Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. All thanks goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I will forever remain their loyal fan.

Arthur Note: Just a fun, short, oneshot smut piece.

HEAT WAVE

She was going to kill him... Or Fuck him into oblivion. She wasn't sure which. All Molly Hooper knew was that, after housing Sherlock Holmes for two months, she was starting to go batty. The reason: sexual frustration. After his first night's stay, which happened to be a week after his fall (he unexpectedly showed up on her doorstep requesting housing for a short period of time), she learned the very next morning that Sherlock Holmes did not keep normal sleeping hours... Or any normal hours for that matter. The morning after his first night, Sherlock proceeded to tell her that her tossing and turning and sleep talking was more disturbing to his thought process then a thunderstorm.

Learning then that the walls in her flat were paper-thin, Molly realized that her ritual of "self-indulgence" before bedtime could no longer occur, and because she never seemed to have a moment's peace at home, and the fact that Bart's morgue hardly seemed the place to get off, Molly had not had an orgasm in two months... And it was driving her crazy.

The last week had been especially difficult. The temperature in London has holding strong at 98 degrees, and Sherlock, being bored out of his mind and having no leads at the time, spent the last few days lounging around her flat. Sometimes he spent half the day in nothing but a sheet. She did have her A/C on high, but Sherlock still felt the need to not dress for the day, thus, tormenting her with glimpses of his chest, thus, adding to her desire to want to jump him and fuck him into the cushions of her sofa.

Then there was his mindless babbling to her... or to Toby? This made her want to knock the living daylights out of him with her shoes. That, and the fact that a few days earlier, she came home and found him in her kitchen with a box of her tampons and three bowls of water. He was testing the maximum absorption potential for the three different sizes that she owned. She'd taken away her laptop from him for two days after that. And in those two days, he seemed to enjoy doing everything in his power to get a rise out of her. Laughing whenever he made her scream and shout or blush. She was a good sport about it; he was not crossing the line and being hurtful. She sympathized with his current state, but it still didn't change the fact that he knew what he was doing, and knew that it drove her up the wall.

It was eleven-thirty at night and the two of them were sitting on her sofa watching a rerun of Top Gear. Molly was slouched back into the cushions sipping her glass of Strongbow. She wore her mini black running shorts and pink camisole, and had her feet extended out on the coffee table, allowing her toe nails to dry from the french pedicure she had just given herself. Sherlock sat next to her spread eagle. He was freshly showered and in clothes, hair still damp, drinking a glass of Scotch.

The heat, the pent up frustration, and the scent of his body-wash was enough to cause Molly to fidget by bouncing her left leg.

"Stop that." Sherlock said suddenly.

"Huh?" She said; clearly not hearing him as she was too lost in the fantasies running through her brain.

"You've been fidgeting for fifteen minutes. Stop it."

"Shut up." She said annoyingly, and probably a little too loudly, as she kept her eyes still glued straight ahead.

"What?" He said disbelievingly.

"You," she said pointedly, as she turned to address him, "Shut up. It's my bloody flat. I'll fidget if I want."

Silence hung for a few seconds. Molly had turned back to the telly and Sherlock continued to stare at her.

He finally let out a sight, "Molly, if you want to masturbate go ahead. I'll go up to the roof."

"What?!" She screeched as she jumped off the sofa.

Sherlock unfazed by her screech just looked up at her, "What? It's fairly obvious. I know you're not menstruating and your shifts at Bart's for the last few weeks have been uneventful. You've had today off, and you do not need to work tomorrow. You've not had a date in 2 months. I keep nocturnal hours, thus leading me to the conclusion... Frustration."

Molly stood up and hurried over to the window and peered outside. Pitch dark; no hint of anyone around. No shop lights on. No taxis. She opened the window to the fire escape, "Out!"

Sherlock got up and grabbed his Scotch. He walked to the window and stopped before he stepped out, "Will 15 minutes be enough?" He said it with a smirk and hurried out the window before she could smack him. Molly shut the window hard and peered out at him, "I hate you." He saw her say.

He set his glass down and opened the window and grabbed her face, brining it close to his, before she could pull away. Her breath hitched and pupils dilated, "Hmm..., " he said satisfyingly and moved his lips to her ear, "no you don't." He let go of her and slipped back up the escape to the roof as fast as he could, and smirked as he heard the window slam shut.

Sherlock came back down the fire escape an hour later. The heat had become unbearable, and he could only assume that Molly had achieved her goal in that period of time.

He opened the window to find the telly and lights off, and the door to Molly's room closed. He slipped in the room, closing and locking the window behind him. He brought his now empty glass into the kitchen and set it in the dishwasher.

Feeling exhausted he decided to head to bed himself. He made his way through to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and then headed to Molly's guest-room.

He lay in bed and reached for his phone to set his alarm and was surprised to see a text alert from Molly:

I'm sorry I yelled at you.

He smirked and typed back a reply:

I deserved it. I'm sorry I embarrassed you.

A reply came right away. He wasn't sure she'd still be awake. With the amount of frustration he knew she had, he assumed she fell asleep right after.

I forgive you.

Glad to hear it. You're fine again for another 2 months, yeah?

No response came; instead, there was a thud against his bedroom wall (A book?)

"I HATE YOU!" Came her voice.

He let out a loud laugh and set his phone down and got out of his bed. He decided it was probably a good idea to make sure she wasn't too pissed off at him. She did have the next day off of work, and Molly always cooked a large breakfast on her days off. Sherlock was getting use to that and certainly did not want to miss out on the next day's spread.

He approached her room and knocked on her door, "Molly? May I come in?"

"Fine."

He opened her door and Molly was faced away from him on her side, the comforter folded back so she was only covered in a sheet. She still wore her pink camisole. The shorts she was wearing were laying on the floor. He noted the outline of panties underneath her sheet. He approached her bed and sat at the edge and faced her back.

"No, you don't," he said.

"No, you're just frustrating sometimes." She sighed. Sherlock was happy to hear her tone light hearted.

"Yes, I should've warned you... You're doing brilliantly, by the way... Putting up with me, that is."

"Thanks."

A moment passed and Sherlock cleared his throat to address the elephant in the room.

"So... Sorry, this is really awkward for me, but I do feel terrible... If you do need… again in the future... just say some-"

"Okay, stop," she said as she turned and sat up in her bed facing him, "this is just too weird. Just don't worry about it, and could you possibly delete the last few hours? It'll make me feel less embarrassed... and I couldn't do anything anyway for your information." She folded her arms and looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, but again, lets just drop it, okay?" She gave him a small smile.

"As you wish."

Molly leaned over to kiss his cheek, "Thank you." Her lips were soft and warm against his skin, and before she pulled away she spoke in his ear, "And stop waltzing around my flat in a sheet. It doesn't help the situation... You know that. And it's driving me crazy."

She pulled away but barely got a few inches before Sherlock caught her face and pulled it close to his. One hand cupping her cheek, the other the side of her neck. Even in the dark he could see the dilation of her pupils and could feel her pulse hammering in her veins.

He stared into her eyes intently and moved his mouth to her ear, "I know," he said teasingly. He let go of her face and made to get up, but Molly Hooper turned the tables on him and grabbed his face and pulled him closer to her, opening her mouth to his, invading him with her tongue as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Sherlock, being thrown completely off kilter, at first did not respond. He just felt. Felt her tongue slide against his, took in the feel of her fingers in his hair as she lovingly caressed his scalp. The feel of her breasts as she pressed against him.

She broke the kiss but kept her place against him. She kissed and nipped him cheek to ear, keeping her fingers in his hair. She pressed against him and licked the shell of his ear and spoke, "You've no idea how frustrating you are, Sherlock Holmes," her breath was hot against his ear and he could feel the heat from her panties as it pressed against the thin layer of his pants, "no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you on that sofa today."

Sherlock's cock twitched and hardened against her. He was speechless.

Molly smirked against his ear and pressed against his hardness, "Hmm," she said as she nipped his ear again and tugged gently at his curls, "interesting what a bit of teasing can do to a person."

Molly moved her body back slightly and brought her mouth to his and licked the outline of his lips. Sherlock still frozen in place was now somewhat responsive and finally moved his hands to clutch her shoulders and slowly brought her close as he opened his mouth to her. Molly moaned into the kiss.

Feeling devilish and intoxicated by the moment, Molly cunningly released one hand from his head and let it slowly descend down against his neck, against his shoulder, against his chest. She ran her fingers across his abdomen and swallowed his gasp as her fingers softly wrapped around his cock, still encased in his pants.

She gave a soft squeeze and Sherlock broke the kiss as a very loud moan erupted from his throat. Molly kept her mouth against his and spoke. Sherlock could feel her smirk, "Hmm, wonderful. How I would love to have you inside me right now." She squeezed him once more and licked his lips again before letting go of him all together and laying back against her bed and turning her back to him.

Sherlock sat stunned, not quite sure what the hell just happened.

"Good night, Sherlock." Molly said as she let out a yawn.

This jolted him from his state, and anger and embarrassment suddenly flooded his system.

He reached out and turned her onto her back, and before she could respond, he had her pinned beneath him. He grabbed her wrists pinning them to the sides of her head,

"What the hell was that?" He said close to her face.

Molly was unfazed by his anger... Quite pleased with it, actually. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine.

"Doesn't feel good does it?... Frustration?" She said smugly.

His face bunched up. He opened his mouth to argue but knew it would do no good. He shut it and then looked down at her.

"No." He said calmly

"No. That's right. It doesn't."

Breaking eye contact by bowing his head, he let out a frustrating sigh and then looked back up at her and into her face. He then slowly lowered his mouth to hers kissing her tenderly. He let go of her wrists, bringing one hand to cup her left cheek and the other to her right shoulder, where he slowly slid down the strap of her tank top. He then kissed a path from her mouth to her clavicle.

Molly's eyes enlarged before suddenly snapping shut as she relished in the pleasure that was pooling below. She was already thoroughly aroused from the delicious torture she made him endure, but she was certain now that her panties were so soaked, that her scent would permeate the air, "What are you doing?" She moaned.

"Shh… Don't talk," he said as he found a delicious spot on the side of her neck, "I'm making it up to you."

He then latched on to her neck, sucking and nipping. He moved his body off of her and now lay next to her on his side. With his mouth still pressing kisses to her neck, Sherlock brought his other head down to the other strap of her top, pulling it down all the way until her breast was exposed. He then moved his hand over it and let his fingers dance over her and her taut nipple. He ran his thumb over her hardened nub and then gave an experimental twist-this earned a loud moan from Molly, "God, don't you dare fucking stop."

"Not tonight, Molly Hooper."

He covered her mouth with his own as the hand that stroked her breast descended down her chest, down the smooth planes of her stomach.

He reached the exposed skin of her midriff and let his fingers dance across her skin. He then moved his hand up the material of her top and stroked against her stomach.

Molly's hands were now tangled in his curls and her hips were writhing against his touch. When she tugged his hair a little too hard, Sherlock descended his hand down to the waste band of her panties.

He broke the kiss, keeping his mouth just over hers. He looked at her face as he descended under the band. Molly's eyes were still closed and her mouth was parted.

Sherlock's finger's skirted across the smooth skin he felt. When he came across the very thin strip of short hair, he ran his knuckle across its short length before drifting his fingers lower. He could feel her pulse through her clit as he descended down, dipping his fingers through her folds, instantly coating them in her wetness,

"Oh, Molly, is this how easily you come undone?"

His mouth swallowed her response as his tongue invaded her mouth as he plunged two fingers inside her, slowly thrusting into her. He broke the kiss and continued his thrusting and kissed his way down her neck.

"Fuck, Sherlock, god, don't stop." She pulled away and was now clutching the pillow she lay on.

His thrusting was agonizingly slow and so fucking good she didn't want him to stop. He lowered his head to her breast and licked over her nipple. Slowly at first and then picked up speed.

She came hard against his hand, loudly moaning his name. Sherlock was surprised to feel just how tight she felt when she came around his fingers. His cock gave a surprising twitch at the thought of being embedded within her.

Molly lay back against her pillow, hair matted to her forehead, and eyes closed as she breathed heavily. Sherlock delicately removed his fingers from her as he kissed her sternum and then nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.

"Did that really just happen?" She said breathlessly.

He smiled against her, "Yes."

They lay there together listening to each other's breathing. When Molly's finally evened out Sherlock sat up and looked into her face. She eyed him curiously but he smiled back at her and bent down and placed the softest of kisses against her lips.

"You drive me crazy too, Molly Hooper."