Selfless | Sherlock

The Solution

SLIGHTLY sexual content in the last few paragraphs!

Sherlock had been more than happy to share the story of Carl Powers on our way back to the flat, describing the boy's case as the one where he began. Apparently, the young boy was a swimmer who came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament but drowned in the pool. It had been a case that was marked as a tragic incident by everyone other than Sherlock, and had gone right under the noses of the police.

"The boy had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late," Sherlock continued, staring at John and I intently as he spoke.

For the rest of the drive I listened to the detective explain that the shoes had been missing which had led him to go to the police only for them to ignore him. The shoes had been missing for years, but now were in a bag sitting on Sherlock's lap. When we first arrived back at the flat, I took to playing tug o' war with Echo while Sherlock further investigated the crime. I had only been able to rest for a moment when my text alert went off.

Any developments?

-MH

I sighed and returned the phone to my pocket before standing up. When I walked up to the detective, he was too deep in thought to notice my movement and continued to study the papers in his hands.

"Sherlock," John called as he entered the room, "Your brother is texting me now. He did say 'national importance' so it doesn't sound like something you should be ignoring."

The detective rolled his eyes and glanced up at the doctor boredly after muttering something about a root canal.

"I'm not ignoring it, I'm putting my best man onto it right now," he corrected, still focused on his papers.

"Good, who is that?" John questioned, causing a knowing smirk to reach Sherlock's lips.

A look of realization crossed the doctor's face and he shook his head before exiting the room, once again leaving Sherlock and I alone.

"Sherlock, may I help?" I asked tentatively, careful not to touch the distracted man.

I was greeted with no response as he hurried over to his microscope with a slide of DNA from the shoes.

"The fit he had in the water, if it wasn't neurological than it was likely poison. You said he suffered from eczema, it would be easy to introduce a toxin to his body that way although the autopsy did not uncover any trace of anything," I said quietly, placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder to break him from his trance.

A look of understanding swept across his features and the detective was immediately on his feet, turned towards me.

"Poison!" he exclaimed excitedly, making me shake my head in amusement.

"Did you find any in the DNA?" I asked, gesturing to the microscope as he took one long stride towards me and placed his hands on my waist.

Before I could protest, I was lifted into the air and spun for a moment before the detective's lips crashed into mine enthusiastically. My lips struggled to keep up as he kissed me frantically, as though the solution had been the most exciting thing he had ever experienced. When I was able to playfully catch his bottom lip between my teeth, John's voice interrupted us.

"Was I interrupting something?" he asked, embarrassment evident on his face as he stood in the now open doorway.

"Clostridium botulinum!" Sherlock declared proudly, his hands never moving from my waist and his eyes never leaving mine.

"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet," I explained, pulling away from Sherlock's embrace reluctantly so that he could further elaborate.

"The boy suffered from eczema. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyzes the muscles and he drowns."

"How come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" John asked as Sherlock began to pace around the flat.

"It's virtually undetectable and nobody would have been looking for it," the detective said breathlessly as I placed John's open laptop down on the table in front of them.

John and I watched on in silence as Sherlock typed out a quick entry explaining the case and its resolution before posting it.

"The killer kept the shoes all these years," John realized.

"Yes."

"Meaning, he's our bomber," he added.

"Yes," Sherlock repeated.

Only moments later, the pink phone rang. The woman on the other end was nearly hysterical as she read off the final message from her captor. As she spoke, I called Lestrade who fortunately picked up after a single ring.

"Greg, we found her," I uttered, my voice full of relief as Sherlock called out the location of the woman so that the inspector could hear it.

"We'll go get her. Good work," Greg responded hurriedly before ending the call.

With the case completed, I sat down on the couch tiredly where Sherlock soon joined. The detectives' head fell into my lap lazily as he stared up at me, still deep in thought.

"Good job Sherlock, that was amazing," I praised, brushing his hair out of his face so that his eyes were unhindered.

Sherlock's lips curled up in a content smile as the compliment reached his ears. John said a quick goodnight before heading off to yet another girlfriend's house, leaving Sherlock and I alone in the flat.

"We'll have to meet with Lestrade in the morning," I sighed, running my fingers through the detective's hair absentmindedly.

"Hmm," was the only response I was given.

Sherlock seemed to be enjoying the feeling of my fingers in his hair, as when I paused for a moment he would groan in displeasure. Soon enough, his eyes fluttered closed as he further relished in the rare feeling of pleasurable human contact.

"Thank you for your help, Emily," the detective blurted, his eyes snapping open as though he had nearly forgotten something important.

"Any time Holmes," I grinned sheepishly before bending over to place a kiss on his cheek.

Sherlock knew what my plans were and quickly thwarted them by turning his head so that my lips landed upon his instead. His hand reached out to hold the back of my head in order to keep me from pulling away, not that I had any plans to. Noticing my uncomfortable position, Sherlock pulled me on top of him with one sharp tug. I gasped in surprise as I nearly fell off the couch, but instead landed on the detective who let out a huff of air in response.

"You are amazing," he noted, as though it was a fact as simple as 1+1.

Before I could respond, he leaned upwards and caught my lips with his own. Once again, I playfully caught his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged gently. The action elicited an unexpected sound of pleasure from the man beneath me which only increased my confidence. Gently, I flicked my tongue across his bottom lip. He seemed to hesitate for only a moment before allowing my tongue to explore his mouth.

LOOK AWAY CHILDREN, FOR THE TINIEST OF LEMONS IS AHEAD

Meanwhile, the hand that was not holding my head made its way down my body to rest on my rear. Just as I began to feel as though I had easily won the battle for dominance, the detective gave my ass an unexpected squeeze and took advantage of my surprise by skillfully intertwining his tongue with my own before grazing the inside of my mouth. In response, I shifted so that my core was above the quickly growing bulge in Sherlock's pants. Before he could prepare himself I snapped my hips forwards, eliciting a long groan from the man beneath me.

Smirking, I planted a kiss on the detective's forehead before climbing off of him and returning to my original spot on the couch. His stare bore into the side of my head like a laser as I grabbed the remote to put on a show that I pretended to be interested in while the tension in the room grew exponentially.

A/n: Smut? Implied Smut? Smut in a different work that those who wish to read it can go to? No smut? Let me know what you guys are interested in reading in the comments :)