Sherlock Imagines

Failed Experiment

What happens when someone catches you and your secret boyfriend (Sherlock) in the act...?

Smut...ish!

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"Wow, Sherlock, I'm impressed," you said as you walked into his place. You were currently living downstairs with your grandmother, who the boys know as Mrs. Hudson. Ever since you moved in, you and Sherlock have had this undeniable chemistry. You may not be as smart as the detective (no one ever was), but the way you communticated emotionally, physcially, and sexually, usually made up for it. 

Tonight, John had a date so he was going to be gone for the night and Mrs. Hudson was out with her friends, so it was just you and Sherlock. He didn't have a case to work on, or any experiments to explore, leading him to ask you up to his flat. 

Upon entering, you saw a bottle of wine and two glasses placed on the coffee table and saw some candles were lit. It wasn't much, but with the consulting detective, it was a lot. "Sherlock?" You called. He came out from the kitchen with a wine opener and said, "Oh, hello, [Y/N]." He watched you look at the wine and saw you looking impressed. 

He smiled smugly and told you, "Picked it out myself." You snorted and said, "Yeah, okay! I'll just thank Mycroft for the recommendation, shall I?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Dammit, Mycroft." You saw his attitude change and took his face in your hands. 

"Whether you picked out the wine or not, it's beautiful, Sherly. And it's the thought that counts." He smirked and told you, "It's your thought that counts most to me. As long as you like it, then it doesn't matter." 

You pecked his lips and said, "I love it. Just like I love you." He was never good at telling you that he loved you, so he gave you a tender, loving, kiss that said it all.

After breaking apart, he popped open the wine and poured each of you a glass. You both sat on the couch and made a toast. "To our first offical night alone," you told him. You clinked your glasses, then took a sip. "Well, Mycroft's choice wasn't completely off," Sherlock said. He would never fully admit that his brother was right. 

"So," you said, changing the subject, "what are we doing tonight?" Sherlock took your glass and set it down on the table next to his, while saying, "I wanted to try an experiment." You grunted and rolled your eyes. "But, Sherly," you whined. "You promised that you didn't have any experiments tonight." 

"Not in the kitchen, I don't," he said, while moving his hand around your hip and to your back. "But on this couch...with you...I have a very important one." His voice dropped in the way that you like and he felt your shiver. He smiled to himself and continued, "This is a tricky experiment, darling. Do you think you can handle it?"

"Depends," you breathed, playing along. "What will this experiment be?" He gave you a naughty smirk and put his lips to your ear. "To see how long it takes for this couch to break underneath our naked, sweaty bodies as I pound into you over and over...and over again." 

You wouldn't think it, but Sherlock turned out to be a very vocal lover when you first started out. He had read up on how to "dirty talk" to make you more aroused and he used it every time, never failing once. But this wasn't just dirty talk...it was a promise.

You pulled him on top of you by the laples of his shirt and kissed him fiercely. He was always the dominant one, so he quickly regained control and plunged his tongue into your mouth while running his hands over the sensitive points in your body. 

Bad thing about having Sherlock Holmes as a lover: he has a seperate mind palace dedicated to your body. He knows what you like, where your most sensitive areas were, what makes you whimper and what makes you scream, how to get you aroused, and what you like to hear. It was also the good thing about having Sherlock Holmes as your lover. 

But he wasn't wasting any time, as he had your clothes off in record time, as you did his. Without taking his mouth away from your collarbone, reached beside him and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch over you both. Since he broke the lock on the door, he didn't want to risk John coming in and seeing you to going at it with a full view. 

Sherlock's head dissapeared under the blanket, as he kissed down your stomach. The other good and bad thing about him as your lover is: he knows how to use his fingers and tongue. He knows. The abreviation cannot be stretched enough to explain how sinfully talented he is at using his violinist fingers and witty tongue. 

Just as he was kissing at your hips, you lifted up the blanket and pushed it back so you could watch. He smirked up at you and winked just before he flicked his tongue out at your folds. You gasped and arched your hips up, causing him to implae his mouth right in between your legs. 

You ran your fingers through his hair and moved as best you could, but then he added a finger, and then another, and then...another. And oh did he know what he was doing. You were about to scream out his name like never before, until...

"Yoo-hoo! Sherlock, have you seen--OH MY GOODNESS!" 

Your eyes widened, as Sherlock came up from between your legs looking furiously irritated. Mrs. Hudson was screaming her head off and shielding her eyes. 

"MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock shouted annoyance. You were quickly pulling the blanket up over you and Sherlock, who was looming over you, as to shield your body from anyone else who might stumble in. 

Mrs. Hudson threw down her hands and was glaring at Sherlock in a way that even freightened him a bit. "SHERLOCK HOLMES, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER?!" She screamed at him. Sherlock spat back, "You should know, Mrs. Hudson! You did it for a living!" 

"Sherlock!" You gasped. Mrs. Hudson wasn't phased at all. Actually, she looked more mad than ever. "Both of you, downstairs, NOW! We are having a serious chat about this!" She stormed out of the flat and down the stairs. 

Sherlock looked at you to see your hands covering your reddened face. He sighed and placed a kiss on your ear. "Come on," he said, "before your grandmother has an aneurysm." You sighed and threw your hands down beside you. "This was not how I wanted her to find out," you whined. "Finding your head in between my legs has got to be traumatizing for any person who has ever known you!" 

He furrowed his eyebrows and thought about how you weren't wrong on that one. "Right," he sighed. "Let's get this over with and we can come back and finish this little experiement." You rolled your eyes and pushed him off you. He landed on the floor with a thud! and looked up at you in disbelief. 

"What the hell was that for?" He asked in annoyance. You threw on your shirt and pants, while saying, "You're experiment failed, Sherlock and after what just happened, I can't believe you still want to have sex!" 

You walked out of the flat and down to your awaiting grandmother, leaving Sherlock naked and confused on the floor.