Two weeks had passed since Sherlock's return to London after his yearlong absence, and he'd fallen back into his routine as if nothing had happened. The only indication he gave that anything unusual had happened, or that he'd been away at all, was a quiet pause on his way out of the lab the first night he'd been back to ask her for bodies. As he walked out the door, he hadn't even turned around to look at her. "Thank you, Molly, for helping me, and for keeping my secret. Let us say no more of it," he'd said, clearly finding the words difficult. It was more gratitude than she'd ever expected.
"You're welcome," she'd finally gotten out, but by then, he was gone. Now they both pretended that none of it had happened. Perhaps it was easier for both of them. After all, Sherlock didn't do sentiment. There were many times that Molly wished she didn't either.
Molly watched Sherlock's fingers caress the dials on the microscope with a combination of envy and desire. The delicate attention that he paid to that piece of lab equipment made her yearn for those fingers on her skin, touching her in the most intimate places until she moaned and cried out his name. It made her feel like a voyeur when she was able to work up the courage to just stare at him as he worked. Normally she could only steal glances at him, afraid that he would notice, and if he did, he would know what she was thinking. But this time there was no case, no murderer to catch, only one of Sherlock's esoteric experiments, so she felt free to indulge her imagination. Counting the number of bacterial colonies on petri dishes, three hundred of them, for the third time that evening, just didn't seem as important as the man sitting fifteen feet from her.
"Molly," her name rolled off his tongue and sent shivers up her spine. That slightly disapproving tone, where his voice dropped low at the start of her name, was the one that haunted her fantasies. It had the same sensuous and breathy quality that she imagined he would use as he ordered her to spread her legs, to give him access to her most sensitive spots, and to tease her until she cried out his name.
"Molly." Sherlock said again, this time from directly behind her. She had been too lost in her own imagination to notice that he had moved. She startled and tried to turn around, desperate to think of some excuse for her behavior so he wouldn't know she had been thinking of all the wicked things she wanted him to do to her, but his hands descended onto the table on either side of hers, effectively capturing her there without touching her. "I asked you twice for those results." She could feel his breath stir the wisps of hair near her ears, and the heat radiating off him on her back. "Is there some kind of problem?"
"No… of course not. I was just…" She was afraid to try to turn around with him so close, even as badly as she wanted to touch him. Normally, he made her feel so insecure, so flustered, she couldn't even get a coherent sentence out, but having him this close made her completely unable to think.
"Just what?" His voice was steady and slow. "You have been having an increasing problem focusing on your work since my return. You are daydreaming. What have you been thinking about, hmmm?" He closed the distance between them until his chest and pelvis were pressed against hers. "And do not lie to me, Molly. I will know."
"Why…what…are you doing, Sherlock?"
He sighed. "Were you not paying attention again? I asked you a very simple question." He let his fingertips slowly slide over the back of her hands, then up her forearms. "What are you thinking about when you are supposed to be working?"
His hands reached her shoulders before she answered, "The microscope. I was thinking about the microscope."
His short chuckle confirmed his disbelief. "Really? The microscope? What about the microscope had you so…" he reached down, those deft fingers unbuttoning her lab coat, "aroused?" He slowly pulled the coat from her shoulders, down her arms, and tossed it on a nearby chair.
"I dunno," said Molly, desperately trying to think, but failing once Sherlock's arms encircled her waist and pulled her tight against him.
"It seems you require corrective action for both your attentiveness to the data and your ability to answer me honestly." His lips hovered just over her right ear as he spoke, and the desire to lean her head into them was overwhelming. She nodded in response to his statement and used the opportunity to make that contact. His lips were soft and slightly moist, his breath hot as it caressed the sensitive skin of her earlobe. "Then we shall begin. If at any time, even now, you feel that you have the ability to go back to your work with renewed focus, simply say so, and the lesson will be over."
Molly realized he was giving her the power to stop him whenever she wanted, but she didn't want him to stop, or move away, or return to ignoring her. He waited for her to speak, but she answered him by closing her eyes and relaxing in to his embrace, allowing his strong arms to support her. She could feel him smile as he placed feather-light kisses over her earlobe and then down the side of her neck, before retracing the path up to her ear.
"Good," he breathed. "Now, Molly," he said in that voice, making her shiver slightly, "What were you thinking about in your daydream? And I do expect you to be quite specific. You are a scientist, after all." One hand supported her around her waist while the other came up to stroke her cheek, encouraging her gently to rest her head back against his shoulder. Molly complied immediately. "Keep your eyes closed, and tell me."
He kissed the pulse point in her neck, and she was sure he could feel how fast her heart fluttered. "I… ah…." She stammered, unable to think past how good it felt to finally have his lips against her skin.
"Tell me," he softly commanded, stopping his assault on her neck and remaining agonizingly still as he waited. Molly knew he wouldn't resume until she answered him.
"I was thinking… about… you."
"Obviously. Were you merely appreciating my intellectual endeavors, or was it something more?" His free hand brushed against the outside of her breast, still covered by her shirt and jumper, but it was so much closer to her skin than she'd ever thought he would be. It made all the muscles of her pelvis clench in anticipation.
"More. Please," she was nearly begging.
"Tell me what I was doing in this little fantasy of yours. Was I touching you? Tell me, Molly."
"Yes," she breathed the word out as an answer and an encouragement. "You were touching me… undressing me."
His fingers reached for the buttons of her jumper and he made a show of opening each one as her eyes followed the progress. "And?" He encouraged her with small kisses along her neck as her jumper dropped to the floor.
"And you were kissing me."
Sherlock leaned her backwards enough to capture her mouth, teasingly at first, then with more enthusiasm as she responded. His tongue forced its way past her lips to taste her, swallowing her quiet moans. "Like that?"
"Yes… but… not just... there." Molly surprised herself by saying that, but the fact that he was kissing her and undressing her at all made her bold. She may never have another chance, as he'd never shown the slightest interest in her sexually before. "You were kissing me… everywhere."
"Mmmm. You are greedy, aren't you?" His hands pulled her shirt free of her baggy trousers and his warm fingers explored the newly-revealed skin. "Close your eyes, Molly, and keep them closed."
She complied as he pulled the thin shirt over her head, then his lips and tongue descended on the taut skin of her upper back, skirting around her practical and unadorned white bra. She wished she'd worn something sexier, but she never expected her darkest fantasies to come true. His kisses covered her entire back to her waist as she shivered against him. He finally turned her around to repeat the process across her chest and belly, all the while avoiding the areas she craved the most. She tentatively reached up to run her fingers through that thick, curly hair, finding it softer and thicker than she ever imagined.
Sherlock only tolerated her touch for a moment. "Put your hands behind your back, Molly."
"Why?" She felt so exposed without her usual layers of clothes, while he was still fully dressed, and then she remembered that he thought her breasts were too small.
"Do it or I will stop." He wasn't teasing now. The seriousness in his voice as he paused, hovering just over the skin at the top of her left breast, made her open her eyes and look down at him, but she couldn't see his eyes. He was just waiting.
Molly dropped her hands to her sides, then moved them to her back, lacing her fingers together. "Good girl," Sherlock said, resuming his exploration. "Keep them there until I tell you otherwise, understood?"
"Yes," she whispered, begging him to continue as she closed her eyes again.
"Now tell me, in your daydreams," he dragged his fingertips over her nipples, still concealed by her bra, causing a delicious tingling sensation to travel from her nipples straight to her clit. "Did I have you completely naked?" He popped the button at her waist before she could answer.
"Yes, completely." Sherlock lowered the zipper very slowly, then allowed the trousers to pool at her feet. She stepped out of them without being asked, and Sherlock slid them out of the way with his foot. Molly had never done anything this scandalous in her life. Someone could come and see them, she thought, and she suddenly opened her eyes and looked at the door nervously. "Sherlock?"
He moved behind her again. "Close your eyes. It is two o'clock in the morning, the door is locked, Lestrade always calls before he comes in with a body at this hour, and no one else with a key will even arrive at the hospital for four hours. We are alone. Trust me, Molly."
"I do." She closed her eyes again and if on cue, Sherlock popped open the clasp of her bra, sliding the thin straps down and off her arms, which she returned to their position behind her back without being asked.
"Very good, Molly." His voice alone felt like silk rubbing up and down her spine. "And I was mistaken," he said, tracing the backs of his hands up her ribcage, then delicately across both bare breasts, "your breasts are perfect." He teased her by avoiding her sensitive nipples until she was shaking with desire.
"Please what? Please stop? Please go on? Please touch my nipples? You'll have to be more precise."
She leaned back against him and surrendered. "Please touch my nipples. Please pinch them, and…" He barely touched the hardened points and she gasped. Being forced to keep her eyes closed only heightened the pleasure.
"Mmmm," he purred against her ear. "They're very sensitive, aren't they?" He closed the thumb and index finger of each hand around a nipple and slowly increased the pressure until her whole body tensed. He didn't back off, he just held her there like that, barely tugging back and forth on those sensitive buds. The exquisite pressure was almost too much, and her brain warred between calling it painful and intensely erotic. Molly felt his eyes roam all over her body as her muscles shook slightly and a small cry escaped her lips. If the bulge she felt grind against her backside was any indication, he very much liked what he saw as he held her captive.
After what seemed like minutes, Sherlock released her nipples suddenly, and she took deep gasping breaths in between moans as the pain and pleasure there intensified for a few seconds, the blood flow returning to her sensitive peaks. He moved around to her front quickly, and soothed each one by lapping with his tongue slowly, but never giving her the suction she craved. Nearly frantic with desire, Molly swayed slightly in his arms, small whimpers escaping her lips with increasing frequency.
"I think I could make you cum just by sucking on your nipples," he said, his breath felt cool over the wet peaks. She was struggling to keep her hands behind her back, and even to stay standing. "Keep your eyes closed, and your hands where they are, Molly. You don't want me to stop now, do you?"
Her nipples ached and she desperately wanted to feel him inside her, even one of his long fingers would be enough to make her cum right there. "No, God, please don't stop. I'll do anything you want, just don't stop."
She could feel his smile as he kissed a circle around each nipple. "Good, Molly, very good. I'm glad you grasp the essence of our lesson. Now tell me how you like your nipples sucked."
"Soft at first, but then harder." She cried out quietly as his mouth finally latched on, building the intensity slowly as his hands gripped her ass to keep her still. "And teeth. I want to feel your teeth." He sucked harder, then let his teeth graze over the hardened tip. "More," she begged. He bit down, adding pressure until she bucked her hips. He repeated the attention on the other side, leaving her nipples throbbing and her hips thrusting towards him repeatedly as she was desperate for release.
Sherlock's hand grabbed the front of her underwear and pulled upwards sharply, causing the wet, tight material to crush against her clit, and she cried out. He pulled the fabric side to side roughly as he bit down on one nipple and pinched the other between his fingers. The orgasm overwhelmed her and Molly came screaming, but he didn't let up the pressure until she was hoarse and her knees finally gave out.
Effortlessly, Sherlock picked her up and carried her into her office, setting her down in her oversized desk chair.
"Sherlock?" She opened her eyes frantically and tried to take his hand. "Don't go. Please." She hated him to see her so desperate, but she knew she would never be able to look him in the eyes again if he left her here like this.
He leaned in close and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I'm not going to leave you. I don't think you've really learned your lesson yet, have you?" His eyes were dark as he took her wrists and positioned them on the armrests of the chair. "Close your eyes for me, and don't move your hands."
"But I want to see you, touch you…"
"Not this time, Molly," said Sherlock carefully, shaking his head and lowering himself to his knees in front of her. "Would you prefer I find something to bind your hands? And perhaps blindfold you?" When she hesitated a small smile betraying her desire, she could feel the amusement in his voice. "So you'd like that, would you? Naughty girl. I will remember that." He took on a slightly more commanding tone, though not harsh. "But for now, do as I say, or tell me that you would rather return to your work." She closed her eyes and relaxed her body back against the chair, because most of all, she didn't want him to stop touching her. He traced his fingers up the insides of her thighs and hooked them under the thin strips of fabric at her hips. "Molly," he purred at her as he pulled them down and off of her legs, leaving her completely bare.
She felt the gentle pressure of his hands on her knees as he kissed up the insides of both of her thighs. "In your fantasies, do you open your legs for me? Do you let me taste you?"
"Yes. God, yes. And your fingers…" They were already on her thighs, slowly working their way up to where she really wanted them.
He barely brushed them across her dripping wetness and it felt like an electric shock went through her. She'd wanted him to touch her this intimately for so long. "What about them?" His lazy circles around her clit made her thrust her hips upward, trying to increase the pressure, but Sherlock moved his hand away. "I'm waiting, Molly."
"You put your fingers inside me, and you…" A long finger parted her folds, then slowly, so slowly, pushed its way into her. She wanted to move, to force him in deeper, but she knew if she tried he would only deny her. She accepted that he would set the pace, and it was strangely liberating not to feel responsible for reciprocating. Since she had to keep her eyes closed and her hands still, all she could do was tell him what she craved and focus on the pleasure he gave her. It felt so lewd, being naked and spread open for him while he was still completely clothed, using his hands and mouth all over her body. She settled for imagining him nude in her mind as she had many, many times before. "You use your mouth on my clit until I cum, screaming for you."
Sherlock eased her knees apart further and settled himself between her legs, but she sighed in frustration when he removed his finger from inside of her. "Patience, Molly," he said as he reached underneath her thighs to grasp her hips, then pulled her possessively down to the edge of the chair. Her legs were draped over his shoulders, the soft material of his shirt rubbed deliciously against the back of her thighs.
He blew lightly over her hypersensitive skin, teasing her until she couldn't deny her need for contact. "Please touch me. Please," she begged him, finding it incredibly difficult to keep her hands still when all she wanted was to pull his head against her.
"I do like hearing you beg for my touch," said Sherlock, finally giving her what she craved. He used his thumbs to part her folds wide, then he coated his fingers by rubbing them from her opening up to her clit, then back down several times. Molly arched her back in an unconscious attempt to deepen his contact. "And you're so very wet for me." He teased her with several more strokes, and Molly could feel how slick his fingers became.
"Yes. I've waited so long for you."
Sherlock spread his hand just above her pubic bone and pushed down firmly, but not uncomfortably, while the other hand pressed against her left inner thigh to keep her spread open for him. Molly felt like every nerve in her body was on fire waiting for his touch. When he finally lowered his head, his tongue caressed her in broad strokes, taking the same path his fingers had previously. She might have bucked him off from the pleasure if he hadn't been holding her hips down, and the sensation of being trapped there between his hand and his mouth, unable to cover herself or deny him, made her tilt her head back and cry out for him.
Another wave of wetness drenched his face from her spiraling desire, but rather than be embarrassed, Molly felt empowered by his reaction. "You taste so sweet, Molly. You are mine, from now on." His long, slender finger worked its way inside of her tight channel, then thrust in and out slowly. "And you are so perfectly tight." He pushed his thumb against her clit and she nearly came from the brief contact. "You will not permit anyone else to touch you or taste you from this moment forward. You are mine. Do you understand?" A second finger joined the first and the delightful stretching sensation caused her to try to move her pelvis again, but he held her still, his tongue lightly brushing against that swollen bundle of nerves. "Do you understand?" he said more forcefully, backing up the statement by pressing down onto her pelvis more firmly, keeping her still under his tongue.
"Yes, yes, yours," she gasped, his tongue finally working her clit firmly, licking her most sensitive spot in quick circles. "I only want to be yours, Sherlock." He smiled against her dripping folds and rewarded her by taking her clit fully into his mouth and sucking gently at first, then increasing the pressure as she panted and dug her fingernails into the arm rests of the chair. He spread his two fingers slightly as he worked them in and out of her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, her head thrashing back and forth as she forced her eyes to remain tightly closed. "I'm so close. Please…" The pleasure pooled low in her pelvis, she felt her internal muscles clench against his fingers, and she forgot everything except the feel of his hands and his mouth on her.
"Not yet, love. Fight it a little longer," said Sherlock, the dark desire evident in his silky voice. He worked a third finger inside of her, stretching her walls open further as his mouth worked frantically on her clit.
"I can't. Please… please…" Molly begged him with abandon, opening her legs further so that they rested against his upper arms instead of his shoulders.
"Mmmmm," Sherlock moaned against her clit, which he also grazed with his teeth. "You are so beautiful like this, Molly. So beautiful." He lapped at her clit and stilled his fingers, holding her at the precipice while the muscles deep inside of her clenched relentlessly around him. "You are right there, aren't you?"
He moved just enough to keep her suspended on the precipice for a few more agonizing seconds. "Yes, please, more, I need…"
"Now, Molly. Cum for me now," he ordered, knowing she would have no choice but to obey. Sherlock rotated his right hand so his palm was facing up, then curled those three fingers against her G-spot, and rubbed circles over it as he pushed into her fully, burying his fingers up to the base. He licked her clit once more, right over the spot where he could feel his fingers pushing up from underneath, and her orgasm ripped through her. All of her muscles convulsed as he coaxed her higher, not letting up with his mouth or hand. She felt time slow down, the world reduced to the delicious pressure and the velvety voice that urged her on. "That's it, Molly. Don't hold back. Let me hear you scream."
After what seemed an eternity of holding her breath, riding the orgasm, Molly cried out for him, thrashing her body in the chair and desperately clutching the arm rests. She didn't want him to stop. She needed him. She screamed his name between her short, needy gasps for breath as each wave of pleasure continued to force its way over her. When she finally stilled, too exhausted to move, Sherlock gave her one last gentle kiss over her clit and removed his hand from her abdomen. His lips brushed across the area where he had held her down as if in apology. Molly expected him to remove his fingers from inside of her, but he slowly started moving them once again, thrusting in and out of her again.
"Keep your eyes closed and your hands where they are, Molly." His tone was serious again. Clearly he was not finished with her. His thumb moved to her clit and rubbed gently, but she was too sensitive. She tried to evade his fingers, but there was no escape from his relentless touch.
"I don't think I can, Sherlock. It's too soon."
"Oh, sweet Molly. I look forward to showing you how wrong you are," he said, adding more pressure to her clit and increasing his pace. He shifted position and licked her left nipple before covering it with his mouth. Slowly increasing the suction as he ran his tongue along its tip, he continued to thrust his fingers into her. Quite unexpectedly, she felt a new rush of warmth pool low in her pelvis, and she unconsciously lifted her hips to meet his hand. Sherlock released her nipple and kissed her deeply on the mouth, his tongue invading and dominating hers in the same rhythm as his fingers. She could taste herself on his lips, and she set about licking them clean as Sherlock expertly worked her past the hesitation and sensitivity until she clenched around him and moaned. She could feel herself getting close again, which both surprised her and seemed to make her lover quite happy. "You've been a very good girl, following my instructions so well. I love watching you cum, but this time, it will be with my cock buried deep inside you."
Molly knew he was giving her the chance to object, while at the same time, Sherlock knew she would not deny him. Not while she was so soft and pliant like this. "God, yes," Molly moaned, her brain warring between the tenderness of her well-used clit and the intense pleasure he was building, all the while wondering if this was really happening to her, mousy little Molly Hooper, who Sherlock barely noticed. Now she was writhing under him, begging him to take her. "I need you inside me. Please don't make me wait."
The characteristic ripping sound of a condom wrapper was her answer, and a moment later, Sherlock slid his fingers out of her slowly. She felt so empty suddenly and she ached for him, desperate to open her eyes and see him as he took her. She wanted to watch his cock thrust up into her, slide out, then push back in harder. "Don't open your eyes," he said sternly, as if he already knew what she was thinking. She just nodded.
Soon, she felt the tip of him sliding up and down through her dripping wet pussy lips, just as his thumb flicked more rapidly over her clitoris. Her breathing sped up as she spiraled towards another orgasm that she was completely helpless against. All at once, Sherlock drove his cock into her, covering her mouth with his as she cried out to him. He'd stretched her beautifully, but it was barely enough, as Molly felt herself impaled on his thick shaft. She'd never been with anyone who filled her this completely, almost painfully so.
"Relax, Molly, let me have you." He began to slowly thrust into her, then pull almost all the way out, before sliding back in again. "That's it. Good girl," he said, increasing the pace, grinding his pubic bone against her as he finally bottomed out. "I'm all in the way inside of you now," he leaned down and whispered into her ear, claiming her mouth again. "Give in to it, Molly, give in to me." He gripped both of her hips and pulled her down onto him forcefully with each thrust of his hips.
"I'm so close. Please, Sherlock. Please…"
"Cum for me." He bit down on her right nipple and she shattered, screaming and clawing at the arms of the chair. His last few strokes were deep and fast, then he came hard, biting down on the side of her neck, marking her. The pain, the feel of his cock throbbing inside of her, and the sound of his moans as he came made her orgasm harder and longer than she ever had. Sherlock swallowed her screams, his mouth covering hers completely, and she felt totally possessed by him. Stranger still, she liked it. It felt right.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder as their breathing calmed. He held her close for a time before he eventually raised his head to her ear, his voice reverent and filled with emotion. "Thank you for trusting me, Molly." He kissed the side of her neck tenderly where his mark was already forming.
The change in his mood, how he seemed almost vulnerable, made Molly think that their little game was somehow over. Slowly, she moved her arms off of the chair, careful to give Sherlock time to notice and object if he wished. She very slowly embraced him, understanding how delicate the moment was for both of them. He tensed briefly at her touch, but then relaxed again with a contented sigh while she held him for several minutes.
"One last time now, close your eyes. Let me take care of you," he said finally.
"Okay." Molly didn't have the strength in her body to move anymore, and she certainly didn't have the strength of mind to deny him anything.
He kissed each of her closed eyelids lightly, then pressed his lips chastely to hers. "I will be back within two minutes. Do not worry. I will come back."
She nodded and he finally slid from her body, leaving her feeling achingly empty, and then he was gone. Molly sat up more in the chair to relieve the pressure on her back which she hadn't noticed before, and she realized how sore she was between her legs. She smiled. She wouldn't have it any other way. It was Sherlock who had made her sore. He made her cum three times in a row, a record for her, and it was hands down the best sex of her life, even though it was not exactly romance, flowers, and a four poster bed. It was Sherlock. The man she had wanted, no… needed, for three years. The man she loved so desperately.
But Molly knew his complexity, and how this could well be something that he would choose to never acknowledge or repeat. She wasn't sure how she would handle that. Sherlock was not exactly the "boyfriend" type, she realized, and she found herself wondering if this was just his academic curiosity, or even a means of dismissing his biological urges so they would not get in the way of what was most important to him, which was his work. Molly knew she could never compete with his true love: solving the puzzles of people, evidence, and details. He already had her figured out, she told herself, and it wouldn't be long before he tired of her. All she could do was cling to hope for a few more days, or at most, weeks, before he discarded her. She desperately hoped it would be weeks, but she admitted the possibility that it was already over. She wouldn't blame him when the time came, she knew. He was who he was, and she was, well, shy Molly, the quiet pathologist.
Molly was so lost in her mind, she didn't even hear Sherlock come back in the room. His strong arms lifted her and quickly resettled her in his lap as he swapped positions with her in the chair. She allowed him to part her legs slightly, and a warm, wet cloth brushed over her tender folds. It was soothing and strangely more intimate than she expected from him. When he finished, he brushed his lips over hers, setting the cloth aside as he covered her with a warm, thick blanket and held her close. She briefly wondered where the blanket came from, not having anything like that in the morgue, but as she rubbed her face against it she realized how much it smelled like him. Then it dawned on her that she was naked in Sherlock's coat, the same one that featured prominently in her frequent fantasies, and her worry lifted somewhat. She tried to relax, letting her head rest against his chest as she resolved to enjoy every ounce of pleasure and comfort he would allow her before the end.
She must have dozed off, because she woke to Sherlock's hands stroking her bare back, his whisper tickling her ear. "Molly? It's time to wake up. As amusing as the thought is, I think you should greet your colleagues wearing something other than just my coat this morning." Molly opened her eyes and had a moment of panic, looking around for any sign that there were, in fact, other people in the morgue. Sherlock laughed. "No worries, you have at least an hour before anyone else arrives, but just in case." He helped her sit up and she winced slightly, a fact that didn't escape Sherlock's notice. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said with an obvious tinge of regret.
Molly opened her eyes and looked up into his face, but Sherlock turned away quickly. She reached her hand up to his cheek and gently pulled him back. "I'm not sorry, Sherlock, not about any of it. You were amazing. And I don't mind the soreness. It reminds me that this wasn't a dream." She felt tears start to form. His eyes searched hers, but it went on for longer than necessary for him to verify her sincerity. She broke the silence first, fearful of what he might have seen as he tried to peer into her soul. "You don't have to say it, Sherlock." She started to get up, but he held her waist. "I understand if this is just a one-time thing. I know you don't really want…"
"But I do want. For the first time in fifteen years, I do want. You." Molly could see him waiting for the rejection, because it was a look she was all too familiar with in her mirror.
She pulled him into a kiss that would wipe the sadness from his eyes. "You're all I've ever wanted," she whispered to him while she covered his face with soft presses of her lips, "since the first time I saw you. It's only ever been you, Sherlock. I've always been yours."
He devoured her mouth until they both were forced to come up for air. "I don't want this to be the only time, just the first of many," he said, holding her tightly, nuzzling against the side of her neck. The relief for them both was palpable.
A few minutes later Sherlock helped her dress and gave her the water and crisps that he'd retrieved for her earlier. She was touched as his newfound and unexpected thoughtfulness. When she was finished, he took her hands in his, and said his low, silky voice, "John is away in Manchester on a case. Come home with me, Molly."
She smiled and grabbed her bag from her locker, feeling the delightful ache between her legs, and she wondered what other surprises Sherlock might have in store for her. Molly scribbled a note to her boss saying she was leaving an hour early as she didn't feel well, but then she remembered Sherlock's experiment. "What about your data, Sherlock? The project you were working on… before?" She stared at the mess of petri dishes.
"That?" He waved off her concern. "I was finished hours before you started daydreaming." His devilish grin said it all.