Molly sat in the cab, holding the small cooler on her lap. She watched the nighttime lights of London go by. This was a new low, even for Sherlock. When he needed body parts he usually at least came and got them himself!
She scoffed at her own line of thinking, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She might have been frustrated with Sherlock's curt text "If you have any extra toes, I could use some. Please bring them to Baker Street if convenient. If inconvenient, bring them anyway, I need them", but of course she had packed them up in some ice, and after her shift, caught a cab to Baker Street. Of course she did.
Sherlock had been back from the dead for a year now. John and Mary and little baby Amanda lived in domestic bliss. John still helped Sherlock on cases when he could, although he continued to practice medicine. Molly was very glad Mary and John had fixed whatever marital problems had plagued most of her pregnancy. They hadn't felt the need to share it with her, and she was too polite to ask.
And Sherlock continued to be Sherlock. Beautiful, maddening, Sherlock. She'd called off her engagement to Tom once he returned to London. She couldn't deny that her heart was elsewhere. It was easy to forget him during the two years he was gone - she had no reason to believe he'd ever come back, and she wasn't getting any younger.
But watching him at John and Mary's wedding, she'd known. She'd known that she wasn't over him, and while she would never have him, it wasn't fair to marry another man when he still held her heart so tightly. A gift he'd never appreciate.
Sighing, she paid the cab driver and rang the bell of 221B. After she received no response, she rang it again. The door opened, and Mrs. Hudson peered out at her. "Oh, hello Molly! Sherlock isn't home, he left in quite a hurry about ten minutes ago."
Molly closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. "Do you mind if I wait upstairs for him? He asked me to bring this." she indicated the cooler.
Mrs. Hudson looked at it. "Oh, dear. I don't want to know. Go on up, dear, I'm sure he won't mind."
Molly smiled at Mrs. Hudson and made her way up the stairs, pushing open the door to Sherlock's flat. She set the cooler down on the kitchen table and pulled out her phone to text Sherlock. "I'm at Baker Street, are you coming back anytime soon?"
She stood looking out the big windows of the flat until she heard her phone ping with a new message. "No, caught a lead. Leave the toes, I'll be gone awhile. SH"
Molly rolled her eyes and went to the cooler, taking them out of the ice and putting them in the freezer. She found a piece of paper and scribbled "Toes in freezer - Molly." on it, and set it under the skull on the mantle, where she knew he'd see it. She went back into the kitchen to pick up her cooler, and glanced down the hallway toward Sherlock's bedroom. The door was open.
Letting curiosity get the better of her, Molly found herself drifting down the hallway, past the bath, to the door of Sherlock's bedroom. She peered in. It was a lot nicer than she expected, given the state of the rest of the flat. It was picked up, and mostly clean, although his wardrobe door was open and there were a few shirts tossed over the top of the door. The bed was rumpled, but the sheets looked clean.
And expensive. Molly stepped into the room, reaching a hand out to touch the sheets and fluffy duvet cover. Oh, she was right. These were very fine sheets indeed.
Giggling, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Sherlock's bed. She felt so naughty being in here, she knew she shouldn't snoop. She ran her hands along the sheets again, marveling at how soft they were. She knew Sherlock's clients paid him; apparently they paid him well. She could never afford anything this nice.
She glanced out the open door again, and couldn't help herself. She ran a finger lightly over her chest, stopping to rub her fingers over her left nipple. She shivered a bit, partly from the pleasure of the touch, but mostly for the idea of feeling this pleasure in Sherlock's bed.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket again. He said he'd be gone awhile. How long was that? In Sherlock time, that could be days. Her hand drifted down to her breast again, and she slipped out of her shoes, laying back across the bed.
She slid her right hand up under her shirt, thumbing over her nipple with a little more force this time. Pulling the cups down under her breasts, she pinched at the nipple, smiling and sighing as she relaxed more into the cloud-like surface of Sherlock's bed. Who knew he prefered such a soft bed? She had pictured something more utilitarian for the enigmatic consulting detective.
After a few moments she glanced toward the door again, and unbuttoned her trousers. She lifted her hips a bit, sliding them just past her bottom, along with her pants. Grinning, she slid one finger between her folds, seeking out the center of the hot passion that was quickly consuming her. In Sherlock's bed. The naughtiness spurred her on further, and she made quick work of her orgasm, biting the back of her left hand to keep herself from making any noise Mrs. Hudson might hear. Once she finished she quickly slid her trousers back on, slipped back into her shoes, and made her way down to the door of Mrs. Hudson's flat.
"Mrs. Hudson!" she called out, "Looks like he's going to be gone awhile. I left the package for him, I'm heading home! Thanks for letting me in!" She quickly turned and left, before Mrs. Hudson could come to the door. She wasn't sure she could face her.
She grinned the whole way home, however.