Let's have dinner.

"He doesn't care. He made that very clear to me."
Irene recalled the I am SHERLOCKED incident. Somewhere, deep inside, it still hurt. She looked in the same direction as John because she couldn't look at him anymore.
"Did he tell you?"

"No, Sherlock doesn't talk about feelings," he said, and looked at his hands. "He prefers to say he has none than admit to them... he doesn't want to feel them, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have them..."

He rubbed his forehead again. "I really want to leave you two alone... but I need to know you care, Irene. Please, tell me that... I just need that..."

"He has none. For me at least."
She was sure. Sherlock did not know that he broke her heart a little in Mycroft's governmental room. She stared out of the window, trying not to blink.

Sherlock returned from the toilet and the room fell silent.

"You've been talking about me," he deduced. "Discussing my 'feelings' no doubt. Well there's really no need. I have none. I'm sure John made that perfectly clear to you Miss Adler."

Sherlock ignored both of them and headed to the kitchen where he got himself a glass of water and drank it down in one before loosening his collar slightly. He was feeling a little hot and bothered for some reason.

"Oh, I know. I have been trying to make that clear to him" She said.
She looked at John again. Statement proved.

"Then why did he save you?" he whispered, he knew that much at least.

He stood up without waiting for a reply though, he was ready to leave.
"Don't make the same mistake everyone does, thinking that Sherlock has no heart... he cares," he insisted, Sherlock had jumped off a building for him, and he was always going to trust his heart.
"You should take more care of your heart, Sherlock... I know it's there, but you hardly take care of it..."

Sherlock mumbled something inaudable, even to himself. But John's words stung him a little...perhaps because he knew they were true. He felt a dull ache inside.

"John...wait..." he began, emerging from the kitchen. But his friend had already gone to his room, closing the door behind him. Feeling confused, Sherlock went to sit down in the armchair opposite Irene and stared at her glumly. Why did he care what John thought of him? It didn't make sense. And yet...he did.

John left the room quickly, he knew he couldn't possibly look at Sherlock now. He tried to push to the back of his mind what he knew was going to happen between Irene and Sherlock that night, he knew it'd drive him mad otherwise.
It was none of his business, he told himself repeatedly, but as he sat on the bed he felt utterly alone.


((So John's job is done~~ Have fun~~))

Shit. Irene thought. This makes it much more difficult. Her hand raised to her hair. For the first time in her career, she did not how to handle with this man.

With John confined to his room, Sherlock was left to entertain "the Woman". He still wasn't exactly sure what she expected from him...but at least now he was vaguely aware that sex was involved somewhere along the lines. He wasn't exactly great at having guests round but he had learnt some etiquette skills off John.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked bluntly. That was about as far as he'd got with etiquette. He knew it was a completley stupid question because John had already made everyone a cup of tea, but he couldn't think of anything else.

((Oh, God. Our John really messed it up. I don't know what to do now x) ))

((just carry on being flirty but in a less forceful way. come and sit next to Sherlock and stroke his knee/hair or something. it'll freak him out but not enough to move away))

((Great plan, thank you I think John pushed me out of character.))

"No, thank you. John made us some, remember?" Irene pointed at the mugs on the table next to the couch. She sat next to Sherlock. Not too close, or he'll run upstairs to look for his mummy. She sipped from her tea. Wow, John can make great tea. Irene turned in Sherlock's direction and looked at his hair. Great, thick, brown wavy hair. Without knowing, her hand was already in his curls.

"Oh yes, of course. We already have tea." Sherlock pretended he hadn't known already, and took a sip of his mug that lay resting on the table.

Suddenly he felt something touching his hair. With a start he realised it was Irene's hands, gently carressing his locks. He looked up at her with a confused expression. What was she doing that for? Although he made no attempt to stop her. It felt...well...it felt quite relaxing, he supposed. He half closed his eyes and leant into her hand a little, imagining he was a cat getting stroked.

Irene never grew tired of his hair. It was so curly and thick! When she felt Sherlock leaning into her hand a little, she smiled. He felt like her pet, in a good way. Not in the Moriarty-way or the Dominatrix-way, but just in Normalpeople-way.
She lowered her head and rested it fondly on Sherlock's shoulder. This felt good. She could sit there all day, if she could.

Sherlock was beginning to feel a bit more relaxed in Irene's company. When she rested her head on his shoulder he lay his own head on top of hers and sighed slightly, finding the physical contact unexpectedly pleasant.

Irene smiled brighter at the feeling of Sherlock laying his head on her own. She sighted too.
"What are you thinking?" Irene quietly thought out loud. She had pondered about this question for a minute. What was going through the genius's head?

Sherlock frowned slightly, debating whether or not to state his thoughts out loud. He always believed in telling the truth so saw no reason not to do so in this situation.

"I'm thinking about what might happen next; what you expect of me and whether I can deliver it, whether I will want to, whether I will like it although still unsure on what the 'it' is exactly. Perhaps you could enlighten me further."

He looked up and stared questioningly into her eyes.

Irene looked up too. She replaced a lock of hair over his temple and stroked the way over his cheekbones down to his jawline and chin. God, those cheekbones. she thought. Her other hand still fondled the hair on the back of his head.

"Though before it didn't seem so, I don't want to force you into anything. But I can enlighten you, if you like. And now in a softer way."

Sherlock closed his eyes and felt a small shiver as Irene gently carressed his face. It was ticklish, but not in an unpleasant way. He decided to allow the contact to continue for now.

"I'd certainly be interested to find out more." he murmured.

Irene hummed and buried her face in Sherlock's neck and hair and closed her eyes. She smiled against the hot skin and gave him a little kiss there. Her left hand rested on the other side of his neck and the other hand in his hair.
He smelled nice. Appealing nice.

The gentle touch of the woman's lips gave Sherlock a tingle. The sensation was quite...fascinating. He felt his eyes fluttering closed and his hands still unable to move from his side. He was allowing her to dominate him...why? I suppose that's her job, he reflected with some sarcasm. I could push her off at any minute, he told himself, but didn't.

Irene continued giving him little kisses on his neck and jawline. Gentle kisses, not too much and not too fast, irregular and a bit teasing. The hand on his neck stroked the line from his neck, over his shoulder to his hand. She teasingly touched the palm of his hand, ticklish like a feather and followed the pattern to his fingers. She heard him giving a little and low sigh, unwillingly to show the pleasure.

Sherlock heard himself moan slightly at the soft ticklish touches. He had to admit it felt...enjoyable. He moved his right hand and gently ran it down the curve of Irene's back, and leaned in a little closer to her kisses. He shouldn't be doing this, he told himself, yet his body seemed to have a mind of its own.

Sherlock's hand felt great on Irene's back. Shivers ran down her spine and she moaned quietly. She continued kissing him gently as her other hand rested above the top button of Sherlock's shirt. She did not plan to unbutton it.... yet. But she started to become hungry for more. She needed to control her greed and go with the flow. This was far too enjoyable to spoil.