I do not own BBC, Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper, Sir ACD, or Moffat and Gattiss. Or Nocturnias. Though I wish I did. ;)
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(")(") -it's a birthday plot bunny!
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She had already received the customary call from her mother that morning. It was irksome and predictable, but she still obliged the tradition.
''Happy birthday my dear!" She had shrilly called into the phone. Molly cringed at how loud her mother was.
''Thanks mum. Listen, I have to work, so i can't talk now. Thanks for calling.'' She said quickly. Her mom had started asking why she had to work on her birthday, when Molly hung up. She sighed before she finished preparing for the day.
She had fed Toby, who could've cared less what day it was, he was affectionate regardless. Molly pulled on her favorite ruffled blouse. She smoothed it down her skin, and then pulled on a pair of black trousers. She had pulled her hair up, the customary ponytail she always wore. 'Hm, no make up today.' She thought, exiting her bathroom. She then left for the hospital.
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She had been showered with pleasant birthday wishes as she made her way to the lab. A few of the nurses had given her cards, and she received a large bear hug from one Mike Stamford. Molly stood in the lab now, filling a test tube with a liquid diluent from the large pipette in her hand. She was concentrating, so much so that she hadn't heard Mary enter the room.
''Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Molly. Happy birthday to you.'' Mary sang out quietly at first, sneaking up to the table where Molly was. She looked up to see her friend holding a cupcake in her hand, guarding the flame of a single candle with the other. Molly smiled cheekily and set her work aside. Mary had set down the cupcake, and quickly hugged the small pathologist.
''Well go on then. Make a wish!" Mary quipped, nudging Molly by the arm. She laughed before closing her eyes, thinking. Then, after a minute, she opened them and blew out the candle. Mary clapped sweetly, and again pulled Molly into a hug.
''I bet you I can guess what you wished for.'' She said in a teasing voice. Molly blushed, before playfully hitting her.
''Hush, will you? It won't come true if you make me say it.'' She smirked, before suddenly frowning. 'It won't come true, anyway.' Her mind said. Mary stayed a bit longer, before returning to her post. Molly now sat in the lab, alone with her thoughts. She stared into space, thinking of her wish.
Sherlock raking his hands across her skin. Kissing her lips until they buzzed. Touching her hips and bringing her closer. Sliding his long fingers into-
Molly snapped out of her thoughts, looking around to see she was still alone. She felt her face flushed, and she took a calm breath. She sighed to herself. 'Oh well, it was nice to dream.'
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Molly had just finished the last of her paperwork for the day. It was late, and most of the other staff had gone home. It wasn't the first birthday she had spent in the morgue, so she almost felt it was a tradition. She had just finished stacking the files on her desk when the door to the morgue swung open with a loud slam. Molly jumped to see Sherlock waltzing in. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, and she saw the dark eggplant shirt underneath, the collar sticking out above his jacket. He looked elegant and handsome as ever. Molly followed his movements as he quickly turned around, and locked the door behind him. Molly's eyes widened as he again turned and approached her.
''Hi Sherlock. What can I help you w-'' she was about to ask, when all thoughts flushed from her mind. The detective's lips had come crashing full force into hers, and she struggled to remain standing. She felt his hands pulling her closer by the back of her head, and she gasped in surprise. They separated, and Molly's eyes met his. They were darker than usual, a glint of something mischievous glowing deep underneath. All she could do was stare, as Sherlock quickly took her mouth in his again. His kiss was deep, passionate and yearning. Molly closed her eyes at the sensation, and tangled a hand through his curled strands of hair. His hand seemed to echo her actions, and she felt his fingers massage the back of her scalp. Molly sighed against his mouth, and his tongue darted across her lower lip. Molly moaned at this, and she felt him grin wickedly into her lips.
Sherlock's hands quickly moved down her body to her hips. She could feel the pressure of his fingertips digging into her skin through her pants, and they pulled along her sides. Molly had wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer. She was so lost in the moment, she hadn't even cared when his right arm swiped her papers off the desk behind her. Sherlock picked her up, and rested her against the table. He kissed his way down her torso through her shirt. Molly gasped for small breaths as her fingers once again entrapped in his hair. She didn't say a single word, fearing it would snap her out of whatever dream this was. Her attention was quickly drawn to him now, as his fingers messed with the buttons on her black dress slacks. He pulled on each one slowly, and undid the zip. Molly stared at him, his eyes focused in concentration and deduction. Suddenly, he lifted her up and held her in the hovering position. His strong hands raked along her waist, shoving her pants down past her bottom. Molly moaned at the sensation, wanting more contact. His lips were on her skin again, kissing up and down her collar and neck. She had to contain herself as she felt his long fingers slowly make their way down her front. They stopped on top of her cotton underpants, and she stopped breathing. Molly tilted her head back as she felt his fingers hook around the material, pulling them to the side. She could almost hear him chuckle in a low voice as he touched her. Molly's body felt like it was on fire, every nerve much more sensative. She groaned as his fingers touched her, lightly grazing the flesh under them. Her breath hitched, the air caught in her throat as he slowly inserted a long finger deep in her center. She moaned, much more audibly than intended, and her head rolled back even further as Sherlock slowly pumped in and out of her. His teeth scratched along the surface of her neck, dragging across her pink skin.
''Oh my God, oh my God, oh...'' she mewed into the air. She tightly wound her legs around Sherlock's waist, pulling his body closer. His finger continued to dance in and out of her, causing her hips to grind into his hand needingly. Her arms held on to the shelf behind her, her fingers clawing at it for support. Sherlock's finger was soon joined by a second, and Molly found herself whispering his name in pleasure as he moved in her. She felt her core coiling up, ready to shatter at any moment. His fingers pushed faster, occasionally curling inside her walls. Just as she was about to break, he pulled out. Molly's eyes flew open wide, looking at him. His grin was wide and devious, then she heard it. The knock on the door. She quickly hopped off the table, with some assistance from Sherlock, and redressed. Once she was ready, she stood to look at him. He had gone to unlock the door. The young man at the door was a red haired, freckled and pimpled intern.
''Doctor Hooper, are you alright in here? I heard some strange noise, so I thought I'd see if you were okay.'' He said, looking around for signs of danger.
''Oh no, I'm fine. Thank you Colin. You may go home for the evening.'' She answered. He looked around again, before waving and leaving. Molly had expected Sherlock to lock the door yet again. When he didn't, she walked after him. He had pulled the door open to follow suit with Colin, and she stopped him.
''What...what was that for?" She asked in a breathy voice. Sherlock leaned over and kissed her cheek before he whispered seductively into her ear.
''A little bird told me it was your birthday today.'' Molly's body shivered as he pulled away and walked out the door. She stood there in heated frustration and arousal, when she felt her phone buzz.
'Come to 221B Baker Street. I still have to give you the rest of your present.'
-SH-
Molly smiled, her face filling with blush. 'Mary Morstan, you terrible, wonderful woman.' She thought as she grabbed her jacket and purse, rushing out the doors of St. Bart's to hail a cab.
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Teehee. Happy birthday dear! I hope it's an enjoyable one!