A/N: Not beta read.
1. Pickles
Sherlock was lying on the sofa in his thinking pose when Molly came back from grocery shopping. Even though she was carrying two heavy bags, she didn't ask him to help. It was fine. She could manage them herself. There was no need to disturb him.
She was putting the grocery when she heard the energetic voice of her husband's.
"Pickles!" Sherlock walked towards her with a big smile on his face.
"Hey, honey." She turned her head to peck him on the cheek. Sherlock seemed to be in a good mood. He rarely used terms of endearment to call her. Where did the enthusiasm come from?
Sherlock kissed her back while reaching over her shoulder to get a jar of pickled cucumbers from the cupboard.
"Pickles." He smiled mischievously and waved the jar of pickles in front of her before he left the kitchen. Molly blushed. Oh, right, he wasn't calling her sweet silly name. Of course. She should have known that.
She bit back her smile and continued sorting the grocery. Huh, Sherlock Holmes, ignoring his wife for a jar of pickles, and she was the one who bought it for him.
He had already eaten half of the jar when she returned to the living room. Staring at him, she sat on the sofa and pouted.
"Pickles?" He held one to her lips.
Molly glared at him before she reluctantly took it in her mouth.
He smiled and went back to his business. In a moment, he had already finished eating the whole jar.
One thing about Sherlock Holmes was that he either ate nothing at all, or ate everything at once.
Feeling full and happy, Sherlock laid his head on Molly's lap, who was reading a book.
"Pickles." He chuckled. Apparently he found it amusing that she thought it was his term of endearment for her.
She ignored him and held her book closer to her face, but Sherlock wasn't going to let her finish her book. He was determined to get her attention with his fingers dancing on her thighs and all the way up to her belly, drawing circles here and there.
"Pickles..." He murmured. His hand went higher and higher as he nuzzled her belly and slipped his other hand underneath her shirt.
"I'm trying to read..." Molly bit her lip. She was too distracted by his hands that she didn't know what she was reading anymore. She had already read the same line thrice and she still couldn't comprehend the text.
Sherlock left her lap and sat up. When Molly thought he gave up, he leaned against her shoulder.
"Pickles." He said in a high pitch with a smile.
She wondered if there was alcohol in that jar of pickles. What had gotten into him and made him so cheery? And where were his hands going? Before she could think further, the soft kisses that he kept planting on her neck made her give up thinking altogether.
"Pickles," he whispered with his seductive baritone before he nipped on her earlobe, sending shivers down to her spine. She moaned when he sucked on the sensitive spot behind her ear. His hands were all over her body, lighting fire wherever they wandered.
Soon she was a puddle of mess under his kisses and hands. When Sherlock threw the book away from her hand and picked her up, she was too weak to protest.
Leaning her head on his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her book was abandoned on the floor as Sherlock carried Molly to their bedroom.
A/N: Thanks for reading. I'd be very happy if you can leave me a review. I'm going to write a Sherlolly story a day in September, and I'd love get some prompts. :)
Mayacakaia on tumblr drew a picture for this one-shot. [mayacakaia dot tumblr dot com/post/60104196287] Thank you so much!