It's when he expects to see her least is when she drops in for a surprise visit. But then, with Irene Adler, perhaps "expect the unexpected" is the best phrase to describe her.
As John is talking to him about a repulsive anonymous review on his blog, Sherlock is suddenly thrust backwards into his bedroom with a hand clamped over his mouth. For a brief moment, he puts himself into position to throw the offending person off of him when he notes several things: the size and softness of the hand, the angle of the hand suggesting the height to be at least several inches shorter than he, the scent that has suddenly assaulted him, and at last, her voice.
"Shh, we don't have much time," she whispers into his shoulder.
The Woman pushes him against the small bit of wall right next to his nightstand. She goes up on her toes and leans into his neck.
"Do as I say." Her eyes flicker up to his and he meets her stare. "Don't make a sound. Your voice is too low and it carries." His eyes narrow. "Don't be like that. This is for you. Just sit back and enjoy it and under no circumstances do you move until I say you can."
The smile playing on her lips is irritating. The short distance she moves to kiss him softly on the lips immediately takes the irritation away, which is then replaced by irritation twice over that she would have that effect on him. He finds himself mirroring the movements he's seen on the telly of how to reciprocate a chaste kiss such as this.
Irene Adler immediately retreats back several inches.
"I said don't move."
She moves back towards him and starts kissing his neck. He hears John still talking with his back to the bedroom door frame, reading the details of the anonymous comment, punctuating the bad grammar and purposely mispronouncing the misspelt words.
Even with John's talking of something utterly dull, Sherlock finds himself responding to what this woman was doing to him. She keeps the kissing brief and quickly drops to her knees. Sherlock looks down at her in curiosity.
"You're going to love this," she whispers.
Slowly, she unbuckles his belt and undoes the rest of his trousers. Her eye brows shoot up in her forehead at the sight of no pants. She looks up at him with a wicked smile and mouths, "naughty." Despite himself, he feels a tug of a smile at the left corner of his mouth.
Sherlock briefly considers the current circumstances. Clearly this is much more exciting than a rude anonymous person on the internet, but would that explain his physical reactions to this woman? If he wasn't attracted to her on some level, he could have stopped this. But he hasn't, which is… curious. Before he has a chance to contemplate more on his uneasy predicament, he feels her hard touch his prick and rub him up and down. He feels his eyes shut and for once in his life, he doesn't have an intelligent thought in his head.
She doesn't have to wait long before his prick is engorged with blood and she moves her mouth along him. Her tongue circles the tip of his penis and then slides down underneath, along the superficial dorsal vein. It elicits a surge of pleasure which almost has him moaning if it weren't for Irene Adler's previous warning. She continues to lick and kiss as her left hand fondles and tickles his scrotum. It's beginning to make him dizzy when he realises he's forgotten to breathe.
Just as he thought that this would be the best it could get, the Woman encases his entire penis in her mouth. It's all sensation: warm and wet and delightful. He feels a moan struggling to get out of his throat which he swallows. She moves back and forth, mimicking those movements that he hasn't treated himself to in quite some time.
He feels the head of his prick graze the back of her mouth and she allows it to move back and forth. It all starts to become too much. That ancient, familiar pressure starts to build low in his abdomen, though far stronger than any time he can recall giving himself. Biology takes over just as he feels he is about to tip over and his hips thrust forward into her mouth.
Just as he is on the brink, she presses on his perineum, stopping his ejaculation. His eyes fly open and he looks down at her, mouth gaping open. Without her even having to say anything, he knows she's stopped him because he broke her rule. He moved. His shoulders slump with defeat.
And that is when she released her pressure on his perineum and sucks as hard as she can on her prick, quickly swirling him into an all-powerful orgasm.
He's sure he's made some sort of noise, breaking two rules in less than thirty seconds.
He's also pretty sure he doesn't care.
By the time his mind has somewhat cleared from its orgasm-induced fog, Irene Adler is tucking his shirt back into his trousers and making him look presentable again.
"You naughty man, you broke my rules. Two in fact." She quickly kisses him on the lips. "Next time it's your go."
She smiles an all-too knowing smile and walks quickly to the window. "You may move." She leaves the same way she came in.
The timing couldn't have been more perfect. John steps into the room and his eyes flicker to the open window.
"Did you hear anything I have been saying for the past five minutes?"
"Five minutes?" Sherlock's head still feels sluggish. Was that only five minutes? That's… pathetic.
"Maybe four," he looks to the open window again. "You alright?"
Sherlock clears his throat. "You were saying that you felt the anonymous poster was only expressing through displacing his inadequacies he has about himself towards you on his blog and that it could, in fact, be a therapeutic outlet for him."
John blinks the shocked look from his face. "I mean, I couldn't know for sure, but I don't see how else any one would be so vicious."
Sherlock follows John out of the room, a new grin on his face.