Please be advised, this is my M rated version. Sensual, but not explicit. There is a T rated version if you are more sensitive when it comes to love scenes.


When Molly opened her eyes it took a few moments for her to remember where she was. Her husband's arms were curled around her but this was definitely not their bed in Baker Street. Oh yeah. She realized she was in a hotel room, and they were in America.

"Where are you going?" asked a deep voice sleepily, as she scrambled out of bed.

"My home away from home," she responded, making a dash for the loo.

As she returned from the bathroom Molly thought, not for the first time, how strange the toilets were. The water level was so high! At LAX, when she and Sherlock had arrived, the first thing Molly had needed to do was find a loo. Being almost seven months pregnant meant for frequent trips to the loo. Well actually, the frequent bladder urges had already started a couple months ago. Molly had quickly learned that if Sherlock was feeling amorous she had better duck to the loo first so that she didn't interrupt his intentions.

Thinking back to her experience in the LAX "bathroom" as the toilets were politely called here, what was with that anyway? A bathroom was supposed to have a tub or shower to be called that, Molly had been very disconcerted to discover that the water level in all the toilets was very high. She had immediately thought they were flooded. It was not a good thought, when she was really busting to use it. She had made a nervous inquiry of one lady who had come in with a child. The woman was obviously American herself, by her conversation with her daughter.

The woman had assured her that the water level was perfectly normal, so Molly had selected a stall with relief.

And then she had discovered the ridiculous gap at either side of the stall door. Really, a person could practically peer through the opening and watch while a woman did her business. On the whole, the pathologist decided she much preferred the privacy of the public toilets back home.

Furthermore, the darned automatic flush decided to activate while Molly was still on the toilet! There was definitely something to be said for flushing a toilet oneself! All this automated stuff, while it sounded good, was not very practical. Trying to wash her hands at the sink in the bathroom was also difficult. Ok, the automatic soap dispenser was nice, but the water would not turn on at one sink and Molly had tried another, frantically waving her hands in front of the sensor, wondering if the extent of her hand-washing was to be the hand soap. Fortunately, the water had finally activated.

Putting her hands down into that automatic hand dryer was nice though, even if it was a little more time consuming than ripping off a paper towel to dry them.

The whole process had taken so long that Sherlock had been frowning when she exited the toilet, er, bathroom.

"I thought you might have gotten lost in there," he said dryly.

"Didn't you go to the toilet too?"

"Yes, but it didn't take me a half hour," he'd responded.

"Well, Mr. internationally experienced traveler, I'm not used to all these fancy automatic flushing toilets that flush when you are still sitting on them, and automated water taps that don't turn on when you want them to," she had retorted a little crossly to her husband.

Sherlock had patted her hand as if she were a child. "It's okay, love. You'll get used to it."

"Don't patronize me, Sherlock," she had hissed, then had felt horrible when he looked shocked at her tone.

"I'm sorry darling. It's just a bit overwhelming. And the twelve hour plane ride didn't help."

"No, I'm sorry, Molly. Maybe coming here now was not the best plan. We had better get going though. We need to go through customs and all that fun stuff. I'm not really used to commercial flying myself. When Mycroft sent me on missions we always used private jets."

By the time the couple had made it through customs and picked up their luggage, then gotten to the hotel, Molly had been exhausted. It was only evening in LA, but the middle of the night in London. She had lost no time in crawling into the bed of the hotel room and falling asleep, much to Sherlock's disappointment. He was ready to go and explore this new city.

By the time Molly had woken, her husband had apparently decided he could use a few hours rest as well.

The next day, the couple had not ventured out of the hotel. With the interview on the late night talk show looming that night, Sherlock had been quite nervous. He had insisted on recounting every detail of the case that had earned him his international fame, sure that the talk show host would want to know every detail. Molly had been too tactful to tell him that these shows typically were more concerned with learning about their guests' private lives, rather than their work.

Well, everything had gone very well at the interview. The pathologist had actually had a lot of fun, and Sherlock had expressed his appreciation of her efforts during the interview in no uncertain terms once they had arrived back at the hotel.

Molly smiled at the remembrance of the way they had made love, even as she slid back into bed, scooting backwards so she was once again pressed up against her husband, who she suddenly realized had come fully awake - in more ways than one.

Sherlock's arm came around her from behind and his breath tickled her neck, even as he clasped a possessive hand over her breast.

"You took forever in that bathroom," he complained, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"I was only gone for two minutes!" she exclaimed.

"Felt like longer, wife," he murmured, pressing more kisses along her shoulder, while his hand gently squeezed her breast.

"Sherlock, we didn't come to America to spend the whole time in our hotel room making love," she said, trying to remember exactly why they had come. He was an extremely distracting man.

Her husband moved against her sensuously, invitingly, even as his wandering hand drifted to caress her bulging belly. "It's still early, Molly, too early to go sightseeing. Kiss me."

She turned onto her back, feeling Sherlock's warm lips covering her own. He kissed her in the same way his body moved, sensuously, willing her mouth to open beneath his. Every kiss between them was electrifying, even nine months after their first proper kiss, when he had come to her three days after the Sherrinford incident and proposed. His lips still felt like heaven, making her melt into his embrace, stirring all her senses.

Even as he kissed her, his practiced hand furthered its descent down her body. No matter his own need for her, Sherlock always loved her so well, taking delight in thrilling her senses, in making her act like a wanton in his arms.

Sometimes he would Watch her, observing her reaction to his touches and caresses with his hands or his mouth. Other times he would kiss her as she cried out into his mouth, so that it was he alone who could know what he did to her, how much she loved him.

Now though, she stilled his hand, nudging him onto his back, grasping both of his hands so she could position herself over him. Sherlock's eyes widened in delight, as she took the initiative on their positioning. This way was far easier than most, now that her abdomen protruded significantly. She kept her eyes on his, lowering herself slowly until he was enveloped in her warmth, their bodies joined as one.

She moved gently, luxuriating in their union, feeling the complete oneness of their coupling. It was impossible for them to kiss anymore in this position, but they looked at each other, smiled at each other. Before long, her gentle movements were not enough for her husband, and he grasped her hips firmly, his own movements growing more urgent, forceful, until they fell into oblivion. They were both panting, spent from their passion.

Molly slid sideways and onto her back, even as Sherlock moved to cradle her head on his shoulder. He placed a tender kiss on her lips. "I know I've said this so many times, and it's probably getting mundane for you to hear it, but I just can't get enough of you, my lovely wife."

She reached up to caress his face. "I could never get tired of hearing that, my love. I hope you are still saying it twenty years from now."

"Sweetheart, as long as God gives us life on this earth, I will be saying it. You complete me. It's never about having sex either. In fact, as I told you when we were engaged, we would never have sex. We would only ever make love." He linked his fingers through hers. "For me, having sex means taking one's own pleasure, whereas making love is rejoicing in our love and our devotion. Maybe others don't think of it that way, but it's how I feel. Even when we are being naughty...like a certain someone taking her knickers off in a pub to tempt me a couple weeks ago…" Here Molly blushed, she had indeed been naughty that night. "It's still about making love with you, never sex. I love you with that agape love from the Bible, unconditionally."

Molly felt tears prick her eyes. "I know you do, darling, and I feel the same way about us making love, and I have that same agape love for you." Her husband said the most wonderful things to her. He was almost unrecognizable from the Sherlock of old. It didn't make him any less of a brilliant detective. It just added depth to his character. He cared about people and was no longer afraid to show it. Even Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson had been the surprised recipients of one of his jubilant hugs at times, when the sleuth was in a good mood.

"So," asked Sherlock, "shall we take a walk along the Hollywood Walk of Fame today?"

"That would be fun. But I'm feeling pretty hungry right now. Don't they have a breakfast buffet downstairs here?"

"Yep." Her husband did that cute pop of his "p."

"Well, seeing as the studio is paying for all our expenses here, we should take advantage of it, don't you think?"

"Yep." Oh he was so adorable. She pulled his head towards her for a quick kiss, then said, "Well, let's get dressed and go downstairs."

The pathologist got out of bed, leaving a pouting Sherlock behind.

"What?" she demanded.

"I thought we'd cuddle for awhile first."

"You were the one who suggested what we were doing today."

"I didn't mean right now!"

"We aren't going now. We are having breakfast first, now come on." She put her hands on her hips and glared at her husband, well, not a real glare. He was too cute for her to be really mad at his unwillingness to get up.

"Fine," he huffed.

Ten minutes later, the pair headed downstairs for a nice complimentary breakfast.


Author's note: The whole airport scene is pretty much a factual one from my own experiences when I first arrived in America from Australia. My personal favourite part was the image of Molly wildly waving her hands under the tap to get water out of it. Do you find yourself frustrated with those and the auto-flush toilets as well? I hope I made you laugh.

There is no angst in this story, it is pure romantic, sexy fluff and humour. If you want angst, there is plenty of that in my Uni story. I'd really like to know what resonates most with my readers for future stories. Do you enjoy the flirty, romantic stuff or the angsty stuff, or both?