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She was starting to get used to the beads of sweat that dripped down her spine. The recent weather had been unseasonably hot and the daily threat of rain didn't help matters any. They had a tiny air conditioning unit that sat broken in one of the second floor's window. Broken and due to be fixed, but that would not happen any time soon. Sherlock insisted that he need different parts of the air conditioner for an experiment he was conducting. The experiment must have been a failure: the air conditioner never worked again. Joan began to think that maybe he just liked to see her run around the brownstone in little clothing.
Joan leaned back in her chair and pulled her damp hair off the back of her sticky neck. She held her hair in a make-shift bun on the top of her head. She let the strands fall, relishing in the small breeze the movement created on the back of her neck. She did the same thing over and over again until she felt his hands on her shoulders.
"You're not breathing," he whispered. He hooked his fingers under the straps of her tank top and bra and slid them down her shoulders.
"It's too hot to breathe."
He padded his fingers up her skin, catching drips of sweat along the sides of her neck. He gathered her long hair up in one hand and wrapped it around his fingers, pulling tightly at the base of her skull. His other hand travelled up her shoulder; his thumb guided the rest of his fingers. He pressed the rough pad of his thumb gently, yet firmly, into the back of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered and she leaned forward slightly, resisting the gentle tug his hand had on her hair.
"Are you going to put it up?"
"You already know I prefer to see it down."
He dropped her hair with his response and as his words fell around the sides of her head, so too did her hair swing loosely over the back of her head, brushing her shoulder blades along the way.
He walked away from her then and she frowned in disappointment. She heard a drawer slam open, then shut, and the water running. She assumed he was getting something for himself but then she heard his heavy footsteps walking back to her.
He picked up her hair again and she felt a cool cloth press against the back of her neck. She gasped and shivered at the same time.
Sherlock folded the cloth over and draped it over her collar bone. While still holding her hair, he held the cloth in place with his hand. The other hand secured one end of the cloth with her tank-top and bra straps. He did the same thing on the other side, and when he finished, he dropped her hair so it fell over her shoulders.
He hovered there for a moment, unsure of where to go next, when she reached up and pulled his hand over her shoulder. She secured it in place with her own hand.
He took the hint and stretched his fingers out so they lingered down her chest and travelled down towards her breasts.
She sighed and leaned her head back towards him, landing softly on his sternum. He massaged small circles into her skin and bent down, kissing her forehead. She turned then stood up to face him.
"Cooled down?" he asked.
"Not in the slightest."
She pulled the cloth from her neck. The force pulled her tank top and bra straps down on one side, revealing the top of her breast, but he held her gaze.
"Any other way I can help you?"
"I have an idea."
She took him by the hand and lead him upstairs and into their bathroom.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.