DISCLAIMER - I don't own Sherlock. Anyone you recognize is Conan Doyle's, or Steven Moffat's/Mark Gatis' or the BBC's. All bow down to them, please.
I've never written one of these "5 times and 1 time..." fics. It's kind of like those, a bit. I guess it's five times that Sherlock had a romantic/sexual encounter that he didn't feel and the one time he didn't. I don't know if it's any good, or if it makes sense. Sorry if it doesn't.
1. Her name was Elisabeth and she lived in the village. On the weekend visits to the town from school he would see her. He knew she was 16 years old, she dyed her hair blonde and that she wrote poetry. He knew she fancied him. She was trying to flirt with him one freezing afternoon while he smoked and tried not to encourage her. He had kissed her out of curiosity, rather than physical yearning. Her nose had been cold but her mouth was warm. It was vaguely unpleasant. The next time he saw her she tried to talk to him and he ignored her, not feeling guilty at all.
2. While he was not exactly drunk, he'd drunk more alcohol than usual. It was the college parties that did it to him - too many people. There was a packet of cocaine waiting upstairs in his tiny Oxford-halls room and he was feeling like he'd need it to get out of the malaise he'd sunk in too of late. The boy sat next to him was 20 years old, but he was still a boy. He had been attempting to flirt with Sherlock all night, and it was at this last desperate stage in the evening that he launched himself at him with reckless abandon. The boy's tongue invaded his mouth and Sherlock pushed him away. "You're stronger than you look!" the boy whooped. He left. The cocaine had him away in a minute.
3. He was 23 years old and felt, for the first time in his life, like he wanted to do something other people did. The girl was called Amanda, or Alice or something mundane and she was an aide of
Mycroft's. He met her at a party where Sherlock stood in a corner looking bored and haughty. She mistook him for dark and brooding, and brought him a flute of champagne and touched his arm. He realised she was very pretty, but didn't really feel she was. They had sex in her flat, on her bed with pink sheets and a cuddly toy on the shelf above it. He left as soon as she fell asleep and went home to have a shower. The next time he saw Mycroft, the bastard knew, and teased him about it.
4. The girl was in the right place at the right time. She was sat on the right barstool and she was about the right age and she was just drunk enough. She looked slutty enough too; short skirt, tight top, too much makeup. She was sat with the suspect. He seduced her easily and by the end of the night he had enough evidence too conclusively tell Lestrade the man they had been trailing was the murderer (a crime of passion – the most ridiculous of crimes). He also had his hand round the girls waist (she kept trying to put his hand on her arse) and her tongue in his mouth. As her hand travelled south and he kept an eye on the suspect, she whispered that he was "so fucking sexy." He wondered, abstractly, why women were so attracted to him. It wasn't good for them.
5. John was out with Sarah and he did it to prove to himself that he could. It was hideously easy - Thursday night seemed to bring everyone out in London, and the bars were heaving. He spent a couple of hours buying a red-head drinks. She told him she was called Isobel and was studying English Literature at UCL. He told her she was beautiful. She really was; it was just that (as usual) Sherlock couldn't really feel it. She laughed and said he was a liar, that he just wanted to get into
her knickers. He asked if it was working. It was too, half an hour later she was back in his flat in her black underwear, rapidly unbuttoning his shirt and laughing at the skull. She was palest white under her clothes, and he found himself appreciating the female form for nearly the first time. Best of all, she left in the early hours of the morning without any expectation of ever seeing him again.
1. They were in a museum after hours and he felt like he should just leave. Irene Adler was one of the world's most accomplished con-artists and for the first time in his life Sherlock didn't want to solve the case. He was so impressed with the woman that stood before him he wanted to let her get away with it so he would have the chance to encounter her again. He admired her, and that was new. He also thought she was beautiful - he didn't just know it, he felt it. Her eyes sparkled in a way that made her look frighteningly, excitingly alive. When she laughed at him he kissed her because he wanted to stop her and because he thought she was wonderful and because she made him feel like the drugs used to. He understood a little of why people wanted to find someone who understood them - it would feel like this. It was a shame he was complicated and so was she and neither of them could stop being complicated beyond this one moment in this dark art museum.
I apologise if it wasn't any good... but if you don't think it was then can you let me know how to improve in the reviews please? It's so helpful to me :) Thanks for reading!