a/n I don't tend to write smutty times because, basically, i'm not very good at it (writing it that is). So use your imagination.

Major thanks to Velvetwhip my beta who did this for me even though she was going through a crap time. You are my frister as always. Any glaring errors are my fault.

Chapter 9

Molly Hooper was extremely confused. Since her great realisation that Sherlock Holmes was nothing more than a manipulative jerk-face, who was only around her for what he could get out of her, she had tried to wean herself off caring for him.

Only for him to suddenly turn into a totally different person.

The man who had been in her morgue last week, who touched her hair, complimented her so sweetly and kissed her cheek, was a far cry from the arrogant ass-hat that he had been before. If she wasn't almost convinced that humans were too boring for aliens to bother with, then she would be wondering about alien possession.

As it was, Sherlock had been exhibiting traits of an actual human being and it was very confusing. Maybe he was trying some sort of experiment. Or new drug.

She shook her head. She really wasn't being fair to him. Maybe he had realised that he was being a prat and was eager to make amends.

Molly sniggered. She couldn't even think of that with a straight face.

Maybe he had noticed her cool behaviour towards him and he thought he was in danger of losing lab privileges? That made far more sense than anything else. Heaven knows he could be charming when he set his mind to it.

She frowned as she thought again of last week's behaviour. His odd compliments and insults and his close proximity and touching had all been way too close for comfort. She had tried to put it out of her mind but it was impossible. The feel of him so near, his breath against her cheek as he pressed a kiss there. It still made her insides shake and her palms sweat. But she hadn't turned into a pile of goo at his feet, nor had she giggled and fussed. She had been stern, resolute and had told him she wasn't to be manipulated and his flattery was getting him nowhere.

She was so proud of herself for that she had rewarded herself with chocolate cake.

But since he'd stolen her hair tie, he hadn't been back in and she was left wondering exactly what had happened.

Had the experiment come to an end? Had he decided it wasn't worth it? Was he biding his time?

Or was she over thinking this and he'd just grown bored?

She slumped in her chair and closed her eyes with a groan. She might be trying to get over him, but not thinking of him was clearly not going to happen.

Or was that a double negative?

Wondering whether internally correcting your own grammar was one of the signs of madness, Molly suddenly realised that her inner editor sounded remarkably like a certain consulting detective.

She groaned even louder and banged her head against the back of the sofa, startling Toby who scampered under the kitchen table, mewing irately at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Right; she wasn't going to spend any more of this evening thinking about his consulting sexiness. She was going to stick in that frozen lasagne, stick on a movie and perv over Hugh Jackman for a while.

She headed for the freezer only to be stopped by a knock on her door.

Both she and Toby stared at it.

Her family were all dead, her friends were not the type to call late at night, she had no boyfriend, no stalker, Jehovah's Witness came by last month and she was fully paid up with rent.

She stepped towards the door. "Who is it?"


She stumbled towards the door and peered through the peephole. She pulled away. Blinked. And looked again.

Yep, that was Sherlock. She'd recognize him anywhere.

Tall man. Check.

Belstaff coat. Check.

Sexy dark tousled curls. Check.

Big bunch of orchids.



Molly opened the door very gingerly.

He gave her a big smile, almost beaming over the large bouquet.

"Hello, Molly."

"Sherlock?" Molly's brow wrinkled as she tried to take in what she was seeing. There had to be some explanation for why Sherlock Holmes was standing at her door after hours holding a very large bunch of flowers.

He shifted from one foot to the other in nervousness. Well, that would be what she would call it if it were anyone else.

Anyone other than Sherlock.

She stared down at the flowers and then back up to him. "Everything... all right?"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. The smile vanished and he pushed past her into her flat and stalked over to the table, slamming the flowers on top of it.

Molly winced as some of the petals floated to the floor. Really, that was no way to treat orchids.

"No, everything is not all right."

Sherlock was obviously frustrated. His hair had the look of wildness, like he had been running his fingers through it. His eyes were glossy and had an odd shine to them; a sort of fervent insanity known only by the truly brilliant. It was that spark that suggested he was either about to have a breakthrough, or a breakdown. Molly really wasn't sure which and as she stared at the man it occurred to her that she probably wouldn't be able to tell either way. He was tall, lean, gorgeous and, quite possibly, mad.

"Okay." Molly closed the door and left the safety of a quick exit to stand closer to the possibly deranged detective. She lowered her voice to a calming tone designed to soothe a savage beast. "Is there anything I can help you with, Sherlock?"

"No," he glared at her and then shook his head. "I mean yes. Stop assuming that I am mentally unhinged." He undid his buttons, wrenched off his coat and threw it on the back of the sofa like he was making a statement.

Molly nodded. Not insane. Sure. (This sarcasm was brought to you by Pathologist Ltd. A direct subsidiary of Step Away From The Psycho Productions.)

Molly took a step back.

Sherlock simply stared at her as if daring her to say anything. "I am perfectly sound of mind."

"Uh huh."

"I am, however, quite frustrated by your apparent lack of understanding. My god, I thought Anderson was slow!"

"Hey!" Molly had met Anderson and knew that it wasn't a particularly nice comparison.

"I have attempted to make the situation clear to you but it seems that my attentions have been misunderstood and you are confounded by my machinations."

Molly blinked. "Maybe because you use the word 'machinations' in general conversations."

Sherlock glared at her.

"Just saying."

"You have changed, Molly Hooper. Not three months ago you were barely able to string words into sentences around me, you blushed whenever I sat too close and spent the majority of our time together fantasizing about me. Then, just when I am ready to reciprocate, you decide that you don't want me."

Molly was reasonably sure that she wasn't the one going mad, still she couldn't have possibly heard what she thought she'd heard.


"I came to the conclusion a few months ago that I have affection for you. Sentiment," he all but sneered, "I wish to move on in our relationship."

Molly felt faint. "We have a relationship?"

"We could have if you weren't so deliberately obtuse."

So this was what going mad felt like. She had always wondered. Obviously she had been working too hard and was experiencing a long overdue psychotic break.

But even in her psychotic haze, Molly felt stirrings of irritation at his tone. He sounded like a sulky child. "For your information, Sherlock, insulting me? Not going to help." She shook her head. "What made you come to this realisation?"

"You... intrigue me. You spend your days seeing the worst that humankind has done to one another, yet you are endlessly naive and optimistic. You have no compunction in breaking up with a mass murderer yet accede to my every demand. Despite your horrendous dress sense, you are an attractive woman."

Molly opened her mouth, but closed it again; her brain was blank.

"Even sans makeup and wielding a scalpel, you are the most compelling woman I have ever met and your knowledge of the human body is unparalleled."

Molly cleared her throat, knowing full well that a blush was making its way steadily up her cheeks. "You know, Sherlock, those are also excellent credentials for a serial killer."

Sherlock's eyes brightened. "Are you a serial killer?" The tone of his voice made it clear that he found the idea more than appealing.


He sighed. "Shame really. I think you'd be good at it."

Molly was oddly flattered by the remark. After all, Sherlock was in the business of killers and if he thought she'd be a good one then maybe she could...not do that.

Molly mentally slapped herself. That would be wrong.

'Murderer' was not a viable career option unless you were of a particular Italian persuasion.

"Wh-what is it that you want from me?"

"I wish to have coffee with you and for neither of us to make it. A date. I wish for us to date."

Molly bit down on her lip. "Sherlock, you said there have been misunderstandings but there haven't. I mean, I fancied you for so long and although you flirted with me, it was only ever to get something, you never meant it. How do I know that you're not just, I don't know, trying to manipulate me to get more access or something?"

"I suppose this would be the point where grovelling comes in and I apologise for all of the horrid things I have said about you; all of the deductions that you have taken as insults."

Molly frowned. "I didn't take them as insults, Sherlock, they were insults. You are always saying things like that and they are designed to hurt. Always. Don't apologise if you don't mean it because then it means nothing."

Sherlock sighed, raking his hand through his hair. "Apparently grovelling isn't one of my strengths." He licked his lips and looked straight at her. "But I do apologise, sincerely, Molly. I don't like it when you are hurt; it was never my intention to do so. The notion that I have injured you in any way makes me... uncomfortable."

He sighed heavily before continuing. "I am not sentimental and do not wax poetic about feelings and emotions. I don't understand them, nor have I felt any need for them in my life. However I have come to the conclusion that my life would not be quite so... full if you were not there. Not in the same way were John missing but nonetheless equally as upsetting. You are on my mind constantly. I spend inordinate amounts of time contemplating things you have said or things you have done. It interferes with my productivity and my sleep and somehow I don't seem to mind. These... feelings. I- It's like drugs."

"Excuse me?"

"No sensible person wants this, its effects are curious, uncomfortable and wide reaching and it completely distorts reality. Yet I can't help but crave it. Crave you. I fear that thinking about you, Molly Hooper, has become an addiction."

"Oh." Molly breathed the word. She had fantasized about Sherlock one day admitting that he had feelings for her but this... this was beyond anything that she had ever dreamed.

Unless she was dreaming. This whole scenario had a bizarrely dreamlike quality to it. She cocked her head, leaned over and pinched Sherlock.


Her eyes widened as he scowled, rubbing his arm. "Was that quite necessary?"

"Sorry, I assumed I was dreaming."

"If that is the case, you are supposed to pinch yourself."

"But that would hurt."

He opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. She had a point.

"So, you're serious. About wanting to be with me?"

"Once again, Molly, yes. Although I have to say that your insistence that I am either mentally unhinged or manipulating you is exceedingly unflattering. I am a human being, albeit an extraordinary one."

"You can be very mean."

"Yes, I can and, if we are being honest, that probably won't change too much. Although I will try."

"Then why should I take the chance?"

He reached over and cupped her chin and his gaze met hers and held. His voice deepened and all but rumbled through her as he answered. "Because I am sorry, Molly Hooper and I want you."

"Ah..." She cleared her throat as her knees turned to jelly. "I-I'm not sure." But even as she said it, Molly knew that she was going to do this. She was going to accept Sherlock Holmes as her boyfriend. She was going to date him and kiss him and... she was feeling slightly dizzy.

There was obviously something about her manner that openly stated her intentions because Sherlock relaxed. No longer did he seem uncertain or apprehensive. He knew that she was going to say yes and his arrogance came back in full force. It was probably a good thing she found it sexy.

"Oh, I'm sure I could make it worth your while," he smirked at her.

Molly squeaked. That conjured up some very X-rated fantasies. Riding crops and fingers in his hair and oh so very many naughty things. She flushed a brighter red as he moved closer.

She took a step back, her heel almost catching on the rug, as he prowled towards her, a swagger in his walk like the King of the Jungle. He reached for her, pulling her body flush against his.

Molly's breath caught at his proximity, those dark eyes flitting over her face, taking in every detail and filing it away.

He ducked his head so that his lips were just a hairsbreadth away from hers.

"Say yes, Molly."

She shuddered as his hot breath swept over her mouth. "S-S-Sherlock?"

His hand ran up and down her spine, only to settle on her hip. "Say yes."


"Good enough," he said cutting off her words with his mouth.

Molly had been kissed, of course she had. Boyfriends at school, at uni, medical school, and several from work meant that her lips were quite accustomed to being kissed.

But not massaged, coaxed apart by silken lips and tiny nips. She had felt the invasive warmth of a sweep across her teeth and the tangling of tongues but not like this. They had never made her knees feel weak and her lower back tingle. Her hands trailed of their own accord up to his collar, gripping his shirt before driving into his hair.

God, it was even softer than she had imagined, the bouncy curls sliding under her fingertips like satin.

Then his hands were on her back, twirling her around and moving forwards and suddenly she was pressed against the wall, his hands trapping her, caging her in as he continued his assault against her senses.

He was pressed full length against her, dragging more and more kisses out of her, one hand against the wall and the other in her hair, angling her head to meet his fervent mouth.

She could have kissed him forever, and really wouldn't have minded if he never stopped but he pulled back, resting his head against hers as he fought for breath.

"I brought orchids," he whispered hoarsely.

"My favourite."

"I know. I grovelled."

"Very well," Molly panted as he nipped at her neck.

"I will do whatever you want me to."

Somebody whimpered and Molly was sure it was her. "Okay."

He ducked back in for another kiss, drawing it out until her legs were shaking, the wall the only thing holding her up. Kissing Sherlock was exactly as she had hoped and more than she had dreamed. It was intense and arousing and made everything else just fade away until all she could feel was him. Nothing mattered but the feel of his lips on hers, the feel of him melting into her and the insistent pulse starting low down in her belly.

Like everything else he did, his kisses were fantastic. She felt him tug her hair, pulling her head back as his lips left hers, travelling down her throat. The little nips were driving her crazy.

If she didn't stop him then she was going to embarrass herself right there against the wall. Molly pushed him back slightly.

"Wow," she breathed.

Sherlock lowered his forehead to hers, resting it gently against her skin, as he panted.

"I have come to the realisation that I really, really want to do that again," he said raggedly. "Many many times, for as long as you'll let me. What do you think?"

What did she think? What did she think? Thinking was overrated; especially when she had the man of her dreams within dragging distance of her bedroom.

Molly smiled and dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him back in for another kiss. "I think that that, Sherlock Holmes, is a truly great realisation."


To all those who reviewed- You guys rock and you totally made my day. Thank you so much to all of you.

Clarity02 – I was all ready to post this, got your review and it made me go 'huh', so I added in a few lines which are unbetaed so if the grammar sucks, it's your fault.

Listrant- Thanks. Most people write John as very serious but I think he'd have to have a sense of humour to deal with Sherlock.

Christiana- thank you!




Dani c Not in this fic but I do have some ideas for my next sherlolly.


Aga- Thats what friends are for!


katdemon1895-less of a review, more of an essay but it gave me some things to think about. Sadly I didn't have time to put Mycroft in this fic. But I adore him, seriously I want Gatiss so bad.

Benedict-Addict Holmes



Captain Har Har (Don't die just because it's over, I have more ideas!)



Rose of Zakarisz








Rocking the Redhead




TimeyWimey11- Bows. Thank you.