One drink lead to another and before he knew it, they were both in his hotel room, desperately pulling at each others clothes. For a spy, he wasn’t very original in his approach, though Phoenix supposed that was the point. He whispered into her ear in French, which Phoenix had no problem with. French was the language of love, supposedly. And it was always interesting to hear what people whispered when they thought you couldn’t understand. They could be dirty to the point of disgusting, or sweet as sugar or perhaps one of those who spilt all their secrets in some need to relieve themselves from the pressure put upon them.
As they made their way to the bed, Phoenix wondered which her boss would be. Judging from what she knew, dirty looked pretty good.
This man, however was rather ordinary, which bored her. She let her mind wander back to Mycroft as the man pulled her to the bed and began kissing her exposed skin, wondering what he would do, how he would touch and pull and kiss.
Other people would feel bad about fantasising about their bosses, but Phoenix needed sex to survive. Just one weapon at her disposal, but an important one.
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The Phoenix - A Sherlock Fanfic
Fanfiction[Sequel to Third Holmes] Mycroft Holmes. Calm, collected, emotionless. At least, that's what they say. But what if there was one woman towards whom he felt...something. And what if she had a secret? What if she was a spy?
