riding_crop | aftercare

She texts him at half past noon, so that he's had time to sleep in if he needs it, but will probably be awake.

What channel are we watching, Sherlock?

Because he'd laughed, so she considers it a promise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

riding_crop

"Thank you."

She smiles, setting aside the empty paper bag.

"Now, was there anything you were curious about?"

From:

seesobserves

He sets aside the remnants of his food and drink as well. The cocoa got lukewarm a while back. He's still finished it.

He sits back, legs crossed, fingers threaded together over his lap.

There's plenty he's curious about. There often is. The thoughts keep tripping over each other, or slipping away. Silence, then, for a moment - after which something starts to happen Sherlock is quite unfamiliar with. The phrase 'awkward silence' has never held much meaning for him apart from in the abstract, yet that appears to be what's happening to him now: he's becoming uncomfortable with the absence of conversation in the presence of another person.

He lives with it for another few seconds, waiting to see if it will go away. It doesn't.

"The sub drop. The emotional hangover. How long will it take to fade?"

From:

riding_crop

"That varies, depending on the person, the intensity of the scene, the steps you take to ward it off. The food should start to help soon, but it might resurface a little afterward. You're still feeling it very intensely?"

Concerned, shifting to the edge of her chair.

"The longest I've ever had a client experience was a young woman who felt it two days after the scene, but then, she generally wouldn't begin to experience it until the second morning, so she'd only really be in it about as long as you have."

The physical contact was a little trickier. If he doesn't get better soon, she'll try touching him some, but in the mean time;

"Shall I tell you comedic stories of all my mishaps over the years? You may never trust my authority again, but I guarantee you'll crack a smile."

From:

seesobserves

He gives off one of his not-quite-an-expression facial twitches at the first question. Not so bad at the moment, but this discomfort - what else could it be?

The only other outward sign that anything is amiss beneath the surface: a bit of fidgeting. His right hand moves to the sleeve of his left forearm, curling over the spot where the patch lies underneath.

"Bondage bloopers?" He doesn't smile, but he makes a disbelieving sound that could almost be called amused. "You were never the type to boil your plastic."

From:

riding_crop

"No, but accidents happen. I've been to the doctors once, and to emergency once myself, and sent one poor boy there, though that was almost entirely unforeseeable. I've had to talk down the concerned public twice in the same night, and concerned police officers at my door another two separate occasions."

She admits, animatedly, hinting at the stories behind each of them.

"The most ridiculous was almost certainly my own trip to the emergency room. That was... oh, three years ago or so... I had slipped in to something in latex for a particularly lovely client, and was hurrying to meet him at the door. The best way to get into latex is to smear it with a little silicone based lubricant, which is murderous for getting out of you happen to spill any. Wouldn't you know, I put my socked foot in some, and as he arrived on my landing he had to turn right back around again to drive me in with a broken arm."

From:

seesobserves

He can just picture it: perfectly poised Irene Adler slipping and flailing and crunch.

He smirks. A little.

"No practical sense in changing out of the latex for the hospital trip," he surmises.

From:

riding_crop

"The poor nurses. The girl who had to cut me out of it was so apologetic."

You can't exactly wear underthings with a full catsuit. She's tittering at the memory.

"I thought she'd melt into the floor in mortification. Funnily enough, she turned out to be the reason I had to go to the doctor, though that wasn't for another few months."

From:

seesobserves

Another man might have been eager to hear that story, if only for the woman-on-woman action. Sherlock is far more intrigued by something she'd mentioned earlier.

"And the concerned public?"

From:

riding_crop

"An abduction scene."

She admits.

"Entirely recreational, consensual, negotiated, back during my college days. A person I knew was abducting her lover. We took her down on a public sidewalk, threw a bag over her head, zap strapped her hands and frogmarched her towards the back of a van... only to spot a concerned man peering out of the window. The woman I was with, she was six and a half feet tall, muscular, butch as you've ever seen, looked like she belonged in a meat packing business, the perfect caricature of a thug. We both sort of waved-"

A pantomimish gesture, and a bright, overly enthusiastic smile and a thumbs up.

"-and raced past him and into the van before he had time to think."

From:

seesobserves

That gets an actual smile, and a short chuckle.

"And he didn't call the police?" Seeking clarification, and a little bit surprised. If this wasn't one of the times she'd had to talk down the police, and if she'd needed to talk to the public twice... "What, were you followed?"

From:

riding_crop

"Not as far as I'm aware! A little disheartening, isn't it? How easy it is to abduct someone in this city. If the police were called on us at all we never heard from them."

Not that either of them have a particularly high opinion of law enforcement or the general public at the best of times, but that incident certainly hadn't added to Irene's good impression of them.

"We also ran into a next door neighbour, while we were piling her out of the van and up the steps to our flat, but that was a little easier. We were on relatively good terms, and I went over to ask her about her begonias and explain that it was a practical joke for a hen night. Offer people a remotely plausible alternative to a truth that makes them uncomfortable, and I've found they'll leap upon it. My abduction planning skills have much improved in the interim, I'll have you know."

From:

seesobserves

"Oh, I should hope so." He's going for cool and conversational, but after a short pause, he breaks into another smile. It isn't so much the stories themselves as it is the situation, but she wasn't wrong.

He looks up from the floor to her, and even though the smile has to close itself while he's meeting her eyes, it's still there.

"Location and timing would be vital. The take-down on a public sidewalk was perhaps a bit too obvious."

From:

riding_crop

"Oh, but I've done it since, and perfectly successfully. The key is an accomplice with a professional enough looking camera."

She promises, with a wry smile.

"Film anything and you can get away with it. People apologize outright for stepping into the shot."

From:

seesobserves

Ah-ha. Well, that would work.

"Charge extra for copies of the footage?"

From:

riding_crop

"Paid for my first flat off one of those films."

She admits, with a smug little stretch. Because there had been more to cut her teeth on than kink alone.

From:

seesobserves

"Enterprising business, sex work."

Not that he ever had much doubt in that.

From:

riding_crop

"I could snatch you off a street one day, perhaps out of your bed one night, let you truly fight for all you're worth, then take you somewhere and try to get information out of you."

A musing little smile.

"Something prearranged, written in a closed envelope so I can double check afterward and see if you outsmarted me, or if I actually managed to break that iron will of yours."

From:

seesobserves

She ought to enjoy the way his expression changes at that suggestion. It's subtle in the extreme, more a sudden stillness than anything else - the same way he'd looked when she'd first promised to make him beg for mercy (twice). He's utterly focused, taking in the moment in its entirety.

"That," he admits, "Does sound more like the type of scenario I was expecting last night." Although he hadn't anticipated just how the pain would affect him.

From:

riding_crop

"No one ever explained to you that pain needn't be a competition."

She hadn't, either. Irene spares another moment to curse the over-hasty negotiation.

"I think that idea will wait, in that case. Explore what kinds of pain you enjoy before going into a scene where anyone is hurting you more than is immediately physically satisfying."

The language she chooses is deliberate, putting the control of the stimulation squarely in his hands.

From:

seesobserves

It makes sense. Chemistry first. Work out the periodic table before they go handling volatile chemicals.

"Suppose so." His eyes skirt away from her toward the carpet, and then the wall. No sense pretending he isn't interested in continuing, but he's still going to have to adjust to her seeing him like this. "Then I think we will be approaching it again, at some point."