S.Holmes: Sebastian's Revenge

Ty's lips went into a thin, rather vexed line as she told him a case wasn't what she wanted. He didn't like being bored and if he was really honest he missed the little bit of unpredictability of his life in the army but he managed with not knowing if he could make a success of being an artist which drove him to work hard at it.

He scratched his head, he didn't know what the answer was. He could just about say it was morally justifiable to occupy her mind and switch it off by making love to her when they both wanted to. If Sam wanted to make love though he wanted it to be a good first time for her, something she would look back on as having been...beautiful, special, not something she would regret tomorrow for going too fast or, God forbid, an unwanted pregnancy.

Christ any normal couple would cuddle up and watch tv with their Chinese and they'd know she was on the pill, because they'd have spoken about it. But they weren't a normal couple, they couldn't be. Sam was...Sam, her father once shot... shot...the wall of the flat out of boredom. John knew how to cope. He could ask him, but he thought he ought to figure it out himself, prove he was up to the job too, worthy of respect from John.

((I'm just going to fastforward to when their food has arrived))

Samantha poked at the plate of noodles in her lap. Ty hadn't hesitated to dig into his, but Sam felt somewhat sick to her stomach. Perhaps it was the hangover, or maybe her close proximity to her new boyfriend who wasnt really new at all.

She inched her way closer to Ty and rested her head on his shoulder. Sam felt his muscles tense at her touch, but she paid no attention to that. Instead she picked up some noodles between her chopsticks and began to eat. If he had a problem with her current location, he would tell her. Of this she was certain.

Whatever Sam had been about to say to him was interrupted by their food being delivered and went unsaid. Ty could hardly take his eyes off Sam and tucked into the main course to distract himself from wanting to touch her and kiss her again.

Her head rested on his shoulder and his stomach lurched over at the same time as his heart did a flip. He put his head on hers for a moment. “Um, Sam, I most definitely didn't want you to stop what you were doing to me in the bedroom. You, um.” he searched for a way to say it without it sounding crude. “have a powerful effect on me.” he pointed at his crotch with his chopsticks.

He put his arm round her and gave her a squeeze. “God, sorry, I know this isn't going to sound very romantic, but we need some contraception, so that if you don't want to stop either then I won't have to leave the bedroom at 19 million miles an hour again to put a safe distance between us.”

Ty grinned. “Have you any idea how bloody difficult it is running down stairs with tight trousers?”

((Haha finally! He gives in to temptation > muhahaha))

Sam smiled a devilish smile and carefully placed her plate on the coffee table. She snatched the chopsticks from Ty's hands and threw them behind her, not caring where they ended up. She then crawled on top of Ty and removed his own plate of food, placing it beside her own. Her mouth found his, and she could taste the Chinese food, but she didnt care. Sam hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his trousers and pulled herself closer to him. Her body was humming again, her heart beating out every measure of the music they were just starting to create together.
She drew back from him, gasping for air. Ty reached up and attempted to pull her shirt up and over her head. No. No he can't see them. Samantha batted his hand away and unzipped his trousers to distract him. An irrational feeling that he would be revolted by her mutilation swelled inside her. She couldn't bear that.

(( You said it'd be an all action plot! ))





Ty realised as soon as his chopsticks were plucked from his fingers and went flying that the last thing on Sam's mind was food. Unsurprisingly enough food wasn't the uppermost thing in his thoughts either as Sam removed his plate. As his lips sought hers her mouth found his and they were kissing. Long and drawn out breathless kissing that sent a tingle down his spine and pushed his heart rate up.

Sam wouldn't let him take her shirt off and he was confused for a moment unsure if she wanted to stop but her hands went to his zip and pulled it down. “Sam, Sam.” he mumbled huskily into her shoulder protesting weakly.

His hand traced up and down her back while she pressed herself against him and sensing that she would prefer to explore this new physical side to their relationship on her terms he slid under her so that he was laid on his back.

You always surprise me. I thought you would be more cerebral, less experimental. Not like this, all emotional and primal.

((I'm sorry :S the story is writing itself! As soon as this scene is over we'll move into the action bits)

Sam ripped Ty's shirt off over his head amd flung it violently across the room. No more deductions or clues, no more cases and killers. The only things that filled her head were feelings of passion. Ty took his trousers off and Sam squirmed out of her underwear. He reached for her shirt again, but she mumbled, "No. I don't -" Sam's voice hitched. The only other person who had seen her scars was John. "I don't want you to see..." She trailed off and ran her fingers over Ty's chest.

((oops forgot the smiley, I meant this was action Rapport, when it writes itself, is good. Shall we stop them from going further and keep the 'will they won't they' tension going? ))




Clothes flew off and Ty let Sam explore their physicality but as much as he was filled with passion so he was awash with uncertainty, not knowing why Sam was reluctant to take her top off. Then it dawned on him. “It's ok.” He pulled her close so her head was on his chest shoulder and held her there. “I'll still love you when you're wrinkled and grey.” he smiled and kissed her hair “If you'll love me when I am.”

“This.” Tyler patted his chest, “is just the shell that carries you around, it's just the bit of someone you can touch and see, not the important bit. The important bit is inside.” the urgency had left him. He stroked her back and was content to just do that.

“Sex is great but it's just bodies doing things unless your heart is in it. When you know your heart is in it you won't care if your body isn't perfect or if mine isn't.” he smiled.

“We'll have to wait a day or two, Sam, until we can go ahead safely. It'll just be crap, worse than crap for you if all you do tomorrow is worry about if you got pregnant.”

He continued cuddling her as he waited for her to agree to wait for a couple of days until they could go ahead safely without worrying about her getting pregnant.

Sam sighed. She let her eyes trail over him. His lips said no, but his body language was such an obvious yes. "First you tell me we have to fornicate, and now you're worried you'll knock me up?" Samantha arched an eyebrow and caressed his face. Her slender fingers traced his jaw line. "Ashcroft..." She bit down on his ear again and growled through the mouthful of skin, "You're confusing me,"
Sam sat up again, still half way straddling Ty, and yanked her shirt up over her head. Each white line carved on her body felt like they'd been set on fire under Ty's scrutinizing gaze. "Yeah..." She sighed, "I know."
A huge white and jagged line ran between her breasts and down to ger navel. Smaller knicks and cuts surrounded it and the large patch of scar tissue on her abdomen. Her kidnapper had shoved the knife in so deep, one of her ovaries had been damaged beyond repair. The other had been deemed inoperable.
"Trust me, I wont be having kids anytime soon, whether I like it or not," Sam ran her hand over the scar.

“I never said we had to 'fornicate'.” Ty chuckled at her choice of words. “Now who's not being romantic?” He teased. “You confuse me...Join the club.” he laughed drily into her shirt as Sam's teeth pulled at his earlobe. God, you make it so difficult for me to behave myself. You know you do too. His body was telling her he desired her as much as a man's body could.

Sam pulled her shirt over her head and he was not oblivious to the scarring but he was captivated by her slender shape and the rose-pink buds on her firm breasts. Ty felt uncomfortable that Sam might have thought he was speechless with horror at the sight of her scarred torso.

He looked up into her sad, resigned face. “You are bloody beautiful, and this.” he put his fingers on the scar tissue above her navel. “doesn't make me see you any differently.”

His eyes dropped to her hand passing over her abdomen and he squeezed her hand. “Is that all that's been holding you back? You thought that'd put me off you?” he looked back up into the green eyes Nah. You daft mare.” his eyes creased with an affectionate smile on his lips.

Ty's slender, tanned hands slid up her sides and across until his thumbs met in the middle of her cleavage and her breasts were above his strong, gentle fingers. That’s good, yes? You’re shaking a little, aren't you. Me too and it's okay.

His gaze was still on her and he inhaled with pleasure as his warm palms floated over her cool breasts. His finger and thumb brushed lightly across a nipple until it became erect.

Sam tipped her head back and her eyes fluttered shut. In her mind, the highest note of a violin was being played.
"I'm not daft," She managed to mumble.
She was so cold, and Ty's hands were so warm. Samantha couldn't stifle the gasp that rose in her throat.
Her hips rocked involuntarily, wanting more. The detective wasn't sure how to speak anymore. Her voice was gone, vocal cords straining uselessly in her throat. Ty was exploring her scars with his fingertips like a traveler traces roads on a map. She hummed in pleasure at the sensation and arched her back.
Bloody idiot, stop teasing me and get on with it.
Sam reached down and tugged at the elastic of his underwear.
"Hmm?" Her mouth wouldn't open. Everything of her was shaking and quivering, mind, body and soul.

((Sorry my bits aren't nearly as long as yours ))

((Ok, just for you see below for the use of 'bits' in this context XD ) I took liberty and godmoded a bit. I hope that is ok.)

Ty could have described himself as besotted as well as devoted as Sam, enjoying his attention, let him give her sensations. She was pulling at the waistband of his boxers and as he eased himself up to slip them off she helped him out of them. Cool air wafted deliciously around his bits and heightened his leaking arousal. He eased his position so that Sam could sit astride him and gasped needfully and shamelessly as she lowered herself onto him.

His fingers dropped to her sensitive area and he gave her pleasure as his wits scattered like autumn leaves blown from a tree and all his senses focussed on her. The beautiful sounds from her, her silky heat around his length and her quivering, passionate responses took him to the brink of orgasm where he strived to hold himself until she came first.

His heart hammered in his chest and his breathing laboured. Oh God, Sam. Oh, fuck. Sounds and swear words mixed incoherently with her name as he arched his hips and clung to her until he fell apart under her with a heartfelt cry of utter bliss and relief.

((By bits I meant posts but that's alright ;D ))

Sam collapsed on top of him, weak and shivering. She smiled and traced swirling patterns on his chest with her fingers. She'd never experienced anything quite like this. Her mind was racing a million miles an hour, heart trying desperately trying to keep up. Sam's body was convulsing in pleasure, wanting more, but knowing it was time to stop.
"I wasn't quite expecting that" She muttered - referring to the feelings she was experiencing - into Ty's chest. His laughter reverberated through his being and rattled her bones.
Dragging herself upright, she swung her legs off the couch and reached for her clothes, now scattered in various locations. She had to get back home to John before he thought she'd been snatched off the street again. Sam shuddered involuntarily. The young detective pulled her trousers on and zipped them up.

Ty was still in the haze of having had his mind blown when Sam virtually collapsed onto his chest. God his heart was going like crazy. The sofa wasn't wide enough for them side by side and he expected to fall off at any moment. Sam looked utterly fantastic all flushed and...yeah, pleased. He grinned and burst into laughter.

He watched her get herself upright and the look on his face as well as hers must, he reckoned, be priceless as they surveyed the wreckage of scattered clothes. Realising the time and that she was wanting to get off home he quickly pulled on his trousers, jumper and shoes.

“Here, it's late, for a taxi home.” He smiled as he pulled out a £20 note from his wallet out of his back pocket. “I'm off out for a drink with your dad and his mates tomorrow night” he told her as he held her coat out for her.

They went downstairs and as they got out of his door he stepped to the kerbside. Throwing out his arm Ty hailed her a cab which was trundling down the road. He glanced back as a rather drunk bloke passed them.

There was time to give her a quick passionate kiss before bundling her into the taxi where it was warmer. “Goodnight gorgeous.” he grinned. He shuddered in the cool night air. After sketching her a wave as the taxi pulled away he went inside, a big grin still plastered on his face. Bloody hell, I need a coffee.

Sherlock watched John send the text message with a small frown, waiting patiently until he had finished.

"When are we going for this...drink...then?" He asked a little techily, raising one eyebrow. He sipped his coffee and sighed, then grinned as he remembered, "oh yes, I had a new book come in at the shop, made me think of you. It's about medics in the army."

John's message alert beeped so he opened his phone. “Ty,” he waggled his phone about. “Tomorrow night, 8pm. He must have been right next to his phone.” he smiled.

He grinned. It was nice that Sherlock thought of him when he had a relevant new title in at the bookshop. “Oh, army medics, great, if you could fetch it along with you tomorrow?” he sat back in his seat.

John frequently had to sort through the bookshelves to make room for new additions. “I have a couple of modern anatomy books which need a new home. If you can shift them?”

He glanced over at the microscope again itching to have a look at the bee wing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

"Certainly," Sherlock grinned back. "Bring them with you tomorrow, we'll do a book swap. Wouldn't mind having a look at those myself. I'm learning so much right now, it's...quite incredible." He paused for a moment, always constantly surprised by the brain's ability to take in and store new information.

Then he glanced over at the microscope and could sense John's interest, something he was only too eager to share. It was difficult to find anyone even vaguely interested in the things he was. John was an exception to the rule. "Take a look," he wheeled his chair back to open up the space between him and the microscope, allowing John to sidle in and inspect the bee's wing for himself.

"I miss you on the cases you know," he added quietly, thinking of his last case in Switzerland a month ago. He could have really done with a medical opinion on that one, but that wasn't the only reason he missed his best friend.

Ah, good. Fine.” John was pleased if the anatomy books would be useful to Sherlock. “I must learn woodwork and build a new bookcase.” he chuckled.

John had long since learned to look at Sherlock's notes before squinting at whatever was on a slide if he wanted to make sense of the sample. “Aah, right, it's like identifying pollen then, you can identify which group a bee is from by the wings and then...narrow it down from other parts of the anatomy.” He got close to the microscope, pulled his shirt sleeves up, and steadying himself with his hands on the table peered down the lens.

“Mm, I miss being with you on cases.” he replied quietly. He missed the challenges of the work, the satisfaction of cracking a case and being with his best friend.

“Serial killer, eh, your favourite.” he glanced across to Sherlock then straightened up and pushed his arms back for a moment stretching his shoulder muscles.“Wings or pollen? Mm, I still prefer pollen.” he smiled.

"Yep, that's right," Sherlock nodded, always pleased by John's intelligence, then sat back expectantly and waited for his reaction.

"Ah yes, French police are stumped so they call in Benedict Sigerson," the detective chuckled, still amused by his fake name even after all this time. "Should be interesting. Gets me away from the mundane for a while."

"Did you read my blog on different types of pollen?" He asked keenly. "It's on the website." Not his old website of course, the Benedict Sigerson one, but he still had hopes of republishing the articles under his own name eventually. "I like bees," he stated. "I'd like to try keeping them someday."

“I can see the headlines French Police flustered. Mon dieu, we are out of our depth, we need Benedict Sigerson.” John smiled wryly and shook his head. He ought to be used to it by now but Sherlock in scruffy jeans and trainers still seemed odd. “Yeah, it'll get you away from the bookshop for a while.” he smirked.

“Oh, yeah.” John nodded leaning forward. “My Sunday morning routine before Sam gets up is reading your website. You made a great job of the pictures, lovely and sharp and the text is in manageable chunks.”

John's smiled. “Mmm, now, there's an idea. You keep bees and I'll grow the food plants for them and then I can have my own living pollen collection and go into production making 221Bees Mead.” he frowned “How many bees would you keep?”

Sam sighed heavily and sank into the upholstery of the taxi. "Where to, miss?" The cabbie called back to her. "221b Baker Street," She answered. The cab pulled away. Looking back, Sam had just a fraction of a second to see Ty waving goodbye. Her heart fluttered a bit in her chest. The young detective pressed a hand over the stuttering muscle and took deep breaths. Eventually, her heart rate slowed down. Then, something...changed. Her acute senses realized before her brain did that something was wrong. Sam sat up and peered behind the cab through the rear window. An identical black taxi was following them. She watched it for a few more blocks to be sure that she was right. "Turn here," Sam pointed to an alley that was barely big enough for the taxi. "But I thought you wanted to go to 221-" "TURN HERE." The cab swerved sharply into the darkness. The copycat taxi followed suit, rattling along behind. "Shit." Sam breathed.

Sherlock felt a flush of pride knowing John was a regular reader of his website. Sometimes he felt like it was hardly worth keeping up as he was sure no one really went on it, and that most of the hits on the hit counter were from him, refreshing the page several times a day when he was bored at the shop.
"Thank you," he remarked with a small bow of his head, genuinely pleased.

"I could hardly keep bees in London," he scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. "I'd have to find somewhere else." He grinned and gave a small chuckle at John's play on words. "I see what you did there, John," he smirked. "221 Bee...awfully clever of you..."

“It's a good website.” John acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “Lots of in depth stuff on it.”

He was pleased that Sherlock had thought his wordplay was amusing and a bit clever enough to pass a complimentary remark on it. “Yeah, I mean people do keep urban bees but if you wanted to keep enough bees to do research on them, yeah, you would have to find them somewhere suitable. It's always good to have plans for the future.”

He hadn't added to his blog since he put up the news broadcast up of Sherlock's 'death'. It wasn't accurate to preserve confidentiality and their own privacy either, there had never been anything about Samantha on it. The hits counter was still stuck on 1895 as far as he knew because he never looked at it.

John had plenty to do right now but he had a vague plan for the future. “One day, maybe, I'm going to write a book. I've still got my trunk full of case notes and everything.” he grinned. “Except it's not under my bed, of course, it's in a safe box in the bank, as we agreed.”

"Yes, if I really wanted bees I'd have to move somewhere more rural," Sherlock sighed, then added somewhat bitterly, "somewhere quiet and peaceful with nothing going on. No no, I'm not ready for that just yet. Besides which, I couldn't possibly think about that until I've got Moran."

He frowned, making a mental note to check in with his Homeless Network on the way home to get the latest reports.

"A book?" Sherlock laughed incredulously. "Oh God, then I'd be able to sell it in the shop." He chuckled, finding the idea quite ridiculous, but he shrugged and had to admit, "People do love detective stories...they're good sellers. Ugh, I've read them all. Atrocious. One of them I'd solved by the third page. That's my record so far, but I'll keep trying when some new ones come in." He gleamed.

John's left hand tightened again at the mention of Moran's name because he was always thrown into a state of internal conflict when the sniper entered into conversation. The pragmatic part of John agreed that his role was as a parent but equally strongly part of him missed being on the battlefield because that was how he was made.

“Until we've got Moran.” he muttered correcting Sherlock without thinking and immediately felt guilty because he knew how Samantha would feel if he got killed.

“Not this book.” John joined in with Sherlock's laughter. “You wouldn't be selling books then.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “It'd be your biography as the world's only consulting detective. An account of your science of deduction as it was applied to real life cases. Not a who-dunnit a how you solved it.” he chuckled.

“I'd write it up like a detective story though, you know, start with the rain was lashing down, enter the client, give the reader the puzzle, then the clues and end with the really clever bit. People would love that.” he grinned.

John shook his head with amusement. “I can well believe you do read who-dunnits just to see how fast you can work out who done it. Me, I can't read them at all. God, I'm nearly as bad as you were for yelling at the telly.” he admitted.

Taking a peek at his watch John sighed. He'd have to think about getting home soon.

Sherlock gave John a small smile when he changed the 'I' to a 'we'.
"Of course," he nodded in agreement. "You'll be the first to know as soon as I've got anything solid and you'll be right there by my side just like the old days. If you want to be. And then...well...maybe I can start taking some cases in London."

The idea of having his own biography sounded even more ludicrous, but he chuckled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "If you insist," he muttered, appreciatative of the amount of respect John clearly had for him.

Sherlock didn't miss the small look at his watch and he sighed a little too. "You'd better go," he nodded towards the door. "Sam'll be wondering where you are....I'll uhh see you tomorrow." He grinned.