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Fresh Air and Exercise

01/28/2023

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x wife!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 3,221

Warnings: gave the reader a specific maiden name for reasons and she has hair falling into her face (no other explicit descriptions though), domestic fluff, mild teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, more fluff

Summary: Sherlock may have refused to join his wife for an afternoon walk, but that doesn't mean he has to pass up on the much needed exercise altogether.

A/N: I started this some time ago and left it untouched for far too long, but you may have noticed that I am quite in the mood for finishing things up at the moment. Hope you like it.

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

The glow of the afternoon sun still fresh on her cheeks, she felt light as air as she danced down the hallway. Gentle fingers softly caressed a colourful bouquet of wild flowers she had picked on her stroll, secretly wishing it was her husband’s touch she could feel against her fingertips. Alas, he was busy with a case, as always, and his refusal to join her for her walk still stung a little. Not as much as it had the moment he had sent her off to explore the budding riches of spring on her own, but enough to remind her heart of the disappointment as she rounded the corner and her eyes found him in an instant.

It seemed he hadn’t moved one inch in her absence, his broad shoulders still filling the leather chair in front of the desk in his study. She hated seeing him so tense, although she probably should have gotten used to the sight by now, as it was always the same when things just didn’t seem to add up. He could bury himself in that study for days, shutting out the entire world to be alone with his thoughts.

Well, maybe not entirely alone. And although he had never formally invited her or told her that he enjoyed her company, he had also never objected to it, until one day she had found a beautiful wingback covered with the softest crimson velvet in the corner of the room, facing his desk, and that had been all the confirmation she needed. From that day on, she had made it her personal duty to ensure that he didn’t lose himself in his mind completely. After all, even if it was hard to believe sometimes, he was a human being and as such he needed nourishment, fresh air and exercise like ordinary people.

Usually, it didn’t take her too much effort to convince him of the benefits a short walk by her side would have, but today he had simply refused to acknowledge that the exercise would help him clear his mind. Stubborn git.

Without a sound, she slipped into his territory and drew closer, coming to a halt directly behind him, yet he didn’t even flinch when her hand entered his periphery to set the vase down next to a pile of papers. Maybe he had heard her despite his state of utter concentration, but even without seeing his face, she rather assumed that his dwindling reflexes were most likely the effect of his growing weariness.

“I’m back,” she whispered against his temple as her arms wrapped around his tightly wound shoulders before they drifted further down along his chest and her lips allowed themselves the silky touch of his warm skin.

“How was your afternoon stroll, my love?”

“Refreshing, as expected. Yet it was lacking a little…charm.”

An amused chuckle rose from the depth of his chest and she enjoyed the slight tremble underneath the palms of her hands. To her great relief, he finally seemed to desist from his task and allowed himself to sink against the back rest. And as if that hadn’t been enough to fill her heart with joy, tender fingers wrapped around her hand to bring it up against his lips for a gesture of unadulterated affection.

“Sherlock, you really shouldn’t hide yourself in this study all day. You too need fresh air and exercise.”

“So you keep telling me.” Another deep chuckle filled the room as to her surprise he stood and took the few steps to the window behind them. “But I think you are mistaken, my dear. I still can get plenty of fresh air without setting a single foot outside of this room.”

With a wry smile that was supposed to tell her he thought this topic of their conversation had been discussed at length, his fingers wrapped around the handle and yanked the window open. But the corners of his mouth soon fell, his forehead wrinkling in a frown as she decided to join him by the window. She simply knew him too well, and that had always been his greatest weakness. And she could see the realisation in his eyes the moment her body pressed into his and her hands snaked around his strong neck.

“But what about the exercise?”

He took his sweet time, seemingly pondering her question, but they both knew he had made up his mind long before his arms wrapped around her middle and his fingers squeezed her alluring backside.

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

It didn’t take much for him to hoist her up and walk them both back over to his desk where he gently sat her down. His chest firmly leaning against her own, he left her no choice but to yield and recline until she needed her elbows for support. All the while, a pair of gleaming eyes held her gaze, and it would have needed nothing more to keep her in place, his eyes and the promise of divine pleasure they silently made her.

His hand had already busied itself with her skirts, gliding along the bare skin of her calf in agonising hastelessness, when he suddenly halted and tore his eyes away from hers.

“Will you look at that.” There was nothing slow or gentle anymore about the way he pushed her skirts up the rest of the way. “Taking a stroll without a pair of knickers?” He tutted, his eyes a significant amount darker when they found her again. “How scandalous.”

“In my defence, I was hoping for your…stimulating company.”

“No need to defend yourself. It is rather convenient actually.”

Without a warning his fingers found her heat. Helpless upon the overwhelming sensation of his unexpected touch, all she could do was gasp. His mouth was so irritably close to hers, inhaling every sigh and every whimper that fell from her lips, and yet he denied her the kiss she so desperately longed for.

“Is this what you were hoping for when you asked me to join you on your stroll, my sweet? Being pressed up against a tree, my fingers buried inside you to the hilt? Or would you have preferred being laid down on a soft patch of clover to have me make tender love to you?”

Forming a verbal answer seemed impossible while he kept toying with her, his eyes looking all shiny blue, pupils blown wide with lust, but before she even had the chance to confirm either one of his suspicions, he stopped.

She was just about to protest when she realised he had good reason for this most unwelcome intermission. Both of his hands determined to free himself, they were tugging, yanking at his shirt and trousers and she was sure his impatience would come at the cost of a tear in the fine fabric when he finally succeeded.

Sherlock wouldn’t waste another second, he never did in the state he was in now. He wanted her, and he was more than ready as he lined himself up. She couldn’t wait to feel him, feel the delicious rush of the first stretch, of becoming one with her beloved. But Sherlock was always full of surprises, and she could hardly suppress a groan of protest as he chose to halt once again.

Yet his lips appeased her immediately, pressing to hers in the tenderest of kisses. He hummed in appreciation when her mouth fell open, welcoming him in. The faint taste of Black Shag tobacco still lingered on his tongue, a plain and simple flavour, the very opposite of the man who loved smoking it, but intoxicating her just as much.

She loathed breaking away from him, but the languid roll of his hips left her no choice. With a heady moan her fingers found his back, fisting his shirt as she pulled herself up against him. He wrapped his arms around her likewise, whether this was supposed to be a gesture of affection or a mere means to secure her in place while he had his way with her she couldn’t tell, and she didn’t care. His angle was immaculate, the tip of his manhood brushing past the very spot that made her see stars with every stroke. And yet, his pace was just a tad too slow to take her there.

“Sherlock, please,” she whimpered against his ear, but as soon as she could hear the smug smile resonate in his reply, she regretted having opened her mouth in the first place.

“I thought you wanted me to do some exercise. Where’s the point in this being over so soon then?”

A pointed thrust, slow but reaching deep. And then another. Solely designed to make it almost impossible for her to retort. And yet she did.

“Nobody said that it is you who has to finish yet,” she pressed out through gritted teeth.

“I fear it’s quite impossible to find a flaw in that line of argument.”

His grin held an almost irritable amount of pride despite his obvious defeat. And before she had even fathomed his words, he budged. Hips speeding up, he clutched her even tighter against his chest. He must have sensed it seconds before the tension took hold of her body, before her breaths became shallow, more rapid with every inhale, before she clung to his wide shoulders as if her life depended on it, before the quivering started and turned into violent clenches around him. Violent but oh so sweet, luring him closer to his own release.

Not yet, not yet, he thought, as his gaze fell upon the armchair right behind her. The very armchair she usually sat in and watched him work. He had been the one to put it there since, strangely enough, her presence seemed to help him think. Although sometimes it did a little more than that and he found his thoughts wandering, his mind drifting off to the image of her naked form, straddling him, moving on top of him in that exact chair.

Her mind was still clouded in a blissful haze when he picked her up, still buried deep inside of her as he made his way around the desk and carefully took a seat in the space that was on any other day strictly reserved for her. A deep sigh escaped her lips, burning the skin of his shoulder even through the light fabric of his shirt, as his length was neatly settled inside of her again.

Slowly the weight of her head lifted off his shoulder and he seized his chance to cup her face and pull it towards his. She tasted so sweet, fruity with a touch of vanilla, a flavour he had been addicted to since their very first kiss.

“My darling,” he whispered into her mouth, his lips refusing to part from hers, “do you think you can move for me?”

Oh, she would. And how she would, he realised as her lips curled against his. She never passed a chance to seek revenge for his darned teasing. And right now, he counted on that.

A deep, drawn out sound rose from his chest, a contented hum to praise the rhythmic rolls of her hips, rocking back and forth, taking him in and releasing him almost entirely, a delicious torture, repeated over and over again. He was glad she had once again refused to wear a corset today which in turn provided him with the privilege to feel the unparalleled softness of her bosom through the light fabric of her dress.

It seemed his eagerness to feel her was even exceeded by her own desire to touch his skin, judging from the way her fingers had begun to work on his clothes, clawing and ripping at his waistcoat, his tie, his shirt, not relenting for the world until they had succeeded and were free to dive into the fluffy hair that covered his chest.

“My turn,” he growled, his impatience taking hold of him more and more with every caress of her fingers, until it washed away the last bit of his restraint and made him pull the dress from her shoulders in one harsh movement. The power her bare breasts had over him was ridiculous, still he didn’t fight the state of hypnosis they held him in. They were magnificent, bouncing in tune with her rolling hips, begging him to cup them, knead them, wrap his lips around those pebbled buds and make her sing. But as soon as his hands finally made contact with their heavenly softness, he changed his mind.

“Didn’t you get enough exercise on your walk already?” She halted, looking down on him in confusion. “You know, I thought this was supposed to be my exercise. Or am I mistaken?”

Despite the wolfish grin on his lips, she still didn’t understand.

“But didn’t you just ask me to—”

“Forget what I said.”

And before she could protest once more, he lifted her hips, allowing himself enough space to drive into her from underneath at his leisure.

“Oh god,” she keened, desperate hands clutching the rim of the backrest tightly. It didn’t need a detective like Sherlock Holmes to tell that she was close again. As was he, teetering on the edge with every thrust, grunting and groaning in the fight against himself. Her grip on him grew tighter and tighter, making it almost impossible not to yield. Sweat was beading on his skin, his jaw clenching so hard he feared for the soundness of his teeth.

He wasn’t going to last, impossible, everything about her called to him, begged him to let go, making him certain he was only one more second away from either madness or salvation, when at last his name echoed through the study in a shameless moan, finally freeing him from his agony.

He pulled her close, resting his head amidst the two supple globes that had hypnotised him, celebrating every last moment of their shared delight. Hearts racing and then slowing in tune, he pressed his lips into the valley of her breasts to feel the strong pulsing as close to the source as he could get.

“Enough exercise for one day,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Well actually, dear husband, as you pointed out yourself, you really only did half of the work.”

The suggestive notion of her comment made him chuckle and he would have loved to satisfy her insatiable appetite for more, alas…

“You are right once again, dear wife, and I would genuinely like to go forth with the second half of the exercise right now, but I’m afraid my attention is needed elsewhere.”

Although he hadn’t meant to, his words had hurt her. Her pride forbade her from voicing the displeasure his rejection had caused, but there was no need to say it out loud. It was all there in her eyes.

“Oh, I know that face.”

“Sherlock…”

She had no idea how much it cost him to resist that honeyed plea, but he still had a case to solve.

“I’m sorry, my darling, I wish I could.”

He wanted to look away, escape the mixture of wound and concern in her eyes, but she didn’t let him, soft palms cupping his cheeks to ensure his gaze. Her voice was just as tender as her touch.

“But you can. It’s just that you don’t want to. If you chose to observe yourself with the same precision you reserve for your cases for once, you would clearly see that what you really need is rest.”

Sherlock stayed silent. What was he supposed to say to that? She was right, of course. So instead he just took her in, his fingers speaking of his affection as they gently brushed a couple of stray strands of hair from her face, loosened by their passionate lovemaking.

How could he even once think about his case or himself when he was blessed with this view? She looked breathtaking, the soft light of the late afternoon sun glowing around her form. If he had believed in the supernatural, he would have thought she was an angel and in some way, she probably was. His angel.

Mycroft had only met her a few times, calling her “a pretty little thing”. He had never been more wrong. She was neither little nor a thing and describing her as pretty was such an understatement that it bordered on an insult. Then again, his brother had always judged women solely based on their appearance, their manners and education.

She had all that, being a perfectly decent lady if need be, but there was something else to her, something wild and untamed, like a force of nature. It had irritated him at first, infuriated even. It still did sometimes. But while he loved the many facets of her personality so very dearly, he knew that they would terrify and most likely disgust his brother alike, a fact that satisfied him more than it probably should.

“What are you smiling about, my love?”

He hadn’t even noticed the placid curl of his lips.

“Nothing.”

It had always fascinated him how a person could seem like one thing to a man and yet like a completely different one to another. It was almost as if she were a coin with two faces, or had a twin sister, swapping places with her from time to time.

“Of course!” The epiphany shot through his body like lightning, making her gasp as he suddenly sat up straight. “That’s it.” His hands reached out for her face and pulled her down for a passionate kiss. “You’re a genius.”

“Me? Whatever did I do?”

Wasn’t that obvious? “You solved the case.”

“By doing what?”

With a wicked grin he reached for her lovely bottom, his fingers squeezing her cheeks while his eyebrow shot up suggestively.

“Oh.” The grin on her lips began to match his own when she finally realised. “I told you some exercise would do you good.”

Slowly his hands glided up the length of her back, weaving into her hair and bringing her closer once more. “You did, didn’t you?” His lips were still lingering on hers from the softest of kisses when he went on, his voice not louder than a whisper, “Whatever would I do without you, my dear Watson?”

He hadn’t called her by her maiden name in quite a while. But every now and then, on special occasions, he loved to remind himself of the time they had first met, and the pure elation of the moment she had agreed to exchange that name for his.

“You’d be practically lost, Mr Holmes.”

“No doubt about it.”

Her lips found his again, soft at first, but he could feel the hunger for more, taste it on her tongue the second it met his. And he was more than willing to sate it, give her everything she desired and then some. Like she deserved, his one and only love.

His mind was already beginning to shut down and allow him the rest he so utterly needed when one final thought broke through the haze of rekindling desire. He had no idea why she had chosen him back then. And that was probably the only mystery he would never be able to solve.

***

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