Authors Notes At End
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Looking back, Molly found her memory of that night to be "fuzzy," at best. It started out as drinks at 221B with John, she was at least sure of that. The blogger and pathologist tried to out-drink one another (Molly, surprisingly, holding her own,) until the buzz loosed their lips enough to have one hell of a conversation. She remembers talking about the consultant detective a bit, but that memory was overshadowed by one that occurred after that; one of Molly being gifted an earth-shattering orgasm by the hands (hips, rather) of the good Doctor Watson. She also remembers subsequently collapsing intertwined with John upon the couch.
Here's where it got fuzzier: at some point, Sherlock arrived (had he always been there? Was he home the whole time?) and…kissed John? Not just a kiss, she recalled, a full-out snog; he *snogged* John senseless, and time saw to it that that progressed into heavy petting. Your guess is as good as hers regarding how Molly got involved, but she soon found herself an active participant in the escalating affair. The detective and pathologist made quick work of ravishing John. Seeing the men together must have done something for her, as Molly was contented stepping back and situating herself into a position from which she could watch. The men were obviously aroused by each other's ministrations, growing desperate for any source of friction; the doctor and his best friend grew louder and louder, shouting for more and moaning for one another. Molly's recollection here becomes almost indecipherable, though little details available showed the boys doing things that made "Fifty Shades of Grey" seem tame. Toys and accessories seemed to appear like magic within the sparse clear memories; Molly's scarf even fancied itself into a restraint at some point. Mercifully, her brain blocked out a good portion of the rest of the night.
The next morning, Molly awoke and quickly began to panic. Waking beside both boys and minimal recollection of the night before terrified her; wasn't John still with Mary? Were Sherlock and John a "thing"? She eased herself from the tangle of arms and legs and began looking for her clothes, unfortunately to no avail. With no clothes, there was no hope of a walk of shame before the boys awoke. Molly resolved that she ought to clean herself up: in light of last night's activities and their previous relationship, Molly felt entitled to use their shower. Gathering the necessary equipment she hurried into the bathroom covering herself with a towel, her modesty fully returned. She almost lost her nerve as she found the tap somewhat tricky to operate, though eventually she managed to situate herself into the hot water, letting it herself relax under the spray. She cleaned herself up when suddenly, over the sounds of the shower, she heard moaning: John's moaning, more specifically, John's begging. Turning off the water and drying quickly, Molly wrapped her towel around herself before investigating the growing noise.
Opening the door, Molly did not need to call upon the deduction abilities of Sherlock to figure out what all of the noise was about; in fact, if she asked, Sherlock would be unable to answer- as John's cock was in his mouth. Sherlock had John pinned to the bed by his hips as Sherlock's mouth and tongue worked upon the smaller man's cock like it was a glorious sweet, making John scream with pleasure. Molly found herself frozen to the spot, one hand still the door handle, the other holding the towel up: all she could do was watch as John writhed, his hands balled into fists in the sheets as his hips struggled to snap to meet Sherlock's lips. A smirk was faintly distinguishable upon the detective's lips, though they were stretched around John, showing that Sherlock obviously loved taking John apart like this. Sherlock lipped the head of John's member, making John pepper in a hiss into his stream of expletives and moans. John threw his head back, growing desperate:
"Sherlock…fuck!"
"Ohhhhhmmmmm GOD!"
"YESYESYESYESYES!"
Sherlock continued his manipulations, changing rhythm in the movements and angle of his head, to John's benefit. Each time Sherlock took him completely, moaning, John choked out "Ohhh fuck!" John's voice was louder than Molly had ever heard it, begging for more, begging to be fucked, and begging for release. He moaned and groaned, obviously desperate as Sherlock's tongue began to tease him from base to tip. John panted out how desperate he was one last time, as Sherlock took John as deeply into his mouth as possible, making John howl in pleasure as his back arched off the bed, Sherlock's name upon his lips as he….
Molly awoke to the sound of her alarm clock jolting her awake, reminding her to return to the real world, though now with vivid images of her favorite sociopath and his faithful blogger playing in her mind….
Author's Notes: This story has a story of it's own. Originally this was just me writing down this weird dream I had about one of my best mates and another man, and I changed his name to John and the other man's to Sherlock and posted it as a Johnlock slash fanfic for the comedic value- then it got a few hundred views and several anons asking for more details (some even sending suggestions.) So, in the name of writing something that will make the aforementioned "best mate" not make eye contact with me for at least a week, I took the suggestions and made this version. Thank you, nonnies! Comments and reviews are appreciated (again for comedic value)
(If someone whom actually knows me and knows this story is wondering, I swear it wasn't this detailed in the actual dream. I added tons, I'll tell you which parts if you like, but yeah, it wasn't nearly this bad.)