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"Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
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THE NEXT TWO WEEKS WERE SIMPLY DELIGHTFUL FOR BOTH GALINA IVANOV and Sherlock Holmes- even though he'd never admit it.
After their long-awaited and passionate kiss, Sherlock and Galina had taken to sneaking around like two love-struck teenagers. The territory they were delving into was foreign to the both of them, and they were embarking on it in whatever way felt most natural- right.
Sherlock continued to seem annoyed with her antics; still told her to get off of his chair, still chided her when the whole flat reeked of Russian food, and still rolled his eyes when her abilities were brought up.
However, some things had changed.
He never flinched or shied away from her affections and he always secretly waited for the next hug or the next fleeting touch of their fingertips; for the moments when she would perch herself on the side of his chair and always find her way onto his lap.
He especially waited for her kisses because they were far more intoxicating than any pill he had taken or any poison he had shot into his veins.
On Galina's part, she was so ecstatic at Sherlock's acceptance of their budding romance.
So, every day she pushed just a little bit further.
She would start off with a gentle touch of his arm- testing the waters to see if he had suddenly and predictably regretted his rash action. When he didn't shrug her off or tense, she'd go a bit further; a stroke of his cheek, a comb of his hair, a quick peck on the lips.
Her kisses were the one thing she knew drove him mad, she could feel it radiating off of him every time. She started with tame little gestures- lasting less than a second- and then gradually increased the length and the fever.
They had finally managed to get to the point where they were shamelessly and feverishly making out in their kitchen.
Galina was currently sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs wrapped around Sherlock's waist; his hands were tangled in her curled hair and hers were on his cheeks and urging him closer.
His soft lips had traveled to her neck as his hands inched up her thigh- taking with it the fabric of her grey skirt and white apron- and he let out a soft groan when she raked her hand through his hair.
"Sherlock," she gasped, smiling when she felt his teeth graze her collarbone. "My borscht is almost ready."
"Let it burn," he replied, his hands wandering up roughly to her waist- stopping right before they grazed her chest- and settling again in her hair.
"Богохульство (Blasphemy)," she whispered, feeling her will drain as his lust increased. "Do you know how hard I worked on it?"
"I assume very hard-"
She rolled her eyes.
"-but this is far more interesting," he concluded, letting out an animalistic growl when he felt her tongue glide across his bottom lip. "Do you have to work today?"
Galina sighed as Sherlock rubbed her hip with his thumbs. "No, Speedy's is closed on Sundays, remember?"
"No," he admitted as his lips brushed against hers.
"I am pretty sure you work today, мой дорогой (my dearest)," Galina said, teasingly pinching her lips away from him.
"More than likely," he growled, growing impatient with the way she kept pulling away from him. "Tedious, really. There are far better things to occupy the space in my mind."
"You mean your mind palace?" she teased, her fingers playing with the buttons of his dress shirt- wondering whether or not he would stop her if she tried to open them. "What better things are there, exactly?"
Sherlock paused so he could examine her face; her puffy red lips with her dark pink lipstick smudged in the corners, her bright green eyes that were hidden behind hooded lids- magnificent.
She wondered what things were occupying his mind?
The way your laugh echoes through the room and drowns out everything else.
Your hair and the way it resembles a wild flame.
Your breathtaking smile that I wish to believe is only meant for me.
The touches you give me that fill up the monotony of my days.
But, before Sherlock could say anything- not that he even knew if he wanted to- a sharp ring of a bell interrupted their heated session.
"Мой борщ (My borscht)!" Galina yelled, jumping off the counter with a smirk when she saw the generous bulge in his pants. "I have to get this ready and you have to work. Run along now, Sherlock."
He pouted like a stubborn child at her command as he sulked out of the kitchen and plopped down on his chair. He was about to pick up a discarded book when a cough snapped him out of his daze.
"Oh, John. How long have you been sitting there?"
John smacked his lips as he fidgeted with his hands on his lap. "About twenty minutes."
"Oh."
Sherlock wanted to leave it at that, so he picked up the discarded book but felt that he couldn't read it because of John's piercing stare.
"So, you and Gal..." John started, clearing his throat.
"Yes, yes, what about it?"
"You have her lipstick on your face, Sherlock."
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly as he cleared his throat and rubbed the sleeve of his shirt against his cheeks. "Yes, it seems that we have begun a sentimental relationship of the romantic inclination."
John clapped his hands as he let out a laugh and leaned forward in his chair. "Sherlock, that's wonderful!"
"Is it?"
"Um, yes?" John said with a frustrated tone, picking up the cuppa Mrs. Hudson had brought him while he was waiting for Sherlock. "So, how is it going?"
"If you're wondering whether or not we've had sex, the answer is no."
John choked on the tea and damped the carpet with it when he spat it out.
"W-wow," John coughed, wiping away the liquid dribbling on his chin. "I was not asking about that-"
"But you were curious?"
"I mean, I guess?"
"I will admit we have come very close, and the physical attraction is definitely there on my behalf," he lowered his voice as he leaned forward and regarded John Watson with all the seriousness of a high-security mission. "John, as a sex addict-"
"-I'm not a sex addict, Sherlock-"
"-yes, yes but as a sex addict, how do you stand it?"
John's annoyance melted away when he saw Sherlock's genuinely curious face. "How can I stand what?"
"I can't seem to stop picturing what she would look like naked. Granted, she waltzes around half-naked regardless so there's not too much mystery there. Although, there is a certain air of enigma seeing the way her brassieres cling to her-"
"Oh God, Sherlock! I don't want to hear this!" John shouted, shaking his head.
Sherlock rolled his eyes as he plopped himself back into his chair. "You are so sensitive. As a sex addict-"
"- not a sex addict-"
"Just give me your bloody advice, John! It is very distracting!"
John snorted as he flicked his eyebrows up and brought the cuppa to his lips. "A cold shower always works."
Sherlock paused for a moment as he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded. "Duly noted."
John was flushed and trying to forget about the slightly awkward encounter he had just had with his best friend when an orgasmic sound rang through the air.
It definitely wasn't Galina, who John could hear humming a folk tune in the kitchen.
However, it definitely was a sound he remembered very vividly.
"Oh no," John whispered, eyes narrowed at Sherlock who was still regarding his book.
"What?" Sherlock mumbled dismissively.
"Don't tell me she's been texting you."
"Who?"
Another moan emanated from Sherlock's pocket.
"Sherlock, the ringtone?" John started, snapping his fingers to get his attention. "You and I both know who that ringtone belongs to."
Sherlock calmly threw his book over his shoulder. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Another moan.
"Sherlock..."
"Fine!" Sherlock relented, whipping out his phone and slamming it on the side table next to him. "She's been texting me relentlessly for the past few days."
"What does she want?" John urged.
"I don't know. I never reply."
The soft footsteps of Mrs. Hudson captured both of the men's attention as she stood at the threshold of the flat. "John, Sherlock, you seem to have a visitor."
There was a nervous glint in her voice and her hands were fidgeting at her sides and John immediately knew what that meant.
"Oh no-"
"Miss me, gentlemen?"
Irene Adler stood at the entrance of their living room sporting a lavish coat which stopped just short of her knees and thigh-high stiletto boots. She still wore her hair in the same fashion she had all those years ago, a tight low bun with wisps of her black hair hanging on her forehead. Her blood-red lips were curled into a cruel smile as she flicked her eyebrows up.
"Everyone said you were dead," John said, leaning back as he let out a breath. "I guess my theory was correct."
"Not dead. Saved, actually, by a knight in shining armor," she purred, dramatically grabbing the sides of her fur coat and dropping it to the floor without any regard for proper manners and ignoring Mrs. Hudson's scandalized gasp.
Irene Adler, in all her typical fashion, was wearing the sheerest black dress that hugged all her curves, with small slits cut out at her sides and on her cleavage. She was staring at Sherlock like he was a piece of juicy steak that she wanted to devour without remorse and without hesitation, but there was a glimmer of confusion in her eyes when he sat motionlessly and picked up another book.
"What exactly are you here for then, Irene?" John asked, feeling the poignant tension in the room.
Irene Adler shook off her confusion in a matter of seconds as she cocked her hips and bit her bottom lip. "Not to worry, John. I'm simply here for professional reasons. I have a case."
"The chair," Sherlock droned, still not bothering to look up from his phone. "Clients sit in the chair."
Irene Adler seemed confused by Sherlock's demeanor; yes he was known for being cruel, but his interest and attraction to her always seemed to prevail. So, she shook her head in annoyance as she sat down on the dingy chair where countless other lost souls had sat as well. She wasn't able to begin her story when a tiny redhead walked out of the kitchen holding two steaming bowls.
Galina had removed her apron and was left only in her cotton grey asymmetrical dress that cut mid-thigh and hugged her curves wonderfully- it was one of Sherlock's favorites.
When she spotted Irene Adler, she didn't even blink but instead smiled at the attractive woman as she handed John one of the bowls.
"Another client already? How wonderful!" Galina asked, flicking strands of her hair behind her back as she handed Sherlock his bowl. "Here you go, мой дорогой (my dearest)."
After handing Sherlock his bowl, Irene noticed that his mouth twitched but he said nothing as he accepted it.
Galina walked right up to Irene and placed her delicate hand on the woman's shoulder as she cocked her head to the side. "You're tired. How about some borscht, yes? It will perk you back up."
Irene furrowed her eyebrows suspiciously but didn't miss a beat as she began to slip off her black gloves. "That would be lovely."
When Galina threw her a bright smile, she waltzed back into the kitchen, and Irene pursed her lips playfully as she regarded both of the men. "And to whom does she belong?"
John's cheeks immediately flushed and he chuckled awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Well..."
Galina came back not even a minute later and handed Irene her bowl of borscht. She then proceeded to walk over to Sherlock and plop herself on the arm of his chair and- almost as if on instinct- Sherlock's hand moved to sit on her bare thigh.
"Она ведь та, с кем ты занимался сексом, верно?"
She's the one you had sex with, right?
Galina knew that Sherlock had been studying his Russian extensively, so she was confident he'd be able to understand her. Galina was bold, but she was not one to ask such an intimate question directly in front of said woman.
"I won't even begin to ask how you knew that," Sherlock chuckled dryly, his eyes flickering to Irene for only the briefest of moments. "Ревнивый (Jealous)?"
Galina giggled as she ran her hand through Sherlock's hair and tipped her head at him. "Ревность бессмысленна и ощущается неуверенными в себе людьми."
Jealousy is pointless and felt by insecure people.
She paused momentarily as she took in Irene Adler.
When she had touched the dominatrix, Galina had felt a flurry of emotions she had not been expecting; insecurity, malice, playfulness, hesitation, and confidence somehow all wrapped in one. There was, however, one thing she couldn't deny.
"Кстати, она очень красивая (She's beautiful, by the way)," Galina concluded- honest and practical.
Sherlock took a deep and subtle intake of breath as he rubbed reassuring patterns on her thigh- she didn't need it but he felt that he had to give it anyway.
"Yes," he said, looking away from Irene so he could stare up at Galina with a blank expression. "Но она совсем не сияет (But she's not radiant)."
Galina couldn't resist as she gently grasped his chin between her fingers and tipped it toward her, leaning forward so she could kiss him full on the lips. When she pulled away, she had her eyes narrowed at him. "Быть милой (Be nice)."
She didn't miss the way Sherlock's eyes trailed her body as she hopped off the chair and made her way back into the kitchen, purposefully putting extra sway in her walk as she did.
"She's...cute," Irene said bluntly, feeling her interest pique by the second at the new development.
"Yes, now that that's out of the way, could you cut to the chase? If you haven't noticed, I have more important things I could be doing," Sherlock snapped, finally able to make direct eye contact with The Woman.
"Fine," Irene snapped. "If that's the way you want it then."
♖
After her impressive escape- with the help of Sherlock Holmes- from her beheading in Karachi, Irene Adler had moved back to the United Kingdom and married Dr. Grimesby Roylott.
Dr. Grimesby Roylott was a doctor who she had met in Calcutta during one of her travels. The doctor was the last survivor of what was once a wealthy but violent aristocratic family of Surrey. The doctor had also served jail time for killing his Indian butler in an angry rage- apparently, the man had quite a temper.
Irene Adler did not love her new husband even one bit- she actually hated him- but due to a very well-planned prenup, she was to end up with a significant amount of money to travel the world. She had even taken on a string of lovers that she would meet in the pool house of their estate, just under the watchful eye of their bedroom balcony.
Since Irene had such a distaste for her husband, she would spend the majority of her time redesigning his late wife's dressing room and would often spend multiple nights sleeping there as well.
While clearing out the final piece of furniture, she found a hidden note that read The Speckled Band, but she didn't understand the meaning.
After that incident, she began to notice an assortment of odd things happening around their estate- Stoke Moran. Events like strange noises and suspicious activities. The doctor kept exotic company as well; gypsies, cheetahs, and baboons. He had also recently begun to make changes to the structure of the house.
Sherlock had grown bored of her presence but was intrigued by Irene's story, which was the only reason why he had not thrown her out yet and made his way back to Galina.
"How did his late wife pass?" he questioned, his eyes brightening unnoticeably as Galina walked back into the living room.
Irene flicked her hand dismissively as her eyes turned to slits at Galina's presence. "A slow horrible death- cancer, I think. It doesn't matter now since she's dead already. Does this mean you'll take me?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes at her choice of wording but he could see Galina covering her mouth to hide her laughter. He smacked his lips together as he stood and handed her her coat that was still laying on the floor. "Why not? I assume it will be the quickest way to get rid of you."
"You didn't always want to get rid of me," Irene whispered, pressing her body against Sherlock's as she slowly took her coat back.
Sherlock let out a groan as he stepped back, wondering what exactly had drawn him to her all those years prior.
"Go."
If Irene Adler was insecure, she didn't show it as she confidently marched out of 221B Baker Street.
Sherlock was worried for a second, that after The Woman had left, he would have an earful from Galina, or John, or both. When he turned to her, however, he found her releasing the laughs she had been holding in tightly in Irene's presence.
"That was hilarious," she cried, clutching her stomach as John laughed along with her, placing his hand on her hunched back.
"I'm glad someone found that amusing," John said, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Don't mind her, Galina. She's always had a flair for the dramatic."
"Sounds like someone else I know," Galina countered, winking at Sherlock as she composed herself.
Sherlock was nervous and Galina could tell that he wasn't doing a good job at hiding it.
She could always tell.
She twirled a strand of fire hair in her fingers as she walked up to him and shook her head. "Do not worry. It was rather amusing! I can see why she caught your fancy in the first place."
"She was naked when we first met her."
"JOHN!"
There was a moment of silence before Galina burst into laughter again as Sherlock imagined how it would feel to choke the life out of his best friend John Watson.
Galina was still laughing as Sherlock took her in and he couldn't believe how he had found such a patient, reasonable, and level-headed woman. A woman who didn't care for jealousy, passive-aggressiveness, or disdain for a man's prior lovers.
"Come with us," Sherlock stated before her laughter had even died down.
This made both John and Galina wrinkle their noses.
"Why?" she questioned, smoothening out her dress. "I only went last time because John was not there."
Sherlock chuckled as he closed the distance between them and placed his hand on her cheek. "Believe it or not, мой свет (my light), things are more fun with you around."
Before Galina could get over her surprise and decide whether or not she wanted to join the infamous duo, they heard Mrs. Watson shouting from the floor below.
"Please! They really don't like clients showing up unannounced!"
"Foul woman! I am not a client! I am Dr. Grimseby Roylott; Irene Adler's husband!" The man shouted shaking Mrs. Hudson off his arm.
Dr. Grimseby Roylott was everything that Galina had expected him to be just based on the way Irene Adler had spoken of him.
He was a relatively short man- stout in figure- with a robust greying beard and peppered grey hair. The suit he wore was tailored to fit his specific measurements but it was old- wearing at the cuffs and the color was faded on his color.
John took a step forward to console Mrs. Hudson who was in the middle of blubbering tears. "Hey! Don't touch her like that-"
"I know my wife came to see you, Mr. Holmes," Dr. Roylett barked, stepping forward menacingly with his fist clenched around his white marble can. "And I am here to tell you that whatever services you are providing her- they are not needed! If you so much as-"
"Dr. Roylett," Galina began, her tone was soothing and even as she walked up and placed her dainty hand on the older man's arm. She inhaled sharply but subtly as she continued. "I think you are misinformed-"
"Get your hands off me!" he snapped, yanking himself away from her grip as he stalked up to Sherlock. He stood in front of him with deadly intent and punctuated each word with a jab at Sherlock's chest. "Do not interfere!"
Sherlock barely regarded Dr. Roylett's chubby finger pressed against his chest as he calmly spoke. "Your threats do not scare me."
The doctor's eyebrow was twitching with rage and he opened his mouth for a clever retort until his eyes flashed briefly at Galina who stood quite a distance beside him. His wrinkled lips turned up in a cruel smile. "They seem to scare her."
If Galina was afraid, she surely didn't show it and held her chin high in the air as she stationed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips in opposition to that claim.
Sherlock smirked as he watched her; a defiant little thing.
John, point-centered as he was, didn't spare a glance at Galina as he marched up to Dr. Roylett. "Now, listen here-"
Whatever John was going to say was abruptly cut off as Sherlock's fists connected with the doctor's chin.
"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson said with tears still coating her cheeks; nothing unusual for her, however, since the older woman was prone to fits.
Dr. Roylett was clutching his chin with a shocked look in his eyes. "Y-you punched me!"
"Yes, I suppose it was rather juvenile, wasn't it?" Sherlock mused, hissing slightly as he shook out his right hand. "It seemed appropriate given the circumstance. I've witnessed John punch people multiple times during this sort of altercation."
"Y-you're crazy!" Dr. Roylett shouted, clambering to his feet awkwardly as he ran out of the flat, all the while screaming. "He's crazy! Crazy, I say!"
The rest were left to stand in silence as John blinked repeatedly at Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson sniffed away the rest of her tears.
Sherlock rolled his lips into his mouth as he rocked on his heels and waited for some sort of reaction.
That reaction came in the form of an unusually timed and over-affectionate gesture on the part of Galina Ivanov.
Galina rushed up to Sherlock and threw her arms around his neck. He instinctively reached for her waist as she crashed her lips onto his and pulled him down for an animalistic kiss.
Their teeth clashed wildly and her hands were frantically pulling at his hair. Sherlock had an odd feeling that was being rewarded for his aggression, and if women rewarded all men like this, there was no longer any question as to why men committed violent crimes.
During this exchange, John continuously kept coughing awkwardly to no avail, and Mrs. Hudson decided to let the kids be and return to her flat downstairs.
When Galina pulled back after a few seconds, she was beaming at him and biting her bottom lip.
"Иисус (Jesus), Sherlock," she laughed. "That was hot! I have only seen men do that in the films and it was very entertaining to watch!"
Sherlock was trying to supress a chuckle but he couldn't help himself as he tucked her hair behind her ears. "Did that man actually frighten you?"
"No, not in the slightet. It was when I touched him that I felt the cruelty of his emotions. They were so strong and for a second, I was simply fazed by it. It was rather draining," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarassment.
"One negative effect of your talents," he spoke the last word and accentuated them with air quotes.
Galina pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "You are not allowed to be rude after I have kissed you."
"She's got a point, mate," John added, tipping his head at Galina.
Galina victoriously threw her hair back over her shoulder and leaned up to give Sherlock a quick peck on the nose. "Now, do we not have a case to solve? Let us not waste any time."
"Wait," Sherlock said, grabbing her arm before she could go put on her shoes. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to come along."
Galina and John both looked at each other, puzzled at the consulting detective's change of heart.
"Why?" she asked, not listening to his request as she slipped on her shoes. "Are you telling me that the good doctor changed your mind? You were excited for me to go earlier."
Sherlock didn't want to admit that the altercation had in fact shaken him a little.
Not much shook Sherlock Holmes and he found himself remembering why it was that he despised sentiment. Sentiment always clouded one's judgment and for a man like Sherlock Holmes, clouding that judgment was dangerous.
His sentiment for Dr. John Watson had driven Sherlock to act irrationally and he was finding that his sentiments for Galina were leading to the same conclusion.
However, he had to admit that what he felt for her was entirely different than what he felt for John.
Although some people loved to think that the two men held some sort of erotic relationship, it was far from that. He was Sherlock's first- correct that- second best friend and he considered him the brother Mycroft never was.
With Galina, everything was so different. He could feel her weakening his defenses and distorting the things he once found vile. She brought light inside of him that had long since been extinguished.
She was changing him, and despite all the reasons, he couldn't fathom the thought of stopping her.
"Forgive me," Sherlock muttered, grabbing his scarf and draping it over his shoulders. "It seems I miscalculated earlier. John, you ready to head out?"
"Yeah," John replied, looking at Sherlock suspiciously.
Galina smiled up at Sherlock and locked her hands with his. John could see that Sherlock was hiding a smirk when she did that, but he didn't pull away.
They walked ahead of Watson, Galina swinging their hands between them as she chatted animatedly about different cases she had seen on the telly and Sherlock not even bothering to feign any interest.
Their interaction only confirmed the theory that was working through John's mind for the past weeks.
Galina Ivanov was exactly what Sherlock Holmes needed.
―A/N―
So, what do we think?
Sherlock's point of view is one of my favorites to write in, and I think it's just because of the way he thinks and the logic behind it. Obviously, the only sexual things Sherlock has engaged with were fake (sorry Janine), so there's not much to go off.
That's why I make sure to emphasize the almost teenage-like quality of their interactions because it's new and Sherlock doesn't necessarily understand how to go about it, but he is a man after all.
How are y'all liking it? Are you immersed in the story? Does it seem OOC?
I'm looking forward to hearing from you! Have a great week and I'll see y'all Friday!
Bella.