A/N: Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/398072 around May.

Basa, in my language, can be loosely translated to Wet. I named the first chapter 'Tugon', using my language, so I figured, y'know, why the hell not.

She slips in, unnoticed. The good doctor is away on his shift, and she assumes that he is all alone in the flat.

What she doesn't expect is for the flat to be empty. Where else would he be? He doesn't have a case. The man certainly doesn't take walks, nor does he go out for a pint with 'friends'.

So it is either the loo, or the shower.

She presses her ear against the door, and hears the soft patter of water against the tiles. She grins to herself and opens the door, and pushing the curtain aside, climbs in the tub, dress and all.

He blinks at her.

"Well, you've seen mine, I thought it's time you showed me yours." She says with a smirk. "Hello."

"What are you doing?" He stammers, eyes widening almost comically. His mouth moves again, but no sound came out.

She grins, happy to catch him off-guard. "You know, you really should lock your door when in the bathroom. People might come in and catch you…" She eyes him appreciatively. "…not decent."

"John's away." He says in reply.

She merely smiles "I know."

"What are you doing here? You're getting wet."

"Oh, you say such obvious things, detective." She purrs, leaning in closer, but careful not to touch him, trace fingers against his skin... "Isn't this nice? Showering with someone? Have you ever tried it before?"

He doesn't answer. Instead he stays there, almost frozen, it seems to her, and she takes note that the water seemed to be freezing.

She doesn't mind. If it helps him, it helps. She won't argue.

"No words, Sherlock?" She pouts. "You're no fun."

"You have your own shower in the hotel." He finally replies, still a little tense. "And I am certain it is more luxurious than this one." She doesn't ask how he knew she is staying in a hotel, and not in a client's house. This is Sherlock, after all.

"But it's more fun to shower with someone." She insists, pressing against him to see if how he would react. Ifhe would react. She almost giggles at the thought. "Come on, Sherlock, aren't you in any way curious?"

"No." He replies. "Now get out of my shower." He coughs, and gently pushes her away. "Please."

Please? She grins. "Well, if you put it that way." She leaves, grabbing his towel and drying her hair with it. She inhales his scent, his shampoo, soap… everything. He smells nice, like mint, tea and a hint of something she can't identify. His smell reminds her of London, and she smiles. It fits him so well.

She leaves her wet clothes folded on the sink. She is vaguely amused as she noticed the mirror start to fog over, knowing Sherlock finally remember to turn on the heater again, and she traces a message with her finger and presses her lips against it to leave a mark.

I'll be back for my clothes. Thanks for yours.

She bumps into the doctor in the living room, wearing Sherlock's shirt and his boxers, and a borrowed trench coat from his closet of costumes. "John." She greets, and leaves.

God knows what the doctor is thinking. She is all wet, and she's wearing Sherlock's clothes. Amused by the thought, she smiles.

She'll be back. She likes that dress, after all.