Hey guys. I decided to start a Sherlock fan fiction. I wrote this OC to be alluring, yet not extraordinary in the cunning and intelligence department. Her intelligence is a bit above average, as she is a school teacher. She doesn't have some cool backstory or secrets...Just a normal woman getting on with life…albeit an appealing woman. The story starts after the first two episodes in season one…I will start the next chapter with Moriarty's first appearance as the mysterious bomber. It will continue from there. I will be putting a warning in every chapter. The sexual content will get more vigorous in upcoming chapters. I obviously love writing mature situations…And I really look forward to making Sherlock do naughty things. I love to get creative…Enjoy!

WARNING: This fan fiction contains mature content and subject matter of the sexual nature.

Chapter 1- His First Sample

It was a relatively peaceful Sunday morning when a small moving truck pulled into Baker Street. A black cab followed suit before both vehicles came to a full stop in front of their final destination. Inside the cab, a woman in her late twenties smiled in appreciation as she peered outside the tinted window at the quaint little building in which she would soon call home. She quickly paid the cab man, his eyes trailing over her chest as she leaned forward to give him the fair. Self-consciously, she adjusted the collar of her dark cream coat, clearing her throat uneasily before shuffling out of the cramped vehicle as fast as possible. Don't get upset. Today was going to be lovely—another rude prick was not going to ruin that for her.

The young woman eagerly approached the fading black door, inhaling deeply as the bold letters came into view…221B. A shiver coursed through her spine as the pale skin of her neck prickled. It felt as if something exciting and, perhaps, dangerous was waiting behind that door. Don't be silly.

Feeling slightly nervous, she attempted to tame her disheveled blonde locks before pulling on the small latch. After a brief pause, the door opened to reveal the form of an elderly woman with an open countenance and warm brown eyes. The older woman's face lit up in recognition and she clasped her hands together as she smiled brightly.

"Hello, you must be Ruth Hale! Oh dear, do come in. I'll make you some tea. It's a bit nippy out today. You'll catch a chill standing out there," The elderly woman fussed kindly, ushering her inside without further introduction. She smiled.

"You must be Mrs. Hudson. It's very nice to meet you. I hope I don't disappoint," The blonde woman smiled softly as the older woman led her to a cozy sitting area. She and Mrs. Hudson had been in contact through post since she had found the classified ad for a newly renovated space in the basement—221C. After two months of preparation, she was finally here. Mrs. Hudson clicked her tongue as she seated Ruth on a small red armchair.

"Nonsense. You are far better than expected, dear. Look at you! Such a beautiful girl. I'm so happy to have a nice young thing like you here…Especially with…" Mrs. Hudson suddenly stopped speaking before smiling broadly and changing the topic.

"Well, you'll absolutely love it here, dear. I'm sure of it. Feel free to look around while I make some nice warm tea. Please, take that coat off and make yourself at home," The lively old woman turned and made her way into the kitchen.

Ruth furrowed her brow, slightly put off by Mrs. Hudson's sudden change in mood. What had she been about to say? She slowly shuffled out of her coat to reveal the moderately warm dark peach sweater underneath. It clung to her full figure and she silently hoped there were no "cab men" living in this building. Who were her neighbors? Standing, she moved around the small sitting area, her light brown gaze trailing over the various furnishings and the lovely little decorations. There was a warm touch to the room, and Mrs. Hudson certainly brightened the place up. It instantly felt like home.

Finding a flat in London had not been the easiest of tasks. After moving to Britain from the States a year ago, she had taken up a minor teaching position at a small primary school in Kent. Ten months later, the school shut down, and she was forced to relocate. With recommendation, she found a new school-teacher position in London. And after plenty of stressful searching and Mrs. Hudson's sympathy, here she was…standing in 221 Baker Street.

Her train of thought was broken as Mrs. Hudson entered the room once more carrying a small tray of tea and sweets. The older woman set the silver tray on the coffee table and slowly poured the steaming tea into a cup.

"Do you take milk, dear?" Mrs. Hudson's voice piped up cheerfully as she prepared the cup. Ruth bit her lip softly, nodding as she spoke up.

"Yes please. No sugar," She smiled as Mrs. Hudson stirred the milk while humming to herself in a pleased manner.

"It's so nice to have you here, really…" The elderly woman's voice was filled with genuine delight as Ruth silently nodded in appreciation before taking the teacup and having a sip. Her curiosity was getting the best of her now.

"Mrs. Hudson…Do I have any neighbors?" Ruth fidgeted nervously as the older woman's relaxed smile disappeared and an uneasy expression crossed her features.

"Your neighbors both share the flat space upstairs, dear. You'll love Doctor Watson—kind man. A reasonable sort. And his…partner…" As if on cue, a loud bang sounded from upstairs. Mrs. Hudson flinched and worried the watch on her arm. Ruth jumped up from her seat on the armchair and stood in place, frightened by the sound.

"Was that… a gunshot?" Her eyes lit up in concern and alarm as she clutched the knitted ends of her sweater sleeves between her hands. What had she gotten herself into?

Mrs. Hudson merely frowned in distaste. Before the gray woman could sit up, the sound of someone making their way down the stairs with hasty footsteps was heard. Around the corner of the stairwell emerged a middle-aged man with a slightly aged yet attractive face. Ruth took in his graying hair which was neatly coiffed to one side. His cable-knit jumper and khaki colored trousers gave him a rather amiable appearance. Ruth blushed—he was quite handsome. The man quickly ambled over to the sitting area, an apologetic look on his face as he approached Mrs. Hudson.

"He's at it again. There's nothing to do, so he goes and shoots another bloody hole in the wall…I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Hud-," The man froze as he finally noticed Ruth standing there, clearly confused and slightly scared. He cleared his throat awkwardly, straightening himself as he took in the sight of the younger woman. Long blonde curls framed a pale face of strikingly soft features as brown eyes swiftly looked down at the floor. And her body was…his eyes locked on to her supple chest before trailing down to the rest of her womanly frame. She was lovely…but much too young for him. He quickly realized he was staring and he tore his eyes away, shuffling in discomfort as he caught Mrs. Hudson give him a look. Perhaps now she would no longer think he was gay.

"It's alright, Doctor Watson, dearie. It's not your fault…You just tell that partner of yours it will be coming out of his rent. I can't have my walls looking like a slice of Swiss," Mrs. Hudson chided lightly as she sipped her own tea, her eyes scolding him for staring at the young woman as she emphasized partner. John scowled slightly at Mrs. Hudson's rather insistent assumption.

"I'm not gay…" He denied as Mrs. Hudson simply ignored his statement and gestured to the blonde woman.

"This is Ruth Hale. She'll be living in the renovated basement room. She's a school-teacher from the United States. Poor dear worked in Kent for a year before the school closed down—sweet girl found work here and we've been in touch while I've had the final touches added to the basement," Mrs. Hudson smiled as the younger woman took a sip of her tea. John walked over to where Ruth was standing. He held out his hand and she smiled with a light blush before taking it. It was warm and smooth with callouses. As she stood there shaking his hand, she noticed he was a good five to six inches taller than her. He was quite the gentleman…and he was a reasonable height for her shorter stature. She felt her face growing hot as he spoke.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hale. My name is John Watson. Just John is fine," He introduced himself and his warm smile seemed to be contagious. She found herself smiling despite the fact that her face was most likely rivaling a tomato.

"Nice to meet you too, John. You can just call me Ruth. I see you don't introduce yourself as a doctor," She noticed before releasing his hand and sitting back down in her armchair. John gave a light laugh before sitting down next to Mrs. Hudson.

"I don't always want to sound like a stuffy, pompous old bastard. "Doctor" just makes me feel timeworn," He joked as he made himself comfortable. Ruth laughed in return and took another warm sip of tea to calm her nerves. He was very friendly. He probably has a wife and family. She sighed, her hopes dashed by her assumptions. She then looked between Mrs. Hudson and John, interest etched on her face.

"What exactly, if I may ask, does your flatmate do, John?" She hesitated as a sound akin to breaking glass was heard from upstairs. John gave her a sympathetic look.

"Today's about as ordinary as it can get. He is the world's only self-entitled consulting detective—a rather brilliant one at that. Sherlock Holmes. The police and others consult him for cases they cannot manage. Despite his incredible deductions and ability to solve unsolvable cases…Sherlock is…not very…agreeable…to put it simply," John chose his words carefully and she felt as if he were trying to warn her of something.

"What do you mean?" She questioned, slightly frightened by the loud grumbling sounds that were coming from upstairs. Was he violent, perhaps? As if reading Ruth's thoughts, John chuckled and eased her concern.

"He's not a bloody pugilist if that's what you're thinking. Oh God, no. He just doesn't…sit well with most people. Half the time he's asking to be bloody punched in the face," Mrs. Hudson nodded her head in agreement as John tried to describe the mysterious man upstairs. Ruth merely sat in silence, trying to interpret his meaning.

"You'll see when you meet hi-" John was cut off by the sound of a door slamming open upstairs.

"Mrs. Hudson! Where is my skull? It's a matter of the utmost urgency. I require a mindless companion to converse with and John refuses to see reason. I. Need. To. Think. Now, where have you put it?" A man's deep voice yelled out as he came stomping down the stairs, almost incoherently ranting before turning the corner.

Ruth scooted back in her seat as a tall man with dark curls and piercing blue eyes emerged demandingly from around the staircase. He was in a dark red dressing gown that was thrown haphazardly over a pressed white shirt and black trousers. He looked…every bit the mad intellect. She had no doubt that John had been trying to warn her of…whatever this was. He felt intimidating…Much unlike the kind doctor sitting calmly across from her. She sat silently, observing the scene before her with apprehension.

Mrs. Hudson huffed and gently placed her teacup on its small plate.

"You'll get it back when you pay all your damages, young man," The older woman stated nonchalantly as if scolding a naughty child. The tall man—who she assumed was Sherlock—seemed to pout at this point.

"This is a matter of importance, Mrs. Hudson. The damages can most certainly wait. But the disturbed inventory of salad forks cannot," He glared in frustration at John, who sat silently, fishing coolly through a newspaper as if to ignore him. Mrs. Hudson frowned, pursing her lips in disapproval.

"Oh, hush. You're scaring your new neighbor. Sherlock, this is Ruth Hale," She silenced the raving man and his icy gaze locked onto Ruth with all the intensity of a hawk. She instantly found herself peering downward nervously at her hands in her lap. He was extremely intimidating. Even without looking, she could tell his eyes were burning into her. John placed his newspaper down, frowning at Sherlock.

"For God's sake, Sherlock! Don't even think about it," Sherlock's eyes flickered away from the blonde woman briefly to cheekily meet John's. The blue eyes flashed back to their target, trailing quickly over every feature. John put his face in his palm, knowing that the inevitable was coming.

"Ruth Hale—the new occupant in 221C. In your late twenties…I gather 27…Occupation—schoolteacher. Your lack of eye contact indicates you lack confidence in yourself, the hands twiddling in your lap not all too manicured and your lack of makeup suggests…Single. Last boyfriend in…college…You're looking for a relationship with commitment, but sadly you prefer older men. But you have yet to find a decent one that is not either married or stunted in some way…Ah…It seems you have today though. But he's not interested—and you've already noted this by the way you're cheeks are clearly colored right now," He paused briefly, eyes suddenly scanning across her lower body. How did he know all of this? He had just dashed into the room but a moment ago…She glanced up uncomfortably at the man to see his hands placed underneath his mouth in thought before he rapidly fired again.

"You're allergic to cats, you enjoy sweets…although your mother ardently disapproves…for breakfast you had something light…wheat toast—lightly buttered. Your roots are darker…one would think dyed, but no. The hairs on your arm—which are standing on end right now— and the tone of your skin suggest you are a natural blonde. Your life thus far has been rather boring, you're not the brightest woman, and your figure suggests you've previously taken on a more…provocative occupation. That and the strap peeking out at your collar indicates that you have a more salacious nature—an alluring red—a color associated with passion…A most useless byproduct of chemistry… But, most surprisingly, you're still a virg-" John cut him off before Sherlock could go further into the deep end. He was getting rather inappropriate.

"Sherlock, enough. I'm so sorry, Ms. Hale. He does this to everyone. He doesn't know when to stop," John sat up, apologizing while glaring at the blue eyed detective. Ruth looked up at the tall man in shock; she didn't know whether to feel amazed or offended. Did he really just suggest she used to be in some kind of…sexual profession? Sherlock smiled, pleased with himself.

"Your gaping expression suggests I'm most certainly correct," He nodded towards Ruth as she closed her mouth.

"That was amazing! How did you do that? Everything was right except..." She suddenly frowned. Sherlock's smug smile was replaced with a cringe. He threw his hands in the air dramatically and stepped forward.

"What did I get wrong? There's always something," He gave her an eager look and she didn't know whether it would be alright to tell him or not…He had basically just assumed she used to be some sort of…and how did he even know she was still a virgin? She cleared her throat awkwardly and tried not to blush.

"Well…I've never been a…I've never had any provocative occupation…whatever you're suggesting. I'm not that sort of woman. I can't help the way I look…and I just so happen to like red…"She blushed, referring to the bra strap he had so graciously pointed out. She uncomfortably adjusted her peach-knit sweater. Did she really look like some tart?

The man sighed in disappointment and muttered to himself.

"I knew something seemed a bit off. I took a shot in the dark—it seems I missed completely. You are a virgin, after all," He declared blatantly as the room went dead silent.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed in astonishment at his brashness. Ruth felt her face grow hotter at Sherlock's words. Had he really just said that out loud…? She looked at him, and his face was riddled with confusion as to what he had done wrong. This is what John had meant…

"What? She is a virgin. Quite uncommon these days, really. But it is very clear by the angle in which she sits at rest and the-" John cut him off once more.

"You don't need to explain it! You don't go around announcing the sexual status of people…especially those you've just met," John crossed his arms and gave the detective a pointed look. Sherlock's deep voice continued in defense.

"I'm sure this information could actually prove quite valuable. She is, after all, already quite taken with y-" Ruth stood up and rushed over to the rude man. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand reached up to cover his mouth. His eyes widened slightly and she looked up at him pleadingly.

"Please. Don't say any more. You're brilliant, really. You're right…just don't…mention anymore," Her cheeks burned crimson as he seemed to understand with a nod. Slowly, her tiny hand lowered from his mouth, and he regarded her with a serious look.

"I know," His light eyes met her darker ones. She furrowed her brow.

"What?" Her expression went blank before he gave her a cheeky smile.

"I am brilliant," He stated simply as he grinned at her, pleased by her apparent compliment. She frowned—this man had no sense of manners…But it seemed he could not help himself…much like a child.

"You are brilliant…But terribly dim when it comes to divulging personal information," She felt like she was scolding a child in her class for misbehaving. It was then that those clear blue eyes seemed to intensify as he lowered his head, invading her personal space. She took a step back. He was much too tall.

"Nothing, Ms. Hale, is personal when it is so clearly lying out in the open to be attained. All one needs to do…is observe...and deduce," His baritone voice was deeper before his eyes glanced over her chest for a fraction of a second. An inconspicuous smile tugged at his lips before he turned around and made his way upstairs. Natural, C cup, red brassiere—black lace. His head poked out from the stair case as he called back to Ruth with a very proud look about his face.

"Not red, Ms. Hale. Red with black trim. It's quite natural that I'll see you later. Good day," And with that, he disappeared upstairs, the door slamming shut once more.

John and Mrs. Hudson stared in confusion and apology at Ruth as she stood in disbelief with her mouth open.

"Don't mind him, he doesn't make sense most of the time. I haven't even a clue about what he was bloody going on about just now," The kind doctor tried to comfort as Mrs. Hudson poured her some more tea.

Ruth's face felt hot. She, as a matter of fact, knew exactly what the brazen detective had been discreetly referring to. It was perhaps even more embarrassing to know that he had deliberately called out information only she could know…About her breasts and undergarment…How did he possibly know her size…His duplicitous words echoed in her mind and she blushed harder.

"It's only natural that I'll see you later." She repeated quietly to herself before angrily sitting back down and sipping her tea.

That bastard…that…clever bastard! And so she sat there, awestruck and angry with the frighteningly keen observations of the intriguing yet horribly uncouth detective. Sherlock Holmes...As she internally fumed, her teacup tipped, spilling the contents onto her sweater. She jumped up at the warm sensation. Mrs. Hudson stood, fussing over her immediately.

"Oh, dear! The washroom is just around the corner. I'll show you," Mrs. Hudson led her to a small bathroom and she quickly thanked the old woman before shutting the door. She ran the tap and took off her warm knit only to see the dark tea had ran through to her bra.

"Damn it," Today was not going as planned. She ran the tea stain on her sweater over the faucet while she unclasped her bra. She didn't want a stain to set in either of them. Although she didn't know who would possibly be seeing her bra anytime soon...

She sighed, the reflection of her naked torso in the mirror making her cringe. Her stomach was flat, but not toned. And her hips swooped into a soft curve. She glared at her chest. Damned breasts. She was angry at them…Just jiggling about with no care in the world while they made her back work constantly…and that detective…He only made her even more self-conscious about them. First the cab man, and now an intelligent but God-awful thick neighbor…Today was not going well.

Upstairs, Sherlock threw himself with a thump onto the couch before closing his eyes and recalling the woman he had just met downstairs. According to basic human aesthetic and the common male perception of the female body…she was physically exceptional. Blue eyes opened abruptly. She hadn't slapped him. No…He recalled the rather soft floral scent of her perfume as her hand clamped over his mouth. Nobody had ever touched him like that before…She was quite interesting. She was of average intelligence, with common sense and the discipline of a school-teacher…and the body of a vixen. His eyes filled with light as he jumped up from the couch. She could work with him.

He shot downstairs, his dressing gown flying behind him in disarray as he made his way into the meager sitting room to find it occupied by only a silent Mrs. Hudson and a tired looking John.

"Where is Ms. Hale?" His voice was demanding as he scanned the room. Her coat was still sitting on the armchair and wisps of steam escaped her teacup—she had not left.

"She's in the-" Before Mrs. Hudson could finish, the detective moved towards the small bathroom, opening the door without a single knock as he barged in.

He was met with the sight of Ruth…half naked from the waist up as his eyes trailed over her slowly, observing every blemish, every curve. He stood corrected. The body of a seductress.

Ruth froze in shock as she stared wide at the man standing in the doorway, blue gaze burning hot before he paused. Instinct told her to feel furious at him for barging in without notice and looking so blatantly…but he had just gone completely slack, eyes frozen on her torso…Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Mr. Holmes…? Sherlock Holmes…?" She slowly questioned as he failed to respond. What happened to the candid man she had just met? Did he not have some strange retort prepared? He was like a sculpture, just standing there as his eyes remained unfocused on her torso.

John suddenly appeared from behind the stationary detective.

"Sherlock! What in the bloody hell-" John looked away and coughed awkwardly as he saw the nearly bare woman before Sherlock.

"I…am so sorry. Sherlock, come on," The graying doctor turned his back in embarrassment, trying to pull Sherlock away as well. The light-eyed man would not budge.

"Sherlock, I mean it! Move!" John's tone was furious as he pulled harder on Sherlock's arm. He remained perfectly in place, no reaction evident on his face. In fact, no emotion was evident on the detective's face. Ruth was almost certain he wasn't even blinking...John frowned and sighed tiredly.

"You'd better get dressed…He's going to be here for a while…Whatever is going through that thick head of his, I can't say," John informed her as he cleared his throat and tried not to look at her state of undress. Ruth attempted to cover her chest with her arms, uneasy with Sherlock standing there so rigidly. At least one of them was a gentleman.

"I'll go get you something dry from my closet…You haven't unpacked yet," John spoke kindly as he quickly rushed away to fetch something for her to wear, leaving her with the stone-like man before her. What happened to him?

She peered up at him reluctantly. It was almost like he wasn't there at all…Was her body disgusting to him? Against her will, she began to feel bad. It was like she had just scarred a child…Although this man was certainly no child…He most certainly acted like one.

"Here you are. It might be a bit big on you, but it's better than nothing," John reappeared from behind Sherlock, his face turned away and lightly flushed as he awkwardly held out a light beige sweater. She gladly accepted it, feeling strange as she reached over the frozen Sherlock to retrieve it, her body half naked.

She turned around, bringing the sweater over her head and pulling it over her body. It was loose…but the fabric was tight around her bust. She cursed internally. This was embarrassing.

"Um…John…Do you have anything larger...?" She remained turned, not wanting to face the doctor with her breasts squished against the fabric of his sweater.

"I'm sorry, but no. This sweater even looks a bit loose," John was looking at her back as she flushed. Was she really going to have to say it out loud…?

"No…It's just…A bit…around the…" She tried to speak up, but she was far too mortified by the current predicament. Today could not possibly get any worse.

"I'm sorry, what? Please, if you prefer, I have other colors," John kindly offered. She cringed. He was too lovely. She didn't want to say…

"What she means is that your sweater is too small to accommodate her large bust. Which I might add, is currently stretching the fabric of your jumper substantially," A deep voice sounded from behind her and she jumped before turning to see Sherlock was standing right behind her. His light eyes were unreadable as he looked down, her chest indeed pressing against the confines of the sweater. She wanted to flee the room…and possibly never return. She wasn't even wearing a bra.

"As you can see, that sweater won't do," To her shock, the towering man before her peeled the red dressing gown from his frame and held it out for her. She stared at the open robe in his hands, not knowing what to do. He was a tall man…but he appeared thinner than Watson. There was no way it was going to fit her. Sherlock noted her concern as he raised a brow.

"Is there something wrong, Ms. Hale?" She looked up at Sherlock to see a confident expression on his face. There was no way it was going to fit her chest...But she wanted to disprove him badly. She sighed before stepping into the coat, his hands lightly brushing her shoulders as she worked her arms into the sleeves. She quickly stepped away from him, something strange in the way his long fingers softly grazed her covered arms. Hastily, she tied the front of the dressing gown. It was loose and flowing around her. It fit. She then realized it had been rather loose on the strange detective. He had been right once again...Smug man...

"Perfect," He smiled, pleased with himself before abruptly going back to his previous state of no response or movement.

Ruth peered over the still man's shoulder at John, both silent as they tried to figure out what had just happened. John coughed before speaking up lightly.

"I think he's…uh…processing something…He may be here a while…" He managed as he looked around the room uneasily. She merely nodded, clutching the front of the red dressing gown before cautiously walking around the detective and out of the washroom. Not wanting to mention it further in front of the good doctor, she blushed and nodded as they returned to tea with Mrs. Hudson.

Hours later Sherlock became fully aware once more. He saved a special spot in his mind palace for the image of Ms. Hale's nude figure. It could prove useful...and for some reason, he could not bring himself to erase her figure from his memory...He furrowed his brow before walking over to the window and peering through the blinds. It was night. Cursing to himself, he turned to leave the washroom. He had a salad-fork inventory to count. Before leaving, his eyes locked on to a very particular article of clothing that sat in the sink. Red with black lace—he had been right. He smiled to himself in victory. Furtively, he picked up the soft undergarment, examining it briefly. The deep red drew him in…and the wiring that traced the cups was fascinating. He held it to his nose, inhaling deeply before carrying it out of the room and up the stairs. Surely Ms. Hale had others. This needed to be further examined. And perhaps he could garner some more samples…Of course, with or without Ms. Hale's consent.

So apparently Sherlock is a thief of brassieres…I'd assume since he always investigates everything he would do the same with a woman's undergarment. This chapter is a bit long, but I was having way too much fun. I dare say how he is going to go about getting more samples…perhaps he will have a stolen undergarment inventory to upkeep in the future. Whatever possible scenario, I will think of it. Hope you enjoyed. Please review and favorite! I love reading your input guys. Until next time.