Purely Platonic Sleeping?

"She was sleeping in his bed. Again."Irene Adler's trips to Sherlock Holmes' bed are getting even more frequent which surprises all parties involved...

A/N It's multi-chapter, inspired by that scene when she's sleeping in his bed, plus I needed to write and I love writing about those feminine/sexy/clever/flirtatious/manipulative women that make that one man crazy like Vespa/Bond, River Song/Doctor Mrs Coulter/Asriel and to an extent the cold exterior of Mary Crawley. Irene Adler is the perfect combination of all, and although I love the film versions of Irene/Sherlock and how their relationship is portrayed Moffatt is wonderful in creating this show and A Scandal in Belgravia made me fall head over heels in the show and the TV versions of them. Adler is so ass-kickingly cool and Sherlock...have you seen his eyes!

She was sleeping in his bed. Again. He'd come home after wrapping up a case at the yard to find her delicately sprawled across his bed, as if to make her mark, to make his bed hers. She was cocooned in his sheets and Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow when he realised her choice of attire, or rather lack of. Her clothes pooled on the floor at the foot of his bed yet she had brought nothing else on this escapade...except of course that dastardly phone.

Silently he stepped through the open doorway towards the pile of clothes. He reached down and touched the items, not for pleasure of course but to find that phone. However upon close inspection it would seem that the offending item was not here and Sherlock quickly stood up.


His eyes darted immediately to the bed, but the occupant was fast asleep, he cursed himself silently a nano-second later, upon realising it has been Watson's voice calling him from the front door and not that woman. Unnaturally flustered he exited his bedroom to see what Watson wanted.

"There you are, Mycroft wanted to give you this but you left before he could-" Watson stopped himself midsentence when Sherlock came into view and he could appreciate the flustered look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong?" He breathed, pushing past Watson and towards his arm chair.

"Just...You look-...Flustered?" Watson frowned as his tried to pinpoint a word to describe the conversation.

"Nothing to worry about, all's well. But now the hunt is on for a new case." Holmes said in a bored tone, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the table.

"Okay then...I'll just be getting that book from your room you don't mind do you?"

"NO!" Sherlock doesn't know why he John had been the first to know, what was so different no?

"No?" John raised an eyebrow.

"No...I don't want you going in my room." Sherlock said feigning boredom.

"Okay...Well I'm going to make some tea then,"

Sherlock did nothing in response instead merely choosing to stare at his selection of Russian Literature on the top shelf of the bookcase.

It took John Watson 3 hours and 48 minutes and 33 seconds to realise there was a woman in the apartment, more precisely that woman. He closed the door behind him and looking shocked returned to the living room. "Since..." He stuttered. "When has Irene Adler been alive...Let alone sleeping in your bed!"

Sherlock didn't respond and picked up his violin instead.

"Miss me?" Irene whispered into John's ear.

He jumped up in surprise and immediately turned round to see Irene Adler yet again naked but alive! He looked quickly away from her to Sherlock still playing the violin.

"Can somebody please tell me what the devil is going on?"

"I'm alive, can't you see?" She said seductively turning around so he could see...all of her, again. "I wouldn't worry though, I'll be going soon." And with that she wandered back to Sherlock's room, with presumable intentions to actually get dressed.

"Sherlock." John asked again, but he was paying him no attention, his entire focus on the violin.