Rating 12 (het)
Spoilers: For Scandal in Belgravia
Summary: Irene knows what Sherlock really needs.
Irene guesses Sherlock's secret as soon as she spots the rumpled sheets in the Karachi hotel room.
"You're an insomniac," she announces. "Explains a lot."
"Does it?" Sherlock says dismissively.
"The pallor, the irritability. Why you stare into the fire for hours on end. You don't dream, so you use other techniques to unfocus your mind. Till you can spot the patterns that your conscious brain can't deduce."
"Sleeping is boring," Sherlock retorts. She smiles and yawns luxuriously, and his jaw twitches as he fights not to follow suit.
"You'd sleep well after sex," she says softly.
"Your solution to every problem," he sneers.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it."
It takes two hours before he's willing to get undressed, but she can be very persistent.
"Think of me as a distraction technique," she tells him. "Occupying just enough of your brain for it to relax." Her mouth and hands are slow, but relentless, trickling sensations into him.
"No hurry," she adds, when his body finally starts to strain after fulfilment, realises the possibilities it had missed. He gasps when he comes and then lies still, his eyes closed to avoid her gaze. Fine by her. She wakes him up the next morning from a deep sleep, and smiles her most dangerous smile.
"That was fun. Now let's have breakfast."