A/N: OK, here it is, folks, the end of this little saga. Hope you've enjoyed and thanks to everyone for their reviews!


Epilogue

Molly was having the most fantastic dream, and had no desire to wake up. So when someone called her name, she mumbled an inarticulate reply along the lines of "Five more minutes" and rolled onto her side.

The feel of a hand smacking her backside with considerable force brought her abruptly awake – and swearing. "What the fuck –!"

She turned to glare at whoever it was that had laid a hand on her, eyes widening as she saw the grinning face of the man she'd just been dreaming about peering down at her.

Oh. Not a dream, then.

The glare melted into a shy smile as she rolled onto her back. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you as well, Molly," Sherlock replied. "Slept well, did you?"

She nodded, her grin widening as she recognized the look in his eyes. A careful brush of her hand against his thigh (and slightly higher) told her that her deduction was correct; he was hard and ready for her again. She was a bit sore but had no intentions of turning him down.

Not now, not ever. She'd even go along with the complicated plan he'd outlined the night before, as long as it meant the two of them could be together.

He lowered himself to her, fingers brushing against her damp curls, lips pressed to her neck, murmuring against her skin before abandoning speech and putting his mouth to much, much better use, licking and sucking her nipples (sore, but again, no complaints on her part) as his fingers wandered southward.

She couldn't help the way her mind flashed back to the night before, how incredibly hot he felt when he slid into her, filling her, stretching her a bit (it had been far, far too long) but never to the point of pain or even discomfort.

The way he'd moved above her, his eyes on hers, remaining wide open and peering at her with the same intensity she'd seen when he was conducting a particularly interesting experiment.

The way he'd brought her to her second climax of the night, moaning out his name, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her legs wrapped themselves around his waist. The way he strained against her, his own climax coming mere moments after her own, as if he'd been dragged along in her orgasmic wake.

And now, it appeared, Professor Holmes was extremely interested in reliving a previous victory.

And Molly Hooper was more than willing to indulge that interest.

However, this time she was determined to be the one to set the pace. Fair was fair, after all, and no 21st century girl worth her salt would allow the man in the relationship to dictate all their activities. With that thought in mind, Molly grabbed his shoulders as his head started to follow his hands, tugging him onto his back and straddling him with a grin. "My turn," she declared as she reached down and stroked his cock, loving the way it felt in her hand – but impatient to feel it deep inside her, where it really belonged.

Possessive, yes, she certainly was. "You do agree that this relationship is going to be exclusive, right?" she asked as she rested her free hand on his chest, grazing her fingers against his nipples, toying with the gingery hair that covered his chest and matched his eyebrows. It was rather odd, how the hair on his head was so dark, but the hair on the rest of his body was so light. She liked it, though she wasn't going to admit any such thing to him just yet. Some compliments needed to be saved for the future.

If, of course, they had one. She frowned as he hesitated before answering her, started to lift herself from his body, only to have him hold her firmly in place with his hands on her hips. "Of course it's going to be exclusive," Sherlock finally replied, sounding irritated. "Exclusive, long-term, eventually leading to matrimony and children if you so desire."

"Then why take so long to answer me?" she demanded, returning irritation with irritation. He wasn't the only one allowed to lose him temper in this relationship (exclusive, long-term, marriage, children...oh, what a lovely quartet of words!), and she wasn't going to let him ever forget that!

"Because I thought it was rhetorical," he snapped back, then lifted his hands from her hips and wrapped them around her wrists. "I do believe you were in the middle of something when you got distracted. Do get on with it Molly, as I'm quite eager to see just how many orgasms we two can manage in a twenty-four-hour period."

His irritable expression melted into a devilish smile, and Molly's annoyance – and, she ruefully admitted to herself, sudden panicky self-doubt – vanished as she smiled back at him. Without another word, she lifted her hips, waiting for Sherlock to release her hands before positioning herself over his cock and sinking down onto it with a contented sigh.

They rocked together, Molly leaning down so he could nuzzle her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue. Then she reached back and grazed his bollocks with her fingertips, eliciting a hiss of startled pleasure from his mouth, which buzzed against her over-sensitized nipples, shooting electric spikes of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped and moved faster, rolling her hips as she felt her climax building, digging her nails into Sherlock's chest and causing him to gasp and arch his back, and that did it, brought her over the edge, crying out as she crested the wave and slid breathlessly down the other side.

Sherlock had the courtesy to wait until she'd somewhat recovered before flipping her onto her back and thrusting into her with an easy rhythm. Soon she was moving beneath him, as her bones returned to solidity after having been transformed into melted butter; she clutched his arms and pressed a series of feverish kisses to his throat as his movements became faster, harder, thrusts that, in her delirium, felt as if they were moving the world itself and not merely his own body against hers.

She came for a second time just as he reached his own climax, another incredible, intoxicating first for her, and held him in her arms as he collapsed against her, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts pounding together before Sherlock rolled onto his back, pulling Molly into his arms and kissing her gently. "So," she said, when she could finally manage not only her thoughts but words as well. Quite an achievement considering her current state of bliss. "Exclusive and long-term, is it?"

"Ultimately leading to marriage and children," he agreed, pressing a solemn kiss on her lips, a promise of a future she more than looked forward to sharing with him. "With one condition, of course."

She frowned and looked at him, waiting expectantly when he paused.

The devilish grin returned to his lips as he said: "I will always be the lead author on our co-written papers."

If anyone had been passing by the bedroom window, they would have no doubt been startled by the peal of masculine laughter that rang out as Molly began beating her new lover – and future husband – with her pillow.