"Whats wrong, Molly?" Sherlock asked as she closed the cold storage drawer.

"Nothing, why?" She smiled, sweetly and met his gaze as he glided closer.

"I…just…. thought you looked a bit…..sad." Molly choked and looked down at her shoes."You haven't been sleeping well."

"Well, Tom and I…"She played with the ring and he nodded.

"I just want you to be happy, Molly." A giggle and a shrug.

"I am happy right now, Sherlock."

"Well, work does that for me, too."

"No, no. Talking to you. Being with you…. It makes me happy." His shoulders fell and he took a step back.

"Molly, you know I can't…" It was her turn to close the gap between them.

"I didn't ask you to do anything." Molly reached up and brought him down for a hug. Gently running her fingers through his hair. As he pulled back, their eyes met and he leaned forward and their lips met. The kiss got more intense and they lost themselves in it.

"Over here." Molly pushed him into a corner. "You can't see this corner from the window." She lazily gestured to the viewing area.

Sherlock tore at her lab coat and slid his hand up her skirt. He found her opening easily, he knew anatomy, but she saw the question in his eyes as he fumbled bit, sliding in and out.

"Its here." Her voice hitched and rose another octave as she placed his finger against her spot. Floating there, between his body and the wall, neither foot on the floor, she cam harder than she'd ever before, squirting onto the floor writhing and screaming in the empty morgue. The only time she remembered him not kissing her was as she climaxed. He was studying her, she knew, filing away her unraveling in his mind palace. Furiously wanting that high again she unzipped his trousers and brought his formidable erection out and sheathed it within herself almost immediately.

He seemed to hesitate a moment, but his body must have quieted his mind and he began thrusting. Some of his movements were telling of his inexperience, but that didn't mean he knew nothing. One hand bracing himself on the wall beside her, the other making loving and forceful circles on her clitoris. Even if she wanted to participate more, she had no focus. His dedication brought them both to a glorious, hard and fast completion that left them breathless and aching all over.

When the stillness and realization of what they'd done sunk in, Sherlock backed away, muttering and stuttering an apology as he put himself away and straightened himself up. Leaving Molly alone in the dimly lit room, he ran out as if he were on fire.

—

After not having heard from him in nearly a week, she made a decision. Not that she wanted to corner a fearful animal, that could be dangerous, but he obviously needed to be kept from running away. Whether it was from his feelings or her…. or both, he simply needed to be contained.

She loved Sherlock dearly, so much in fact, she would be willing to walk away from a sure thing with Tom for a life of uncertainty with him. For him. Molly though about this as she packed the duffel bag and put her ring in one of its small compartments.

Being willing to do anything for Sherlock, met being willing to break him.

The world seemed silent from the moment she made her decision to the moment she began packing the bag and got in the cab, but the second she saw the door to 221, that world filled with the drumming of her own heart beat and then it stopped as she finally entered the flat, dropping her bag on his desk with a loud thud.

"What's that?" He looked up from him paper, still in his house coat, sitting in his chair.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." Before he could continue to deduce her, she moved to close both the doors the the living room.

"Good. Because we need to talk."

"About what?" Molly turned and crossed her arms, she knew he'd do this, so she simply swiped the paper from his hands.

"I'm not here to play that kind of game, Sherlock." When he looked at her tentatively, she decided to start. "Stand up."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." The response was a bit slow and hesitant, but she decided that was part of what he needed. "Was that your first time, Sherlock?" Words caught in his throat, all he did was make noise.

"I have done things of that nature before, Molly, but…."

"Yes or no."

"Yes." Nearly inaudible as it slid past his lips, he didn't meet her eyes.

"Stay." Curiously, he didn't seem to even consider doing anything differently as she left him to retrieve his riding crop from the bedroom closet. To be truthful, it wasn't exactly Molly's thing, she enjoyed the slight sting in her own hand when she would punish her submissive partners, but it was clear to her it was probably his thing. So, she wielded it with confidence, happy to have a tool at her disposal. "Ok." She slide the glass pocket doors closed again. "Let me see it."

"See what?"

"Don't be daft, Sherlock. You fucked me with it, surely you won't begrudge me wanting to see it." Another sign anyone could see of his inexperience would be how slow he was on the uptake of sexual things. Always trailing a bit behind. But, now, as she made this command armed with his riding crop, he was just completing his deduction.

"No."

"No, because you don't want to, or because you're afraid?" He swallowed hard and diverted his eyes. "Look, Sherlock, I have no intention of raping you. You either consent or you don't. So, do you consent?" Still staring at the floor, arms behind his back, she allowed the quiet to lull him into his mind palace. Just like always, she'd give him the patience he needed. That had always been her job as his friend, but as his partner, she'd not allow him to drag his feet so. "Fine, I'll leave." She spoke after several minutes, and walked over to exchange the crop for her bag. Maybe he was just looking for the words, but he didn't call out to her until she was about to open the door.

"No, stop."

"So, do you consent, Sherlock?" The pathologist turned on her heels and approached the normally domineering man to help him find his words. "Do you consent?" Both of her hands cradled his face, lovingly, as she asked again softly.

"Yes." Try as he might, he couldn't move his eyes from hers, he was transfixed and nervous.

"Then, lets try this again." Crop in hand and bag abandoned on the desk again for now, she repeated her last command. "Show me."

"Molly, I'm…."

"Hard as hell." She leaned up against him and wrapped her hand around his prick through the fabric. "Now, again, let me see it."

"I'm…." Realizing the words he was probably searching for were synonyms for 'scared' or 'nervous', she, once again, took his face in her hand.

"You once told me you always trusted me, is that true?"

"Of course."

"Then all you have to do is trust and obey. I'm not here to hurt you or make you do anything you don't already want to do." The unlikely domme stepped back and took her first crack with the crop. It landed with a loud thwack against his thigh. "Off, now!" Finally beginning to obey, she added. "You can take off the dressing gown and shirt, too."

Now unzipping her bag, she looked over at him disrobing. "Don't just throw them about, now, Mrs. Hudson works really hard to help you keep this flat livable and your clothing clean. Have some respect." Clothing now folded and placed on Johns chair, she made sure to give him a "Good boy" as she laid out the restraint she'd brought with her on his desk.

As a woman, she enjoyed the type of power that comes with feeling so predatory but, as she circled him like a wild cat, she made sure to make him feel safe as well. His back was marked in scars from past abuses. Unsure whether this may have traumatized him or not, it was important to her to acknowledge he'd been hurt, even if it was only physical. Kisses and gentle tracings of them seemed to send the message he wanted to hear because his muscles relaxed at her touch. She ghosted the crop up one side of his body as ran her fingers, softly up the other and sucked at the side of his neck as long as her ankles would allow her on tiptoe.

"I have some thing to show you." Keeping her voice at a gentle whisper, she surveyed him, making sure he was reasonably calm before picking up a strap. "This is for your arms and wrists. Do you understand?" He nodded and she responded with another firm slap to his thigh. It was no harder than the last time, but without fabric to soften the blow, the crack was much louder. "I couldn't hear you."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" The scramble in his head was almost visible and his responses uncertainty reflexed that.

"Molly? Y-yes, Molly Hooper." She wouldn't have accepted this because it was her name and still sounded like a question, but, again, he needed patience, so she smiled at him and retrieved his scarf from the hook by the door, under his coat. Pausing only a moment to sniff at it, the last time she'd seen it, he had her up against wall and was cloaking her in it after all.

"Whats that for?" Leaning back away from her, eyes wide, as she approached with the fabric, he had forgotten to hold his tongue and received another smack with the crop.

"That thighs going to be good and red by the time we're done here if you don't learn how to behave, Mr. Holmes."

Sounding so matter-of-fact, she was proud of herself as she stepped behind him. "I'm going to use it as a blind fold. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Molly Hooper." His words were more confident than he truly was; she heard him take a sharp inhale before she took the sense away and he didn't release it until a few seconds after it was fastened.

—