Free Period (for @sherlock-crying)
"This is the cloak room," Sherlock said grouchily. "You said you wanted to show me something interesting and we’re in the cloak room. You do realize that you’re wasting my free period, don’t you? I’m not going to be able to get the good Bunsen burner now, someone will have taken it."
"Calm down," Irene replied. Despite being in the same year as him, she already had the budding curves of a woman and a worrying amount of control over most of the school’s boys.
"What is it? I might still be able to get one of the decent ones if this doesn’t take too long."
"Would you shut up about Bunsen burners?" she asked almost lazily, latching the door behind them. "I said I’ve got something to show you."
Huffing, Sherlock turned to reach for the door before a sharp yank on his tie stopped him. Turning, Sherlock saw that Irene had his tie wrapped around her fist and that she was slowly reeling him towards her.
"What, Ms. Adler, this is," he sputtered as she pulled him closer.
"I said I had something to show you, didn’t I?" Her voice was lower now than it had been before, almost a whisper, and without thinking, he matched it.
"Have you ever seen a girl’s breasts before?"
He flushed red with embarrassment, mumbling something about female mammals and dissection and mothers breastfeeding in public.
"Don’t be thick, Sherlock. You’re the second-smartest person in this school, after myself of course."
He raised an eyebrow, looking mildly irritated until he noticed that she had released his tie in favor of loosening her own and beginning to undo the buttons of her blouse.
"Why," he licked his lips, trying to bring moisture to his suddenly dry mouth. "Why are you doing this?"
"God, I was wrong. You are thick. I should think it’s obvious, don’t you?"
Her blouse was all the way unbuttoned by now as well as untucked from her skirt. Against her pale skin, the cream-colored bra had a silky sheen, the little gem decorating the clasp catching the light.
"I’m not sure what’s obvious here."
"You think I don’t notice how you’ve studied me all year? And last year?"
"Well," he began, but she shook her head.
"Come on, Holmes. I’m the only girl you pay the slightest bit of attention to."
"You’re the only one close to my intelligence."
She shrugged, “True, but you nearly always end up as my partner in chemistry, no matter what the sorting method of the day is.”
"Could be a coincidence."
"What was that thing you said about coincidence last Friday? The universe is rarely so stupid?"
"Lazy," he corrected, before realizing what he was admitting.
"There. Well you’re in luck because we’ve got another three quarters of an hour before the next official class."
"Well I’d say this is going to be informative for you, though likely not school-approved."
He shrugged in that lazy way that only teenage boys can seem to manage, conveying his complete apathy for the situation.
"I suppose all the decent equipment in the lab is taken by now anyhow. Might as well."
She suppressed a smile as she unclasped her bra, watching his face change as false apathy shifted into curiosity with a touch of arousal.
Her breasts were small and firm, still that of a girl not fully a woman, but they were lovely nonetheless. Even with the faint stretch marks from growing them so quickly as puberty hit, nipples small and pink, the areolae perhaps the size of a two pence piece, they were instantly the second most fascinating thing in the room.
The first, or course, being her mind.
Despite the fact that he would have liked to examine them closer, Sherlock tore his eyes from her breasts and moved them to her face.
"Why are you showing me your breasts in a cloak room? It’s not because you like me, or it’s not the only reason. Girls don’t just go around showing boys their breasts. What do you want?"
"Ah, there’s the clever boy I was looking for."
She took a step closer and reached for his hands, taking them in her own.
"I want to know what I’m doing. What I like. I need someone to help me….experiment."
"You fancy some of the girls in our year," he pointed out. "It might be easier to compare notes with other girls."
"Girls would talk to each other about it."
"So would boys," he responded almost instantly.
"But you’re not ‘boys’. You’re Sherlock Holmes. You like to know everything and be the only one that knows it."
She lifted her hands, still holding his, to her breasts, cupping his palms under them so he was holding her breasts in his hands.
"I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do," he admitted, flushing a little red.
"Well that’s the point isn’t it? Experimenting. Figuring out what works."
He turned his attention to her breasts before shaking his head.
Startled, she leaned back microscopically, drawing her shell back around her before Sherlock Holmes could see what fragility she had revealed to him. She relaxed, however, when he continued.
"This is starting halfway through the experiment. It’s not how the scientific method works. I’ve got to start from the beginning."
"Put your underthings back on. And your blouse."
"I know what it’s called."
Rolling her eyes, she reclasped the bra and began to button her blouse, tucking the white tails of her blouse into her school skirt.
"And the tie too," he said, almost sternly.
She adjusted her tie and raised an eyebrow.
"Well if what I’ve heard in the boys lavatory is true, before you take any clothes off there’s snogging. And before snogging, there’s a kiss to see if she likes it."
"You’re going to kiss me?"
"If we’re going to do this right, that seems to be the best course of action."
She stood there, hands on her hips, waiting.
"It’s not that I don’t….I just don’t have a lot of practical experience in the…"
"You’ve never kissed a girl before, have you?"
"Of course I’ve kissed a girl," he lied hotly. "I’m not some kind of moron."
"Right, silly me. What are you waiting for then?"
"The signal," she repeated. "What signal?"
"In the lavatory…and in my own experience of course…you wait for the girl to give you a signal that she wants you to kiss her."
Grabbing his tie for the second time in the course of ten minutes or so, she pulled him in and Irene Adler kissed Sherlock Holmes full on the mouth.
He was clumsy at first, slow and waiting for guidance. But after a few kisses, he attempted to replicate her technique, the gentle sucking on the lower lip, the two or three quick kisses followed by a slower, deeper one. And then she introduced her tongue and he was lost again, trying to copy her little licks and touches with his own inexperienced tongue.
It was like this, with Irene Adler holding his tie and he cradling the back of her neck, both snogging with dedication, that Mycroft Holmes found them.
"Adler! Holmes! What the hell is this?"
Sherlock tried to jump back, blushing, but Irene’s hold on his tie kept him from moving too far back.
"What’s it look like?" she asked him, cocking out one hip and daring him with her eyes to keep talking about it.
"It’s inappropriate conduct during school hours. I’m going to give you both demerits."
She chuckled, still not letting go of Sherlock’s tie.
"Yes, really,” he replied in the same tone, pulling out a little book of tickets from his trouser pocket. “And Sherlock, I’ll be mentioning this to Mum and Dad.”
He flushed an even deeper scarlet.
"Mycroft, you don’t have to do that."
"Let him," Irene said with a shrug. "They’ll be pleased you’re interested in something other than science."
Despite the fact that she did have a point, Sherlock found that he didn’t want his parents finding out about this. It was private, much like the rest of his life.
"Mycroft, please don’t say anything?"
His older brother considered it for a moment, weighing the options in his head.
"All right, this time I won’t say anything. But you owe me a favor."
Sherlock nodded, and Irene rolled her eyes, releasing Sherlock’s tie. Eyes never leaving the face of the older Holmes boy, she straightened it and smoothed it against his skinny chest.
"See you around, Sherlock."
"Yeah, all right." His voice cracked just a bit at the end and she smiled over her shoulder at him.
The next week in the cloakroom, they weren’t caught.
