Notes: This was inspired by a picture prompt on the Sherlolly Prompt meme and was written for the lovely broomclosetkink. Be warned, there is no plot here - just smut. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I just like playing with these characters.

Molly giggled quietly to herself as she walked up the stairs to 221b. Even though she promised herself that the last time was the last time, Mary Morstan-Watson was a terrible influence during their girls' night out. Anthea didn't help either, even though Molly knew full well that Anthea could drink any of them under the table. She reached the top of the landing and sighed in relief to find it unlocked. She was fairly certain that her keys had ended up somewhere in the car that Anthea had taken them home in – she was sure that they would show up tomorrow morning in an envelope. It had happened before.

Still giggling, although she couldn't for the life of her explain to anyone what exactly was so funny, she walked into the flat, smiling as she saw Sherlock perched on the table in front of the window, cross-legged with his hands together against his lips. His Mind Palace pose.

His eyes snapped open as she shut the door behind her and his lips lifted in a small smirk as she walked unsteadily towards him. She supposed that she could have kicked off her heels for a bit more balance, but she felt sexy in them so…she didn't. She giggled again as he unwound his legs, spreading them wide so that she could step in between them. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hummed happily as his hands came up to rest at the small of her back. "Have a nice evening out, then?" he questioned, his deep voice sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

She leaned forward, nuzzling his neck. "Yep," she breathed against him, her tongue coming out to lick briefly at his pulse. She felt his hands drift down to her bum possessively and she wiggled slightly, giggling once more.

"I bet that you got a lot of attention in this dress," he murmured, his hands slipping beneath the white cotton and brushing over her ass. She'd had no choice but to wear a thong, since the material of the dress was quite clingy and she didn't want any panty lines. His fingers traced over the sensitive skin of her bum and she yelped as he pinched her briefly.

"A bit. Mary was pretty quick to tell them all to fuck off though. 'Sides, don't want anyone but you, silly," she told him, pulling him close for a rather sloppy but well-intentioned kiss.

"Mmm, yes," he muttered, carefully pushing her backwards and hopping down from the table. Her back hit the window and she gasped. It was summer in London, but despite that fact, the window was incredibly cool against her skin, even through the thin cotton of her dress. Sherlock towered over her and she grinned happily at the fire blazing in his eyes. He leaned into her, nibbling at her ear and whispered, "You look good enough to eat, Molly." His eyes gleamed wickedly as he lowered himself onto his knees and pushed up the fabric of her dress. "In fact, I think I might just devour you."

He leaned forward, tonguing her through the lace of her minimal underwear. She moaned, her head falling back to rest against the window as her hands came down to clutch at the hem of her dress, keeping it out of his way. She felt him smile against her and his hands came up to her hips, dragging her underwear down her legs, letting them pool around her ankles. She carefully stepped out of them, teetering slightly due to her slightly intoxicated state and her heels, but one of Sherlock's hands steadied her quickly.

His other hand was rubbing over her thigh, encouraging her to rest it on his shoulder, giving him better access to her. She moaned again happily as his tongue focused on her clit, licking and sucking carefully. One of his hands remained on her hip and the other, that had been tracing patterns on her thigh, moved upwards, brushing a few fingers gingerly across her wetness, before nudging their way inside her. "Sherlock," she gasped out, squirming under his touch.

The hand that had rested on her hip moved across to her stomach, pressing against her gently and keeping her in place. His tongue was relentless and his fingers pressed into her, harder and harder, until she was panting and moaning constantly. "Please, please, Sherlock. Let me come, let me come," she babbled.

He looked up at her, his face shining with her juices and gave her a naughty grin before returning to her. She moaned his name loudly as his tongue swiped against her clit one last time and his fingers curled slightly, pressing against her g-spot. She swore that the room exploded in the moment as her mind went blank with release.

Sherlock continued to stroke her through her orgasm, slowly standing up as she recovered. His hand moved away from her stomach and came up to wipe at his face, before he leaned in to kiss her. She sighed happily and wound her arms around his neck, sucking her taste off of his tongue as they kissed. "That was naughty," she whispered against his lips as he broke their kiss.

"I'm about to get naughtier," he replied, grabbing her shoulders and turning her so that now her front was pressed against the window. She heard his zip go down and she squirmed, trying to face him once more, but one of his hands pressed between her shoulder blades, telling her silently to stay in place.

"Sherlock, someone will see. And you'll ruin your suit!" she hissed out, even as she felt Sherlock step close behind her, running the head of his cock against her sex. Moaning, her hands came up to steady herself against the window and she heard Sherlock chuckle behind her.

"Open your eyes, Molly. Look." She did as he requested and looked out the window. "There aren't many people out and about at this hour. And even if there were," she gasped as he pushed into her, "I want them all to know that you belong to me."

Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair and he groaned, his face buried in her hair and his hand coming up to rest against her breasts. His hand was so big that his fingers could brush against both her nipples. "Besides," he whispered as he thrust into her, "tomorrow is wash day. Taking my suits to the dry cleaners. We can get as dirty as we please." He punctuated the sentence with a particularly rough thrust and Molly moaned, her eyes closing again and her forehead falling to rest against the window.

"I've been thinking about this for the better part of the night, you know," he murmured to her, knowing how much she loved to hear him talk, especially while they had sex. "My experiments were boring. It was much more stimulating to think about what I was going to do to you when you got home."

He stilled suddenly and Molly whimpered, pushing her hips back against him. "Open your eyes," he commanded.

She did and almost immediately, she saw why he had told her to do so. There was a small group of men walking down the street, talking, laughing, and obviously drunk. "Look at them, Molly," he whispered, as he started to move again, thrusting shallowly against her as if they had all the time in the world. One hand moved to cup one of her breasts, squeezing lightly, as the other pressed against her stomach, keeping her anchored to him. "What do you think they would do if they saw us? If they saw me up here shagging you? Do you think they'd stop and watch? They'd all want you, Molly; you're positively delectable. But they couldn't have you, could they?"

She swallowed convulsively and shook her head, pressing back against him desperately. The hand on her stomach drifted down and he cupped her sex, his middle finger slipping between her folds to brush against her clit. She cried out and she heard Sherlock's chuckling behind her. "Why can't they have you, Molly?" he whispered against her ear.

"Because I'm yours, Sherlock. I only want you. Please," she begged. He thrust forward roughly and she nearly screamed as his finger began circling her clit, knowing just how she liked it. The group had moved on and her eyes closed again, her forehead resting against the glass once more. She shivered with pleasure as his pant legs scratched against the bare skin of the back of her thighs as he moved inside her.

"You're mine, Molly. Just as I'm yours," he murmured, dropping his head against her shoulder, kissing and nibbling at her neck.

That was enough to send her over the edge, as she gasped out a desperate, "Sherlock!" and arched her back. Her head fell against his shoulder and her breasts thrust themselves against his palm. His hand moved away from her center and grasped her hip as his other hand squeezed her breast automatically, his own release overwhelming him as he growled her name into her neck.

She felt her knees weaken and absently wondered if she'd fall to the floor, before she felt Sherlock's arms wrap around her waist. He turned her around so she was facing him and he wrapped his arms around her, briefly tugging down the hem of her dress so she didn't moon all of Baker Street as she nuzzled against his chest happily.

Without warning, he picked her up and she yelped, wrapping her legs instinctively around his waist. He carried her to their bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously to the bed. She giggled and pulled her dress up over her head and threw it carelessly to the ground, watching as Sherlock shucked off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt. She reached around to quickly unclasp her bra, tossing it away as well, before moving to bury herself in the covers of their bed.

Sherlock was naked in no time and quickly joined her in bed, taking her into his arms as soon as she was within reach. "You know, you spoil me. I'm going to expect this nice of a greeting every time I come home now," she muttered to him, her fingertips trailing across his chest.

His laughter rumbled through her and she gazed up at him, grinning happily. He bent his neck to kiss her gently, before replying. "You'll find no objection from me, Molly."