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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
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"You ought to have asked Sherlock if he wanted anything bringing when we go" said Mary. "Will he be cooking? Did you not say Mrs Hudson had gone to spend Easter to be near her brother who's in hospital in Kent? Poor Sherlock, he was obviously going to be alone. It will be great for you both to spend some non-work time together again."
"I don't know if he's cooking Mary. He obviously has something planned. Perhaps he will have ordered something in. I will text him though, in case he needs anything."
J: Do u want us 2 bring anything when we come over? JW
S: Pls pick up 6 bags sweet oranges. Nothing else, thanks SH
"Six bags of oranges - what the hell does he want all those for? A sticky twist on Cleopatra's milk bath?"
"Don't know John, but if it is a mistake it will be funny. Better take them then at least you can show him his own text if it is wrong. I think we should take some chocolates and Champagne too, as it is Easter. I wonder what we will be having for dinner?"
Moments prior to 7pm John and Mary arrived at Baker Street via taxi laden with oranges and weekend bags. John had still got his own key to 221B but as he no longer lived there was reluctant to let himself in. He rapped on the door and Sherlock's feet were heard as he skipped down the stairs.
"Hi John, hi Mary, come on up." The Watsons climbed the stairs behind him to a beautiful smell of fresh cooking. "Happy Easter. Bring those oranges into the kitchen will you? I will squeeze some later. Would either of you like a glass of wine? Shiraz or Merlot? Oh, thank you." The two good friends shook hands in the kitchen and the incomer had passed over the Champagne gift.
Mary kissed Sherlock on the cheek and went into the lounge to drop her handbag beside John's usual chair and put the gift of chocolates on a table. The bags of the guests were in the hall waiting to be taken upstairs later.
"Merlot for me please Sherlock. Mary? Merlot?" Mary nodded in the accedence. "Both Merlot thanks. What is for dinner? It smells delicious."
"Spatchcock chicken with new potatoes, spring vegetables and a red wine sauce" replied an unfamiliar female voice.
"John, Mary" Sherlock smiled, "I would like you both to meet Elle Jensen. Elle, these are my best friends, Dr John and Mary Watson."
"Hello John. Pleased to meet you, Sherlock has told me so much about you. Love your blog. Hello Mary, lovely to meet you too at last." Elle had shaken their hands in turn. "Hope you both are hungry. I think we went a little OTT with the vegetables."
Sherlock rejoined the group having walked over to the kitchen counter to pour four glasses of Merlot. John glowered at him but half smiled exasperatedly having realised although Shiraz had been offered as an alternative, no bottle was open on the top with the Merlot to breathe.
The reason for John's initial glowering however became self-evident. "Pleased to meet you too Elle." He looked quizzically at her then flashed his eyes in Sherlock's direction. "Unfortunately my best friend has not told me a thing about you."
"Elle was a client of mine a month or so back when you were on doctor duty. We really hit it off over the period of the investigation and have been spending some time together." There was nearly an apology in Sherlock's voice as he regaled the detail whilst placing the filled wine glasses on the table at four settings John had overlooked.
"Please sit and we'll eat", Elle said as she unfurled aluminium foil off the platter containing a quartered spatchcock chicken. A bowl of steaming hot minted new potatoes arrived next, then a tureen containing the spring vegetables, and finally a gravy boat of red wine sauce.
The four each served themselves, clinked glasses and ate heartily. Everything was cooked to perfection and the conversation drifted away from food to work, Mrs Hudson, London, etc.
"There is a dessert" said Sherlock. "I even helped make it!" he added proudly.
"Of sorts" responded Elle half-laughing. "It is only a lemon sorbet to clear the palate for coffee and chocolate mints later. There's cheese if you would prefer, or we could make something else if anyone is still hungry." Three words of dissent were said at once with only John making any further comment.
"No, thank you. A bit of sorbet will be more than enough. The chicken was lovely."
"Go over to the lounge and I will bring them through."
"I will help you clear" offered Mary.
"Thank you."
The girls in the kitchen, guys in the lounge, lots of chatter started as the girls began to learn more about each other and John interrogated Sherlock for not at least hinting there was a lady in his life.
"Elle is a very unusual name. Very pretty too. Is it short for anything?"
"Yes" replied Elle to Mary as they cleared the table between them, loaded the dishwasher and Elle removed the sorbet from the freezer to soften so it could be served into the four small glass bowls she retrieved from a cupboard. "My name is actually Lavinia, but having gone through school being called 'Lav', which you understand I absolutely hated with a passion, I started introducing myself as Elle."
"Very unusual" Mary reiterated. "Why not shorten your name to Vinnie or something like that?"
"I guess because that could be shortened again. A couple of highly attention-seeking boys at college used to call me Vin so I rapidly went off that as well. Also my best friend from school and college is called Vivienne, Vin and Viv, so close, we were always getting caught out."
"Will you be staying all weekend? Do you live locally?"
"I have a town house in Kew which I share with a couple of girl friends, but I intend to stay here throughout Easter; they will be coming and going with their boyfriends over the Easter weekend."
Finally the question Mary had wanted to ask from first meeting Elle about an hour and a half earlier sprang to her lips. "Where will you be sleeping?"
"With Sherlock of course" she said without a flicker of embarrassment, then an explanation. "The first night I stayed here I slept in John's old room, but ever since, whenever I stay we sleep together."
"Sorry, knowing Sherlock as I do I have to ask, are you lovers?"
"Yes. Of course! I have never known such chemistry with someone before and we enjoy each other's company as well as the sex side of things. He really is quite extraordinary." Elle smiled then looked a little awkward. Had she said too much to a woman she hardly knew? Perhaps Sherlock would be annoyed if he knew what she had said, but making love with Sherlock was so easy to her she found it difficult to understand the sheer surprise.
The sorbet had softened enough to scoop neatly now, so that was what Elle did into four bowls. In the meantime whilst talking to Mary she had put the filter coffee machine on, recounting in her head the shared pyjamas meeting in the morning for coffee and toast, and the only night she stayed here without making love with Sherlock. 'I wonder whether he will want to make love tonight, with guests in the house?' Elle silently thought as she collected the last two sorbets and followed Mary into the lounge wearing a slightly expectant smile on her face.
"What? Thank you. What are you thinking about?" enquired Sherlock noticing the smile and the glint in her eyes as she passed him his sorbet and spoon.
"Oh, nothing in particular." Just a little white lie. She was sure she would tell him later.
Twenty-plus minutes passed whilst they all enjoyed the fresh sorbet then Elle and Sherlock rose out of the settee together to take the bowls away and go and pour the coffee. As soon as they left the lounge John said to his wife, "Has she told you they are sleeping together?"
"Yes. Elle said they were. Did you not notice anything that might have made you think he was involved with someone? Look, he can't keep his hands off her." They both watched as Sherlock stood behind Elle, took her tightly in his arms and kissed her neck whilst she passed him some mugs out of a cupboard, turned and returned his embrace, including a fiery kiss.
"No, nothing. Some Consulting Detective's consultant I am! He said absolutely nothing, not even today when making plans for tonight. For over a month, he said. Perhaps he did not want to jeopardise the relationship before he knew how or where it was going?"
"Maybe. Here they come with coffee, Sssh" whispered Mary. "Coffee, umm, thank you."
After coffee and chocolate mints Sherlock spread himself out a little more on the settee whilst Elle happily sat on the floor leaning against the same sofa. He would occasionally unconsciously touch her hair, or just twist a finger through its soft curls. John and Mary squished together in what had become John's chair, happy to be close to each other and happy to be voyeurs of the new couple.
Light-hearted, jovial conversation ensued. It was obvious to Sherlock the Watsons both liked Elle, and she them. Sherlock felt it had been a good Friday! It was a generous two hours plus into Saturday however when the friends agreed on a 10am breakfast, and separated to retire.
In their room Sherlock and Elle were soon in bed. Resting her head on his chest, listening to the strong rhythm of his heart, Elle could feel the contented nature of her beau. Turning her face slightly she kissed his throat gently, once, twice but before her lips could return for a third, Sherlock had changed their position so their lips would meet. With his hand in her hair he kissed her so passionately it felt as though his soul could transfer between them. As their lips separated her eyes opened to see such desire in the pair they reflected. Nightwear was loosened and peeled away in the process of touches becoming caresses, breaths becoming gasps, and two becoming one.
The sex act had begun, but this was so much more: this was true love making. No movement too strong, no reaction too extreme, her 'animalistic trojan' as he referred to himself once so early in their sex life together was sensitive, endearing and tamed. They changed position so she was lying on him but the passion remained the same: she controlling the movement below their waists, sliding up and down his length, but the pivotal roles of this was the kissing, the stroking, the eye contact and the smiles between the lovers. Time passed unnoticed, they enjoying every second together. Highly sensitised from the moment he was within her, her vaginal walls were concertinaing around him, orgasmically pulsating as she looked to see his facial expression change from love to ecstasy. She smiled widely.
"There it is again" he panted. "That same glint and smile you had earlier when you came in from the kitchen with Mary. What is it? What are you thinking?"
"Then I was wondering whether you would want to make love tonight, with guests in the house. This one is because now I know the answer." She sighed, smiled again and snuggled up to him.
With her head on his shoulder they fell asleep with their bodies entwined, awaking to a 9:15 alarm lying in spoon formation, she curled behind him, her face nestled against his back. Sherlock turned off the alarm, sat up, turned and kissed his lady, then rose from the bed, throwing on his robe and headed into the bathroom. She heard the shower. Tempted to join him she remained resolutely in bed until he appeared drying his face and hair back in the bedroom itself.
"Morning."
"Morning" she replied and kissed him as their paths crossed and she headed for the shower, returning moments later with her dry hair pulled up in a roll and held with a bulldog hair-clip, wearing a slightly damp black satin robe, her erect nipples delineated by the material, towel drying her face. Sherlock was already dressed, but his eyes fell to her breasts. He beckoned her over to him, untied the robe's belt and buried his face in her breasts, kissing them, smelling them, stroking his cheek on her flesh.
As his tongue caressed her skin, tasting the last water droplets off her form, his mouth found a nipple and he kissed it very delicately. His hand slipped around her waist inside her robe and held a bottom cheek as a toilet flush brought him back to his senses, so he winked, left the room and went into the kitchen and put the coffee on to burble away. Further movement could be heard from the other bedroom above so he knew John, Mary or both were awake. Elle, now dressed, joined him in the kitchen.
"Umm, coffee" she said. "Best smell in the world, bar one possibly..." She turned to look to Sherlock with a frying pan in her hand. "Bacon?"
"Yes please."
The two best smells in the world must have been a good incentive to get up for the Watsons as both John and Mary appeared moments after the rashers had hit the pan. Bacon sandwiches all round, and a couple of cups of coffee each were ingested as the group planned a walk locally on the cool but sunny Easter Saturday morning.
Into Regent's Park the two pairs wandered, sometimes in a row of four where the paths were accommodating, otherwise in twos: the two girls together behind the two friends, or Sherlock and Elle ahead of John and Mary.
They had a light lunch over at a restaurant in the centre of the Park then continued their route. Mid afternoon changed to early evening and a clear sunny sky was quite suddenly dark and threatening. A few spits of rain blowing on a strengthening breeze turned quickly into a torrent, mixed with hail and more of that wickedly biting wind. With his right arm wrapped around Elle's shoulders Sherlock led a good pace back towards Baker Street. They had all worn warm clothes but none had expected such a downpour, so there was nothing vaguely waterproof between them.
"You can always rely on the British weather to be unreliable" was John's witty quip as they stood just behind 221B's black door dripping wet. All four of them laughed, then Mary realised how cold she was. Coats off revealed just how wet they actually all were too. The coats were sodden and, more concernedly, so were their trousers. Mary seemed wettest of all. "Bloody rain" smarted John.
"Come on everyone, upstairs", said Sherlock. "I will get the fire burning. John?"
"I'll go and get some dry towels. Still in the airing cupboard?" Sherlock nodded in assent. John charged ahead up the stairs.
"Elle?" A question from her lover to see what she could do to aid the situation. The two girls and Sherlock climbed the stairs and headed into the lounge.
"I'll make us something hot. Coffee? What else does anyone fancy?" At this point John came into the lounge with four clean towels, handing them out.
"How about pancakes?" he asked. "That is what all those oranges are for?"
"No, we were going to make Bucks Fizz - Sherlock has Champagne in the 'fridge."
"Sounds good to me. How about pancakes and Bucks Fizz?"
"You are pancake mad" interjected Mary. "Does sound a good idea though. Original if nothing else." With John's smile and a nod from Sherlock Elle found a bowl, plain flour, milk, eggs and salt and started making a batter, melting some butter in a small frying pan.
The fire burning bright Sherlock towel dried his hair, walking across to the kitchen where Elle was in full swing tossing pancakes. John joined them saying "Nice wrist action!" trying to stifle a grin when his friend caught his eye, then winked. Sherlock moved Elle's damp locks to one side and kissed the nape of her neck, towelling under her collar then blotting residual rain out of her hair.
"Oh shit!" came an exclamation from the lounge. Mary walked in. "I brought different jumpers and underwear for the weekend, but only these jeans. They are soaked." She looked pleadingly at the rest of the group as if some obvious get-out from this silly situation would spring to one of them.
"I only have this pair of jeans with me too. We could put our nightwear on I guess, then put the jeans to dry in the airing cupboard for morning."
"It's only just 8 o'clock!"
"I am not suggesting going to bed yet, but dry pyjamas and dressing gowns would be far warmer and more comfortable, and better than sitting around in wet clothes."
"You're right, of course. I'll go up and get out of these damn wet things whilst I still can."
"I have just got a couple more pancakes to make then I will change too. Sherlock, would you squeeze plenty of oranges for us? Do three bags worth, that should be enough for pancakes and Bucks Fizz." John liked the fact Elle was so quick to support Mary so she did not feel conscious or uncomfortable at the prospect of sitting about in nightwear alone.
"Of course. I'll get all the ice out and put it in the bucket to keep the Champagne cold."
"OK but keep about half a dozen of the cubes back and put them in a clean freezer bag for me."
"What is that for Elle?" asked John who started cutting oranges in half for Sherlock to squeeze.
"For the orange juice. It has the effect of keeping the juice ice cold like the Champagne, without diluting it." When the guys both looked at her mystified she shrugged and just said "An old family trick" returning to the art of making pancakes.
With all the pancakes made and in the oven, pre-rolled and keeping warm, Elle went into Sherlock's bedroom. A short time after Mary reappeared downstairs in pale baby blue pyjamas, a dark pink dressing gown and her slippers.
"I need to rinse off before eating - my hands are all sticky" Sherlock said to the room in general, having finished squeezing the oranges, transferring the juice into a large jug and adding the sealed ice bag to the jug also. "I guess I might as well join you and get changed. Are you going to change as well John?"
"Yes, why not. I know, let's have a pyjama party!"
"Good idea" said Mary. "Bring the pillows off the beds will you boys, when you come back."
Elle returned moments after the guys had retreated to rinse then change. "Did I hear they are both changing too?"
"Might as well be comfortable, all of us. John has suggested a pyjama party."
Elle went over to a table, picked up an iPod there and chose an instrumental selection. Setting the sound levels down low she placed it in a speaker cradle and soft background music permeated the open-plan rooms.
The pillows were thrown on to one of the chairs in the lounge area as the friends sat around the table in their night clothes eating and drinking. Over an hour later, the pancakes eaten and the sticky plates loaded in the dishwasher out the way, they were still there, talking, laughing, the four of them enjoying the easy-going company. They all went into the lounge with the orange jug and bubbly in its ice bucket. The cushions off the settee and chairs were all placed on the floor, along with the pillows from the bedrooms, near the fire, now the only light source in the room.
"This reminds me of cold boarding school nights in dorms" said Elle reflectively as they all sat down on the floor and spread themselves out among the cushions, pulling over a couple of throws off the chairs. "As kids we used to gather in groups like this and tell ghost stories. Great days... No wonder we were so tired next day in class though: we spent half the night telling stories and the rest too frightened to sleep." She draped one of the throws around her shoulders.
"We could do something similar now" Mary said. "Not ghost stories, but how about playing 'Truth'?"
"What's that, love?" questioned John.
"Where you ask someone a question and they have to answer truthfully. It is like 'Truth or Dare' but I think we are all a little too wise/old/cynical/intelligent to bother with the Dare aspect."
"What boundaries would we set?" asked John again, intrigued.
"None" said Sherlock. "We are all friends, let's see how it unfolds."
"I think you have just set yourself up, Sherlock" highlighted John. "Perhaps it was the fizz talking!"
"I'll start" said Mary. "Elle, here is a silly one for you to set the ball rolling: are the buttons on your pyjamas comfortable to sleep on?" Mary giggled.
Elle looked down. She was wearing a set of deep green silk pyjamas with five matching silk covered buttons about the size of two pound coins: her now dry black satin robe tied loosely over the top. "I don't know" came the reply. Quizzical expressions all round, she continued. "I have not had them long - before I met Sherlock before you ask, but they were brand new when I brought them here to wear and, to be truthful as this game suggests, I have never slept in it." She smiled to the room then glanced at Sherlock licking the back of her front teeth provocatively. "It usually finishes up being taken off, or undone at the very least." With those last words she gave Sherlock one of his own 'clicks and winks'. They all laughed.
"Interesting start" said Sherlock, eyebrow raised. "John, what do you like most about being married?"
"Not having to live with you, thanks for putting me on the spot, Friend!... Oh, I don't know. The companionship, the knowing someone is always there for you; knowing you can be with someone without talking and they understand; sharing love with someone; having your best friend to come home to and talk to if you have had a shitty or crazy day." Mary leaned across to John and kissed him softly on the cheek. That had obviously been a good answer.
"You had most of that living with me" responded Sherlock.
"Yes, but there are some extra unlisted benefits with Mary", John added with a cheeky smile.
Mary flushed slightly, then proceeded to wrap herself in the second throw to keep warm, enticing John to come and join her. Leaning up against Mary, his arm around his wife's back John asked "Sherlock, what contraceptive do you and Elle use?"
"We don't." Sherlock had said this so blasé without even considering the reaction it may cause.
"What? Are you trying for..."
"We are not trying for anything" interrupted Elle. "I had an ovarian cyst removed last year by laparotomy. Unfortunately the op finished up as a full hysterectomy. I am on HRT tablets and, one unexpected side effect, as horny as hell!"
"HRT can take women to either of the extremes" explained John wearing his doctor's head. "I have dealt with both types in GP Surgery. I do not know which is worse for the woman, to have no libido, or an uncontrollable one."
"I know which I prefer" quipped Sherlock openly.
"For that, Sherlock" demanded John, "what things do you like most about Elle?" There was a collective "ooo" from all quarters, including the questioned man.
Sherlock paused to consider his answer carefully, he unconsciously steepled his fingers under his chin and smiled. "I like the sensitivity of her touch, the delicacy of her kiss, the warmth her body inspires through mine, the smell and feel of her hair and her openness to question. She makes me like myself, just by being with me. I like the fact I can reveal my deductive reasonings to her, or just voice them out loud, without her being totally bored. She does not complain when I torture my violin; though in fairness I have not played it much recently - too busy. She's phen... she has...". He turned his head directly towards her. "You have lovely breasts. I could be lost when I am near them, and never want to be found... now I have said too much. Sorry." His voice trailed off and his eyes dropped.
"No" replied Elle, her own voice slightly crackly as her mouth had dried listening to him. "No, not at all." She took a long slow breath then a deep draught of Bucks Fizz and proceeded to make another one, holding the bubbly bottle aloft as to ask if anyone else was ready for more. Three other glasses came her way. Whilst her eyes were averted to the task of pouring drinks, she asked a question, placing empty Champagne bottle number three upside down in the ice.
"Mary and John, one answer each: what do you like least about one another?" She smiled waiting to see if either of the married couple would wriggle out of this game.
"I wish John was a more considerate lover" blurted Mary unexpectedly.
"What?" exclaimed John.
"You are wonderful, John, even a great lover, but I wish you were not usually hell-bent on breaking some kind of speed record. You are passionate and can be gentle, very loving too, but it is like you have a train to catch or somewhere to be and, by the time you reach orgasm, I am, well, not always quite there."
"We could resolve that", said Elle slowly in a very even voice, "here, tonight." Sherlock glanced at her.
"We could?" questioned Mary very intrigued.
"Wait. What? I mean, I need to answer too, don't I?" said John quietly. Mary nodded.
"I wish Mary was less awkward, no, awkward is the wrong word, was... was more skilled, adept... at giving blow jobs!" The last four words had dashed out of his mouth so fast it sounded like one.
"We can definitely resolve that one!" repeated Elle, more lightly this time and wearing a huge grin.
"How?" asked John. "Are you queen of blow jobs or something?"
"Ooo, yeah" coughed Sherlock. They all laughed. So much for not playing the 'Dare' card; this game had taken an erotic twist right from the beginning.
Elle was very surprised Sherlock had said anything, but now he had... "I half expected that to be in your answer about me!" He smiled at her, thinking how very nearly it had been, then looked away.
Mary looked at Elle with all seriousness now. "How, how could you slow John down? Would you need to make love to him?"
"No! NO! I just thought... if you and John, and Sherlock and I... here, near to each other, John would slow down because he would automatically match Sherlock's rhythm."
"How do you know I would not change to match John?"
"Because for the most part I would have some input into the control of you!"
"Perhaps we should try and sort out the blow job one first?" queried Mary wary of where this whole conversation was leading. Elle sighed.
"Very personal question John" Elle asked him very softly and honestly. "On a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you at this moment?"
After a short pause to think he replied "About an eight."
"And a half" added Sherlock mischievously.
"See, if we tried to resolve that first he, [she glanced at Sherlock] they would go off like fire crackers."
"I would" agreed John. Sherlock nodded.
"You need him calm at the start to reap the benefit, both of you, from a damn good blow job." Sherlock nodded again, a Cheshire Cat-style grin now plastered across his far from innocent face.
After a deep breath John said "So how do you suggest we resolve the fast shag syndrome then?"
Elle picked up the corner of the throw around her shoulders. "Using these to keep at least the smallest modicum of modesty, we pair up next to each other, now, here."
"Are you seriously suggesting what I think you are?" Sherlock questioned.
"Yes. How many people watch porn for the quality of script and landscape scenery?"
"None, I guess" mumbled Sherlock. "Ask John, he is more expert than I am I recall." The two men exchanged looks.
"People watch to get off on it. The biggest turn on to the majority of humans is seeing other humans 'at it'. So the thought alone, of others in close proximity... We will not be watching them, they will not be watching us. We will be too busy with ourselves, but there should naturally be a certain amount of synchronicity about it."
"I said you shouldn't have agreed to no boundaries" said John to Sherlock smugly. "I'm up for it."
"I am sure you could have expressed that better, but we know what you mean" replied Mary, John's flushing noticeable even in just firelight when he considered what he had just said.
"Oh, why not!" said Sherlock, downing the last of his Bucks Fizz. "Better get on with it before any of us really think about this."
"We'll keep it simple, no gymnastics. Mary and I will stay on our backs."
"Missionaries all round then. I'm almost a nine now, is this still going to work?"
"Yes John" both Mary and Elle chorused together as they each hunkered down within the folds of their respective throws and awaited their man.
"Are we going to talk?" John asked, not seriously knowing whether yes or no would be worse.
"To your partner, yes. You cannot expect barked instructions. Go with the flow. Just remember - it is not a race, quite the opposite in fact. Relax. Enjoy it."
"Relax?!" exclaimed John.
"So much for a good night in with friends" Sherlock observed as he curled up to Elle and started kissing her neck and stroking her breasts, her big-buttoned pyjama shirt open once more. Subtle shifts of bodies confirmed the removal of layers under both throws.
"I'm there already" Elle whispered half reassuringly, then kissing his ear. "You don't need to turn me on believe me, I nearly orgasmed just listening to you talking about me!"
A gentle hand sliding down her stomach, his finger found her soft and receptive as he followed the trace with his length. Tipping her pelvis by placing one hand under her bum cheeks, he pushed himself into her, she releasing the first audible gasp of the night.
Both Elle and Sherlock were aware of odd noises coming from within the room, but Elle had been right. They were so into each other by now the fact someone else was there was, at this moment at least, irrelevant to what they were doing.
This was more than intensely pleasurable, this was sublime. Elle wrapped her legs around Sherlock's hips so she could use her pelvis and internal muscles to effect his movement. He was slow, controlled, purposeful, yet there was nothing gentle about it. With every ecstatic thrust, exaggerated as the platform was solid floor, he pushed all of himself deeply inside her. She was groaning extensively at each extreme position. Over ten minutes later their rhythm had started hotting up.
"I guess one of the best things you would say about yourself is that you have multiple orgasms all the time." This whisper was from Sherlock.
"I never used to, Sherlock. No lover has ever got me even close to multiple orgasms before. Now I could send myself into rapture just thinking about you being near me, never mind actually touching you."
Nearly every word of the last part of her sentence was punctuated with a little gasp. Her body was pulsating and constricting now from head to toe. Conversation of any sort was no longer an option. Elle was again in total orgasm and no amount of interrogation would get another word out of her, she was barely getting enough breath to sustain life. Sherlock threw all caution to the wind and, over half an hour after these exploits had started, gave her his everything.
Again she had been right, thought Sherlock. Hell, she was nearly always right, more insufferable than even he is. John and Sherlock had timed their orgasms naturally to literally within seconds of one other, each exclaiming out loud, each turning to glance at the other at that moment of 'fire cracking'.
"Oh, Jesus", exclaimed John. "Do you do a marathon every time Sherlock?" The doctor sounded both tired and impressed.
"No. Sometimes it's more of a splash and dash."
"That too could have been better phrased" said Elle breathlessly "but who would seriously give a shit how you say it when you do it so well!" Sherlock clicked and winked. She kissed him deeply.
Amongst the group there was only one silent party. Hiding her face from all with her arm and the throw, Mary had said nothing. She wiped tears away discreetly with her hand then, sitting herself up ensuring she was covered she spoke, half jokingly, with a nervous giggle in her voice.
"Gosh, I don't know which of you to thank most. That was unbelievable. John, well, your contribution was obvious, and truly amazing; Sherlock setting the perfect rhythm and pace; Elle, how did you know that would happen? And just how many orgasms did you have?"
"I... I - God knows. It just gets more and more intense, I cannot always tell where one stops and the next starts, or even if they do now. It may just be one orgasm. I am not sure..."
"It's not likely to be one orgasm" stated the doctor in the room. "It's quite unusual to have that kind of height of intensity for so long though. You would be a great subject to study if I was still at junior doctor level. I wonder if anyone has ever covered it in their thesis?"
"John - not now" Mary said apologetically. "He so often slides back into type without realising it. It is good having a fully qualified doctor in the house, but he often reverts to his old self."
"Better that old self than the broken ex-soldier I met after his tour in Afghanistan" mentioned Sherlock reflectively. The two male friends smiled at one another.
Breaking the slight tension in the room Mary said "Well. Goodness knows what we'll do tomorrow" and sighed as she shrugged her shoulders.
"It already is tomorrow!" exclaimed Elle. Pulling her pyjama bottoms back on, and fastening a couple of pyjama top buttons she sidled out from within the throw and picked up the orange juice jug and Champagne bucket. Mary followed her into the kitchen carrying four empty Champagne flutes.
"Thank you for instigating such a remarkable evening."
"I didn't think I had. I suggested pyjamas rather than wet clothes but you suggested playing the 'Truth' game."
"John suggested the pyjama party, and Sherlock no boundaries. I guess we are all to blame, but thank you anyway" Mary finished.
The girls could hear the guys laughing and talking whilst collecting the throws, cushions and pillows off the floor, re-organising the room as it should be. Sherlock then placed a guard in front of the dwindling fire, turned off the music, picked up his pillows and headed for his room, the guys saying good night. John collected the other pillows, heading upstairs, leaving the two girls together. As they put the throws in the corner of the room for washing Mary said "What time do you think we should plan to get up in the morning?"
"Let's play it by ear. Have a think about what you might want to do. We could go into the City, or find another park to get soaked in, or plan to stay in, I'm sure none of us would mind what we do."
Elle added a cleaning tablet to the dishwasher once loaded and turned it on to run overnight.
"Well, that was some evening" said Sherlock as he climbed into bed after time in the bathroom. "I have not even worked out how most of that even transpired as yet."
"Collusion" replied Elle unreservedly, brushing her hair and fastening it into a low ponytail. "But Mary and I were talking about it and all colluded without even realising it so no one person should be blamed."
"I blame you" whispered Sherlock. "The answer to your first question set the tone of the whole evening. We were all tuned into sex from that moment onwards." He was kissing her throat now, unbuttoning buttons, after watching her hang her robe next to his and climb in bed beside him.
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Elle's Story