8

Molly looked up as Sherlock stumbled into the room.

He had a bad case of bed head and there was a pillow crease across his cheek, but the overwhelming air of exhaustion had disappeared during his nine hour sleep.

He'd come home after solving his latest case and face-planted on his bed. Molly had been worried until John had assured her that post-case coma was a usual problem after a 'nine'.

Still she had checked on him several times to make sure that he was still breathing, which had the added benefit of the picture of the consulting detective drooling on his pillow that was currently hidden in her phone for future blackmailing prospects.

He scratched at the back of his neck and yawned widely, slumping onto the middle of the sofa.

Toby glared balefully up at him from his perch on Molly's knee, obviously not liking the man too close. It seemed that Toby still harboured a little resentment from being kidnapped and taken to 221b in a box.

Sherlock still harboured resentment from being used as a scratching post. He glared back at the cat.

Molly hid her grin. "Feel better?"

"Hmm," Sherlock nodded, yawning again. "What are you watching?"

"Cake Boss," Molly shrugged. "It's a reality show about a bakery in America. I like it because they show how they put together some amazing cakes. It's fun."

"Hmm," he said again, unconvinced.

"Better than Jeremy Kyle or Jerry Springer," she pointed out, having been blindsided by his love of trash TV. She'd never get the image out of her head of Sherlock yelling at the TV, disputing the lie detector test and a child's paternity. She thought, at one point, that he'd visit the studio just to tell them how wrong they all were.

"How was work?"

Molly shot him a look. How was work? It was probably the most domestic thing she had ever heard come out of his mouth. It threw her brain for a few seconds before she could reply.

"Good, boring. One heart attack, two RTA's. Nothing really interesting. I did a few lab runs and finished off some autopsy reports. Got home early for once. Which you already knew, Mr. Detective."

He gave her a half smile and shrugged. "I may have deduced it."

"Are you hungry? Now you've finished your case your body probably needs food. I can make you-"

He grabbed her wrist before she could get up. "Finish off your show first. I do believe the base of the cake is about to crack."

And not three seconds later a large crack appeared over the white icing as the cake began to subside.

Molly looked at him in bemusement. "How did you know that?"

"The tiers were not properly stacked and the supports were less than adequate. They needed at least another two dowels on the bottom tier."

She just stared at him.

"I had to go undercover in a wedding cake show once. I listened to a rather tedious lecture on the need of proper support and the benefit of using wooden struts as opposed to plastic ones."

She blinked. "You deleted the solar system but kept cake construction."

"The solar system rarely features in murder, yet you'd be surprised how many people have been killed with wooden cake supports."

"How many?"

"At least one," he grinned, "not that they got away with it."

Molly laughed and shook her head. "I wonder what John would call that one?"

"No doubt he'd come up with some banal pun to entice his readers."

Molly felt his fingertips run over her skin and realised that he was still holding onto her wrist. His eyes followed hers down to their hands. He trailed his fingers up to her pulse point and lingered.

She knew he felt the jump as her heart thumped slightly. It always did around him, no matter how much she tried to tell herself that he was a friend, just a friend.

"The Great Cake caper?" she suggested, her voice only trembling slightly.

"Icing on the Stake?"

"A Study in Sugar?"

He huffed in amusement. "Very good. I'm sure that people would be clamouring over themselves to read it."

"They are reading about you, about your cases. They find it fascinating. I know I do."

"You do." Sherlock stroked her wrist. "Why?"

Molly thought for a moment. "It's like... wearing glasses and realising that you've had the wrong prescription for years. Then one day someone comes along and points it out and offers you theirs and for a few brief moments the world is in such detail, such vibrant colour and you can't take it in but they point out several things and you can see it so clearly. The world is beautiful and magical and then they take it away. You do that. You see so much detail and focus and when you point it out, it's magical- all the pieces of the world fit together and we can see it. But it doesn't last because we're not as good as you. We don't see it." She looked up and her gaze locked on his. Molly blushed. She must have sounded like a complete idiot. "Or... or something like that. I didn't- don't mean. I-"

"Molly?" Sherlock interrupted her stammer.

"Yes?"

"Shut up." He leaned over and captured her lips with his own.

Molly's eyes slid shut of their own volition as his warm soft lips caressed hers. His hands abandoned her wrist and reached up, sinking themselves in her hair. He angled her head and pressed harder, his mouth opening against hers, his breath hot against the seam of her lips.

Molly couldn't help but allow him access, the quick sweep of his tongue making her toes curl and lower spine tingle.

The soft mewing sound, she knew, came from her and she reached up, her fingers digging into the towelling of his dressing gown. Their movement dislodged the cat who hissed his displeasure and jumped off her knee.

But neither of them noticed.

Sherlock's hand slipped down and he yanked her onto his lap, his arms encircling her waist.

Molly finally gave in and reached up entwining her fingers in his curls.

God, his hair was so soft. How could it be that soft?

She pulled her mouth away, her nails scratching his scalp.

Sherlock purred- there was no other word for it.

"You like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

Molly bit her lip, feeling oddly coy. "I think that if I pulled your hair in just the right way, Sherlock Holmes, I could have you on your knees begging."

He groaned and let his head fall forward onto her shoulder. "Molly!"

She giggled at the sheer desperation in his tone, running her fingers through his hair again.

He shuddered. "You have an evil streak. I'm not sure whether to be impressed or intimidated. On the whole I think... aroused."

Molly could feel it. She blushed.

The embarrassment gave her a clear head for a brief moment.

"Sherlock?"

"Because its time," he answered her unspoken question. "Because you count and I saw it but never appreciated it until it was all I had left. Because you... see me, Molly Hooper. Clearer than anyone ever has and I want to be with you. I will not be a good 'boyfriend'," he all but spat the word. "I will most defiantly disappoint you at one time or another. I will forget or ignore important dates and inadvertently say things that hurt you. I can only promise that I will try. For you. You will have to teach me and remind me but I can learn. I wasn't ready before, but I am now." His eyes clouded slightly. "If you still-"

She pressed her finger to his lips, heart pounding in her chest. "Of course I do. Always."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned wolfishly at her. "In that case, perhaps we could get back to it. I have been doing extensive research and would like to experience more of this 'necking'. The sensations are intriguing and I'd like to examine them more."

Molly licked her lips. "Who am I to stand in the way of science?"

In the interests of science she noted the way his lips slanted over hers, kissing her as passionately as she had dreamed. She catalogued the groans and growls emitting from his throat as she raked her nails over his scalp.

She detailed the scent of warm, clean fresh male and the faintest hint of cigarettes and toothpaste.

But under all that, the best thing of all?

Sherlock Holmes tasted like coffee.

The End


Wow, thank you all so much for the amazing reviews, they've really cheered me up and helped with the brain freeze that went on halfway through this fic. To each and every one of you who reviewed, mad props and major thanks- even those that just reviewed "nice". Every one was appreciated. I was hoping to break the 200 mark with the final chapter but we'll see. Now onto the other three Sherlolly fics I have lined up.