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DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters but if I owned a Sherlock he'd be well fed.

This part one of a mini two parter I've got going on. Prepare yourselves for the first bit of smut (coming soon!)

Chapter Five. Teacher/Learner Pt1. Set between Ch8, 9 & 10 of The Full House (after Sherlock and Molly DO EEET for the first time).

Sherlock knew he should have been focused on Moran, but worryingly he found that his thoughts would quite often slip away from him and before he'd realised what was happening, he'd found them wandering over to Molly. Merely the fact that he was distracted was concerning enough, but if Sherlock were to be honest with himself, he found her remarks regarding their… Coupling… Even more frustrating.

He was sat cross-legged in an armchair; long fingers idly plucking at the strings of his violin. From his position he was able to look out the window and onto a dreary side street of London below. Unusually for Sherlock, he was looking but not seeing. Instead, the blushing face of Molly Hooper, with her shy grin and mussed-up brown hair repeatedly swam into his mind's eye.

He blinked a few times in an effort to rid himself of the distraction, though he already knew it was no good. The discussion from earlier in the morning was plaguing him.

"Sherlock, don't get the wrong idea! I was with you and being with someone you... Well... You know... It makes all the difference in the world, even if it's... It wasn't bad, you were just sort of… Over-thinking it."

Molly didn't seem to have been lying when she said she'd enjoyed the experience; but it certainly looked as if Sherlock had enjoyed it more. What on Earth did she mean, over-thinking it?

He gave a little growl of irritation, which made Toby the cat streak from under his armchair and across the living room. Although he deeply resented being spoken to like a child, the cold and logical side of Sherlock knew Molly had been right when she'd later told him he couldn't expect to be good at anything the first time round - this obviously included sex.

Disconcertingly, it seemed a new side the detective had awoken recently; one he had never known to previously exist. This side was currently warring internally against the other; it was the part of him that forced his mind to slip away from important cases and onto Molly. This was a part of him that made his blood run hot at the thought of her naked body against his, or run cold when there was a possibility she was in danger.

Sherlock had always been proud of being able to keep his feelings in check. Emotion was nothing more than a chemical balance in reaction to stimulus received through the body's senses. He never divulged in them, though he pondered that some occasionally had their benefits.

Anger, for one. A impassioned rage was sometimes exactly what the human body needed in order to fuel an action that may otherwise prove difficult or strenuous.

Fear, on the other hand, was an emotion Sherlock almost exclusively shut out. It was illogical, clouded one's judgement and was of no help to anyone in any situation.

This, though. This was new and Sherlock wasn't exactly sure what name it ought to have. Lust? Desire? Goodness, they seemed so… Primitive. For thirty-five years Sherlock had managed to get by extraordinarily well without so much as a kiss. Now, no longer a virgin, he found himself unable to focus on his work - instead torturing himself over the possibly inefficiency of his sexual prowess.

He sneered to no one in particular. It was pathetic. Still. He was treating this as an experiment, and put simply it wasn't in Sherlock's nature to approach any experiment without an adequate amount of competence. Further investigation would be required, though unfortunately there was only one person who was able to assist him.

Reaching for his phone, Sherlock quickly tapped out a message and sent it without allowing himself to ponder further.

Are you nearby 221b? SH

He inwardly braced himself when the device sighed back at him only a few seconds later.

A short cab ride away, should you need me. Though I have nothing new for you re: the case. What is this about? x

Sherlock felt an explanation would be better made in person, so he simply replied;

I need your expertise. Come now, if convenient. SH

This time, the response was almost instantaneous.

Well, that's an offer I can't refuse. Give me ten minutes. x

Irene Addler sat back on the sofa across from Sherlock, one leg draped over the other. She took a sip of her tea before placing the cup down on the coffee table and arched a penciled eyebrow, a feline smile playing on her lips.

"So… Would I be right in deducing that this has nothing to do with Moriarty, or Moran?"

It wasn't much of a difficult presumption, but whenever Molly deduced something from Sherlock, the detective was loathed to admit something warm stirred in the depths of his abdomen. It seemed having his own skills used against him awoke this new side, though he was interested to find it only seemed to occur when it was Molly doing the analysing. Although Irene was unmistakably an attractive woman - with sexual appeal that seemed to simply leak from her every pore - she just didn't have the same effect on Sherlock that Molly did. He wasn't sure what to do with this new information, so he put it to the back of his mind before speaking.

"You are correct. I…" He paused, unsure of how to begin to explain his predicament. Just going over the words in his head made him feel like an inexperienced teenager awkwardly consulting the agony aunt of a sex magazine. He scowled.

Irene noticed, and leant forward in her seat, holding her chin with one well-manicured hand.

"Let mummy guess," She purred, "You and the charming Miss Hooper have taken your - what shall we call it? Relationship? - to the next level."

Sherlock's pale eyes narrowed, and Irene's smile widened in response.

"And sex wasn't quite what you'd imagined? Was it a little scary…? Messy?" She lowered her eyes, "Painful?"

Sherlock exhaled heavily, putting his own teacup beside Irene's. He shifted in his seat, knowing the dark look on his face was plainly giving away just how uncomfortable he was broaching such a subject. He tried to give his usual air of aloofness as he spoke.

"You are correct. Last night Molly and I… Coupled for the first time." He paused, expecting Irene to have made a sharp remark about his choice of verb. Nothing ever seemed to be adequate when he found himself talking about this topic aloud; slept with… made love to… had intercourse with… Ugh. They were all completely incapable of describing the experience.

When he realised Irene was keeping silent, he carried on.

"I would like to continue with our…" Oh, again with the difficulty with finding words! Usually Sherlock considered himself an eloquent individual but this conversation was a bloody minefield of innuendo and misunderstanding. Irene had chosen to use relationship, though he didn't respond well to this term. Instead Sherlock settled on one he was suitably familiar with;

"…Experiment, though when I spoke with Molly, it seemed such an undertaking may be undermined by my previous lack of experience in such areas."

Goodness, even he knew he was talking balderdash. Thankfully, he didn't have Molly's problem of perpetually flushing crimson at every awkward moment, otherwise Sherlock was sure his cheeks would currently be blazing red-hot. As it was, he could be quietly confident in his usual alabaster skin tone and casual expression.

Irene's smile didn't falter, but her eyes narrowed a little at his odd choice of words.

"You're worried you're not good enough in the sack, is that it?" She finally concluded.

Sherlock swallowed hard at the sheer bluntness of her statement, though he was relieved that he wouldn't have to explain further, "Yes."

Irene positively beamed, "And, since I am the closest thing you have to an expert on sex, you want me to teach you some tricks in order to impress Molly?"

"Yes."

"I'm also presuming you simply wish this to be a theoretical lecture," Her dark eyes grazed over Sherlock's torso as she spoke, "I have time for something a little more… Practical, if you'd like?"

"That won't be necessary."

The Woman pouted at him, "Spoilsport."

She then puckered her lips in thought, dragging a long red nail across her chin absent-mindedly. It seemed she was enjoying herself. Sherlock briefly wondered if he should be concerned.

"Well, if we're only talking I'd rather not be here all afternoon. But if you'd like I can quickly run you past all of the usual sensory areas; without knowing Molly intimately I'm not privy to her personal tastes, but I'm quite sure her erogenous zones will be largely the same as any other woman's. And I know them all by heart."

Sherlock sighed idly, "I already have a capable understanding of human physiology. I am well aware which parts of a female's anatomy serve her best when trying to achieve sensory pleasure."

Irene shook her head sagely, her smile slow and deliberate.

"Sherlock, darling. You know the theory. Anyone can know the theory. You know what to touch, but you don't know when to do it, or how. You can't just press your lips or your fingers to a certain point on her body and expect her to immediately become flushed with romantic ecstasy. It's so much more than that. It's not about finding the right formula and going through the motions - it's falling into complete, spontaneous passion. It's teasing her until she's begging you - simply begging you - to keep going…"

Sherlock swallowed again as Irene stood out of her chair, and folded her arms.

"Let the lesson begin."

Part two coming soon! :) Please r/r! Thankyou!