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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Elle stirred. The room was pitch black now, turning her head she tried but again could not see the clock. This time it was Mary's head that obscured her view. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light she could see Mary's eyes were also open. "Time?" she asked in a whisper.
Mary turned her head, then turned back and mouthed "8:42".
What? thought Elle in all astonishment. It was exactly twelve hours since she had woken this morning. It had been a very interesting day.
Turning gently Elle tried to reach for her robe on the floor without disturbing Sherlock.
"Where do you think you are going?" he whispered to her.
"I was going to get up and rustle up some drinks, then think about what we could have for dinner" the whisper came back.
He grabbed her shoulder forcibly and again whispered "Oh no you don't. You cannot do that to a man and not let him reap some sort of revenge". She could see his eyes twinkle malevolently in the minuscule amount of light her eyes had got used to.
"Good idea" said John aloud, moving Mary so she was on her back and he was on her far side.
Sherlock now mirrored John. He lying on his right side stroking his left hand around Elle's right shoulder, across her neck and down on to her breasts. He could not resist kissing her breasts ardently. He plucked a nipple with his teeth, moving his head away from her stretching the skin slightly before releasing. Over to the other nipple where he suckled child-like, then traced the areola with his tongue. His cheek rubbing against her breasts still, his attention transferred back to his left hand which was moving lower down her body to her navel. He found the tip of her scar and pianoed his fingers up and down it. Finally he reached her pubis, her hair, and touched her clitoris and labia.
Now completely oblivious to the two people on the other half of the bed, Sherlock slipped further down the bed, rested his head near her hip and placed his tongue on her clitoris and encircled it. His left hand was now free and he slithered his index finger within her swollen walls, feeling the muscles around it contract. He continued this torment until she started to writhe. Removing his finger, he awkwardly but effectively moved his body low between her legs and alternated his tongue's movement from around her clitoris to inside her and back, again and again. Elle's back arched violently in orgasm.
She ran her fingers through his hair. Revenge indeed she thought, her body wracked with the pleasures he was torturing her with. She was about to call his name but he second-guessed her body's request and lifted himself on to and into her. Her legs immediately wrapped around his hips but he wanted more. Pushing her legs out and over his arms they settled calves on his shoulders, the back of her thighs under his chest, bearing his weight. He tilted to the right, stretched her left leg out to the side and manipulated it so he could kiss her foot, her ankle, her calf. He pushed his weight and more into her moist, heavenly depths.
Time passed unnoticed and a sound of significance told him John was close, very close to climax. Mary was panting short, sharp breaths, her arms tight around his neck, her legs around his hips. Sherlock afforded himself the shortest glance towards them which took him immediately over the threshold himself. Surprisingly, the most vocal of the troupe usually, Elle, was totally silent.
Sherlock rolled off of Elle to rest back on his right hand side, releasing the deepest, longest sigh. There was no reason for him to stay with his body upon her. He had nothing left to keep them together. He did, however, have a grin on his face only comparable to that of a young child's when first visiting Hamley's London toy shop at Christmas. Finally Elle turned her head to Sherlock and spoke.
"You bastard. Just you wait..." she threatened laughing, still breathing extraordinarily heavily.
"It is you who will have to wait, a month probably the way I am feeling at the minute."
"It won't be that long I assure you!"
"You were so quiet. Anything wrong?"
"No, far from it. I had no breath for sound" she replied, realising but not verbalising in company she had just had the strongest orgasm of her life.
"You two ok?"
"Fine Sherlock, thanks" responded John casually. "Just another ordinary day. Christ, Elle you know way too much about all this."
"I know nothing. I am innocent!" This comment raised a derisory "Hah!" from her partner.
"You came up with this. Were you a whore in a former life?"
"No John. I am innocent, seriously. I just happen to have a very active - and erotic - imagination. I imagine or dream of what I would like to do. I don't know if some of it is even possible, or will work and give the pleasure I am hoping for, or if I will ever find a person or people to try them with, but that truthfully is the way it is."
"Do you have anymore of these dreams left?" Sherlock asked apprehensively, half hoping and half dreading the answer.
"Ooo yeah" she said, mocking Sherlock from the day before.
"Phew" exclaimed John. "I need a shower."
"We all need a shower" corrected Sherlock.
"Let's go in twos and get it over with. I'm getting hungry. It has just gone 9:30" Mary added.
"I don't mind going in twos, but I am not going with him" Elle prodded Sherlock. "I don't trust him."
"I have got nothing left for you to fear, believe me!"
"You boys go get done first. Then sort out something to eat" suggested Mary.
"I cannot get up first" said John, "I have not got my robe in here."
"You are worried someone is going to see you when you have just spent the last forty minutes blowing and shagging openly in their company?" enquired Mary.
"Well, yes. It seems strange I know."
"Here John, borrow mine." Elle threw her robe across to him. Being very similar in height the black satin sheath did the job. John acknowledged her kindness with a smile and nod.
"It looks better on her" beamed Sherlock as he climbed out of bed unashamedly, walked to his robe on the back of the bedroom door and put it on, "but then again, she looks better out of it."
"See what I mean, why I would not go with him!" The guys finally left the room and the shower was heard starting up. Elle put Sherlock's pyjama top on temporarily (the first one to come to hand) whilst she stripped and changed the bed ready for the night.
After a few minutes John tapped on the door. "Sherlock will only be a few seconds if you want to follow him into the shower."
"Thanks John." Elle and Mary made their way out the door, Elle spotting her robe hanging on the door knob, John to be heard climbing the stairs. She took off Sherlock's shirt and put it on the bed then headed into the bathroom.
Sherlock had finished, the shower was still running but he was outside it, a towel around his waist, drying off. "Do you fancy a Chinese?"
"Lovely. Going to get something delivered?"
"Yes. I will order a few dishes, then we can help ourselves. Anything you particularly fancy?"
"Yes, but I cannot have that for a month, apparently." Elle took her turn to grin.
"You are like a Chinese meal! Sated one minute, and ready for more an hour later!"
"That is a fallacy you know."
"I know. Anything?"
"Sweet and sour chicken, or Duck in orange or plum sauce. Something sweet. I have a salty taste in my mouth from earlier."
Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her as he left the bathroom and went into the bedroom to put on his pyjamas. Elle clipped her hair up and stood under the water, keeping her head dry, tittering to herself as Mary came into the bathroom.
"Gosh. This is one Easter I'm really going to remember" said Mary.
"It would be so nice if we could get out in fresh air, for a picnic or something, but look at it; it has been foul all Easter weekend."
"Do you have any further plans for us together? I dread to think but what have you got in mind next?"
"Not sure. Let's see when we feel ready, if you still want more together."
"Yes, certainly."
"All I will say is trust me, I will never suggest we go further than any of us want to. Feel free to back out of any of my lascivious suggestions."
"I am so intrigued where it will take us next."
The girls continued to talk and swapped places after Elle had finished so she could dry herself while Mary showered. Sherlock tapped on the outside of the door. "The Chinese is ordered. It will be delivered in about 25 minutes."
"OK love. I will be out in a few minutes."
"You called him 'love'", said Mary. "Do you love Sherlock?"
"You know, I don't know. We are so much in lust with one another at present I had not even really thought about it. I was fascinated by him from our very first meeting. I love the feel of him, just touches, not even sex, but that may still be lust too. Ask me again in time if the answer is not already clear."
Mary turned off the shower and climbed out, her short blonde hair still dry. Elle undid the clip from her mane and left it in the cubicle then perched on the loo to continue to talk with Mary as she dried. The girls left the bathroom about ten minutes later. Quickly slipping into pyjamas and robe Elle went straight into the kitchen and put some small bowls and ceramic spoons into the oven on a low temperature to warm, putting four pairs of chopsticks and four forks on the table as Mary went upstairs for her own nightwear, returning Elle's clothes to their owner.
Sherlock fetched and paid for the Chinese when the knock told him dinner had arrived. They all sat down to eat a combination of meat, seafood and vegetarian dishes, along with egg fried rice.
"Explain something Elle," said John whilst he put more rice into his bowl, "why did you put me on Sherlock's side of the bed this afternoon instead of Sherlock himself?"
"Because of a knife" she replied. Intrigue but confusion on all faces toward her, Elle explained. "I saw Mary cutting bread, buttering toast, cracking eggs, even stirring coffee, all with her right hand. I therefore knew she was right-handed. In order for you to get the most out of my plan, she needed to be able to give you a hand job with her best hand."
"You are using Sherlockian style deduction for sex. Weird. So you are left-handed then, like me?"
"No John, I am ambidextrous, slightly right-hand dominant, but I give better hand jobs with my left."
"God, Sherlock, she's ambidextrous. You get all the tough breaks" said John with a hint of hilarity in his voice. "What are we having later?"
"We are still eating dinner, John" said Mary slightly annoyed at her husband's lack of tact.
"I am not talking about food, Mary. I want to sample more of Elle's dreams, if they include an extra couple? There are two more days of this Easter weekend."
"I don't think I will survive another two days at this rate" stated Sherlock laughing nervously. "It seems a very long time since I actually went to bed planning to sleep!"
John obviously had something on his mind. "Have our responses been as your imagination had expected?" enquired the doctor of Elle.
"No, not really. You have reacted differently, more erotically than even I had ever hoped and thought."
"Why do you think that is?" John continued.
"As I said I'm no expert but I think it is bound up in the relationship you have with Sherlock, not me."
"My relationship? I am not screwing him!"
"No, I don't mean that. I mean the care, the respect and, yes, I will say it, the love you have for one another has enabled this foursome to work. You and Sherlock enjoyed a whole gamete of experiences together, well before Mary was on the scene, let alone me turning up less than three months ago, and you only meeting me two nights ago. Perhaps it is something of the dangerous line of your work together that makes the sparks fly off you."
"Do you think somewhere in them they want to make love to one another? I have often wondered, hearing John talking about Sherlock, how deep their relationship could or would have gone if circumstances were different, and I had not later been on the scene."
"Not sure Mary. I think John and Sherlock love each other in a different way. It is unspoken, unshared so far but understood. Had you not been on the scene, it may have been another woman with one of them, or, they may have had a dalliance into something else, potentially ruining their friendship. You are actually the linch-pin to all of this. The stability in your relationship with John has enabled their relationship to blossom even more without sexual awkwardness felt between two men who are not gay but evidently love one another."
"Are you saying you think if things had panned out differently, John and I could have potentially been lovers?"
"Pragmatically, yes. The biggest issue, Sherlock, is trust. John trusts you and you him. You have both gone that extra mile to save one another. That is a lot for any relationship to carry."
"What about in my army days? Surely that was based on the same thing?"
"Possibly John. You have to know your colleague has got your back in an army scenario, but because there are 22 or 202 of you or however many, the trust between any two individuals is diluted. You and Sherlock were each other's strengths and weaknesses. Within days of you meeting, Sherlock told me you shot a man who was trying to hurt him. I had known him nearly three weeks before I did anything remotely special for him, and all I did was shag him, good as it was", she added.
"Sherlock and your blog told me about how he had to fake his own death to prevent a sniper from killing you instead. In doing so he had to lay low for a couple of years, change his life completely, leave his beloved Baker Street, all because some nutter had decided he was an equal to mentally battle with, and because he could not beat Sherlock decided to hurt him by hurting the ones closest to him. The closest of all was you, John."
"Where does that leave you? And me for that matter?" asked Mary tentatively.
"You have a close relationship with Sherlock, and an amazing marriage and relationship with John. That has not and should not be challenged. This is so very different. It has not been built on love or lust, but trust. Your relationship with Sherlock is more akin to that of him and John than yours with John. You trust Sherlock not to get your husband killed; Sherlock trusts you to look after his best friend, but your relationship with John grew out of admiration and then probably lust before you realised you loved him."
"Like us?" queried Sherlock.
"Similar. But I think we are still probably in the 'lust' part of our relationship."
Sherlock did not respond to this comment. Perhaps he did love Elle now, but this was not the time to spout it. The empty bowls, spoons and chopsticks were put in the dishwasher. The forks returned to the drawer, unused.
"What exactly is love then? asked John.
"I don't honestly know, John. I am not sure I have ever been truly in love, infatuated once, yes, but just to say you are very, very lucky because you are here with two people who love you dearly. Oh, and one who likes you a heck of a lot." She smiled as John bowed his head to her in acknowledgement.
"You keep avoiding the question Elle. Do you love Sherlock?" Mary persisted.
She looked across the room to that magnificent man, objectifying him. "I am very much 'in like' with him. He fascinates me and obviously I lust after him unashamedly. I think it is still too early in our relationship to decide it is love. I think the intensity of lust is disguising how much love there is or is not there yet."
"Is there anything we can do to move any of these feelings forwards?" asked Mary.
"There is something you and I could do, definitely. Ready for another impromptu session, or would you rather recover for a month?"
Sherlock glanced to John for affirmation, received via a nod, then spoke for both. "I think we're ready."
"Boys in Sherlock's room, girls in John's. Pyjama bottoms and robes only, sit on the bed. Mary and I will be with you in a minute."
"Which side of the bed should we be on this time?"
"It does not matter John."
After only five or six minutes the girls joined the guys in Sherlock's room again. Sherlock was on his side of the bed this time. Mary was wearing a smile of excitement and anticipation. The only thing that Elle brought additionally into the room was a stout jarred candle. Not highly scented, but to supply a flickering, dancing light to the proceedings. It was the only light source used and placed on the floor it cast a mesmeric curl of golden patterns on to the ceiling and walls. The two girls joined the boys on the bed. Crossing their legs the girls sat close together, the boys both sat up looking curious and extremely keen.
"Kiss me Sherlock" said Elle softly. He leaned forward and gave her a deep, loving kiss, holding her head back to make his control of this paramount. Subconsciously he knew he was trying to convey he was further ahead in their relationship than just 'lust'. Their lips released and he looked into her eyes, willing her to read him, to know he had fallen in love with her. He wanted to say so out loud but again this was not the time.
She leaned back as Mary said "Kiss me John". The husband and wife shared a similarly powerful, intimate moment.
First the surprise. Elle leaned forward again, open eyed with a friendly smile. "Kiss me John" she whispered. It was interesting his eyes flicked to Sherlock first as if looking for permission, not his wife. Both Sherlock and Mary looked on as John and Elle shared an intimate and passionate embrace but comparatively shallow kiss.
"Kiss me Sherlock" said Mary and the watchers moved to kiss one another. Sherlock had not looked to John or Elle to seek permission. Heated but soft Sherlock gave Mary a long caring kiss. The pair parted.
Now for the shock. Elle and Mary turned, sensuously wrapped their arms around one another and started, gently at first, kissing.
"Oh, Jesus" proclaimed John. A blast that felt like icicles had run down his spine, stimulating and shocking him in equal proportion to his core. This was turning him on more than he could imagine. It felt strange to see a woman kissing his wife, stranger than seeing his best friend do so, but he could not tear his eyes from them. Elle stroked Mary's petite breasts whilst Mary cupped one of Elle's more ample bosoms, stroking the nipple with her thumb. As the girls removed their robes, the guys looked on and automatically aped their action. Four robes finishing piled on the floor. Resistance defied Mary bent her head and suckled Elle's breast.
An aspirating groan to the side of him told John Sherlock was experiencing the same erotic sensations as him, but his eyes stayed glued, the girls still kissing, embracing, running their fingers through each other's hair, stroking the other's breasts. As they broke apart Elle put a finger to her lips to prevent either of the guys saying anything.
Elle encouraged Sherlock to lie flat in the bed. Heads on the pillows John and Sherlock looked across to one another, Sherlock's eyes rolled upwards. Elle had slipped down the bed, removed his bottoms and taken his cock into her mouth. Mary again aping her moves with John. Sliding her hands underneath his backside Elle rolled Sherlock on to his left side, she and Mary were now back to back, the boys facing one another outside them.
Sherlock leaned across and stretched out his right hand and touched the war wound on his best friend's left shoulder, suddenly realising the intentions of the women. Tentatively sliding his fingers through the other man's hair, John pulled the top half of his body towards Sherlock and kissed him. It was received and returned willingly. Wrapped together the friends pleasured themselves on each other, staying on their sides stroking and kissing whilst their bodies were being subjected to greater stimulation from the girls. Both men reached climax quickly and nearly simultaneously, enveloped in the arms of the other.
John released Sherlock and rolled gently on to his back, his porcelain-skinned friend did the same. Glancing across John could see Sherlock's eyes were tightly closed. Was he trying to keep the moment, or banish it from thought? Elle sighed intensely as she released her mouth from around Sherlock and moved her head to lie on his stomach, which was still pulsating deeply, hollowing away nearly to the flat of his spine. His whole body seemed to tingle, lit from within, with the glisten of sweat exaggerating the exquisite contours of his frame.
Steadily the depth of Sherlock's breath deepened and the sound of air bubbled through this slightly open lips. He had fallen asleep. Feeling a movement near her Elle realised Mary and John had climbed gingerly from the bed, picked up their discarded robes and nightwear and moved to leave the room, Mary extinguishing the candle as she passed.
Sherlock groaned softly and made to unconsciously move. Elle gave him even more space to find his position, lying on his right looking outward from the bed, then she curled up near but not touching behind him.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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