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Elle's Story	By : Cozygoma-lover Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3523 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of BBC SHERLOCK. It belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's estate, the BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I gain nothing from my story financially. I enjoyed writing it, hoping you will have pleasure reading it equall

Chapter List
- 31
- 32
- 33
Although it had been dry when they walked in the morning it had remained very sultry and humid. Now, after the rain, it felt fresher and everyone fancied some air. Debbie went outside with a bowl so she could collect fresh produce from her raised beds for dinner when the decision for a wander around the Holmes' garden was agreed and they all set out at a leisurely pace, admiring her beautiful plants and vegetables.
Mary was fascinated by some of the flowers and shrubs in the garden, hoping for inspiration for her little plot in Hampstead so she and John trailed around with Will as he gave them ideas about plants that might suit their needs. Will was very knowledgeable but admitted Debbie was the one with green fingers. Sherlock and Elle were walking slowly on their own. He regaled stories of climbing and falling from trees, a kite stuck in high branches, a twisted ankle after a bad decision to attempt to leap off the compost bins and the shattered pane of greenhouse glass on one of the rare occasions he and Mycroft played together with a bat and ball. They walked passed a charming summer-house where Sherlock said his Mum would sit and read when his Dad was busy in his study, or they would both go for a quiet glass of wine on a warm summer's evening.
Pausing at the far end of the garden, temporarily out of sight of the house and the others, Sherlock took Elle's face in his hands and kissed her lips so delicately it felt like just a breath of wind. His actions seemed to confirm a rite of passage to him, from boy, via asexual androgynous being, to man. Will's panicked voice shouted out as it started to rain. Rain?! In seconds it was torrential. A split second's analysis Sherlock decided they would be drenched if they headed for the cottage over the open garden so he grabbed Elle's hand and bolted for the summer-house, dashing around the garden's perimeter, remaining under the trees until they reached their destination.
It was incredibly hot in there as it was made of timber, so they stood in the shelter of the awning, doors open, watching the rain as it fell in sheets and rebounded from its own force. Loud rumbles of thunder ensued. This was the weather the meteorologists had promised. Flashes of lightning and more thunder confirmed a full storm was heading their way. Sherlock put his arm around Elle's shoulder and could feel her heart palpitating in her breast. His eyes widened as he turned her toward him and planted the second kiss they shared in the garden.
It was not a kiss of a rite of passage: it was not a kiss of delicate breath of wind conformity: it was a kiss that transmitted him knowing how stimulated she was by the storm, and his wishes. His arms enveloped her, feeling her heart pounding against his own chest, gorging themselves on a series of unkempt kisses they placed haphazardly on each other's faces and mouths.
His brain made a peculiar and definitive selection out of his mind palace from recent experiences, hearing a female voice explaining the joys of doggy style - liking 'the variety of being able to do it on all fours, lying down sideways or standing, leaning against or over something'. This outsourced material triggered a desire as he placed the sponge cushion off a garden bench - stored in the summer house in case of rain unsurprisingly - over the high back of one of a pair of heavy wooden sun-loungers. He turned her to him and gathered her up for a passionate embrace, his ample cock hard within his jeans pressing against her groin. The storm had evidently turned Sherlock on easily equally to Elle, or he was already aroused thinking what may transpire.
"How would you like to have a bit of fun while we wait for the storm to pass?"
"Oh God, yes" Elle breathed. "Anything. What have you got in mind?"
"Just an idea, borrowed from a friend."
"Kaye?"
"Yes, how on Earth did you know that? Have you borrowed Em's crystal ball?"
"No, I saw your reaction to Kaye's words... and the cushion over the back of, rather than on, a chair gives a distinct clue. My deductive powers, see. How do you want me?"
"Spread your feet a little, lean on the back of this chair and I will [cough] lean on you." Elle dropped her jeans to the floor, Sherlock helping to do the same with her undies.
"What if the storm ends?"
"There is so much water out there now we'll hear someone coming from the house long before we see them or they see us." Sherlock unzipped his jeans and extricated himself from his boxer briefs, sliding into her, placing his hands on her hips, kissing the side of her neck.
She groaned loudly. "Just so long as they don't hear us doing the same from in here." Her head fell forward, stretching her hands to grasp the arms of the lounger, braced for him, him grinning, unseen, understanding the meaning of her unsubtle response.
Gentle penetrating strokes started this action, but did not remain. As the storm raged outside and the rain fell harder, the lightning crashed and the thunder roared, an unbridled Sherlock raged inside, harder and crashed his loins into her as she roared mirroring the storm around them. It was wonderful to feel total freedom to make the sounds her body encouraged, rather than controlling their vocals due to others' ears. The storm was drowning their shrieks of ultimate pleasure.
He moved his right hand from her hip, placing it centrally on her back. She was baying for more and he was heading swiftly for the crescendo of this alliance. As his thrusts became less in depth but more in number her body tensed for the umpteenth time around him - no way she would know how many orgasms in this position, it was like a continual rave - he roared his conclusion, perfectly timed with a colossal rip of thunder close to their vicinity.
He removed himself nearly immediately from her, tidying himself away and fastening his jeans as Elle took long, deep breaths, still leaning over the lounger. He bent down, pulling up her undies and jeans as he rose, then turning her, collecting her lips for a long sensuous kiss as she fastened her own jeans and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"God, that was good. I loved the depth, the depth was amazing, but I missed your lips. It felt wrong not being able to kiss you properly, but loved it when you begged me for more."
"I... agree." Elle panted, not struggling to find the right words, but struggling for words at all. After a moment she said "I missed kissing you also, it is such an important part of our love making. It's surprising how agony and ecstasy are such close and easy bedfellows."
"If they are in bed together, which am I?"
"Sherlock, you are both. You are cause and effect, Yin and Yang, agony and ecstasy. You have returned to your family home and become a beast. It is as though you never believed this was ever going to happen." Sherlock returned the sponge cushion to its own chair and the pair of them sat on their silent partner, watching the storm, lying in each other's arms.
"I didn't. [He stroked hair from her face.] In all the times I have visited, bringing a girl with me would have been the furthest thing possible from my mind. It was never going to happen so I never even thought or considered it. Now I am here with you and you have electrified me yet again."
The storm finally began to rumble away and, although the amount of water falling was still immense, it became gentle and changed from the double-pedalling bass drum cacophony of the last hour or so to a fast-tapping tip-toed pitter-patter. The lovers stroked and kissed one another until eventually falling asleep to the lullaby of the softer rhythm of the falling rain.
- * -
"Elle? Sherlock? Are you in here?" Mary had come down from the house with a huge umbrella, borrowed from Debbie's golf-bag, to see where the others were. It was still raining but the storm had passed. They stirred as she entered the summer-house. The lovers climbed off the lounger, Sherlock unconsciously stroking its wood as though in thanks, then took the umbrella from Mary and both girls moved close against him as he set the pace back to the house, sheltering them all.
"Thank goodness you made it to the summer-house. I cannot remember seeing rain like that here for a long time. Were you ok in there? It can get a bit steamy, being timber." Elle realised where Sherlock got his fast-speaking from after this spill from his father.
"Fine Dad, thanks. We stood under the awning for a while watching the storm, then settled on to a lounger with the doors open once we knew it was set for the duration. We had a storm of similar ferocity in the City about a week ago. That was overnight though, the humidity in London was even worse."
"Would you like a drink, you two? We have all had something nice and cold whilst you have been stuck out there, but I could make coffee or tea if you would prefer?"
"Something cold would be lovely Mum, thanks. Could I have a lager please? Elle?"
"Just some icy water for me please. Thank you."
Drinks were consumed gradually as they sat in the lounge, watching in disbelief as a fine drizzle finally gave way to hazy sunshine and patches of milky-blue sky. All the windows in the house had been thrown wide open to let as much cool air in and hot air out. A light breeze invaded the lounge space to the utmost pleasure of all in there.
A light dinner with wine and a long conversation in the lounge and it was soon closing in on midnight as the group dwindled in size as they gradually made their way to bed. Sherlock was the last to leave anyone downstairs, with his Dad draining the remnants of a glass of Scotch before heading for bed himself. Elle was sat on the bed as Sherlock entered his room. She wore her robe but no pretence tonight like last night with pyjamas.
"Am I all right to go for a shower next door? Is there anyone else likely to be needing the bathroom now?"
"No. Mum and Dad have a full bathroom en suite, and the spare room where John and Mary are has an en suite shower and loo. That bathroom is mine and Mycroft's so with him out the house again, it is all ours."
"I do not understand the bathroom arrangements in this house."
"Although the bedroom in the other wing next to my parents' had its own facilities neither Mycroft nor I wanted it because it was smaller. If either of us had taken it, the other would have had both a larger bedroom and bathroom; it was stalemate, so we shared whenever we were both home. It all seems ridiculously petty now, but as young boys and men it was important. Neither of us would give the other an inch. It's surprising we like one another at all."
"Yet you obviously do. It may surprise you, but I like Mycroft too. I will go and shower. See you shortly."
"Would you like company?"
"Of course, but I just didn't think we..."
"Well. I think we should. We may have to watch our volume level again, without an accompanying storm, [he grinned] but I think we can get away with a bit of naughtiness. I want to make love to you so why not in a new 'old favourite place'?"
"OK." Sherlock emptied his bladder and brushed his teeth whilst Elle, who had done those before he came upstairs, stepped into the shower and soaked and shampooed her hair. As she added conditioner, twisting her hair and clipping it up, Sherlock joined her, rinsing his body and shampooing his curls. As she stood, refreshing her physique under the cooling water, she released a soft moan which caught the attention of her lover. He looked for just cause and noticed a milky residue leaving her loins, running down her leg.
"Is that all from me?"
"Mainly. Some of it will be mine." The augmented goo shimmered on her pearlescent skin. Sherlock was transfixed. He dropped to his knees and lapped up the fluid escaping her, rising to give her a secondary taste as he pressed his lips upon hers.
"We taste good together" he stated, almost analytically, flicking a brow. She nodded in agreement as their lips reconnected for kisses.
"How would you like a new memory of here?" she whispered as her eyes flicked momentarily from his eyes to his groin. He smiled then closed his eyes and leaned against the cubicle wall as her mouth engulfed his soft manhood and she sucked longingly.
The pleasure removed any knowledge of time from his head so he was unsure how long she had been sucking him before he became aware of the muscles at the top of his thighs starting to quiver. His cock had filled with blood and become erect and hard, but she was not relinquishing her hold on him. She moaned subconsciously, his mind racing to what Mycroft would say if he knew what they were doing in their shower, while she sucked and pulled and teased and caressed him with her mouth, stimulating him into a sexual stupor. "You are way too good at this" he groaned, enjoying the sensation he was receiving far too much to stop her. As her bottom lip grazed up his length and she collared his glans fully, licking him constantly, she felt a surge in him and released him from the confines of her mouth. There was nothing he could do to stop it: he ejaculated on her breasts and torso as she angled him as she started to stand up.
With a look of ultimate delight she pouted, rubbed his release into her skin then rinsed her body without taking her eyes off him, licking her lips, eventually unclipping her hair and rinsing away the conditioner. Fiercely he pushed her against the wall then himself inside her, still hard. His mouth opened and a look that confirmed his supremacy finally pierced her eyes from his. He lifted her mouth to his, kissed her deeply as he thrusted his hips forward and fucked her as hard and fast as he could. She was moaning at his brutality, whimpering, his hand gripped her throat and he rammed her harder than ever. He came again, this time inside her. She too hit orgasm, wrapping one leg high over his hip holding him closer. How could she want more of him?
They pulled apart and rinsed down, neither speaking, Sherlock conditioned and rinsed his hair as Elle left the cubicle and started to dry. She towelled her hair, combed it through with her fingers then made two cane plaits, capturing all her hair, banding the ends together. Towels hanging on the back of the door to dry, she left the bathroom and went back into his bedroom, where she moisturised her face then body before lying on the bed, still hot, naked, the top sheet draped over her hiding very little. He went into the bedroom, still drying his hair on a pale lavender-coloured hand towel, not knowing whether to vent his annoyance at her making him come on her, or apologising for being so monstrous afterwards, but as he looked at her lying there, and she smiled so lovingly at him, all thoughts of anger or apology left him and he placed himself on the bed beside her, stroking her breasts and caressing her lips with kisses, not words.
"Touché" she finally said as she ran her fingers through his damp hair. "I love you." He still had no words. He kissed her as gently as possible, stroking his hand down her arm and up her body, over her breast, which he kissed before returning to her lips. "Make love to me" she whispered softly caressing him.
"What?" he said louder than he had wanted.
"I want you to make love to me."
"But we have just..."
"Yes, but that was not love, that was sex. Now I want your love Sherlock, to know you are no longer angry with me, want to hurt me or need to take revenge on me or..." His lips engaged hers again. She had read his every move, motive and thought.
"I love you too." His right hand glided down her body sensually stimulating her skin as it traversed to her pubic bone. He touched her clitoris. It was so swollen. He did not need to touch her internally to see if she was going to be receptive, but wanted to do it for his and her pleasure. Sliding his middle finger inside her she sighed softly, closing her eyes and arching her pelvis towards him. A slight withdrawal then a return, with his index finger in tandem, his violinist's skills and anatomy knowledge perfectly demonstrated. Now she moaned, her eyes opening wider, her mouth breaking into a sensual smile, encouraging his playing.
Her hand moved down his body and her fingers found his cock, by now semi-erect again. Rubbing his glans through the foreskin with just her thumb and middle finger her left hand began to steadily stimulate him. He rolled to be flat on his back encouraging her to lean with him, his fingers still inside her. Slowly but erotically she began to execute a proper hand job. She would have loved to have sucked him again, but that would mean moving further down the bed and disturbing his antics within her and there was no way she was doing that. Mutual masturbation, stimulating kisses and lots of heavy breathing: an intoxicating combination. "Release me" she eventually murmured and he withdrew his fingers, licking them clean, tasting her. She still had hold of him as she moved her body over his, aligned him, and slid herself down on him, his hands found her bum cheeks, pushing her down as he pushed himself upwards from beneath.
Sighing and re-finding one another's lips they kissed and stroked and cuddled and caressed, both finding their breathing being reduced to soft light gasps. How could the same two bodies find themselves in the same physical predicament, him inside her, yet feel so totally different to what had transpired in the shower less than an hour earlier? Slowly she began to rise and fall on him following his body's lead as she felt him become more and more stimulated to her touch.
More kisses shared. Their eyes opened to find the other's pair. Again she smiled that soft elegant smile, but there were tears in her eyes. "Would you like us to roll over?" was her question.
"Yes." Gently he rolled them both, entering his tongue deep into her open mouth as he started to take the control of the rise and fall, she moaning, again running her fingers through his hair. His moves remained long and sensual, reacting to her every whim, nothing too forced, all moves calculated and planned for the ultimate sensitivity of both of them. Some time later he realised he was yet again heading towards orgasm, so he gradually moved faster and deeper. He let it happen, unconditionally giving his body to her, her tightly wrapping her legs around him, her own muscles spasming in conjunction with his inexorable finale. As the last of his seed spurted away from him their bodies separated. He passed her the damp towel he had used earlier for his hair and she wiped her body over, cooling and de-sweating. He then did the same, tossing the towel into the corner of the room out of sight, out of mind for the night.
"How does that happen?" he queried, not knowing if she had an answer. Maybe the question was rhetorical.
"How does what happen?"
"We have two sets of sexual organs between us."
"I have noticed" she teased, looking at him coquettishly.
"How can one time be so brutal and the next be so loving? It is the same male and female bodies together. It does not make sense."
"Yes, it does, when you realise the main organ we are stimulating is the brain. It's what is in your mind. The first session was all about revenge for you. You wanted to take me, to control me, to hurt me even, therefore you threw all the power within you to exert your control and strength over me. The second time was more about demonstrating love; how much you love to touch me, love me to touch you, love to kiss me, love to hold me. The sex bit of that was secondary to the emotive side, where the sex was all encompassing in the first; all your attention was on how deep, hard and physically you could take me."
"When you put it like that, making it so clean cut that it had been a conscious decision to hurt you, it makes me... I feel awful. I am so sorry."
"I'm not. It was mainly my fault and I deserved it."
"How can you say that?"
"I took you in my mouth hoping to stimulate you to a point where I would release you, we would make love and enjoy rinsing one another down, but I felt such an erotic hunger within myself. I could have, and should have, kept you within my mouth once I decided I was taking you to orgasm, but I wanted you to come all over me; partly for the feel of it, but mainly because I knew what reaction I would get from you, and I wanted you hard and mean."
"I have always said I'd never mean to hurt you, refusing before when you have asked me to, but I wanted to hurt you Elle. I wanted to make you cry."
"I did cry."
"When? How did I miss it?"
"You probably did not look for it at the right time. My tears, were when you made love to me, demonstrating your love. Pain of that kind does not make me cry, but knowing how much you love me Sherlock, knowing you wanted nothing more than to make amends and please me, that made me cry."
"I will never act like that with you again, I promise."
"And I dismiss that promise."
"What? Why?"
"Because you cannot guarantee you can keep it, and I may not want you to. However, if you want to promise you will always love me, that promise I will take."
"I promise I will always love you."
"Thank you, and I promise to always love you." She kissed his lips so softly, slipped slightly down the bed, rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Sherlock reached for the light switch and plunged them and the room into darkness, listening to the heartbeat of his lover, draping a caring and protecting arm around her, tears in his own eyes.
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