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Elle's Story	By : Cozygoma-lover Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3527 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Elle woke back in bed, hands untied, with the breath of Sherlock falling over her shoulders as he curled, spoon-fashioned, behind her sleeping soundly. The next two days the lovers spent more and more time in each other's arms than apart. Taking advantage of them being the only people in the house, enjoying intimate moments on the sofa, against the kitchen counter and further experiences in her wet room where, once again in the shower, Sherlock made an unusual and unexpected request. "Bite me."
"Pardon? Are you serious? I don't want to mark you."
"It will fade, quite quickly if you do not break the skin." With her lifted in the shower, her legs again around his back, she opened her mouth wide on his collarbone and pressed her teeth against his skin, sucking said flesh in her mouth.
The whole house had been their playground. However, one place more than any other they were most certainly destined for.
From the moment Elle had shown Sherlock, John and Mary her darkroom, Sherlock had been subconsciously thinking about how he was going to make love to her in there. A moment availed itself early Wednesday afternoon when Elle noticed one of the many green parakeets that live around Kew settled on some trellis in the back garden. With her keen photographer's head on she quietly crept out of the room and up to the attic to get one of her cameras. Sherlock followed slightly behind her. She was getting ready to load the camera with black and white film when Sherlock entered the darkroom. She was about to scold him for opening the door with the 'do not enter' lamp on outside when, in the little light in the room she noticed the look in his eyes. The camera, film, bird and trellis were all forgotten as he lifted her on to her metal table, and stood in front of her between her knees.
"How strong is this table?" he whispered, kissing her, enjoying the soft orange hue in the room.
"Not sure." She was running her fingers through his hair, him burying his face against her bosom.
Breathlessly he replied, "I think we need to find out."
"I think you're right. Oh God, Sherlock." He removed the developer trays from the table then placed his hands shoulder-width apart on it and lifted his feet carefully off the floor. The table was unfazed. Dropping back on to his feet he walked around to Elle, pulled off her jumper, unclipped her bra - how he had mastered that! - and laid her flat on the metal. She sighed deeply as her back and shoulders touched the cold steel. He then undid her jeans and unceremoniously pulled them off, throwing them to the floor, she ripping at her own undies taking them down over her hips, flicking them to the floor with a foot. He then removed both his loose shirt and t-shirt and agilely lifted his weight on to the table. Kneeling between her legs he undid his Chino's and let them and his pants drop to just above his knees. All this table analysis and arranging was foreplay in itself and they were both more than ready when he entered her.
The metal table groaned buckling noises as he moved deeper but the structure was steadfast and taking their pressure commendably. Their bodies entwined feeding off one another, kissing and stroking each other, forcing their flesh together, orgasmically writhing to the point of complete and utter exhaustion. Dripping with sweat Sherlock ran his fingers through his own hair as he pulled himself away from her, turned and sat on the edge of the table and dropped to his feet, pulling up his pants and Chino's as he straightened. Simultaneously both Elle and the metal table sighed. Sherlock took her hand and helped her to a seating position. She then turned through 90 degrees, so her legs dangled over the side and she too lowered herself to her feet, collecting her clothes and followed Sherlock out of the room, turning off the light as she headed into her bedroom to re-dress.
The evening after dinner was spent sitting on the sofa, leaning back to back, both lying, or sitting side by side. They talked and wiled away the time just being together. Stroking him absent-mindedly Elle realised it was close to 2am so the lovers headed to bed. They slipped into the bedcovers naked. Again this night would not be just about sleep. Cuddling one another, stimulated immediately on the other's touch, they kissed and caressed and devoured each other until they could take it no longer.
"Now Sherlock, now." Elle's breathless plea directly into his ear was as erotic an event Sherlock had ever heard. He felt a boiling heat conduct swiftly throughout his body.
"You want me?" he whispered.
"Yes."
"Now?"
"Yes, now." She was starting to pant.
"Tell me what you want Elle."
"God, why are you teasing me? I want you, Sherlock, yes, now, yes, inside me, hard, fast, deep, everything. I want all of you. Just f..." Getting more and more breathless with every word, Elle released a bed-shaking groan as Sherlock finally fulfilled her wish.
"I just wanted to make sure" he said bearing his weight down on and inside her, a cheeky grin on his face.
"You wanted me to beg."
"I wanted you to beg."
"Hit me Sherlock."
"No."
"Hurt me."
"I... I can't."
"I want more of you." This was not love making as the couple usually knew it. This was unadulterated, lustful and dirty sex.
"God, what planet are you on at this minute?" he asked moments later as she had tightened her legs around his, dug her nails into his shoulder blades and roared like a wild cat at the top of her lungs.
"I don't know but you are coming with me." At that she used all the strength she could muster to move herself from under him and, staying latched together, rolled him on to his back, pulled her knees up and straddled her man, pushing herself down his length then withdrawing slightly, only to slam down on him again. They were both moaning and groaning together now.
This was pure animal. They were both trying to take control, both trying to take the lead, both wanting more and more of the other. They rolled, and rolled again. Sherlock bent his head low to kiss her breast but when he could not suckle the nipple he was after he sucked hard on the skin he could reach, causing a bruise to be seen almost instantaneously. Never before were either of them so vocal in their love making.
Elle positively screamed aloud again, and pulling away slightly found it was Sherlock taking the reins, and forcefully this time. "OH NO YOU DON'T" he shouted as he pumped himself inside her, her on her back again now, her thighs locked around the outside of his, he put his hand around her throat and his tongue deep in her mouth as he went into an explosive orgasm with every muscle and tendon in his body taut and rigid.
"Oh, shit" he exhaled, finally releasing his hand from her throat. His whole body went from taut to slack and totally exhausted. Both of them glistened with sweat. He placed his lips so surprisingly gently on hers it was difficult to believe it was the same man whom she had been writhing around with only moments before.
Asleep before they knew, her closing whispered word on this assignation: "Sherlock."
- * -
The sound of a PING stirred the pair. It was just after 9am and they had both slept through. She reached his mobile off the bedside table and passed it to him.
"Lestrade" he said. "Needs John and I on a case. I need to go." He climbed straight out of bed and hit the shower. Coming back into the room a few moments later, drying his hair, another towel slung around his hips he smiled. "Want to meet me back at Baker Street later?"
"OK. Will I be able to get in?"
"I will let Mrs Hudson know of your imminent arrival. She should have arrived back last night. If not, I will text you and leave my keys at Speedy's cafe." He picked up his phone. "Hello, Lestrade. I have texted John. Do you want to meet us both at Baker Street in an hour?... No, no sooner, I am not there and neither is John. Come in an unmarked car and we will come directly with you. Do you have any further details yet?...OK. See you there." Dressing quickly, he smiled, looking at Elle, still prostrate in bed. "Got to go. A new case beckons. Grizzly by the sound of it. Bring some changes of clothes, I would like you to stay a while." He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. There was a knock at the door. "Any idea who that might be?" he asked wondering who he might be about to bump into on his exit from her Kew home.
"Your taxi to Baker Street" she smiled, waving her mobile at him. He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, mouthed silently [thank you], winked, and was gone.
Forty minutes later he got out and paid the cab driver. He opened the front door and Mrs Hudson was standing just behind it. "Hello Sherlock. Anything wrong?"
"No Mrs Hudson" he said smiling, holding her at both shoulders he kissed her cheek, "nothing is wrong, nothing at all. I hope you had a good Easter weekend. Lestrade is picking me up in just over quarter of an hour. Got a murder. John will be arriving shortly too. He has his key. That reminds me, I would like an extra set of keys, please, for the door and my flat if that is possible."
"It is still indecent how happy you get over a case, especially if it is a murder."
"That is not the only reason to be happy. Oh by the way Mrs Hudson, a lady by the name of Elle Jensen will be arriving in the next couple of hours or so; please make her welcome. She knows where everything is. I will talk to you more when I get back." He disappeared up into his flat.
Moments later the door of 221B opened again, this time John Watson had let himself in, and alongside him was DI Lestrade, having arrived outside the flat in a car within seconds of the other man. As they entered the lounge Sherlock came out from his bedroom, properly shaven and smartly suited wearing a pale green shirt, wrapping his blue scarf around his neck.
"Thank you Sherlock. We have been following leads into this for just over 24 hours, finally finding a body in the early hours of this morning. I think it will be right up your street. It sounds like some sort of torture has been performed but we do not know which order the victim was tortured in." Lestrade was now totally accepting of the fact that if he could gain no clue from a crime scene, then he knew a man who more than probably could. The fact a medical doctor tagged along with that man added to the assistance the pair could supply the police, with John's superior knowledge of gunshot and mutilation wounds from his time at war.
Sherlock took his Belstaff coat off the back of the flat door and the three men descended the stairs and left with Sherlock calling "Later Mrs Hudson" as he closed the outside door behind them.
Arriving at the crime scene the two friends walked in with Lestrade and made their way over to the body. The room was empty and incredibly hot. John commented that the perpetrator may have made the room hot to disguise the time of death. John removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves whilst Sherlock pulled his scarf off and took off his coat, hanging it inside out over a bannister outside the room. Squatting next to his kneeling friend and the body Sherlock looked intently at the victim. His calculating mind and observation skills kicked into gear and he was part way through drawing a full résumé of the scene when John looked at him, gasped and whispered loudly "Sherlock!"
"What's the matter John? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You have a deep red mark on your clavicle. What have you been doing?"
"Damn, I didn't think anyone would see it, not thinking I would need to take off my scarf or coat in this inclement weather."
"What caused it?"
"Elle. She bit me."
"Bit you? Why, for goodness sakes?"
"Because I asked her to" came the insouciant answer. He half-smiled.
Ten minutes later, scarf back on hiding his own evidence, Sherlock and John exited the room and building carrying their coats. Sherlock had passed over his findings to Lestrade and John had confirmed the smell of almonds on the breath of the victim and petechial haemorrhaging demonstrated they had been partially asphyxiated and fed cyanide, probably in crystal form, and in that order prior to finally being stabbed three times. John also concurred with Sherlock's reasoning: the detective had explained the weapon would have been something fine like a screwdriver rather than anything bladed, so although the murder was planned - the cyanide confirming that, the actual cause of death had been spur of the moment, maybe death by cyanide was just taking too long, or maybe too loud, requiring the silencing of the victim by stabbing. The time of death would be confirmed by the mortician but John guessed around 28 hours, looking at the body decomposition and considering the heat of the room.
Many thanks for the leads they had given, Lestrade offered to get both men driven home once a couple of his detectives had finished their own analysis and evidence collection. This gave the friends time to talk.
"Just tell me one thing Sherlock, how many more times have you and Elle screwed each other since Mary and I left you Monday evening?"
"Six, seven, maybe eight I think. Not sure. Why do you ask?"
"You are obsessed with it. How have you got any energy left for work?"
"You did not seem to mind us being obsessed when you and Mary were participating. Anyway I have energy enough. I don't need my brain to 'screw' as you put it. I slept right through last night, after making love, of course." Sherlock grinned as John jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow and both men giggled like a pair of little schoolboys who had uttered a rude word for the first time.
"Anyone could have seen that bite. Lestrade even. What exactly would you have told him? He is no mug, Sherlock, he would have guessed it was a bite not an errant error with a razor blade or something."
"Then I would have told him I have a girlfriend and she bit me in the throes of passionate and sensational love making. She loves me John. She told me. I was semi-conscious at the time, but there are some things that cut through even the deepest of sleep."
"And just how do you feel about her?"
"I love her John. Yes. And I have told her before you ask."
"And are you certain it is not still just lust as Elle was saying when we were talking only a few nights' ago?"
"I think we are both certain. Sure the sex is still very dominant, and unbelievable, but it is there mainly as an enhancement of our relationship. She loves me for who I am, John. This unfeeling, obnoxious, irritating, uncaring as you have said to me before, wreck of a human with a keen intellect and analytical mind, has become more understanding and appreciative of the normal things in life, all because of her." He smiled honestly at his friend.
John suddenly heard words he recalled from Lestrade on an early meeting with him. 'Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day, if we are very very lucky, he might even be a good one.' Perhaps that day had come.
Just under an hour later Sherlock was dropped off by the police outside Baker Street in another unmarked car and opened the door to hear hilarity from the rooms above. Bounding up the stairs quickly he found Elle and Mrs Hudson in a fit of the giggles: the women obviously enjoying each other's company. Mrs Hudson went to get up on the emergence of her tenant but he gestured for her to stay. He went straight into his bedroom and returned dressed back in his Chino's and a round-necked sweatshirt, looking slightly tired.
"John's gone back to Hampstead, he and Mary will be coming over tomorrow night for the weekend so there will be four of us up here."
"John and Mary will be here? How lovely" said Mrs Hudson. "Such a lovely couple. Elle, have you met John and Mary? I wish Sherlock had a girlfriend, or something. Four of you?"
"I have!" Sherlock walked over to Elle, balanced on the chair arm and kissed her, then looked back to see Mrs Hudson's face look slightly abashed and surprised. "Mrs Hudson, you cannot be shocked. The first time John arrived here you wondered whether we would need both bedrooms!"
Elle could not help it and laughed out loud.
"Sorry dear. When I was talking to you earlier I did not realise you were Sherlock's girlfriend. I thought you were a client. You cheeky boy, you kept that quiet. How did you meet?" Sherlock gestured to Elle and she took up the story.
"I was a client Mrs Hudson. My ex-boss disappeared and I asked for Sherlock's services to help find him. It turned out he was embezzling money we had earned as a company together and was about to abscond and leave the country with it. When all was over Sherlock and I realised we enjoyed being with one another so spent more and more time together and things blossomed from there."
"Well, enjoy it. Nothing better than young love. I remember being really in love too, once; early 'sixties it was. Oh, too many years ago now to even admit to... before I met my husband. Oh! Just hope you are taking precautions?"
"Mrs Hudson, you are as bad as my mother. She said that when Mycroft told her that I was 'dating'. We are fine. Elle and I are, well, in love with one another." He glanced in his lady's direction smiling.
"Oh, how lovely. I will leave you to it... err I mean, I will leave you to get on...no. Oh, I am making this worse. You know what I mean. I am sorry. Good night both of you. Lovely to have met you Elle. I do like her Sherlock."
Elle looked quizzically at Sherlock as Mrs Hudson departed. "What makes you think I love you Sherlock?"
"You do. I heard you say so, two nights' ago."
"God, you were awake? I thought you were sleeping."
"I was sleeping, but special things like that can penetrate any dream. Would you have not said it if you knew I could hear you?"
"Sherlock - I love you. Awake or asleep makes no difference to me. I love you in my sleep so why not tell you in yours!"
"You are quite the romantic - that may take some getting used to. Mrs Hudson approves so that is all well and good. [His voice softened] I love you too. More than I ever imagined I could love anyone."
"Thank you. I have something for you."
"What?" he queried. Elle knelt down in front of him, raised her face up to his and kissed him so sweetly and passionately. "Take me, take me now. Here. Now" he whispered as his breathing became furious and shallow.
"Come into the bedroom. We can get into this properly."
"OK. But I would have liked it here."
"Why? Are you not worried Mrs Hudson might catch us? Or is that it? Do you want to be seen?"
"No, I don't think so. I don't know, maybe. It does make it feel extra special if there is an element of danger."
"Is that why you love your job so much?"
"Partly."
"And partly because you are a high functioning sociopath who likes to show everyone what a clever genius you are?"
"That too. I do not feel I need to perform for your interest or adulation Elle."
"No, but maybe I can 'perform' for yours." She undid his belt and trousers and pulled his hips forwards so he was on the edge of his seat, leaning him backwards, his legs akimbo. One hand into his boxer briefs and his softish manhood was coaxed into her mouth, hardening rapidly. With eyes closed and breathing through pursed lips Sherlock put his hand on the back of Elle's head to help her go deeper on him.
Drawing her tongue from shaft root, slowly and steadily to around the glans and then to the tip, she used all the technique she knew to bring him close without taking him actually over the edge. Incorporated in her oral assault was gentle but increasing speed and pressure from her right hand, then both hands, manipulating him, astounding him, stimulating him until he exhaled long and loud, whispering her name.
"Bedroom?" she whispered back as her lips released him.
"Bedroom" he agreed. "Now." The urgency was apparent in his voice. He was obviously a lot closer than she had intended to take him. He positively bounded out the chair to the bedroom. Elle guarded the fire, turned off the light, and made her way to him in the bedroom.
He was already on the bed, wearing only his briefs and an expectant look. "Sherlock, do you know what soixante-neuf is?"
"Yes, sixty-nine in French."
"Gosh, you really are out of this world aren't you? I mean in sex-speak?"
"No idea. Tell me."
"No, but I will show you." His innocence was still difficult for her to comprehend in a lover so undeniably skilled. It was difficult to accept he had not made love or wanted to make love to anyone for over half his life since the dalliances in his teenage years, and now he did not seem to want to go a day without it. Catching up on missed opportunities? Maybe, Elle thought. Yet he was still so naive.
She sat on the edge of the bed and tapped the place aside her. Sherlock scrambled up using his hands and moved to sit along side. She undressed, standing to drop her undies to the floor. She then got him to stand and do the same. Guiding him to sit down on the bed edge again she held his hand and lowered him until his back was flat on the bed. Lying on her side on the bed herself she presented her sexuality to him at head height, at the same time taking him into her mouth again. Sherlock rolled on to his hip. He understood the concept now. Placing a hand over her hip and on to her backside he held her tightly as his tongue sashayed between her clitoris and inside her, intoxicatingly stimulating her to orgasm with ease whilst she worked on him further down the bed.
"Together" he suggested finally. Letting him escape her lips she nodded. He turned himself around so his head was now also at the bottom of the bed. She raised one of her knees and he took advantage to glide himself within her. More in control now than he had been half an hour ago in the lounge, he started to lever his body up and down through pushes of his hips. Feeling equal intensity in himself, he knew this session would be short, all control abandoned he increased his rocking movements to thrusts, but then he suddenly stopped.
Beneath him Elle was having such an intense orgasm already and her internal muscles were spasming extraordinarily. Enjoying the sensation he realised he could follow her from these movements from her alone. Just lying within her his orgasm crescendoed and an overwhelming surge of heat enveloped him.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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