down to your chest. "Absolutely beautiful."

You moaned quietly as he slowed his thrusts, relishing in the feel of him sliding into you. He placed a hand on your waist, raising your hips slightly so he could find that spot inside you, knowing he'd succeeded when you gasped, your hand flying to grip his arm.

"Yes, right there!" Sherlock kept the angle, starting to speed up as he thrust firmly into you, hitting the perfect place every time. "Oh god, Sherlock I'm gonna come."

"Good girl, that's it. Come for me." He reached the hand that was holding yours to between your bodies, rubbing his thumb over your clit as you moaned loudly. Your pussy squeezed around him, making him groan as he came close as well.

You felt your orgasm swell up, and finally with one last thrust, you both fell apart, rutting shamelessly against each other as you felt Sherlock come deep inside you, prolonging your high.

Sherlock fell down onto you, keeping his weight off you as much as possible so he didn't suffocate you when you were already out of breath. As much as you wanted to keep him inside you, you reluctantly let him pull himself away, coming to lie next to you and pulling you into his side.

"This is such a weird feeling." You spoke, chuckling softly as you nuzzled into him.

"What is?"

"Feeling your come dripping out of me. I've never let anyone do that before." Sherlock looked down at you quickly.

"You were on birth control, right? I deduced that but I wasn't wrong was I?" You laughed loudly, stroking his chest.

"Yeah, I am. I wouldn't have let you otherwise!" Sherlock sat up, moving to the end of the couch to face you.

"Come on then, let's see my handy work." He yanked you further down the sofa, making you squeal with laughter as he spread your legs, almost letting out a growl as he saw the mixture of both of your come slowly dripping out of you.

"No no, this simply won't do." You frowned in confusion, but it quickly turned to a gasp as you felt Sherlock's fingers scooping up as much as he could before pushing it back into you as deep as he could.

You tried to speak, but nothing came out as he pulled his fingers from you, driving you crazy as he brought them to your mouth just like he did the day before, and just like yesterday, you sucked them clean before sitting up to kiss him firmly.

When you walked through the doorway, you stopped to see what he was doing, only to find Sherlock Holmes, your husband, the man who could not cook, making breakfast. You stood behind him for a few moments, watching as he moved around the kitchen and did various things that were so domestic you almost wanted to poke him and make sure it was really him.

So you did.

As quietly as you could, you made your way up to him as he was getting a chopping board from the cupboard, and as he was reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your front tightly to his bare back.

You heard and felt as he chuckled lightly, bringing his arms down with the wooden board and placing it on the counter before resting them on the ones wrapped around his middle.

"I assume you smelt the food then? I knew that would wake you up." He brought one of your hands up to his lips, stooping slightly to kiss it. "Sleep well?"

You hummed, your face pressed into his muscly back. "Very well, but as lovely as it was to wake up to this smell, I'd rather have had you in bed." You whined slightly, squeezing your arms briefly around him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. But I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you too early so I came in here for a bit and did some work, and then I tried to sleep for a while longer but it wasn't happening so I thought I'd make breakfast instead." You smiled at his rambling, moving with him as he flipped the sausages and stirred the scrambled eggs some more, pressing the lever on the toaster down.

"It's okay, darling. I love that you didn't wake me, I probably would've been annoyed if I was awake at four o'clock on a Sunday morning." You unwrapped yourself from around him reluctantly, but not before placing a kiss on his spine, feeling the little shiver than ran down his back.

You came to stand next to him, switching on the radio that stood on the counter, something you'd added when you first moved into Baker Street because you loved listening to the radio when you were baking.

The first song that came on was Here Comes The Sun, and you smiled, starting to move your hips as you remembered your Beatles obsession in University.

-

Sherlock smiled at you, watching as you danced around the kitchen in his shirt, pushing away the more sexual thoughts that came to mind in favour of you enjoying the music.

These days, he didn't really indulge in dancing anymore, mainly because nobody knew he could and also because he didn't have a partner. But every once in a while, he would dance with you.

Those were the moments he cherished the most. The moments he would remember when he was 95 and still clinging on to life, trying to outlive the big man himself. Would he do it? Probably not. But he'd certainly die trying.

Forgetting entirely about breakfast, Sherlock made his way over to you, catching your hand and lifting it up, spinning you around before pulling you to him, one hand holding yours and the other around your waist.

You contentedly rested your head on his chest, taking a deep breath as your relaxed into him. You swayed with the music together, and Sherlock could hear your soft humming, closing his eyes and resting his cheek on the top of your head.

-

"I hope you know how happy you make me." You spoke against his chest, tightening your grip on his hand, feeling the soft metal of his wedding band press into your fingers. "I don't think I've ever felt this...calm. At peace."

Once again Sherlock stepped back, lifting his arm to spin you again, this time placing his hands on your cheeks as you came back. You stood just as close to him as last time, except for you could now see his face. His expression, one of utter adoration, made you want to cry with overwhelming happiness.

"I love you so much, you have no idea. The only time I feel at peace is when I'm with you." Sherlock got the message as you tilted your head up, leaning down to meet your lips softly. You sighed against him, feeling his thumbs rubbing across your cheeks.

Every little thing he does like this, when he lets the sentiment he feels for you roam free, you feel like your heart is going to combust. When you first met him, he wasn't very open, but with time he slowly revealed parts of himself to you, and now there isn't anything he wouldn't share with you.

He was yours. And you were his.

You pulled away slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling his snake round your waist. Looking over his shoulder, though, you noticed that there was something not quite right.

"Darling?"

"Yes?" He murmured against your neck.