Oh how she hated these societal gatherings, Molly Hooper mused. All everyone ever did in these gatherings was lie and get lied to. She never belonged in high society, being the daughter of doctor who attended mostly to the poor. Both she and her father hadn't lacked in resources, but one couldn't say that they were completely part of the elite society. She was so much happier in the company of her books. At least they did not judge her by her social status.

"Something the matter, my dear?"

Molly shook herself out of her reverie and smiled up at the man next to her. "Oh no!" she said quickly, "Just…thinking, Victor."

Victor Trevor chuckled good-naturedly and offered her his arm. "Happy thoughts, I hope?"

"One mustn't think anything but on one's engagement day." Molly managed to say, taking his proffered arm and trying not to think about the nasty taste those words left in her mouth. Victor beamed, evidently clueless about the inner turmoil going through her head, and guided her out into the ballroom.

A hush fell as all eyes were cast their way. Molly tried not to feel too self-conscious in her two-years-out-of-fashion dress in the midst of women who followed fashion trends almost as a religion. Her free hand started to fidget with the lace of her bodice, wishing her corset wasn't so tight.

Victor led her down the small flight of stairs and they were immediately surrounded by a crowd, all fighting to be the first to congratulate the young Lord and his…fiancé. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to the lovely Margaret Hooper?" Victor said, and Molly smiled politely even as they barely glanced and nodded at her, turning their attention back to Victor. She stood by his side for a while, but when it became apparent they weren't letting him go any time soon, she excused herself, walked off to the side of the ballroom and tried to make herself inconspicuous. It was rather difficult thing to do when the party was being thrown in one's honor. Or one's fiancé's honor.

She managed to snag a glass of champagne but barely had she raised it to her lips, a deep voice behind her said, "Ah, Miss Hooper. Drinking so early into the evening?"

Molly jumped so hard that she nearly sopped the drink down herself. She turned and tried to control the blush that began to spread across her cheeks. "Oh, it's y-you. Hello." She smiled weakly at her dark haired tutor, looking as handsome as he always did in formal wear. However, Molly knew that no matter what Sherlock Holmes wore, he would look beautiful. The man could even make the raggedy clothes of a tramp look good on him.

"Yes." Holmes nodded, and Molly bit her lip as she caught sight of the pale, corded neck accentuated by his collar. "And where is the illustrious-" He snorted in a way Molly didn't like very much, "Lord Trevor? I don't flatter myself with the knowledge of every bit of societal etiquette this class seems to adhere to religiously, but I do know that it is not considered seemly that you should be wandering around alone on your engagement party."

Molly scowled at him, annoyance overriding the infatuation she still felt for him, and took a long drink before deeming to form a reply. "I'm not alone now, am I?" She said, smacking her lips and feeling utterly ridiculous.

Holmes frowned at her, suddenly paying her the full of his attention, a feat she rarely managed, even when he came to teach her Latin. He started to reply when the music started and the dance floor began to fill with couples.

Molly glanced around eagerly, waiting for Victor to come around when she noticed him already on the floor dancing with one of the more charming debutantes. She noted absentmindedly that this fact did not bother her as it should. She could hear the carrying whispers from matrons near to her. The man next to her exhaled loudly, the gust of air making the back of her neck prickle.

"Come along then." He drawled in that baritone of his. Molly stared at his proffered arm, mouth gaping open, for longer than that was necessary. Holmes cleared his throat and said in a voice that carried annoyance in very syllable, "I'm your tutor; it is my duty to escort you to any such galas. Being your dance partner is a given-"

"But I have an escort-"

"Who is dancing with one of those disgusting young women over there. Now, take my hand before I think better of it."

"But-" Molly began again, trying to think of an excuse. Would I will faint if I remain in close quarters with you any longer be a good one?

"Molly." He rumbled, and Molly noticed that it was the first time he had used her Christian name. Usually it was "Miss Hooper" or "Young lady" speaking of which, he couldn't barely be three years older than her. Who gave him the right to call her 'young lady'?). It sent a shiver down her spine, and against her better judgment, she slid her hand into his.

But not before taking another bracing drink of wine.

How did we get here? Molly thought blearily as she watched the tall, dark haired man bolt the door shut before taking quick strides to where she was sprawled on the sofa. He knelt in front of her, hands sliding up her thighs, and leaned in to place another bruising kiss on her already kiss swollen lips. She moaned, whatever coherent thoughts that were forming in her mind flying out the window, and dug her fingers into his thick curls, his kisses getting wilder as she tugged and scratched at his scalp.

She remembered vaguely—as his hands traveled to tug at the bindings of her dress—of dragging him off the dance floor just as the alcohol started to kick in (she always had had a low tolerance level) and once in the privacy of a side room, kissing him desperately until he had groaned, as if he couldn't resist any longer, and then had all but thrown her unto the sofa.

His nimble fingers took an excruciatingly long time undoing the knots at the back of her dress, and she growled in frustration. He chuckled when she broke their kiss and pushed him onto the rug, shrugged out of her dress and petticoat and straddled him. He had a smug look on his face that both turned her on and infuriated her to no end.

"Well, Ms Hooper, I wouldn't have ever thought-" he began.

"Shut up, shut up, and shut up!" She snapped, gyrating her hips so that his pubic bone stimulated her in wonderful ways. He barely managed to stifle a moan. "And it's Molly, Sherlock."

Her hands flew to his collar as his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her down on him and grinding their cores together. She nipped up a path from the column of his pale neck, sucking on his pulse-point before kissing his full lips once again.

Maybe Holmes-no, maybe Sherlock had snapped from the slow pace she was starting to set, and he flipped them over, Molly's back hitting the floor hard, the rug barely softening the hit. "We are going to have to be very quiet, Molly." He purred even as he tugged her chemise off over her head and set to work on the clasps of her corset, "Wouldn't want them to find us now, would we?" He started sucking on her left breast as soon as it was freed, and she arched up to meet his mouth.

She tugged him upwards by the hair when he reached her navel, though. Hands still on the waistband of her drawers, he raised an eyebrow, evidently displeased by her interruption of his ministrations. An uncharacteristically sly grin spread across her face. "Well, I'm not going to be the only one without clothes on. Now, take off that bloody suit."

Sherlock looked surprised, but not displeased by her assertion of control. Getting up on his knees, he shrugged out of his dinner jacket. "Are you always like this when-?"

"When I'm about to shag someone? I dunno, really. I've only been with a man once, and even then that wasn't something I-" She trailed off, suddenly reverting back to her old, closed off self.

Sherlock frowned, "Yes?"

"Nothing." She reached up suddenly, and ripped the last few buttons of his dress shirt off.

"I'm going to follow that up with you, Miss Hooper." Sherlock said, as she slid her nails across his chest, paying close attention to his nipples, and his shirt fell to the ground. He leaned into her touch, exhaling sharply.

Her hands slid upwards and cupped his face, almost tenderly. "No time for that, sir. Now will you please shag me into the carpet before any one of those despicable persons finds us?"

Something glinted in Sherlock's eyes at that, something frightening, exhilarating and it turned Molly on to no end. In one swift motion, she was flung was to the rug once more, and before she knew it, her drawers were gone, his trousers were off and he was hovering over her, enveloping her in his lanky frame.

Bracing himself using on hand so he didn't crush her, he trailed his other hand down a hot path to her very hot centre. He kissed her as he rubbed the bundle of nerves he found there, swallowing her moans as he plunged two fingers into her already wet warmth.

Molly dug her nails into his shoulder (he hissed from the mixture of pain and pleasure), wrenching her mouth away from his and panting, "Please…Sherlock…please."

Sherlock licked the scented column of her neck, finding a sweet spot to suck on as he continued to pump his fingers into her. "Now, let's not get impatient." He said smugly, as her fingers dug into his hair again, trying to find purchase.

She dragged his head up for a deep, wet kiss, momentarily stilling him. She reached down and took his length into her hand, Sherlock biting her bottom lip hard as his hips jerked of their own accord, and stroked him into full hardness.

He pulled away and looked at her, as her hand traveled up and down the length of him in light strokes. "You…you are not what you seem to be." He leaned over again and suckled her breast again, wet tongue swiping at the nub.

"Oh Lord, stop talking already and…oooh!" Her statement gave way to a moan she managed to muffle, as he removed her hand and without preamble plunged into her.

She was so wet and tight that Sherlock found it difficult to stay still. It had been so long since he had had a woman, that if he had been a lesser man (wasn't he one anyway? This woman was his pupil, engaged pupil and here he was shagging her at her engagement party) he would have pounded away like a rutting animal at her, until his true pleasure was met.

The brief flash of pain that appeared on her face however, made him stop no matter what his body was telling him to do. "A…Are you alright?" He made to pull out, but Molly grabbed his bum and pulled him tighter against him.

"I-I'm fine. Just been a while." She wrapped her legs around his waist, and crossed them at the ankles. She bit her lip, and then smiled like a minx at him.

At the first sign of her consent, his cock twitched inside of her, and he let go completely. His hips went off like a piston, pumping into her with such force that her whole body shook with him. He kissed her again and again, teeth clashing and she could almost taste blood.

She wasn't going to last very long. Not if he kept on hitting that…ooooh …spot inside her like that. Judging by the way his thrusts became more frantic and artless, he wasn't going to last long either.

She opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) and stared into his eyes, pupils blown black and the blue-green iris just a thin ring. She tugged and pulled at his hair again, as he leaned down to bite and suck at her throat, no doubt leaving numerous marks that would be hard to explain later.

And then…and then his hand traveled down again, his clever fingers sought out the bundle of nerves…and he flicked at it just so…and she was gone. She gave out a hoarse cry that formed his name, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing into her helpless body until she had nothing left in her mind except his name.

Sherlock's hips stuttered, and he mashed his mouth inelegantly against hers as he came so intensely inside her, her own orgasm milking his cock to the last drop, that white spots danced in front of his vision.

He collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him, both breathing hard. After a moment, managing to catch his breath at last, Sherlock rolled off of her and onto his back next to her. None of them made any inclination of getting up however. Molly tried not to think about the complications that she would no doubt face soon enough.

"Oh God," Molly said covering her face with her hands. Sherlock turned to look at her. "You…you have ruined me now, haven't you? That was amazing. How could Victor possibly-"

She froze and Sherlock immediately reached for his trousers. He had managed to put his shirt on when he noticed her pulling on her drawers and chemise. "Uh…my corset is…I can't wear it anymore." She said in a quiet voice, so very unlike the Molly he had gotten a glimpse of a barely a few moments ago.

"They won't notice." Sherlock said in a strained voice. He cleared his throat, "Well, Miss Hooper…I…uh…We should be getting back." Molly had by now managed to don her dress once again. She turned around, presenting him with a mouth watering view of her back. He was struck with the sudden desire to throw her back to the ground, rip her clothes off, and be buried in her warmth once more—

"Uh…Sher-Sherlock. Could you…please?"

"Oh yes. Of course." He deftly tied up the bindings on the back of her dress. If he could say so himself, he did an even better job of it than her maid had done previously. After all articles of clothing were donned and Molly's corset hidden somewhere behind the sofa, they stood awkwardly in front of each other.

"Er…" Molly began.

"We should really be getting back. Thank you…Molly."

Molly glanced at him, and wasn't at all surprised to see the cold mask back on. She nodded, willing herself not to cry, when he lifted her chin up and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Then he arranged her hair in such an expert way that the bruises forming on her neck (he glanced his fingers over those in a gesture that was almost possessive) could be out of view if she didn't move around too much.

And then he walked out. Molly tried to convince herself that it was for the best. After all, lots of people had these 'flings' before they got married. It was her luck she managed to snag her handsome Latin tutor, whom she had been infatuated with from the start.

She stomped her foot onto the floor in frustration. Why did she always have to make things so difficult for herself? As she tentatively walked out of the room, she could feel the beginnings of the rug burn on her back. Another reminder of what she had done.

This was going to make facing Victor so much more difficult.

A/N: Well then. This took a long while. My most heartfelt birthday wishes to Petra Todd, whose stories are brilliant, hot and so in character. This is my humble offering to her; but there are plenty more brilliant ones around. I hope I could at least write something that was vaguely entertaining. But this is as much as you're going to get out of me I'm afraid. Unless you want me to embarrass myself further.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go write an AvengeWhoLock for my darling beta A Pirate By Any Other Name, who, even though she really doesn't do this sorta thing, agreed to beta this and stay up late to do so.

Thank you for reading this far, and I hope you all like it and review!

*curls up into fetal position and attempts to make herself scarce*

Lots of Love

Adi xoxoo (adi-who-is-also-mou on tumblr)

P.S: ya happy now, NoveraDeMedici and fiction-from-my-mind? I finally managed to write this.