The sun poured through the tall windows of 221b Baker Street, casting a warm glow over the living room where you, a 23 year old stunning barista, sat cross-legged on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while the aroma of fresh coffee wafted in from the kitchen. You shared the space with Sherlock, now 26, the enigmatic and drop-dead gorgeous detective, and John, the ever-reliable friend who balanced out the chaos of Sherlock's mind. 2 years ago, a fateful encounter at your café sparked a connection between you and Sherlock. The moment he walked in, with that piercing gaze and aloof demeanor, you felt as though the universe had nudged you together, signaling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

Your relationship with Sherlock, was anything but conventional. Affection was a rarity, often hidden beneath layers of cold logic and deep-seated emotions he struggled to express. Sherlock had his flaws; stubbornness and bluntness were part of his enigmatic charm, yet you found beauty in the cracks of his rigid exterior. Sex became the unspoken language through which he expressed his affection. When the world outside was too frenetic, and his thoughts too chaotic, it was in those tender moments that he allowed vulnerability to seep in. Every touch was laced with a softness that held a deep intensity, where the gentleness spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings.

Those moments of intimacy are tender and slow, often painted in the soft hues of affection rather than the fiery colors of passion. While others may see your relationship as merely physical, you understood that sex for Sherlock was so much more—a sanctuary, a safe space where walls crumbled, and he could lay bare his soul, stripped of the facade he wore for the world. As you looked around the sanctuary of your shared home, you felt a wave of warmth wash over you. You were his, and he was yours, wrapped in a connection that pulsed with commitment, loyalty, and a love that defied the usual conventions of romance.