KISS ME

"Kiss me."

"S-Sorry what?" Molly sputtered.

"Kiss me," Sherlock repeated.

There was a long pause during which Molly just gaped at the consulting detective while he stared back at her seriously.

Then, she laughed.

"What is so funny?" he demanded.

Molly gripped the side of the lab table for support, wiping some moisture away from the corner of her eyes. Only when she had finally calmed down and trusted herself not to laugh again did she look him in the eye.

"Sherlock, only you would come striding in here with such a ridiculous demand!"

"It is not ridiculous!" he huffed. "I need it for a case. Please, Molly."

She was starting to melt at the sight of his puppy eyes. Damn him. "Ok…but why I have to do this?"

Sherlock sighed, running his fingers through his mop of black curls. "I have to go on a date for a case, and since it's customary for a man to kiss a woman after a pleasant evening out, I'm planning to do just that. Kissing is not really my area, so I need you to teach me."

Molly was silent. She had been fantasising about feeling his beautiful lips pressed against hers for years. But she never dreamt that the kiss would happen quite this way.

Once again, she was asked to do something for him because of a case. He only ever came to her when it was for a case. Her heart sank at this realisation. Why couldn't he just do something for her just because he wanted to? Maybe she should kiss him then, since it was highly unlikely that he would ever ask her to kiss him again. She should take whatever she could, whenever she could.

To hell with being the nice girl all the time.

"Ok," she agreed.

Molly stepped nearer to him, closing the gap between them and feeling more confident when she saw the flicker of nervousness in his eyes. She stood on her tiptoes and very gently, pressed her lips to his.

She thought that she would faint.

The burning sensation that suddenly rippled through her was startling and yet extremely wonderful. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm (not cold like she imagined them to be), and it moulded so perfectly against hers. She could sense the hesitancy from him – the way his lips moved clumsily against hers, completely unsure. She put her arms around his neck to draw him deeper into the kiss, assuring him that it was fine. Her tongue ran along his lower lip lightly and she heard him moan softly, startling the both of them. She felt his body stiffen and he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"That's enough for a lesson I think," he said, his voice extremely hoarse and low. He was refusing to look at her.

"I…er…how was it?" she asked shyly.

"Good," he replied curtly, not looking at her. He picked up his coat and briskly walked out of the lab, leaving a thoroughly confused Molly behind.

She was still working when the lab doors burst open loudly, making her jump in fright.

"I don't understand!" Sherlock complained, striding into her lab like he owned the place. Sometimes, she wondered if he did.

"Don't understand what?" God, why did he always have to be so perplexing and mysterious?

"The kiss with that woman!" he said, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Molly bit back a smile. Sherlock's whole face was flushed and he was more animated than usual. He was frowning deeply and the confused puppy eyes were back again.

"What about the kiss?" Do I even want to know?

"It didn't feel anything like yours! Why?"

"Um…maybe because her lips are different?"

"Exactly! That's the problem!"

Molly sighed. "Ok, I'm confused. Explain."

"Hypothetically, kissing her should be nicer than kissing you. Her lips are fuller and shapelier, so the experience of kissing her should be more pleasant -"

"Don't push it," Molly muttered, feeling a stab of hurt at Sherlock's words.

"- but it wasn't."

She froze. "Sorry, what?"

"I preferred kissing you," Sherlock confessed. "Now, why is that?"

"How would I know? Figure it out yourself. You're the genius."

He walked towards her with measured steps, all the while maintaining eye contact. "I have a theory and I need to test it out," he said softly, his baritone much lower than usual.

Before Molly could comment on that, he had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him, touching his lips to hers.

She let out an audible gasp. They moved perfectly against hers, the pressure gentle yet firm. He tasted faintly of tobacco and something spicy, and it made Molly completely lightheaded. He drew his tongue across her lips to tease them open and she found herself complying. His tongue slid in immediately and started to explore every contour of her mouth. She had to grip tightly onto his coat to support her rapidly weakening knees. It was as if he knew exactly how to please her, he seemed so –

Hang on.

I thought he said that he didn't know how to kiss properly. Why the hell is he kissing me like he's some kissing god now?

"Sherlock?" she murmured against his lips.

"Hmm?"

Molly pulled back (very reluctantly) and narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were inexperienced in kissing? The kiss you just gave me certainly didn't seem like you needed a lesson just now."

Sherlock's lips curved into a lopsided smile. "I lied. I didn't need a lesson."

"W-What?! But why?!"

He shrugged, "To test a previous theory I came up with."

"And what is that?" she snapped, feeling her temper rising. How many bloody theories did he have? Once again, she had been used by Sherlock Holmes. The worst part was that this wasn't even for one of his cases, but for his personal experiment. She felt an overwhelming urge to smack him.

"That kissing someone you like is a much better experience than kissing a random stranger. I needed to kiss you first before I kissed the woman so that I could have a basis for comparison."

"You…wait, did you just say that you like me?"

"Yes, I believe so."

It was a while before Molly realised that she wasn't breathing. Did the man she had been fantasising about for the past few years actually just said that he liked her? Molly Hooper, the awkward pathologist whom he only ever came to when he needed help?

I must be dreaming. Somebody pinch me.

"No, Molly. You're not dreaming," Sherlock said, reading her thoughts perfectly well.

Molly clutched the edge of the lab stool for support. "Are you sure? You're not lying, are you?"

Sherlock frowned. "Of course I'm sure. I'm always sure."

"I –"

"Molly, I have to insist that you shut up now."

Without missing a beat, Sherlock bent his head and captured her lips again, sending her heartbeat into a wild frenzy.

OH GOD. This is really happening.

Don't just stand there, woman. Do something!

And she did.

He groaned when she took his bottom lip between hers, the sound only serving to awake something more primal within her. Her fingers snaked into his dark curls and she was pleased to hear him moan when she tugged at his hair.

His weak spot. Oh the possibilities.

He pulled away just when she was desperate for some air and gazed at her intently with his blue eyes, a smug look on his face when he noticed her flushed face.

"I have to go," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"I just realise who the killer is," he explained, already halfway out of the lab. Molly was stationary, unable to stop the rush of disappointment that was flowing through her.

Only Sherlock Holmes would leave in the middle of a snog.

She sighed and reached over for some autopsy files, forcing her mind to calm down and return to work. Her phone suddenly rang with a text alert and she fished it out of her lab coat pocket curiously. No one ever sent her texts.

I will be back soon. I do believe we were in the middle of something important. – SH

Her face lit up and she grinned.

Sherlock may be the only man who would leave right in the middle of a good snog.

But then again, he may also be the only one who would return to continue it.