𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅
Even if Sherlock wanted to deny it, he couldn't.
He was falling in love with Galina Ivanov and exemplifying all the perfection he saw in her, she simply shook her head lightly at him and didn't feel the need to voice it.
•
Lust.
The only thing that could reduce brilliant men to sheer stupidity.
•
Lust.
The only thing that could leave a woman speechless.
•
Mature content ahead
―
"There's a light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
―
GALINA LED SHERLOCK INTO THE BEDROOM WITH UNWAVERING CONFIDENCE, but standing before each other in the darkness of the small hours of the night, knowing full well what they were about to do; she felt jitters creep up her spine.
It took her a moment to realize that the nerves were not coming from within her but rather, to her.
Sherlock was standing in front of her looking like the epitome and calmness but his emotions betrayed him. She felt every single drop of anxiety that was leeching off of him and penetrating her like some silent radiation.
"So..." Galina began, smiling at him as she grabbed his hand, hoping to calm his raging inhibitions- although she was slightly flattered by it. "What happens now?"
Sherlock wrinkled his forehead and cocked his head to the side. "Do you even know what you are doing?"
Galina found herself laughing at the statement, despite the fact that others would be livid. "Well, I recently watched the film Cruel Intentions, but that is about it. I lack your..." she inched closer to him "...practical experience."
Sherlock gulped audibly and he suddenly could feel how hot his neck was. "I suppose this is the part where we take our clothes off."
Galina licked her lips and nodded her head pensively as she took a step back. She thought it over for a moment before smiling and rooting her hands on her hips.
Sherlock furrowed his brows at her, wondering whether or not she was reconsidering her offer until she flicked her eyebrows and he saw the way her emerald eyes wandered from his buttoned shirt and back up to him.
"Right," he coughed, popping his lips as his fingers slowly made work of his shirt. "I suppose this is easiest."
"Wait," Galina said, stepping up to him and halting his hands. "I have changed my mind. Let me."
Sherlock nodded his head and sucked in a breath when her dainty fingers began to remove his shirt, agonizing button by agonizing button. It didn't help that Galina was staring at his chest and licking her lips at the prospect of what was hidden underneath.
As his shirt began to part, Galina made sure to slide her knuckles against the smooth skin of his chest. She smiled every time that she saw Sherlock's chest contract and she grew in confidence as his nerves were completely replaced by longing. With sexual confidence, she did not have, she placed open mouth wet kisses on his chest, then his abdomen, earning her a soft groan.
Once his bare chest was revealed to her, she gently tugged his shirt off his large frame and she sighed breathlessly when his hands gently toyed with the bottom of her turtleneck.
His hands were trembling slightly as he began to lift her shirt, stopping momentarily to scratch her stomach in a way that made a shudder vibrate through her. She lifted her arms for him and he slipped it off her frame.
He looked down to find her staring at him- cheeks flush and chest panting- as he began to open every intricate button of her black skirt until it fell down around her.
While he was taking in the sight of her in her undergarments- a sight he had seen various times but now in a new context- she took a deep breath and filled herself with confidence as she pulled down both his pants and underwear in one fell swoop.
Her eyes widened and she gulped audibly as she stuttered not being able to peel her eyes away from the very naked and very aroused Sherlock Holmes. "Um, very good."
Sherlock was too focused on reaching his arms around her back to undo the clasp of her bra to pay any mind to what she had just said. He didn't allow himself to look at her bare chest as he was determined to remove the only article of clothing she had left.
When her underwear joined the rest of her clothing, he took a step back.
It was rather odd, both of them just standing there and gazing at each other's naked bodies.
There was a long period of silence as Galina admired his physique. Underneath all those layers was the frame of a strong man with a broad chest, toned arms, and sturdy legs. There was a scattering of light wispy hairs on his chest and more that traveled down his abdomen, leading to his manhood, and a few freckles she had never seen on his shoulders.
She assumed that Sherlock had his cases to thank for the fact that his stomach was undeniably toned and defined; that physique was definitely not gained from lounging around the flat playing the violin.
She realized, however, that as she was admiring him, he was analyzing her.
Breasts slightly uneven but ample.
A scattering of freckles across her stomach.
Good sense of personal grooming.
Pale legs.
Scars on her-?
"Sherlock," Galina whispered, snapping him out of his thoughts as she grabbed his chin. "Clear that beautiful mind for just one second."
"It's rather difficult," he admitted, facts and figures still lingering in his mind as he tried to appreciate her body like the work of art it was, rather than an anatomical sketch his mind was forcing him to see it as.
"Just, be here with me," she said, tracing the outline of his jaw, still not the slightest bit embarrassed at the fact that they were both naked. "Just for this moment. Focus on this, what happens next?"
Sherlock smiled down at her nervously as he grabbed both of her hands and led her over to the bed. "Well, I suppose this is-um- that moment."
Galina nodded her head as she sat down beside him and angled herself so she could play with the bottom of his curls. "Okay. Show me."
Sherlock dipped his head down and captured her lips gently, brushing them across hers with the utmost care and tenderness.
His hand found its way to her thighs and he gently scooped her legs so she could lay down and so he could climb on top of her.
He hovered over her, never allowing their lips to part, as he raked his hands through her hair and down her neck. They traveled the length of her body and he felt herself squirm under every electric touch, reveling in the way her stomach jerked when he brushed his fingers against it. He groaned deeply as her fingers mimicked his and traced patterns on his abdomen. He let his fingers wander lower and lower until he knew he had reached the desired spot when he swallowed the moan that slid out from Galina's lips.
However, he absolutely could not focus on his task with her inching closer and closer to his stiffness, so with his free hand, he laced his fingers through hers and held them above his head.
"Stay still," he commanded against her lips, flicking his tongue out for the briefest of moments so trail it against her bottom lip. "I...I can't really focus when you do that. I would hate for this to end after a few seconds."
With his revealing confession, she felt the heat rush to her neck and nodded her head. "Okay."
"Okay," he mimicked, letting go of her hands as he slowly crawled down the length of her body. In his journey, he stopped to give her breasts more than adequate attention, swirling his tongue around her perked tips and sucking gently as she let out dulcet moans. When he moved to the other, he spotted her hands clutching the sheets beneath them, willing herself to keep steady and still.
He traveled further, licking down her stomach, skipping over her heat, and landing on her thighs with gentle nips.
He looked up at her from his position in between her thighs, feeling himself grow impossibly harder under her hooded and lustful gaze. He licked his lips, confidence renewed, as he spoke, "I want to taste you."
"черт(fuck)," Galina hissed as she felt the flat of his tongue lick up her heat. She had never experienced something so utterly euphoric as Sherlock Holmes with his tongue licking and sucking and his humming vibrating through her. "Sherlock."
Sherlock's fingers soon joined his lips, and as his fingers worked against her, he was reminded yet again that a woman's first sexual experience required time and patience.
Time and patience were not on Sherlock Holmes' list of strong suits, but he would give it nonetheless.
With every swipe and curl of his fingers, he was rewarded with breathless sighs and gentle moans from Galina and it was quickly added to the list of his favorite sounds.
The soft crinkling of a new book.
The breeze crashing against the waves.
The tune of a forgotten melody.
The crackle of freshly baked bread.
And now-
Galina Ivanov's whimpers of pleasure.
After multiple eternal minutes, he could feel that she was ready. Her chest heaving, her legs quivering, and his damp fingers confirmed that much for him.
"Just as delicious as I imagined." In a move so erotic, she watched Sherlock lick his lips as he crawled over her. He let his fingers dip back into her and then brought them up in between them. "Here."
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second until she realized what he wanted her to do. Her breath hitched as she opened her mouth gently, allowing herself to suck his wet fingers. The twitch in his jaw confirmed that it was one of the most sensual things he had ever experienced.
With as much patience as he could muster, he once again laced their fingers together as he brushed his nose against hers. "Do you like taking orders in the bedroom, мой свет (my light)?"
"I would not know, would I?" she admitted, although thoroughly aroused at this new side of Sherlock. He was smooth, confident, sexually aware of both himself and her. She had to admit that it was entirely exciting her. "But it seems that you enjoy being in charge."
"Quite of a turn of events, I'm afraid, but I find that I'm thoroughly enjoying having you at my mercy," he said with a lopsided smirk, forcing her hands farther above her as he bit down on her neck.
She rolled her head back as he bit to almost a painful degree, sucking on the red skin, soothing it with his tongue after. She knew that he had marked her, left proof of their encounter for any man who dare come across her, and she knew this because she could feel his possession rolling off of him in waves.
It wasn't until he looked back up at her that he coughed, remembering one very important fact.
"It seems that we have come to an impasse," he admitted, not wanting to disappoint her or take away the euphoric cloud in her eyes. "I'm sure you'll find it as no surprise that a man like myself does not carry any protection with him."
Galina licked her lips and Sherlock believed that for a split second there was a flash of sadness in her beautiful eyes. "Do not worry about it."
"But-"
Sherlock was cut off quickly when Galina snatched one of her hands away and reached in between his legs and it felt like someone had given him an electrical shot with the way his body jolted.
"Trust me, it is okay," she mumbled against his neck, continuing her slow and- surprisingly- confident strokes.
How was it that Galina was always so sure of herself?
Sherlock would have continued to argue with her but the feeling of her hands moving in gentle strokes was enough to drive him to the point of madness.
"The internet says that this may hurt," he grunted, dropping his head down to her chest as her hands sped up. "Jesus Christ-"
Galina laughed as she retracted her hands and held onto his shoulders. "It is okay. I trust you."
He stopped at those words, every single lustful thought and aching urge were put on hold.
I trust you.
Had anyone ever said those words to him? Had anybody actually meant it?
Had those words ever meant as much as they did when Galina whispered them into his ear, all the while being bare and exposed beneath him?
It was at that moment that he resolved himself to give Galina the most incredible experience that he could manage. He wanted to make her feel every bit as wonderfully vulnerable and dangerously consumed with him as he was with her.
He would take his time and treat her in the way she deserved to be treated.
Like a masterpiece.
He gently brushed her hair away from her face as he pressed his forehead against hers. Her sweet breath warmed his face as his hands moved to cup her breasts, rubbing them tantalizingly slow before allowing his mouth to enclose around one and then the other. She arched her back off the bed which only resulted in bringing him closer to her and he took the opportunity to slide his hands under her to rest on her bum. He growled when she traced his bottom lip with her tongue and began to grind herself against him.
Sherlock Holmes had wanted to be patient but the Russian minx was making it exceedingly difficult.
He buried his head in her neck as he was consumed with an insurmountable cascade of sensations. He gave her a few more gentle nips until raising his eyes to meet hers. "Open your legs for me, мой свет(my light)."
He smirked once more at her obediency, loving how she was so in touch with her own independence that she felt comfortable submitting to him. With one hand on her cheek and the other guiding his length, he had never felt an incredible rush of emotions as he did when he carefully and fully connected with her.
She let out a small gasp and threw her head back as she bit her lip. He stilled and just held them there at that moment, making sure to kiss her cheeks reassuringly as her painful whimpers dissolved.
When she could finally handle the feeling of him nestled within her, Galina took a deep breath and opened her eyes to find Sherlock staring down at her.
It nearly took her breath away.
Now, she had become rather fond of Sherlock Holmes; the temperamental, crass, confusing, irritating, but also kind and reserved consulting detective.
She had her suspicions regarding how Sherlock would conduct himself during such an intimate experience, and she suddenly felt guilty for not giving him more credit. Of course, the dominant trait of his personally extended into the bedroom, sending delicious shivers down her back when he gave her soft but stern commands.
When she nodded her head against his and urged him to move, Sherlock was overwhelmingly gentle and sweet.
At first, he had been a tad rude when he insinuated that Galina's lack of sexual experience would work at her disadvantage. Then, he had been robotic when he looked at her body as if it was just another one lying in the morgue.
However, when he started rocking against her, he was the most caring he had ever been.
It caused her to chuckle lightly as he smiled against her cheek because she knew that this side of Sherlock Holmes was for her and her alone.
"Oh, Sherlock," she sighed, raking her nails down his back as he hiked one of her legs around his waist.
Every moan, every touch, every nip, and every whisper of reassurance felt like something was simultaneously tearing her apart and piecing her back together again.
Sherlock Holmes felt that as well.
Galina always wondered what her first time would be like. She spent many days daydreaming about the kind of man it would be with, whether there would be music playing, low lights, or pretty smelling candles. She had been so young and so caught up in the romance of the various novels she had read. She was so alone and secretly pined for that moment that she would never feel alone again.
And, joined with Sherlock, quivering under his touch- she knew she would never be.
Every place his lips touched and every spot his hands landed were consumed with carnal heat. She was so lost in the moment that she didn't care that there weren't any candles or any spontaneous declarations of love. She didn't care that the room smelled slightly of stale cigarettes or that his bedsheets were scratching her back with discomfort.
What really made the experience top everything in her wildest imagination was the fact that she could feel not only her pleasure but also Sherlock's as well. It only intensified her own experience as she felt every fiber of his being radiated into her.
She could feel his vulnerability with every kiss, his excitement with every heartbeat, his joy with every sound she made, she could feel it all.
He felt so very connected to the petite Russian underneath him who- whenever he pulled back to admire her- held a serene and peaceful smile on her lips. He felt it a great pride of his that he had brought such passion and pleasure to an incredible woman such as herself. He felt honored that she had chosen him as her first, that she had singled him out- out of all the men at her disposal- because she saw him as special as he always wanted to feel.
"Galina," he groaned, slowing down his thrusts meticulously, glancing down to see himself connect and disconnect. "Tell me, Galina."
"Что (What)?" she cried out as he rubbed circles on her hips, continuing his deliberate strokes. She was far too gone to be speaking English.
Sherlock grunted as he rolled his hips against hers. "Tell me I'm the only one that can make you feel this way."
"Ты единственный, кто может заставить меня почувствовать это."
You are the only one that can make me feel this way.
Sherlock captured her lips, groaning into her mouth. "Tell me you're mine."
His thrusts became more forceful and passionate and Galina's moans became louder and his stomach tightened to the point of pain.
"Sherlock!" she moaned, rolling her head back as his aggressive strokes filled her up to the brim. "Я твоя!"
I am yours.
It seemed that these words were some sort of trigger for Sherlock because- although it didn't seem possible- his thrusts increased in force and speed. He brought one of his hands between them and rubbed circles around her until all she could feel was him.
"Look at me."
She followed his command and opened her eyes, smiling at the way his eyes were clouded by lust, the way his brown curls fell across his forehead, and the way he bit his bottom lip. They leaned closer together, their parted lips sharing breaths as she spoke once more.
"Я твоя."
I am yours.
Long after they had begun, Galina felt herself completely unravel under Sherlock's touch and he soon joined her.
They were both breathless as they laid beside each other, their heads turned so they could see the other better.
"Well?" Sherlock questioned, grabbing her hand. He was coated in a glorious sheen of sweat and his eyes were both filled with pride and nerves. He looked so hopeful as he squeezed her hand. "Was that good or- um- did you...like it...?"
Galina laughed as she hurled herself onto him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Идеальный (Perfect)."
"Perfect," Sherlock repeated with a soft smile on his face, adjusting her so that he could drape her over his chest. "It seems to be that way."
♖
The following morning, both Galina and Sherlock were still basking in their post-coital bliss as they laid beside each other with their clothes forgotten on the floor.
Galina was still reeling from the experience and never could have imagined that it would feel so sublime. She had felt minor discomfort- this was to be expected- but Sherlock had been more infinitely gentle than she thought he could be.
Well- at least at first.
Sherlock, all the while, was finally realizing the fascination behind sex. He could see with perfect clarity that the defining factor wasn't the act itself, but the person with who one was engaging in it.
Irene Adler might have been a master of all things salacious, but his feelings for Galina made all the dominatrix's talents look amateur.
Galina truly had managed to do the impossible; Sherlock Holmes now admittedly craved sex.
"What is that look on your face?" Galina asked, tracing her finger across his chest as she looked up at him.
Sherlock grunted as he played with her hair. "Happiness, I assume. Can't say it's a rather familiar feeling."
"I already knew that," she said, leaning down to peck his chest as her eyes twinkled playfully. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her as he sat up, bringing her with him and leaning her against his chest. "Is it finally time for that story of yours?"
He had been brimming with curiosity about the root of her unbelievable abilities. Every day he continued to doubt it but he realized he would never understand it in its entirety until he knew every fact.
She always said that it was a story for another time but surely now was the optimal timing.
"I suppose it is." Galina averted her eyes, all sense of playfulness and joy gone as she nodded her head. Sherlock wanted to slap himself for quelling her bliss when he felt her body tense. "Where should I start?"
"From the beginning."
"It is a long story."
"We have time."
Galina nodded her head as she wrung her hands. "As you know, I was taken at an early age by my captors. They believed that they could make someone telepathic, but in order to do that, they believed the first step was to make that same person an empath. Ar first, they started teaching us emotional recognition; how to identify emotions, and be able to put names to them."
Sherlock snorted. "Child's play."
"Yes, моя любовь (my love)," she said, turning around to narrow her eyes at him. "I was a child. We started to learn how to listen to people, not just hear them. We were to empty our minds while they spoke and focus on their voices and non-verbal cues."
"That sounds silly."
"Try teaching it to a four-year-old."
Galina realized that having this discussion with Sherlock was going to be far more strenuous than these had originally thought. However, she was now determined to continue.
"We needed to imagine ourselves in the other person's position. When they felt pain, we would be hurt. When they felt sad, they would give us something to be sad about. They used very cruel tactics and only focused on negative emotions because they are the strongest. After that, it was just to be a fake empath. It sounds ridiculous-"
"-it does-"
"-but there is a specific behavior to being an empath. There is a way to act and a way to care. We have to show a caring attitude and eventually, it becomes second nature."
Sherlock smiled against the crown of her hand as his fingers brushed her shoulders. "So that explains why you are so insufferably nice."
"No, I just am nice," Galina insisted with a laugh. "Anyway, after that, the drug trials began. I am not sure what they were but they injected us with various stimuli while continuing with the other steps."
"It just can't be," Sherlock interrupted. "The human mind is innately egocentric-"
"Yes, you are right," she cut in, patting his hand patiently. "However, the supramarginal gyrus is responsible for the part of the brain that recognizes a lack of empathy and autocorrects. It can be assumed that the drugs and radiation were meant to enlarge that part of the brain. I mean, I understand that the experiment was ridiculous, but they truly believed that the gateway to telepathy was empathy. If you can feel someone's emotions, alter them even, what could stop you from reading and influencing thoughts?"
Sherlock thought for a moment. If he were taking everything she said at face value, he could somewhat see the train of thought Galina's captors had gone through. However, he could say with complete certainty that he was still skeptical.
And Galina Ivanov could practically smell it.
"Do you believe me now?" she questioned tenderly, betraying her calm facade as her fingers twitched on his chest. "About my abilities?"
Sherlock sucked in a deep breath- happy that she could not see his face- and ran his hand down her hair. "I believe that you believe in these abilities."
"That is the best you can do, is it not?"
However, Galina's voice wasn't rough or hurt, it came out almost as a breathy confirmation rather than a question.
Sherlock smiled and nodded his head, wrapping his arms around her thin frame and bringing her closer to him. "So it would seem."
Galina turned herself around so she could cradle his cheeks and peck his lips. "I can understand the speculation, I truly do. All the things they did to me- regardless of how cruel they were- gave me this."
Sherlock nodded his head at her, not willing to risk telling her exactly what he thought of her incredulous story, but instead, he was reminded by her words of the burning question he had held in the back of his mind since the night before.
"Galina," he stated, frowning down at her. "Last night, you said something that confused me. You and I risked an unseemly pregnancy- not to mention the complete disregard for sexually transmitted diseases- simply because you insisted it was okay."
Galina suppressed her laughter. "Sherlock, are you telling me I should get tested?"
Sherlock's eyes shot wide and he stumbled through his response. "N-no. I received testing shortly after my affair with Ms. Adler, seeing as though her profession deemed it necessary. I am just saying that a young woman such as yourself shouldn't engage in sexual intercourse when she doesn't know if her partner is clean."
"Well, as I said, I trust you." She leaned forward once again to peck his lips. "Completely."
Sherlock's heart warmed and he couldn't help but break into the grin that had been threatening to burst. He cursed himself for feeling so lighthearted and filled with electric tingles at her words. However, he reeled back his joy and pressed the subject he had originally proposed.
"Galina, you haven't answered my question."
It was almost instant the way a frown overtook her beautiful face and tears began brimming on the corners of her eyes.
"Galina..."
She shot upright, bringing the sheet with her and clutching it tight to her chest. She shuddered and refused to look at Sherlock as she bit her bottom lip. She used all her strength- taking some comfort in Sherlock's worry- and slowly lowered the sheet.
Sherlock followed her wandering fingers to see her lightly touch the center of her stomach. He scooted closer to her to try and see clearly what she was touching until he noticed four needle-like scars, so faded but still present. He was racking his brain on how they had gone unnoticed by his analytical eyes. Granted, the situations in which he had seen her in various states of undress were frequent, and not in the most flattering light. Additionally, the night before, Galina had been adamant about him just being in the moment that he had overlooked them.
However, he didn't need to ask where those scars came from, because his extensive study on anatomy cleared it up for him. He fully understood why she had not been the slightest bit worried the night before.
"Why?" was all he said, willing himself to glance at her face, only to see tears freely wetting her cheeks. The only time he had ever seen her so close to collapsing was when she spoke about the children that were lost during Mycroft's raid.
"Punishment," she sniffed, covering the scars shamefully. "When we did not do the things they asked us to, we were punished. I refused to hurt one of the children during one of their training sessions and it cost me the most precious thing."
"But why...that?"
He was referring to why anyone in their right mind would ever make a child undergo a grueling and heartbreaking surgery.
He was referring to why those savages had given her a hysterectomy.
Galina let out a cold and humorless laugh. "I continuously acted out. This was just one tier of their punishment. They always said that if I did not prove useful to them that they would sell me."
"Sell you?" he growled, feeling a white-hot rage course through his clenched fists.
"Apparently, human traffickers prefer their victims sterile. The surgery was just a reminder of what would happen to me if I continued to disobey."
Sherlock could not help himself any longer and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her back.
"I'm sorry," he said, sincerely and with the utmost conviction. She wondered when was the last time he had ever said those two words. "If I ever find these men, I promise you that justice will be served. I will make sure of it. Although thinking about it, I might send John. He seems to have a particular proclivity towards violence."
"No. They are all gone, your brother has seen to that. It is done with," she stated, brushing the tears away from her cheeks. "I think it is time for another story."
"You have another story?" Sherlock asked, beginning to question just how much more he could take.
Galina sighed as she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and reached down under it. "No, моя любовь (my love). It is time for you to tell me a story."
Sherlock was thoroughly confused until he saw what Galina held in her hands. Her eyes were slit with steely determination but somehow she still found a way to hold a resounding amount of compassion.
She held in her hands exactly 10 milliliters of pure morphine and a package that contained a sterile syringe.
"It is quite obvious that this is for recreational use," she started, tipping the bottle slightly as she examined it. "The story you will tell me will explain why I found it stuffed in a sock, hiding in the tallest cabinet in the kitchen where I assume you believed I would not be able to reach it."
"You can't know that it's mine." Sherlock was instantly on the defense and filled with self-denial. "Perhaps it's John's. Should we stage an intervention?"
"And now you are lying to me?" she questioned with a tone of incredulity as she raised her eyebrows. "Wiggins stopped by the other day asking if you needed a resupply."
"He told you that?"
It hardly sounded like Wiggins.
"I made him. It was rather easy to coax it out of him."
That sounded like Wiggins.
"I am waiting, Sherlock," she insisted, dropping the drug into his hand and crossing her arms. "Delaying the truth will not make it any less true."
Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair as he gritted his teeth. "It's not what it looks like. I used to take them but not to get high like a common street dweller. Sometimes my mind gets clouded and I just want to slow it down."
"You were a junkie. That is what the films call it."
"I was not a junkie." His rage was getting the better of him but Galina would not allow it.
"Why do you have this?" she questioned as he closed his hand around the vile objects. "Wiggins implied that he believed you would be out by now."
"It is because of you."
Galina gasped in mortification as her gut dropped. "Me?" she cried, grabbing his shoulders lightly. "You started poisoning your body again because of me? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing," he insisted, shaking his head wildly so she could be relieved of any guilt. He hadn't meant for it to come out that way and he suddenly scolded himself for his lack of social skills. "It's just that...when you first came here, I was confused. My mind was reeling, my thoughts were incoherent, and I couldn't focus on anything besides you. It was maddening. I thought that perhaps this could help me just...take a time out."
Galina let out a sigh of relief. She should not have felt the rise of panic when she thought that he had been doing this because of her. She was not the kind of woman who would put the blame on herself for someone else's brash actions. However, with Sherlock, everything was completely unusual and unpredictable.
"Did you do it?"
"No."
The answer was clear- definitive- and she allowed herself to take just a peek at his emotions and knew that he was not lying.
"I understand," she said, moving her hands to his face. "I do. Feeling what you feel, I can not help but know your conflict. I am very proud you did not resort to this but you need to promise me that you will not do it. First, I will know. Second, anything you feel I feel, so you would not only be hurting yourself but also me. Do you want that?"
Sherlock shook his head and his forehead wrinkled with disdain. "Not in the slightest."
"Good," she whispered, patting his cheek gently as she took the drugs from him. "I shall take these and dispose of them. These temptations should not be present in our flat."
As she was reaching down and shoving them in her purse, Sherlock was overcome with another lingering question he had long since forgotten about.
A question that he needed to ask. Even if he would not believe the answer.
"Galina. H-Have you ever used your so-called abilities on me?"
Galina snapped upright and one of the corners of her mouth lifted up. He was acknowledging her abilities whether he liked it or not. "Are you implying that I have made you feel these emotions?"
Sherlock felt guilty as he slowly nodded his head. "Perhaps. I am merely curious."
Galina laughed and pushed him down on the bed as she swung her hips over his. She pulled the sheets over both of them as she brushed her fingers against his neck.
Of course, the curious Sherlock Holmes was so surprised by his feelings for her that some part of him wanted to believe that she had brought it upon him.
But, with her hand resting on his neck, she could also feel that another part of him did not want it to be true.
"No, моя любовь (my love)," she insisted, beginning to pepper kisses on his rough cheeks. "Never on you."
Although Sherlock insisted to himself and to Galina that he did not believe in her abilities in the slightest, that did not stop him from feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
Galina had ensnared him.
She made him see beauty where he had only seen disgust.
She made it easier to breathe when he felt that he was barely clinging to life.
She made him feel whole.
He was relieved because it was all real.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she questioned in amusement, knowing full well why.
"No reason," he lied, pulling her face back down to his.
He no longer would need to relieve himself of the burdens of life with illicit drugs.
Being with Galina- touching her- made him feel more euphoric than morphine ever would.
Sherlock swallowed all her moans and all her sighs as his hands wandered to her thighs. He felt himself already fully aroused beneath her and felt that he was ready to burst.
However, an infuriating and ill-timed slam of the door rang through the flat.
"Sherlock? Galina? Are you two here?"
"Oh, John is here!" she yelled excitedly, removing herself from Sherlock and jumping out of the bed, clutching her sheet close to her chest.
"Galina!" Sherlock shouted, trying to pull her back down. "You're only in a-"
However, Galina did not care to allow Sherlock to finish his comment as she widely opened the door to his room and revealed herself.
"Hello, John!" she hollered, waving animatedly at him. "Sherlock and I will be right out. There are some pryanikis in the kitchen! Help yourself!"
Sherlock had been getting dressed as she spoke to John and he promptly guided her into his bedroom and slammed the door shut to preserve even an ounce of her decency.
Her body would no longer be the object of anyone's eyes but his own.
He entered the living room without so much as a word and plopped down on his chair, completely ignoring John's perplexed stare.
It was a few seconds before John could no longer stand it.
"So...I'm assuming you two had..." he coughed and his cheeks blushed, "the sex..."
"Why are you being so weird?" Sherlock asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"I'm not being weird."
"Yes, you are," Sherlock stated as he eyed the way John's neck turned red. "To answer your question, yes we did engage in sexual intercourse," he explained. "It was very pleasant, especially when-"
"No! No!" John shouted, waving his hands in the air. He took a deep breath and his tone became calmer. "No. I don't bother with the details- actually- I would prefer to not have them at all."
Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself."
Galina emerged from the bedroom, breaking the awkward tension in the room. She was wearing a short black skirt, an apron, and a red polo with the words Speedy's engraved on the upper chest.
"Please, моя любовь (my love)," Galina said, coming up to Sherlock and pecking his cheek. "You will give him a fit."
John scoffed. "I wasn't having a fit-"
"You two boys have fun and solve many cases," Galina laughed, cutting off John who certainly had turned a deep scarlet and was scratching the back of his neck. "I know there is a lot to talk about."
Sherlock scrunched up his nose. "Where are you going?"
Galina puckered her lips as she stared down at her name tag. "Work? Some of us stick to a regular schedule. Regardless, I am teaching Mr. Chatterjee how to make koroleyskiy cake. He fancies it."
"Oh," Sherlock sighed, already feeling a sense of loss at her departure. "Right."
She blew him a quick kiss and squeezed John's shoulder. Secretly pleased with herself that he felt so attached to her and that John had noticed it as well.
Once she left, Sherlock and John both settled back to the uncomfortable silence.
And John, being John, simply could not help himself again.
"Mate, I can't believe it," he laughed, shaking his head. "I really can't believe it."
"Really, John?" Sherlock groaned in annoyance, picking a book up off the floor. "I find it hard to believe that from a man that puts such a high emphasis on silly sentiments. What can't your fragile mind comprehend?"
"That you- Sherlock Holmes- are in love with Galina Ivanov."
Sherlock slammed his book shut abruptly and stood up straighter. "Love? Who said anything about love? I will admit that I'm rather fond of her-"
"You can't fool me, Sherlock Holmes," John smirked, wagging his finger at his friend. "I know you love her and I'm sure she knows it too. She's just too nice to make you say it."
"Don't you have an offspring to look after?" Sherlock demanded, narrowing his eyes at him dangerously. He would not bother to give any thought to what his friend had just insinuated.
John rolled his eyes. "Yes, I do. I don't suppose however that the second I leave you're going to go down to Speedy's. Am I correct in this assumption?"
"Of course not," Sherlock scoffed.
It was exactly what he had planned to do.
John left soon after, wearing a victorious smirk and reminding Sherlock that sometimes people in love still needed their personal space.
Sherlock, however, knew with complete certainty that Galina would jump for joy at seeing his arrival.
Sherlock was about to stand up and do just that until John's smirk and overly haughty tone reverberated in his mind.
"Oh bollocks," he muttered, situating himself further in his chair and picking up yet another book.
He refused to give Dr. John Watson the satisfaction.
―A/N―
And we're back!
I hope y'all enjoyed reading that just as much as I enjoyed writing it and I really hope that I authentically captured the way Sherlock Holmes would go about entering any sort of sexual interaction.
xoBella