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The Thinker Challenge	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2251 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is based solely on the television show Sherlock that airs on BBC1, written by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I borrow their universe to play in and do not claim any ownership or intend to make any money off of this fun hobby of m

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Author’s note: This encounter would have taken place chronologically sometime before Chapter 5.
Session 5 XXX
Sherlock walks down the unfamiliar hallway toward the door at the end, which has been left slightly ajar. His pace slows slightly at his approach and as he reaches the door, he gives a perfunctory knock as he steps through the entrance.
Sio, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of water says with only mild curiosity, “Why did you stop on your way up?”
“It was only for a moment,” he answers.
She shrugs, “Twenty seconds. You rang the buzzer and had you walked straight up with your standard pace, allowing for the brief interruptions of momentum to open the stairway doors and the deceleration on approach, you would have been at the door twenty seconds earlier. Enough for a phone call, I suppose or contemplative moment.”
“A text from John,” he lies.
She knows a text would not use of that much time, but decides not to call him on it.
“Are you alright being here? I hate to introduce distraction, but…”
Scanning the room, Sherlock observes, “there is nothing to distract.”
It is not that the room is overly neat. That, in and of itself, would tell him something; A recent visit from a cleaner, a desire to hide bad habits. Instead, the room is appropriately lived in, but yet completely devoid of clues as the mental state of the occupier. As though everything has been placed innocuously. He experiences a pang of anxiety as his mind races to discern some meaning in this.
Watching his eyes dart around the room, she takes a guess, saying “I partition my living space as well; I don’t spend much time in this room except for…entertaining.”
“Is this room staged for me?” He blurts out, unable to contain himself.
She puts the glass down on a small kitchen table and lets her eyes fall over the details of her living room. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes you do,” he says with too much tension.
Sio scans Sherlock’s face, “You and I contemplate very different sorts of mysteries. What I see in this room is a profound lack of motion; I suppose what you see is a lack of information.”
“Back to my question,” Sherlock insists.
“I would never actively attempt to deceive you, Sherlock. I take it as a compliment that you think me clever enough to try.”
“Active being the key word,” Sherlock quips.
It is her turn to experience a thrill at his quickness. She marvels at how differently clever he is.
She leans back to partially sit on the arm of her sofa. “There are other rooms in this flat. I will not keep you from exploring them, if it would set your mind at ease. However, my home office is so full of chaos, I fear we might never make it to the bedroom and I was quite looking forward to that bit,” she responds, lifting an eyebrow.
Catching her eye as she says this, he flushes slightly at the reminder of why he is there; his instinctual suspicions fading at the anticipation of what is to come.
“Perhaps I can have a tour after,” he suggests.
“That would be rather unfair,” she smirks, recalling how charmingly pliant and mentally relaxed he is after sex. “Next time, perhaps, when we have less material to cover.”
Sherlock nods with an intrigued smile as he walks over to the table and takes a sip of water from the glass that she had left. Sio slips off the sofa and approaches him, noting the focus of his gaze as he watches her move towards him. She reaches up to put her hands on his shoulders, slipping off his jacket in one smooth motion, pausing only slightly to extend their proximity before walking over to place it on the coat stand by the door. She can practically feel his eyes on her body. She is dressed in casual clothes that softly cling, emphasizing the shape of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Her shirt scoops down around her neck, exposing the topology of her collarbone around the thin arch of her neck. He is dressed in his usual manner; a slim fitting button down cotton shirt, a dark color, which she had offhandedly mentioned was her preference, this time a deep blue, along with rather nondescript dark grey trousers, obviously tailored to match is narrow height.
Sio suspects, based on his expression, that it may have been a mistake to mention the bedroom so soon, as his attention is now decidedly fixed. Perhaps she will have to take the edge off before beginning the night’s lesson.
As she walks back towards him, she says, “Were you thinking about me on your way here?”
He nods, obviously uncomfortable at having to acknowledge it.
“Is that why you stopped in the hallway?” She guesses, but then quickly relents, “Nevermind.”
“Where is the bedroom? I’d guess the second door on the right down the hall, but…”
“Lets stay here a minute. Tell me what you were thinking,” she says as she steps even closer.
“I was wondering what tonight’s subject would be.”
“Liar.”
“I was thinking about your body.”
“And?”
He takes a breath and responds with a deeper, more considered voice, “What it will feel like. On the outside and…on the inside.” He reaches his hand forward toward her breast, but hesitates just inches away from her shirt, glancing up at her, waiting for a reaction.
“Tell me more,” she says as she takes hold of his hand, preventing it from reaching its target.
He licks his lips, unsure how to articulate his thoughts. “The taste of your skin, the feel of your nipples on my tongue…”
At this, Sio allows his hand to continue its trajectory to her breast. At the last second, he drops his arm down, finds the bottom of her shirt and slips it up and under in order to fully grasp the skin of her tit. The determination of the gesture gives her a quick thrill.
“Did you get hard in the taxi?” She asks as she rests her hand on the one that is now massaging her breast.
He shakes his head with a touch of embarrassment, “I waited until I got to your building to allow the thoughts in.”
He moves in closer to kiss her; she pulls back slightly, delaying the touch of their lips.
She whispers, “Did you think about the warm friction of my cunt as you push yourself inside of me? The slow burning ache as you thrust against my gripping inner walls? The blind moment of bliss when the world goes white and you don’t care that you have no control at all…”
He lets out a small whimper as he dives forward smashing his mouth against her lips, pulling her body against his. She turns around to rest her bum onto the table as she wrestles with his belt while he reaches under her skirt, pulling her knickers down. She leans back slightly, giving him easy access so that the minute he is free of his clothes, he pushes his full erection into her. She wraps her legs around his hips as he grabs hold of her waist to stabilize her as he starts thrusting in earnest. He grunts quietly with every push, only to slow after a minute, suddenly aware and surprised to find himself inside her so soon after his arrival, fully clothed and on a table, as if the last few moments happened without his explicit knowledge. He looks at Sio, who is biting her lower lip with a seductive smirk.
She glances down to where they are joined and says, “Watch.” He looks and takes in the sight of his cock first retreating out of and then penetrating into the lips of her pussy, over and over, slowly. “Good,” she says. “Now close your eyes.” He does as he is told and experiences the thrusts physically.
“It feels different. Why?” He asks, keeping his eyes closed.
“When your eyes are open, your brain is engaged – it is aware that you are the one fucking me. You’ve got the woman you wanted, not any other man who may also have wanted me. So your brain is registering that you’ve won. When your eyes are closed, all the energy gets focused on the nerve endings; the ones being stimulated when I do things like this.” She closes her eyes as she squeezes him internally. He whimpers his pleasure. “The ones that are building to the goal of releasing into me.”
He starts picking up the pace and she can tell by the sounds he is making that he is close.
“Which do you prefer?” She gasps as his thrusts become more powerful and more frequent.
His eyes flash open and he looks straight into her face as jams himself into her spastically and then comes with a grimaced moan. Breathing heavily, he collapses onto her as she gently rests her hand on the back of his head, relishing the last of his internal spasms.
After a few moments, he pushes himself up, pulls out of her and stands, stabilizing himself with a hand on the table. He pulls up his trousers, not really sure what to do next.
She smiles as she gets up from the table, careful to slip her knickers completely off as she stands, tossing them to him.
“I’m going to clean up. Meet me in the bedroom. In a few minutes, I think you’ll be ready to listen.”
“Listen?”
“Tonight’s lesson, of course. You were far too distracted before. Sometimes clarity requires release.”
*
About ten minutes later, Sio appears in the doorway of her own bedroom carrying two cups of tea. She is wearing yet another negligee, this one with a lace, low-cut, form fitting bust with soft fabric bodice extending just below her hips, a matching pair of panties visible with any motion. She is rather surprised to find Sherlock sitting in a chair across from the bed, still dressed save for his belt, shoes and socks.
“That took a long time,” he says.
“I thought I would give you ample time to snoop,” she replies, handing him one of the mugs. She adds, “I hope you don’t mind it black.”
“It’s fine,” he says taking a sip. Oddly, he had not snooped. The thought hadn’t entered his head.
“So what is going on with this,” she says, obviously referring to both his placement and his clothing.
He frowns uncomfortably. “Seemed strange, frankly, to climb naked into someone else’s bed without them present. And it’s so…large.”
“It’s just a queen,” she answers defensively. “Gives us more options,” she says with a wink.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he says with comfortable resignation.
“Speaking of, I had considered inviting someone to join us tonight,” she offers.
Sherlock nearly spits out his tea. “Whatever for?”
“Well, we’ve made a good start exploring your tastes. And though, of course, that will continue; tastes change, desires become more refined with experience, etc., I thought it best for us to switch the focus a bit. As I have said, being a good lover requires knowing what you want, but it also requires being perceptive to the desires of your partner. And pleasing one’s partner invariably enriches the experience overall. I have been with selfish lovers, but never more than once. In any case, the thought occurred to me that perhaps you might benefit from a demonstration.”
Sherlock frowns rather skeptically. Sio quickly adds, “Another woman, of course. But as I only thought of it today, it seemed wrong to spring it on you. I could still arrange something if you wish.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he says with a tone of mild irritation, though not for the reason she thinks.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she says, “I didn’t mean to offend. It was just a thought. Perhaps another time.” Thinking of something, she decides to say, “On that note, if you should ever decide that you might be bisexual, please do let me know. I know a man who would be happy to join us.”
He just takes another sip of tea without saying anything, obviously not really ready to consider such options. She rather regrets having brought it up – she was only thinking practically, but that has often backfired on her in the past. With Sherlock, his lack of experience and her role as instructor began as the starting point of a fun game, an exaggeration of reality. But sometimes she wonders how much of an exaggeration it actually is…
Detecting his mental withdrawal, she sits down on the bed and beckons him over. He puts his tea down, gets up, walks over to the bed and rather stiffly sits next to her. She touches the top of his hand with the back of hers, then unbuttons the cuff of his shirt and moves her fingers across the skin of his forearm. He tenses.
“What’s wrong?” she asks mildly.
Sherlock turns to look at her with an intensity that is neither relaxed nor pliant.
“I’ve never been very good at not being selfish,” he says with honest concern.
She finds this oddly endearing.
“Not to worry. Everything I am going to show you is ultimately self-serving. Many find the act of pleasing their partners intensely arousing, but even if you don’t, you can view it as a mechanism of delay that will enhance the rest of the experience. Not to mention resulting in more sex overall, as a satisfied lover will keep coming back,” she reassures.
“Have I not been pleasing up to now?” He asks.
“Satisfaction is relative. I have found our encounters satisfying in many ways, but I can envision so much more,” she says with some diplomacy.
“You misunderstand. In these matters, my ego is not so easily bruised. I am simply curious.”
“My body, my experience, allows me to take more pleasure out of sex than many women; you have been able to please me without much conscious effort, but others may not be so easily satisfied.”
“So you are doing this for benefit of other women,” he responds dubiously.
She sits back and smiles broadly. “Alright, that’s utter, if not complete bollocks. Honestly, I am an extraordinarily selfish woman who wants to have mind-blowingly, earth-shatteringly awesome, multi-orgasmic sex with you. And based on what I have seen so far and other things that I can’t quite put my finger on, I think you have the potential to be a fantastically skilled lover and I just want you to learn to get me off in as many ways as possible. Clear?”
“You had me at multi-orgasmic,” he says as he rushes forward, playfully pushing her back onto the bed.
“Now, you still have to listen to me,” she admonishes as he tries to kiss her. He hovers over her for a moment before leaning down for a brief kiss after which he rolls on to his side, propping his head on his elbow.
“Can I listen and touch?” He asks as he reaches over and traces the outline of her waist with his hand.
“I don’t know, can you?” she says as she rolls over onto her side to face him, also propping her head on her elbow. “You need to focus. Getting me off is a tricky business,” she says with mock seriousness.
“Go on,” he says.
“Physically, women can be a challenge, as their response varies more, both between individuals and over time.”
“Why?”
She is a bit surprised by the question, thinking she would just be monologuing from here. “Well, in short, we think too much. Female brains parse the sexual signals we get from our bodies and this creates a feedback loop. Such loops can be interfered with rather easily.”
“Give me an example,” he says, his brain still oddly sharp.
“Some women had a bad experience early on or were told by someone that girls don’t like sex. So their brain effectively blocks the sexual signals they get from their body leading them to truly believe that they can’t enjoy or don’t desire sex. So you have to overcome the mental block to free the physical side, which can be difficult. Or on a more short-term basis, if the brain is distracted with something nonsexual – a chore, a conflict, it can be difficult to engage the body without lifting the distraction first.”
“Give me an example that applies to you.”
“My physical attraction to someone is modulated by my mental perception of them. I won’t orgasm with a person I don’t like, no matter how proficient they are. It’s as if my brain puts up a wall. Frankly, I find that limitation rather inconvenient.”
“Well that's not a very sexy story,” he sighs.
Seeing his disappointment, she considers a moment before continuing. “Alright, here’s another one. You look different to me now that you did when we first met. As in, when I look at you, what I actually see – how my brain processes the visual input from my eyes – has changed. Every time I see you, I find you more attractive because I like you.”
“If it makes the getting you off bit easier, I’ll take it,” he says with a smirk.
“Speaking of, lets get back to the lesson, shall we? I will show you what I like and how to please me. But know that for any woman you are with, there will be a learning curve that requires you to be both perceptive and adaptable. The key is to pay attention.”
“Yes, Miss,” he replies.
She asks rather abruptly, “Did I come when we fucked earlier?”
“Uh. No?” He guesses.
“Hm. Pay attention. What’s going to happen now is you are will make me come three times — once with your fingers, once with your tongue and once in the way you’re more familiar.”
“Shall I postpone the taxi?”
“It won’t take long. Women have a nearly unlimited capacity for pleasure. But lets start at the beginning.”
She leans forward, slipping her hands behind his neck, encouraging a kiss. He moves his free hand, which had been resting on her waist, up the side of her torso and over to her face as the kiss lingers, soft and exploratory.
“I like kissing you,” she whispers pulling away for a moment, then re-engaging his lips. “I’d like to take your shirt off. Can I?” She asks.
“Yes,” he responds, now comfortable with the prospect.
They continue to kiss intermittently as she unfastens each sequential button of his shirt, letting her fingers graze the skin of his chest as more is revealed. With buttons undone, she slips the shirt off his shoulders and tosses it off the bed.
“My neck is a pleasure point, as are my nipples,” she instructs.
He kisses down her neck, nibbling where the skin is loose. Following her sounds, he bites down slightly on the part just below her ear and she whimpers in approval. Next, he moves his mouth over the lace of her negligee, teasing her nipples through the fabric. Deciding to free them, he reaches down and pulls the garment over her head and then rather roughly grasps her left breast, lifting it to his waiting mouth, suckling it until the nipple responds, lifting away from the rest.
“Good,” she says. He spends equal time on both breasts, until both nipples are taught and red. He moves downward, kissing her ribs and stomach, as she had done to him that first night. In a breathy voice, she continues to instruct, “Everyone wants to feel desired, but some women are fixated on the idea of being desirable and need to be told. Personally, I don’t care much for flattery. But telling me what you want to do…”
“As you are telling me what to do, perhaps we’ll save that for another time,” he says between kisses. “Fingers first?”
“Yes. Feel how wet I am.”
At this, he reaches down to free her of her lace knickers. He leans to the side with his head at the level of her belly button, taking a long look at his target. He moves his hand, brushing his fingers over the soft hairs of her trimmed triangle before tracing the tops of her fur trimmed outer lips.
“You’ll find many women have removed the hair entirely down there. I’ve tried it both ways and feel that the hair increases sensitivity.”
As she finishes speaking, he pushes two fingers down into the hidden wetness of her slit. She moans and lifts her pelvis slightly to push against him. He slides them back and forth a few times before pushing them into her hole, causing her to inhale sharply. He slides them in and out a few times, marveling in the slippery warmth.
“Stay to the outside to make me come this time,” she says through heavy breaths.
He explores the folds and listens to her reaction when the tips of his fingers glide over a sensitive spot. She can’t stop herself from shifting her pelvis against the movement of his fingers. As he reaches the sides of her clit, just teasing the outside, he senses her breath become irregular, her body flush instantly warmer. He watches her face as he increases the speed of his strokes, adding just a tiny bit of pressure. He finds it fascinating to watch her react to the tiniest differences in pressure and speed. Soon, she starts to moan and pant and he starts to shakes his fingers, changing direction, causing her to whimper loudly and after a moment, she grabs his hand, pushes his fingers into her hole and presses her clit against his palm, shouting her pleasure, “Oh god, yes,” an insane sort of grimace fleeting across her features.
“Feel that?” she asks him. Of course he can feel it – everything between her legs is pulsing; his fingers are gripped by her inner walls, the wetness increasing with every pull of the skin.
She was right. Seeing, feeling, making her come has made him so hard, his trousers feel uncomfortably constricting, the pressure intense. He wants to just rip them down, climb on top and pound his member into her wet cunt. His desire makes him dizzy and it takes him a moment to realize that she is speaking.
“I knew you’d be good with your fingers,” she pants, recovering. She smiles down at him as she guides his hands away from her pussy and shifts herself to be level with him again. She feels his cock through his trousers and gets to work releasing it. He just watches as she undoes the button and the zip, pulling them down and off. She leaves his pants on, feeling his erection again through the soft fabric.
“Just one more and we can put that beast to work,” she says with a coy smile. She moves over to kiss him, this time pressing her naked body against his skin. After a moment, she pulls back and says, “Are you okay to use your tongue? I know it’s not for everyone. It just feels so good.”
Sherlock looks at her a moment and then practically tosses her onto her back. He quickly kisses down her front, parting her legs and climbing in the middle. He uses his fingers to part her lips and takes a moment to look at the topology between her legs. Leaning over, he slips his tongue over her now exposed inner lips, tasting the sweet fluid now saturating her soft, swollen skin. Tentatively at first, he explores the folds slowly, wiggling his warm tongue into every nook and cranny he can feel. He finds her hole and pushes in just a bit.
He can feel the sweat start to form on her legs in response to the stimulation. She is breathing heavily and whimpering softly. Feeling more confident, he dives in deeper. She shifts and rests her feet on his shoulders, opening herself even wider to him. It doesn’t take long for him to find the most sensitive spots and the bits that make her hold her breath when he flicks his tongue across them. Soon she is arching her back, grabbing the bedrails behind her. In a fit of inspiration, he decides to slip two fingers in her hole while he continues lapping the folds next to her clit. She screams at this, pushing hard into him, smashing her pelvis into his face a she comes again. This one seems to last longer and after what feels like many minutes, he feels her body go completely limp.
“Oh bloody hell,” she says, brushing her arm across her face.
He lifts up once the spasms have stopped, wipes his face on the duvet and says, “Please tell me it’s my turn.”
She just nods, unable to even move her legs. He pulls down his remaining pants and quickly pushes into her with a groan.
“You are unbelievably wet. God,” he says in amazement as he moves in and out of her with such slippery ease.
“One more to go,” she says enjoying the full feeling in her cunt.
He starts to slide into her faster and faster. She lifts one leg up to rest on his shoulder, adding a bit of friction. This position lets him dive deeper inside and it feels like he could disappear into her pussy. After a few really deep thrusts, he grabs her shoulders and begins to pound more quickly, overwhelmed with the need to release.
“Pay attention,” she reminds him.
He tries to clear his mind and succeeds enough to perceive her reaction to his movements. Just as he had with his fingers and his tongue, he shifts the direction and intensity of his thrusts to match her sounds of pleasure. Soon, she is shrieking and only then does he let his own body take over. Aided by the spasms of her body, like a thousand tiny fingers massaging his raging cock, he shoots what feels like gallons of fluid into her body. He feels nearly sick with the intensity of it, as he collapses gasping onto the bed, the tendrils of pleasure still radiating outward from his groin. After a moment, he is suddenly aware that the bed is shaking. He looks over at Sio, confused. She is laughing.
“Sorry. It’s the third orgasm giggles. It’s a thing that happens. Be thankful you weren’t still inside me when it started.”
He closes his eyes, wondering how long it will be before his brain starts to work again.
“Where am I?” he asks in partial jest.
“Would you believe me if I told you that it can be better still?” She asks, unable to completely contain her laughter.
“I would believe anything you told me right now,” Sherlock admits sleepily.
*
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The Thinker Challenge