Molly Hooper had heard the rumors about Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. She'd been around the two men enough times to understand how they'd started. Two attractive men, living together, spending time together. She had even noticed the long glances between the two of them, the sexuality that simmered under the surface. She hadn't put much thought into it. Most of her thinking processes in that direction were invariably taken up by her own smoldering thoughts about the consulting detective.
John would continue to insist he was straight, ignoring the pull he felt towards Sherlock. Molly couldn't begin to guess if his reluctance was due to the object of his interest, or the idea of being with a man at all, but she suspected it was a little bit of both. Sherlock would continue to insist he didn't need sex or romance at all, which Molly never bought in the first place. Sherlock may have buried his needs deep, "for the work", but Molly knew there was something boiling just under the surface.
Or so she hoped, really. Goodness knows taking the pressure cap off that roiling undercurrent was a frequent fantasy as she found herself alone in bed at night, her thoughts trained on Sherlock as her fingers were trained on her wet sex.
Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly imaginative, John would join Sherlock in her nighttime fantasies. Sometimes they were both focused on her, sometimes they were focused on each other as she watched and touched herself, and sometimes, sometimes it was a tangle of limbs and mouths and fingers.
As time went on, her fantasies were more and more frequently about the three of them in various configurations.
Molly's crush on Sherlock had always been a distraction, but her newfound lust for the pair of them began to consume her. They'd come into her lab on a case, and the attraction between them would just sizzle, and she would smile, knowing what they did in her fantasies the previous night.
Eventually, Molly concocted a plan.
That Friday, she found the perfect opportunity, and went for it. John and Sherlock had come into the lab - Sherlock to use the microscopes, even though the one he had at home was nearly as good as the ones at St. Bart's - and John had tagged along, as always. She fiddled with some paperwork, and finally made her way over to John, knowing that Sherlock was within hearing distance.
"John, if you're not busy later, I was thinking about going to the pub for a drink or two. Care to join me?" She kept her eyes on John, but in her peripheral vision she could see Sherlock's head tip up a little bit, his attention piqued.
John smiled at her. "I think we should have this case wrapped up fairly soon, I'm sure Sherlock could do without me for an evening, couldn't you, Sherlock?"
He turned and looked at Sherlock, whose face was buried back in the microscope again. "I will endeavor to contain my disappointment at your absence," he said in his low drawl.
Molly rolled her eyes and stifled a smile, looking at John. He grinned at her conspiratorially. "I'm done here at six." she said, turning and heading back over to the table where she'd left her files, and bent over them, seemingly ignoring the two men in the room.
She couldn't help but notice the troubled expression that drifted over Sherlock's face momentarily, before he hardened his features back into his cold, impassive look. He stood quickly, pushing the chair back a little too roughly. "I'm done here, let's go, John." He grabbed his coat and marched out of the room, not looking back. John scrambled to follow him.
Molly let a grin spread across her face. She had no idea if he was jealous of her or of John, but in any event, she suspected they'd have a third at the pub before the night was over.
Her plan was moving along nicely.
John returned to Bart's at six, and they made their way to the closest pub. They ordered drinks, and John told her about the case they were investigating, and how Sherlock had insisted that he go to the pub, that he could follow up just fine on his own, thankyouverymuch.
They'd ordered some chips to go with their drinks, but they were quickly into their third round. Molly could feel the alcohol buzzing in her head as she laughed at a story John was telling her about the time they'd followed a dog walker for miles until Sherlock realized they were following the wrong one. "So we spent an hour watching someone pick up poo for nothing!" John said, laughing a little harder than the story really deserved.
"But we did catch him after all, didn't we, John?" said a voice, and Molly looked up to see Sherlock standing behind her, watching John.
"We sure did, mate. Why don't you join us for a drink?"
Sherlock stared at John with a pinched expression on his face, but Molly took over, casually leaning back and putting a hand on Sherlock's hip. "Yes, Sherlock, join us. We're almost ready for another round."
Sherlock looked down at Molly, and then at the hand on his hip. She knew he was deducing her. She hoped he wasn't deducing her too well. He nodded, and sat down. Molly smiled at him and then jumped up. "My round!" she called out to the two men over her shoulder, and made her way up to the bar.
While she waited for the three pints, she stole glances over at the two of them. Sherlock sat talking to John. She briefly wondered how she was going to get Sherlock to unwind without getting John too drunk to consent to the seduction she had planned. However, she knew John could hold his beer better than Sherlock and one more wouldn't push him too far past tipsy and relaxed.
She carried the three pints back to the table, placing John's in front of him and then turning to Sherlock and smiling as she handed his over. "There you go, Sherlock."
She sat, and picked up the conversation where they'd left off, pulling Sherlock into it. He wasn't shy at all about talking about his cases, he loved to talk about how brilliant he was. Molly smiled into her pint as the three of them laughed and talked.
A little while later, as Sherlock finished the last of his pint (John and Molly having finished quite ahead of him), Molly placed both hands on the table and looked at the two men. "We should take this back to Baker Street." she announced. She chewed her lower lip a bit, glancing between the two of them.
"Yes, let's." said Sherlock slowly, standing. Molly smiled and stood, herding the two men out onto the pavement. Sherlock hailed a cab, and they all slid into the backseat, Molly making sure she was smack in the middle of the two men, each of her thighs pressed up against one of each of the duo. She leaned her head over onto John's shoulder, trying to look casual. He looked down at her for a moment, and she couldn't help but notice the slight tilt of his head as he looked over her at Sherlock.
The cab deposited them at Baker Street and after a slight disagreement about who was going to pay the fare, they stumbled their way up to the flat. John sat down on his chair and Sherlock mumbled something about being right back, and disappeared into his room. Molly dropped her bag onto the couch and made her way over to John, standing next to the chair.
"Your hair is all mussed," she said, leaning over to card her fingers through his hair, flatting down where it was sticking up. Her fingers lingered in his hair, and he turned to look at her.
"Is it?" he asked.
"Well, it's fixed now," said Molly, pulling her hand back slowly. John reached up and caught it.
"Thank you," he said, holding her hand and looking up into her brown eyes. She smiled down at his blue ones.
"No problem."
The moment stretched out for a few minutes, the two of them just staring at each other, until John swallowed thickly and then tugged at Molly's hand, pulling her down into his lap. "I think, Miss Hooper, that you've been flirting with me tonight."
Molly allowed herself to be deposited into his lap before turning to look at him, their faces only a few inches apart. "Have care, Doctor Watson. You are not the only doctor here."
John blinked at her for a moment. "Doctor Hooper, you are changing the subject."
Pulling the hand that still held hers to her lips, she kissed John's fingertips. "Maybe I am. Are you opposed to the idea?"
John answered her by pulling her towards him for a kiss. She kissed him deeply, using her free hand to wrap an arm around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. John didn't hear the footsteps in the hallway as their snog continued, but Molly did, resisting the urge to smile into the (rather nice) kiss she was enjoying with John Watson.
John didn't notice Sherlock until he'd come around to stand between his chair and John, watching the two of them. John startled, and pulled away from the kiss. Molly turned and smiled at Sherlock. "Jealous?"
Sherlock stared down at the two of them for a moment. "Jealous? No. Curious? I'll admit to that."
John, during this conversation, sat frozen, staring up at Sherlock. Molly resumed playing with his hair, trying to keep him relaxed. She could feel the tenseness that had built in his arms and legs when Sherlock came into view slowly slip away, and she leaned over and kissed John again. "Curious about this?" she asked Sherlock, never taking her eyes off John as she ran a tongue along his closed lips, encouraging him silently to open them.
After a moment's hesitation he did, deepening the kiss. Molly reached out towards Sherlock with her other hand, beckoning him closer. She felt more than saw him fall to his knees in front of the chair, felt his piercing gaze on them as they kissed.
John broke the kiss, meeting Molly's eyes and then turning to Sherlock. "I think we've been had, Sherlock." he said, running a hand up Molly's thigh. "I think a certain pathologist knew exactly what she was doing when she invited me out to the pub."
Molly leaned over and pressed her lips to John's, pulling back and smiling warmly at him. "I was curious. Now Sherlock's curious. Are you curious, John?"
John looked from Molly to Sherlock and back again, his mouth moving wordlessly as his brain spun. "Depends on what we're all curious about, I'd say," he finally managed.
Molly shrugged, turning and smiling at Sherlock. "Whatever. Nothing anyone's uncomfortable with. Just...whatever."
Sherlock, who had stayed quiet through most of this, growled low in his throat and leaned over, crushing his lips to Molly's. She yelped at the suddenness of it but then relaxed into the kiss. Beneath her, she felt, rather than saw John's interest in the kiss between Molly Hooper and his best friend.
As the kiss broke, so did John's resolve. With a quick movement, he moved Molly from her position sitting across his lap to sitting on his lap facing Sherlock. Meeting Sherlock's eyes, he bent to suck at her neck, never taking his eyes off the detective.
Molly moaned, tilting her head to give John better access. Sherlock watched for a moment and then stood. Placing one hand on each arm of John's chair, he leaned in and captured Molly's lips in another kiss.
Sherlock broke the kiss, placing smaller kisses along her mouth and then her jaw, moving until his face was hovering over John's, who continued to nip and lick at Molly's neck. Sherlock stood again, smiling down at the two of them.
"Bedroom. Now." he turned and made his way down the hall without a look back, knowing full well John Watson and Molly Hooper would follow him anywhere.