Suri Holmes had to be the most beautiful - and intimidating - woman John had ever met, and that was saying something, given the well earned reputation of military nurses who were still mostly female even in this day and age. He'd noticed her immediately upon walking into the lab with Mike, even though the young doctor fliting in Suri's shadow was more his usual type. But Dr Hooper paled next to Suri, who moved as if the lab belonged to her alone. She reminded John of his nursing colleagues, who had no problem whatsoever telling him off if he made a charting mistake, so it really shouldn't have been any surprise to Mike or any of the others that he'd moved into the flat on Baker St scarcely twenty-four hours later. Suri was fascinating. Remarkable. Amazing. He'd already killed for her once. He had a feeling it wouldn't be the only time.
But. There would always be a fly in the ointment. John was pretty sure Suri was a drug user. Of what he couldn't be sure, without jacking open the bright yellow sharps container in the bathroom in order to test the residue on a needle, and he didn't want to do that. A discreet look around had eventually located a lockbox in Suri's wardrobe. John knew he didn't have the skills to pick it before she got home, so he left it alone. He considered chatting with Greg about it, especially given the context of that drug raid on their first day in the flat, but that felt like too much of a violation. So John contented himself with observation. He was a trained surgeon. Minute changes in the middle of surgery could be the difference between success and failure. Suri might be able to let deductions fly after a single glance at a crime scene, but John had patience on his side.
The drug raid and the sharps container seemed to contradict each other. You couldn't just walk into Boots and buy one - they came along with a prescription for needles. So either she'd thieved one - always possible - or she had a script for an injectable. But that would counter Greg showing up for a drug raid, during which they completely ignored the sharps container. He knew the two things could exist separately. They didn't have to be connected. Life isn't an episode of House, John reminded himself.
There were her moods, which seemed to swing from uncontrolled mania to intense lethargy, with no particular rhythm or cycle. Strangely, her mood swings didn't seem connected to her shot schedule - always Tuesday evenings, always at seventeen hundred, after tea and while John made their dinner. It was the only thing that would stop her on a case - they needed to be back to the flat for tea, and shot, and dinner no matter what was happening with a case.
There were odd behaviors that John slowly assembled over the following months.
Suri understood human social behavior well enough, and flirted and played hard to get when the occasion suited, but never dated.
She frequently wore little around the house but always kept herself covered from waist to knees. Considering how often she strolled through the flat in nothing more than a sheet draped over one shoulder and around her waist, John found it rather surprising he'd never seen so much as a hint of panties. Did she even wear them?
Suri was incredibly jealous of John's time and attention. Her attempts to interfere with his dating life quickly became so ridiculous that John stopped expecting to see a woman past date number three. Considering how quickly she'd rejected his own careful advance, her possessiveness occupied far more of John's waking hours than he'd have liked.
The penny dropped after the pool. "People seldom do anything but talk, John," she muttered. And then they went home, clinging to each other, shaken by what had just passed between them. I want her, John thought, over and over again in the cab. I know she saw it. She - we almost kissed before Mycroft's men came in. "Stop thinking so loudly, John," Suri whispered. She'd hadn't moved from looking out the cab window yet she knew. She always knew. When the cab pulled up in Baker St, Suri paid, before quietly leading John inside and upstairs. To John's surprise they didn't go in through the kitchen door but rather up the second set to his room. They never came up here together. His breath tightened, wondering.
"Suri?" She pushed him towards the bed. John managed to catch himself and sit on the edge, watching her pace from the door to the window and back again. After half a dozen circuits, she seemed to make up her mind about something and came to an abrupt halt in front of John.
"You are accustomed to bringing lovers home, John."
"I did try with you, you know."
"Married to my work, yes. I remember."
"What stopped you from giving a different answer that night?"
"Fear."
John blinked at her, amazing. "You're Suri Holmes! Nothing seems to faze you!"
"Except you."
"Why?"
"You are a man of surprises. Every time I think I understand, you do something completely unexpected."
"I see." John didn't see. He didn't have the slightest clue where Suri was going with this.
"I'm hoping you will continue to surprise me with the unexpected, tonight."
"In what way?" John's imagination ran away with him for a moment. Sometimes, civilians were brought to military hospitals and one horrific night a few months before he'd been shot, John had found himself knitting back together a girl who'd been assaulted -
"No, not like that, John." In the moments while John's attention drifted, Suri crossed the small space between them and knelt, holding his hands.
"Thank God."
"It's rather more simple than that. I'm primarily attracted to cis straight men. Sadly, most men of the type are not attracted to me when they realize I'm not put together like most cis women."
John frowned, all of his observations about Suri coming together at once. She's transgender, he thought. The sharps, the lockbox, she's proud of her chest, self conscious about - everything else, conscientious about her shot schedule. All of the little oddities made sense. He'd have to ask Greg about the drug raid though. Obviously that was connected to some other part of her past.
"You're not - I apologize. I'll just -" Suri tried to stand and back away.
"No!" The word came out sharper than John intended. "For once, you've misread me." He tugged at her hands, pulling forward on her knees until John could cradle her cheek in one hand. "This isn't a rejection. I was putting together all the things I've noticed since moving in," he said, quietly. "I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever met, that day in the lab. I still think you're a tall mad bitch half the time, but if anything that just makes you more attractive, not less." Suri tilted her face against his palm, almost rubbing her skin against his. "Are you willing to answer one question?"
"Only one?"
John hadn't known the woman was capable of being surprised. He nodded.
"Of course."
He let his eyes drift to her mouth and back to her eyes. "Can I kiss you?" John watched Suri's lashes flutter and her lips part. He'd lost too many hours to the fantasy of how they'd feel against his, to rush this moment.
"I want - John, I - "
I want. I want. I want. Thankful they were both finally on the same page about this, John pressed his mouth to hers, as soft and warm as he'd imagined. When she responded to the kiss, it was clear she knew what she liked and how to get it. My kind of woman, John thought. He pulled her in as close as possible, kissing until his neck tightened uncomfortably. It occurred to him that Suri couldn't be comfortable either, craning her neck up as she was from her kneeling position. He broke the kiss slowly, reluctantly, leaving soft gentle pecks against her lips before finally pulling away. Her eyes stayed closed, her hands still curled around the tops of his thighs. "Suri," John breathed.
"Hmmm?" She opened her eyes slowly.
John pushed up towards the headboard, tugging her with him. "Let's get more comfortable."
Suri nodded and got to her feet, and then paused with one knee on the mattress. "Do you mind if I -" She gestured to the buttons on her V-cut blouse.
Do I mind?! John thought. The first time Suri had wandered out of her bedroom in a sheet, one breast completely exposed, the other just barely covered, John had had to literally sit on his hands, so strong had been the impulse to push her up against the counter and nuzzle his face into her chest. She'd just smirked at him and flopped onto the couch, back turned to him. He knew she'd read the entire fantasy on his face. "However you want, love. But if you're taking yours off, do you mind if I - ?"
"Please."
John also didn't know her voice could sound that breathy. He pulled his jumper and tshirt off in a single move and tossed the garments more or less towards his wardrobe. He watched her fingers fumble over the buttons. There seemed to be far more and much smaller than necessary. "Can I help?" Suri nodded, her blouse half undone. John shifted again, tucked his legs around the backs of hers, kissed the top of her stomach where the fabric had fallen away. Her skin was exactly as soft as he'd imagined, smooth and warm under his lips. "Amazing," he murmured. He felt her twitch against his mouth. He worked a button open, pressed his lips to the newly revealed bit of skin. "Remarkable." John pressed compliments into Suri's skin as he opened the last couple buttons, then trailed his lips up her body as he pushed the material free from her arms. As the fabric fell away, Suri wrapped her arms around John's shoulders. She let her head fall back when he reached up and gently gathered a handful of hair. She moaned when he licked into the hollow of her throat. And when he dragged his lips across her breasts, she arched against him.
"Sensitive, here?" John brushed his thumb across a nipple.
"Yes." It was somewhere between a breathy whisper and a gasp, her body bending against his hands seemingly without conscious control.
Fuck. He could just live here, John thought. Suri's skin was wondrously soft, the curves of her body both firm and yielding in that way John found endlessly fascinating about women's bodies. He held her still with hands settled at her waist while he traced his mouth over her skin, licking, sucking, and then biting when she gasped "harder. Please!" until he felt her knees shaking against his calves.
"Come here." They landed sideways across the bed, giggling a little with the inevitable awkwardness of arranging elbows, and pillows, and knees but then their bodies fell into rhythm, John half on top of Suri, kissing her mouth and along her jaw, only to find that the tender bit of skin under her ear was one of the most sensitive places he'd discovered yet, apart from her nipples. He pinched one at the same time as he kissed under her ear, earning himself a thrashing jerk of her body and a gasp that was almost a word. John smiled to himself, filing that response away for future reference.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, John felt Suri slip her hands under the waistband of his trousers and realized with some surprise they were both still half dressed. He pressed kisses to her belly and sat up. "Love."
"Hmmm?" She used her grip on his arse to try and pull him back down. John caught himself with a hand pressed to one breast. His breath caught all over again. He felt like he'd been walking through a desert and suddenly been presented with an oasis. He could not get enough.
"Can I take these off?" With the way they'd been rolling across each other, kissing and groping, ordinarily John wouldn't have stopped for the question and simply assumed it was the next logical step. But with the memory of the times Suri kept her waist covered even as she bared the rest of her body fresh in his mind, John wanted to be sure of her comfort level.
"Please." She rolled her hips up to meet him.
John had the button undone and his fingers on the zip when Suri seemed to suddenly remember something. He stilled his fingers, half expecting her to change her mind, that this was developing too fast.
"Um, John?"
"Too much?" He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm.
"No, not that. I just - I'm not wearing - "
Ah. John sat back on his heels and stroked down her thighs in long soothing sweeps. "In case you hadn't already deduced it, I'm some flavor of bi or pan." John cocked his head at her, thinking. "It's about the connection I feel with someone, not what parts they have." He felt her legs relax under his hands.
"You're very good at this," Suri whispered. "I thought you'd want to talk about everything."
John shook his head. "Just have one other question, if that's alright?" He placed his hand over the soft bulge of her natal biology. She wasn't hard, nor did John expect that. There's been that one conference session he'd gone to ages ago about gender affirming care. He'd only signed up for it because he'd been a late registrant and the other sessions in the lecture block were full. He'd found the conversation about how bodies respond to different hormone cocktails completely fascinating. Pieces of what the lecturer had talked about filtered through his mind as he watched Suri's face. She seemed . . embarrassed, maybe? He wondered exactly how often she'd been intimate with a partner since transitioning. "What words do you like, for here?" He bent to kiss around her navel. Suri sucked in a breath and squirmed.
"I - oh, that's - yes - John!" Suri put both hands in his hair and lifted his head. "You have to stop. I can't think!" she gasped.
John laughed and brushed his lips against hers. "Suri Holmes, unable to think. Alarming!"
She giggled, running her hands through his hair. "It is. Please don't stop." She took one hand and moved it back, centered over the zip of her trousers. "I have a clit, same as any other woman."
"Alright." John tugged at the zip. "Do you want to do this or - ?"
Suri rolled her hips up again. "You. And then get yours off too."
"Just so you know, love. I like you knowing what you want and willing to tell me so." There really wasn't ever a sexy way to take trousers off someone lying down so John simply undid the fastenings and drew them off Suri's legs with as little fanfare as possible, and then dealt with his in the same fashion. Clothing pushed off the bed, he stopped for his first good look at the woman he'd been crushing on for months. His first thought was to wonder what man wouldn't find her incredibly attractive. Suri was all impossibly long limbs and dark curling hair, high cut cheekbones and softly rounded curves everywhere else. John's overall impression was of soft pink plush that made him want to sink his hands and teeth in and never leave. He slid one knee up against her groin - she'd liked grinding against it earlier - and leaned up to kiss her.
John had an intuition that he could help Suri relax into this if he went back to some of the other things he already knew she liked. Her ears and under her jaw, down the long taut lines of her throat. And when she arched up into his hands, he shifted his attentions to her breasts. He really couldn't get enough of them. Apparently, neither could Suri. She whimpered so prettily, shifting under his hands, showing him where she wanted his mouth. With all of his attention focused on Suri, John nearly forgot about his own arousal; that is until a particularly enthusiastic reaction from Suri brought her thigh into direct contact with John's cock. Shit. Fuck, he needed that too. John pressed his cheek to Suri's chest while he followed the rhythm she set between them.
A shift in the moans and whimpers coming from Suri made John drag his focus away from himself and back to her. She sounded frustrated - like this felt so good, but wasn't enough to get what she wanted. He eased his hips away, shifted down the bed. Her thighs fell open on a gasp as his mouth found the delicate skin around her clit. "Please. Oh fuck."
John closed his eyes and let her sounds guide him - inner thighs, the creases where her legs joined her torso, he noticed quickly that around the base was more sensitive than the shaft itself but that also the head was just as sensitive as any other woman he'd ever gone down on. He took care to tread lightly and not over-sensitize her there. Pressing his tongue into her perineum had her rolling her hips urgently against his mouth, her hands fisted in John's hair. Noted. He moved away to nip again at her thighs and lick around her clit but moved back down in response to her actually pushing his head down where she wanted him. Just perfect, as far as John was concerned.
At some point, John vaguely registered her fingers moving against her clit. He cracked an eye open, hoping for hints about how she liked to touch herself, but their joining was rapidly becoming a blur of mouths, frantic hands and shaking thighs, and moans and John made a mental note to ask her if he could just watch one time. He barely noticed the assumption that, of course, this wouldn't be the only time. God, he hoped there would be a next time!
"John!" Suri bucked against his mouth, her thighs tight and shaking around his shoulders. "Coming. Oh fuck." Her body slowly sank back into the mattress, her head falling back, fingers slack between her legs. "Fuck."
John left leisurely kisses and licks against her skin as he moved to stretch out next to her and pull her into his arms. "Beautiful. Perfect. Gorgeous. So perfect." He pressed compliments into her trembling skin with kisses, knowing he sounded more ridiculous with every word, and not caring in the slightest. He hadn't come yet. God, he wanted to but he couldn't quite believe Sure had let him this close and he wanted to savor it for as long as she'd let him. "Thank you."
He closed his eyes as Suri came back to herself enough to her hand down his torso and settle over his tented boxers. Her eyes widened almost comically. "John - "
"'M a grown man, Suri. Can take care of that myself, later."
Suri studied him with eyes that narrowed suspiciously. "You actually mean that."
"Course I do." Doesn't everyone?
"You'd be surprised how often men say that to try and force a woman's hand."
"But - " John closed his mouth. Actually, he could believe that.
Suri slid out of his arms to plant kisses down his chest. Suri Holmes, sex-tosseled curls and half closed silvery eyes, kissing his chest and torso, leaving liquid pleasure in the wake of the delicate touches. He felt her fingertips curl into the waist of his boxers and pull, not even off his legs, just far enough down his thighs for her to get to his cock and balls. "Ah. Love. It's not going to take -!" Much - cut off by a groan as she closed her mouth over the head of his cock. One hand closed around the base, jerking him firm, not too fast, her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in his fingers and meanwhile, doing something with her tongue against the head of his cock that John couldn't quite keep track of but felt marvelous. He closed his eyes and surrendered to all of the sensation, everywhere. He dug his hands into the mattress in an effort to control the urge to thrust and come, too much, too fast. He heard himself moan when Suri lifted her mouth from his cock. "John."
He dragged his eyes down to hers.
"I want you to come. Please." She closed her lips tight around him and tugged at his hip, encouraging him to move. John gave up. He couldn't resist. He couldn't cling to control any longer. He rolled his hips against her mouth once, twice, and then felt everything and nothing as his orgasm washed over him.
*****
"Tell me about your name."
Time passed. Neither of them bothered to try and keep track. They took showers and put on pajamas. John changed the sheets on his bed, Suri made tea that they took to her room. They were sitting against the headboard, shoulders overlapping, sipping at their tea, when John found the courage to ask.
"I was born with a shock of bright blond hair, apparently. My parents had one of those long, formal aristocratic names in mind for me - "
"Are you, really?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Suri took another sip of her tea. "On a whim, my mother added an old English name that means fair haired to the endless string of names I'd already been assigned. It became sort of a family joke, as you can imagine." Suri shook her tumble of dark hair. "When I told my parents I was going to transition, my father got very quiet. I thought he was going to tell me to leave, never come back home." She frowned. "You know the sort of story."
John nodded. "I do." It was far too common of a story.
"When I went to say good night to him later that evening, he asked me to sit down for a minute. You can imagine, John. I was terrified of what he was going to say." Suri leaned harder into John's shoulder. "He handed me a book, one of the volumes of the family history and genealogy and pointed to a name. "A woman on my mother's side of the family, seven or eight generations back, who'd grown up in India. 'Her name also means fair haired,' he told me. 'You deserve names you choose yourself, but consider including Suri. You look like her portraits.'"
"Do you?"
Suri shrugged. "I'll show them to you and you can decide for yourself."