John and Mary Watson had long ago decided that, left to his own devices, the world's only consulting detective, and their best friend, Sherlock Holmes, may well turn back into the social recluse he once was, and that they were going to save him from such a fate. To this end, they took to dropping into the flat on Baker Street every Friday evening, bringing their infant daughter Claire along for the ride. They knew that Sherlock would never turn the child away from his doorstep, and would tolerate their efforts to socialize him merely to spend time with his goddaughter After the first couple of weeks, they were joined by Dr. Molly Hooper, and, shortly, DI Greg Lestrade took to joining the group, when neither of them were not otherwise occupied. The evenings tended to break up rather early, as the Watsons had a child in tow. Molly was usually the last to leave, as she would insist that Mary head home, and she would stay to help Sherlock straighten up. This usually involved Sherlock watching her, and offering managerial advice, as she did all the work. But Molly never minded, as it gave her a few extra minutes with the man with whom she was so enamoured.
Molly was thus engaged when Sherlock interrupted her. "Molly, why don't you come by tomorrow. I could use some help writing up my notes on the Klinghoffer case."
"Can't, Sherlock. I have a date."
Sherlock Holmes was immediately alert. If this was the same man she had been seeing for the past two Saturdays, a return engagement for the following evening might, indeed, be significant. Molly Hooper was, by no means, promiscuous. She never slept with a man on the first or second date. But she had, on at least one previous occasion of which he knew, succombed on the third occasion. He had to know if this relationship was getting this serious so quickly.
"Molly, are you serious about the gentleman, and I use the term loosely, given your previous selection of psychopaths?"
"There was only one psychopath, that I know of, Sherlock, and I didn't sleep with him. You would have gotten closer to that than I, in any case." Molly glared at him. "And, not that it's any of your business, but no, I am not all that serious about Howard."
"Howard? What kind of a name is Howard, anyway…"
"It's from Middle English, and means 'sheep herder'!" Molly said with a smirk. "I looked it up!"
"You're dating a shepherd? That explains the peculiar aroma emanating from…"
"Shut up, Sherlock!"
"May I at least ask, if you're not serious, why are you seeing him?"
Molly hesitated a moment before speaking, not sure if she cared to broach the subject at all. "I don't have to be serious about everybody I date, Sherlock. Sure, I'd like to get married and have a family at some point, but not every man is marriage material." Here, Molly put a stern look on her face, and nodded knowingly at the consulting detective. "Anyway, sometimes, I just need companionship, friendship, closeness,,,"
"Sex!" Sherlock finished her sentence with the word she would probably never get around to using.
"Okay, sex! I'm a relatively young, relatively attractive," here she paused as if to dare Sherlock to contradict her, "and certainly healthy woman. I have needs, as much as the next woman. And I'm not comfortable discussing this with you, so I will shut up right now!"
"Why should you be uncomfortable about it. We're friends, aren't we? And, you're a doctor! Why should you feel uncomfortable discussing basic bodily functions?"
But Sherlock's mind was racing ahead to the inevitable conclusion at which he always arrived. That, eventually, Molly would, indeed, find someone who did sufficiently interest her on more than a physical level, that perhaps one of her dalliances, started on such a level, would progress to something more important, more permanent. And he would, as a result, lose his pathologist. And friend.
"Molly, I must say that I have always wondered why you have constantly wasted time and put yourself at some risk of emotional, if not, indeed, physical, harm by seeking out companions of the opposite sex merely to satisfy your basic needs, without availing yourself of the most obvious solution."
"Which is what, Sherlock? A male escort?" Molly snorted derisively.
"Of course not, Dr. Hooper. I realize that resorting to making use of such services would not fit your personality type, although I, for one, see nothing wrong with financial remuneration for services rendered, so to speak…"
"Sherlock, get to the point!"
"Me, of course! I know that you have always found me attractive. If you were looking for someone to provide you with…"
"Sherlock, stop right there! This conversation is making me very uncomfortable. And why would you think I would ask you to do something so far out of your comfort zone, anyway?" Molly asked the question, even though she knew his answer would add to her discomfort in one way or another.
"Why do you assume that having sexual relations with you would be out of my comfort zone?" Sherlock asked in a curious tone.
"Well, it's not something you've engaged in…"
"You believe I am asexual? A virgin? A homosexual? Well, I am none of the above. I enjoy sex. Given the ingrained evolutionary motivations, it would be counter-productive not to enjoy it. And, on the occasions when I have indulged, I have been informed that I am quite proficient!"
"Did you ask for a bloody report card, Sherlock? Or a written review?" Molly was becoming extremely nervous, and decided to go for a bit of humor to lighten the mood.
But Sherlock Holmes was not to be deflected. He approached the small woman slowly, eyes fixed on her face, willing her not to move away. When he stood directly in front of her, he placed his hands on her hips and, lowering his lips to within inches of hers, muttered, "Perhaps you'd like a small sample, Molly?" Then he pressed his mouth to hers, and pulled her closer.
Molly was the first to break for air. "Sherlock, this is not a good idea!"
"Whyever not? I am certain we would both enjoy it. And you certainly know me much better than you know the 'sheep herder'!"
"It would be too complicated, Sherlock. You know how I feel about you! This could ruin what friendship we have…"
"It would only ruin that friendship if we had sex one time, and then tried to return to our previous circumstances. However, what I propose is that we continue to have sexual relations on a regular basis, until one of us grows dissatisfied."
"And how long do you think that would be? Before you grew bored with me?"
"Molly, I am an addict, and I firmly believe that you are about to become my new drug of choice. I have given up my addictions because I came to truly understand how detrimental to me the drugs were, not because they bored me! They calmed my mind, but made made a far worse person. You calm my mind, and make me a better man. You will never bore me, my Molly! And I wish to assure you that I intend to do my best to guarantee that you do not become dissatisfied with me in any form whatsoever!"
"Sherlock, I love you. I always have. But this may…"
Sherlock once again silenced her with a rather passionate kiss. "Molly, love, I am no good with this sentiment stuff, as you well know. I have just confessed that I am addicted to you, that I want you, that I intend to do my best to hold on to you. Need I actually say that I love you more than I ever loved my heroin…"
Molly laughed, albeit a little dismissively. "No, don't say that. That's not romantic at all."
"I'm not exactly a romantic, as you also know. But I am a selfish man, and I have decided that you belong to me, and with me, and I am not about to give you up to Howard, or anybody else. Understand?"
"Yes," Molly said quietly, and, looking into his eyes, she truly did understand.
The next morning, Molly Hooper awoke all alone in Sherlock's bed, and experienced a brief moment of panic. But as she sat up straight, pulling the sheet around her to cover her naked body, she was startled by her mobile being tossed onto her lap.
"What's this for?" she asked the naked detective standing next to the bed.
"Call the sheep herder and tell him your date is cancelled!" he ordered her with a smile. Then he slipped under the covers and slid in next to her, nipping at her shoulder as he did so.
"Ouch! Watch those teeth. You don't want me to put that in on your report card, do you?"
Sherlock pushed her down on the bed and moved to position himself on top of her, smiling seductively. "By your reactions last night, I expect that I have already earned top honors," he murmured as he nuzzled her neck. "Now I intend to go for extra credit." And he did.