This is an odd off shoot of my story Sherlock and Molly That Night. That is completely innocent, and will remain so. However I needed to get this out of my head.

So whilst you don't need to read That Night, this appears somewhere during chapter 3. For those that can't be bothered to read it, here is a little scene setter.

Sherlock had hidden at Molly's flat the night before his meeting with Moriarty. That night he had heard her crying out in her sleep, deep in a nightmare. He wakes her from the nightmare and she falls back to sleep. The next morning, full of shame and embarrassment she finds Sherlock had spent the night in her room keeping her company. He starts to plan into operation, but he needs information...

S S S S S S

"I need something else though. Something only you can tell me." said Sherlock calmly. "I need to know about Moriarty, about Jim."

Sherlock heard her gasp. "I really don't want to talk about that."

"Molly, everything he said to you could be of vital importance. It could be a small clue that could lead me to his team. The people threatening John and Lestrade."

Molly said nothing.

"Let's start with how you met Jim."

A sob escaped Molly's lips and she dashed from the kitchen into her bedroom. After slamming the door shut, she threw herself on the bed and cried even harder. Damn Sherlock, damn damn damn him. For one second she found herself regretting letting him into her house, then immediately retracted the thought. He was the most irritating man she had ever met. He might be brilliant, but at times he could be so stupid.

Sherlock sat in the kitchen. He hadn't expected such a violent reaction to his questioning. Puzzled he replayed the conversation in his head. No, everything he had asked was reasonable. Potentially embarrassing for Molly, but necessary. Then he remembered her yesterday morning (was it really only yesterday?). The little lost girl sitting in bed in pyjamas asking him to make Moriarty go away, to make it all better. At that moment, he imagined what John would say. "A bit not good Sherlock."

He gave her a few minutes, and then left the kitchen and knocked gently on the bedroom door. "Molly? I realise now I was being selfish. I didn't think about how difficult this could be for you."

There was a pause, and then Molly opened the door, and raised her head challenging him. "The word you are looking for is 'sorry'."

Her face was blotchy from crying and her hair was messy, but through that he saw the woman that he had turned to 2 nights ago. That had unconditionally opened her life to him, had helped save him. The strength that she had shown him that night was back.

Sherlock bent down onto his knees, so he was looking up at her, "I apologise unreservedly and wholeheartedly."

Sherlock looked genuinely contrite and Molly began to feel like a heel. "I'm sorry too."

A spark of an idea formed in his head. "Do you trust me Molly?"

"Will I regret it, if I say yes?"

Sherlock tutted. "Not if you trust me."

Molly rolled her eyes and looked down at him. "I trust you Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up and moved closer to her. Molly instinctively stepped back, which is what Sherlock expected. She was now a lot closer to the bed.

He knew Molly wasn't a dominant personality type. He didn't need much deductive powers to see how nervous she was. He need to take control, not to scare her, but to lead her where he wanted.

"Good." He reached out towards her, and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. Slowly he let his hands flow down her arms, finally grasping her hands. Gently he spread her fingers, and intertwining his with hers. Sherlock was a good foot taller than her, and he used his height to dominate her. He closed the gap until they were touching, her head resting on his chest.

"Look at me Molly." he commanded gently.

Oh god his voice was like chocolate or velvet, so deep, so resonant. She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. She could drown in those eyes. He slowly lowered his face towards her, his lips moving millimetre by millimetre towards hers. She felt her breathing quicken, before he finally made contact. Pushing his lips firmly over hers.

Everything went out of her head at that moment. She closed her eyes and felt her entire body tingle. He let go of her hand, and used his to support her weight as she felt her knees buckle. Suddenly he pulled back and she opened her eyes confused.

"I need to know that you want this." he breathed. His own breathing faster than she expected. "I swear I won't hurt you, but if we start I won't be able to stop. Do you understand?"

In her head she was screaming, but mutely she nodded.

"Say it Molly," he said calmly, watching her carefully. "You have to tell me you want me to continue."

The power he had over her was overwhelming. "Yes, I want you to."

"Good," he breathed. "Now say my name."

Molly gazed up him, seeing the concentration on his face, his eyes boring into hers. "Please Sherlock."

He smiled at her, and kissed her again deeply. This time his tongue probed her mouth, and she let it. She moaned slightly as he raised a hand to the back of her head, and entangled his fingers in her hair.

He stepped back and grasped the hem of her blouse. In one fluid motion he lifted it, revealing her slim figure. He reached to her hip and gently pulled the zip of her skirt down. He eased it slightly from her hips, letting it fall to the floor. He drew her towards him again, and reaching round her thin frame, and unhooking her bra with one hand.

She gasped and immediately he fell on her mouth again, then kissing her cheeks. "You are so very pretty Molly." he breathed as he nuzzled her neck.

She ran her fingers through his hair. "Please Sherlock, don't mock me."

He pulled back completely and in a sudden move lifted her like a small child, he lowered his face to her again, kissing her passionately before placing her on the bed. "You. Are. Beautiful." he said firmly.

He moved to the end of the bed and stood watching her as he removed his shirt. He didn't hurry, undoing each button carefully, then removing it completely. He watched as she coloured at the sight of him without his shirt. He watched her chest rise and fall rapidly. His hand moved to his trousers and he undid the button and fly. She closed her eyes. "No Molly. Don't look away."

"I …. I can't.., I ..." she stammered shyly.

He left his trousers on and climbed up the bed towards her. "Don't turn away from me."

She opened her eyes again to find him at eye level with her. "He tried to hurt you." he said clearly.

Fear flashed into her eyes, and she turned as if to get out of bed. Sherlock grabbed her arm preventing her moving. "No Molly" he said gently. She sank back onto the pillows, and stared at him. "I'm going to take that memory away." He kissed her again, and whilst doing so rested his hand on her breast. Her breath hitched at his touch. "I'm claiming you back." he said between kisses. He squeezed her breast gently, and was triumphant with the result as she moved against him. Keeping up the kisses, he gradually moved from her mouth, to her neck and finally he took a small bud of nipple into his mouth.

Strawberries, he though unexpectedly. She tastes of strawberries.

He continued to suck and nibble at her breasts, as she gripped his hair, writhing at his touch.

Sherlock took his time. He explored every inch of her skin with his fingers, and mouth. He knew it was to intensify her pleasure, but also to satisfy himself that Moriarty hadn't marked her delicate flesh. He found no scars, bruises or marks that would indicate he had.

He continued his exploration of her body. She panted as his fingers explored her pubic region, pushing her plain thin pants down to her knees, before easing them off completely.

At that moment she would have given half her salary to be wearing something silky from anywhere other than M&S. Then all rational thought stopped as he touched the small sensitive bud between her legs. She made a small inarticulate noise and then white lights exploded in her head. She had never experienced anything like it.

He paused for a moment, letting her regain her senses. Then calmly he climbed on top of her, supporting his weight on his arms, and looking down at her. His enormous frame casting a shadow over her face and body. Somehow he had managed to remove his trousers without her realising, she could feel his hard cock pushing gently at her thigh.

He kissed her eyes and mouth again. He was completely in control but Molly could see the effort that it was taking.

"I need you." he whispered to her.

Molly nodded and reached down to touch him and guide him to her. Her fingers closed around his flesh. God he was big, Molly was extremely inexperienced on a practical level, but she knew this was above average. She stared up at him, holding his weight above her. She felt like a small doll next him. She kissed his chest, and silently parted her legs to accommodate him better.

He carefully lowered himself towards her, the tip of cock finding her entrance wet and ready for him. He pushed carefully, hesitating as she winced. "Please Sherlock, just..." he interrupted her by pushing hard and fast burying himself in her.

She cried out momentarily in pain tensing around him. He waited a beat until she relaxed and then he started to gently thrust into her. With each thrust he could feel her breath against his chest getting faster and more out of control. She was delicious. Like a ripe piece of fruit, soft and yielding.

She didn't speak, just concentrating on the feeling of him. He felt her grip his biceps and began to push back against him. He knew that it was close. "Cum for me Molly." he ordered.

Her eyes flew open at his words. He felt rather than saw her reaction, and instantly thrust harder. He plunged deeply into her and they climaxed simultaneously. He heard her cry out his name loudly as he had thrust, and then she lost all capability to speak. As his cock continued to pulse into her, his head was thrown back, the tendons on his neck straining, the rest of his body completely still as he pulsed and poured his essence into her. Molly continued to spasm for a moment, overwhelmed, as slowly her body come down from the heights he'd sent her too.

He finally lowered his head and kissed her forehead. She whimpered slightly as he moved.

Molly didn't know how to feel at that moment. Partly she felt completely exhausted, even lifting her head was too much effort. But it also felt as if every fibre in her body was hypersensitive. Every movement Sherlock made sent shivers into her. As he began to lift himself off of her, withdrawing from her body, she moaned in disappointment.

He continued to kiss her face, and then let out a low chuckle as he lay down next to her, "Don't be greedy Molly dear."

His voice pulled her from her stupor, she rolled over to look at him, as he lay beside her.

Sherlock pulled the duvet from the floor and threw it over them both.

She dropped her gaze, and hid her face in his chest. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Instantly he realised what he'd done. "You should have told me that you were a virgin Molly. I promised I wouldn't hurt you. Did I?"

"No.. Well Yes, but I didn't mind. It was a good hurt." she struggled for the words. Still speaking to his chest, she began to ramble. "You've obviously worked out that Jim didn't …. " She paused. "One day he came to the lab. But it wasn't Jim, it was Moriarty. He scared me, threatened me, and was about to force himself on me, but we were interrupted by Lestrade arriving. He wasn't ready for a confrontation with him, and left immediately. Lestrade worked out what was going on, and assigned a police office to be with me for a couple of days, just in case he came back."

He stroked her hair. "I am glad you told me Molly. But he's gone now, and will never ever threaten you again."

"My father always said men only wanted thing from a woman, but that a woman has to care for a man before she would give herself to him. I don't mean I care for you... Oh I didn't mean that - obviously I 'care' for you... I just mean... I wanted to say I realise that you didn't just want one thing... OK?"

Sherlock reached out to touch her arm, stroking it slightly. "I'm going to say this very slowly and very clearly. And I want you to understand I mean every single word." He kissed the top of her head. "I asked you 'before' if you wanted to. That was for a reason. I needed to know you wanted me to make love to you. I wasn't going to force you. Moriarty tried to hurt you, to get at me. I wanted to take that memory away. Instead of him being your memory when you thought of someone touching you, I wanted it to be of me. I wanted to give you everything. But the only thing I had was me. I gave you me." He kissed her again. "And your father was wrong. It's not just women that have to care. I had to care."

Molly raised herself onto one elbow, and returned the kiss. "I don't think I will ever forget this."

Sherlock snorted. "I should hope not." Then smiled at her. "At least not until the next time!"

S S S S S S S S S

OK. That's the first love scene I've ever written. I'm not happy with the ending – would Molly really speak to Jim to Sherlock like that? All comments welcome.