THis is for my beta and as such has not been beta'd..

I own nothing and ain't that a kick in the head..

Cold hands slipped over her shoulders and a deep baritone called her name.

"Sherlock? Oh! I'm dreaming! Oh goodie! I hope it's a sex dream." Her voice held a childlike enthusiasm.

Silent for a moment, he stood buffering furiously before snapping himself back to the present by consoling himself with the thought that he could revisit those images later, "Molly, you have a fever."

"Ooh yeah!" Shimmying around under her blanket, she sang, "Fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight, fever!"

Rolling over to face him, her expression playfully dark, she propositioned him, "You wanna play doctors and nurses?"

Taking in her flushed skin, he smoothed a gentle palm over her hair.

Molly kicked the blanket off and looked up at him, prone and completely naked. "Show me yours, Sherlock?"

Mumbling about ibuprofen and chicken soup, he tugged at the duvet in an attempt to cover her.

Pouting, she informed him, "This is not a fun dream, why aren't you touching me? Don't you like me?" Her face fell as she added, "You don't think I'm pretty." Her lower lip wobbled and her big doe eyes brimmed with tears.

Heart strings well and truly plucked, he softened, "Molly, I think you're beautiful, I do, but this is your fever talking." Successfully having pulled the covers up to hide her nudity, he showed her the paracetamol tablets and water.

Molly craned her neck and squinted, trying focus on them, her eyes returned to him with a gleam as she added, "Prove it."

Regarding her warily now, her mischievous look not having gone unnoticed. "Molly, you need to take your medicine."

"But I need a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down," she told him cheekily.

Moving faster than he would have thought possible with such a fever, she scrambled to her knees and aligned her body along the length of his.

Her warm, firm breasts insistently pressed against his own chest made him groan before he knew he'd made a sound.

Tilting her head, she whispered huskily in his ear, "Sherlock, please?"

The paracetamol and water, forgotten, fell from his hands, as he moved to cradle her head.

When their mouths connected, heat exploded between them.

Molly threaded her arms around his neck and dragged him down to her bed.

"Molly," he gasped, trying in vain to peel her off. "You- you're sick. Thi- this isn't right, your fever, you can't consent."

"Sherlock, this is not fever, I love you." Her eyes were bright little buttons in her fever-flushed face as she regarded him, "Please, make love to me?"

Rubbing him through his pants, she asked softly, "You want to, why do you fight it?"

Closing his eyes, his breath chugged in his ears and his heart pounded erratically behind his ribs. Silent, he focussed on trying to centre himself. He didn't react when Molly took his hand.

Molly led him to her aching sex and pressed his palm firmly against her slick folds.

The coolness of his skin on her overheated pussy made her moan and buck.

Gliding his palm back and forth, he whispered, "Molly," in such a longing tone that she understood at last that she was not the only one in love.

"Yes my love, yes. Take me, I'm yours." Feverish fingers were none to adept at button and slide contraptions and Molly cursed in frustration.

"Molly, your fever, are you sure?" Even as he asked, his hands had covered hers and were already taking over the operation she was trying to perform.

"Want you," she lay back down, splayed and glorious. The blush of fever had painted her skin with pink sheen and she was Aphrodite, goddess of love.

Covering her body, his groan was loud even in his own ears, as he took a breast into his mouth. Like meringues, firm and still pointing up even though she was on her back.

Exploring freely, he slipped his fingers inside her while watching her face greedily.

Arching her back so her clit brushed his palm she told him, "Ooh, now."

Positioning himself at her entrance, her need engulfed him, he had found his way home.

"Oh Sherlock, you're so beautiful, please, please make me yours, I want you so badly."

Pushing in, her silky heat was the most glorious thing he'd ever felt. His eyes roamed her face as he corrected her, "Molly, I'm not beautiful, that's a reflection of you. Look at you, you're perfection."

Moaning, meeting his hips stroke for stroke, she threaded her hands through his messy curls, pulled him down and kissed him.

Their kisses and love-making were endless; Molly lost in her fevered dream world and Sherlock finally allowing himself to feel the deep emotions he'd felt for her for so long, they were joined together at last in bliss.

Shuddering from the intensity, he trailed kisses down her throat and spoke low in her ear, "Molly, will you come for me baby? I can't hold on."

The sheer need in his voice, coupled with the thumb and finger that lightly pinched her little bundle of nerves rhythmically had her squealing her release and drawing out his own.

Laughing as he rolled off, he asked, "Did I just call you baby?"

"Say it again," Molly advised, "I could be your baby and you could fuck me like that all the time. Please?"

Holding Molly's hand as she drifted off he said quietly, "I could be your boyfriend -if you take your medication."

Molly's hand jutted out, "Gimme."

Pressing the pills into her hand carefully and helping her sit up, he watched lovingly as she took the paracetamol. "Good girl Molly."

Beaming, she leaned on his shoulder, "Love you Sherlock, stay?"

Pulling her down with him, he tucked her into his side, "Comfy?"

Grinning happily, she answered him softly, "Yes."

Thanks for reading..

Come and play on Tumblr, I'm sweet-sweet-escape