Today had been an unpleasant day, if one were to put it mildly. A rather deadly E. coli outbreak at a renowned restaurant in the city had left ten unfortunate people dead and Molly with a cooler full of cadavers to get to work on. She had watched the nightly news on the telly the evening before, so she was aware of the outbreak. At the time however, no one had died, so Molly didn't expect to arrive at work the next morning and become the sole person responsible for post-mortems.
At any rate, she knew it was her job, but for once in her life, she'd enjoy an easy Friday. Instead, she was wrist deep in Mrs. Faulkner, a dear old lady who had just wanted to celebrate her birthday in style.
Jeez, Molly. Stop thinking about them as people. It will only make you sad.
She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on other things. Like that new Ed Sheeran song. That would work. Thus, she began to hum, removing organs and all.
Until Sherlock Holmes strutted in, his eyes and fingers completely devoted to his mobile. Molly sighed and set her scalpel down, turning to look at the man.
"Molly," He bellowed out, his eyes still locked on his mobile, "I need your assistance with a case."
She sighed and shook her head. "Sherlock, I'm swamped here. I can't help."
He continued to type away, never once looking up. "You get off at five. Our flight leaves at half nine. I will be at your flat at seven."
She blinked and made a face. "Sherlock, are you even listening to me? I can't help."
He snorted and continued typing. "You can and you will. Be ready at seven. Details to come."
And just as he arrived, he departed. Molly groaned and shook her head, muttering to herself about the nerve of that man.
Xxx
It was during her short lunch hour (the one the law so irritatingly required her to take) that she noticed the previously unread text messages. In typical Sherlock fashion, it was short and to the point.
Following lead to Barbados. You will play the role of my wife. Dress for the tropics. Elegant and chic. We want to climb the ladder. – SH
That means no fruit patterned clothes. – SH
We will return on Friday. Stamford is not to comment. Mycroft has taken care of it. – SH
Molly read the messages over a few times, unbelieving of his words. Barbados? She was getting a tropical holiday! She bit her lip and took a bite of her sandwich, suddenly very much looking forward to finishing up the day.
Just her and a strong drink, laying on the beach, the sun beating down on her exhausted skin. Throw in some cute cabana boys, a nice romantic novel, delicious food, and she was ready to go! Of course, she'd have to put up with Sherlock, but that was something she could tolerate.
Who was she kidding? She bloody loved the idea…
Even if her brain was constantly recommending her to abandon that ship.
At any rate, it wasn't until she tossed her trash in the bin that her plans came crumbling down. She let out a cry and bite her lip, realizing that she was in quite the pickle.
What am I going to wear?
Now in the middle of February, Molly had taken the liberty of going through her non-winter clothes, deciding to pretty much toss or give away anything that wouldn't survive a London winter. Part of the decision was the desire to start fresh, the other half simply because she was moving to a new flat and wanted to bring as little as possible.
Of course, now she found herself in a peculiar position. Molly Hooper owned not a single pair of sandals, shorts, or a swim costume. And now Sherlock expected her to have a bag packed and ready to go within the next…
She glanced down at her watch.
Six hours?!
She cursed and bit her lip, knowing there was only one solution to her problem (well, one that didn't involve her leaving work early or turning down a free holiday with Sherlock). She grabbed her mobile and dialed the familiar number, taking a deep breath when the friendly voice answered with a cheerful hello.
"Meena!" Molly squeaked, gnawing on her lip, "I'm in a bit of trouble and I need your help."
Meena groaned, the sound of the London streets audible around her voice. "You better not be in prison."
"Of course not! You're off today, right? Had a dentist appointment?"
"Guilty," She responded happily, "Just got some groceries too. Chicken is on sale at Tesco. You should take a peek."
That got Molly's attention. "Really? How much is—" She groaned and shook her head. "Not now. This is an emergency."
"An emergency? What kind? Are you handcuffed to a bed and need me to unlock you?"
Molly groaned. "This is going to sound ridiculous but Sherlock—"
Meena laughed. "I'll stop you right there. I don't need to hear the Sherlock Holmes rundown. Just tell me what you need from me."
"I need you to buy me a summer wardrobe and have it ready by seven tonight," Molly forced out, still nibbling on her lips.
Meena couldn't help but laugh again. "A summer wardrobe? Is that git dragging you off on a holiday?" She took Molly's silence as an affirmative and continued, "Right. Okay. What do you need? Do I get artistic control? My style choices?"
Molly sighed and looked at the clock. "I need everything. Tops, shorts, sandals, a swim costume… Everything. Probably a new suitcase too. And yes, your style is so much better than mine! Sherlock said I need to appear elegant and chic. Whatever that means."
"Oh, this is going to be fun," Meena practically squealed, "But most importantly, I need a budget."
Molly sighed and began to walk back to her office, trying to run numbers in her head.
Oh, screw this. Mycroft can pick up this bill.
"Spend whatever you think is necessary. I'll make one of them foot the tab."
Meena let out another squeal. "Oh, miss Molly, you will not be let down!"
"Thank you. And, I need you to watch Toby again."
Meena groaned. "Fine. I'll drop the stuff off and grab the cat before seven. Love you!"
And the line went dead. Molly put her mobile away, finally able to take a deep breath. Meena had an excellent sense of style. She would take care of everything.
Now, back to Miss Jenkins.
Xxx
Oh, Meena took care of everything alright. An unlimited budget to buy a wardrobe for her best friend to go on a holiday with the man she's been madly in love with for years? This was an early birthday present for sure.
Think of the airline miles I'm going to get for using my card! I'm only seven-hundred pounds away from my next reward.
She had spent the remainder of the day strolling around the city, buying Molly must-needed summer clothes. A few beautiful dresses, some stylish rompers to show off her legs, a few delicious halter tops to show off Molly's toned shoulders…
She smirked and set the bags down in Molly's flat, extremely pleased with herself.
Oh, she got Molly what she wanted. Shorts? Sure, she picked those up. But not Molly's standard Bermuda shorts or capris pants. She got some wonderfully short pairs, sure to show off Molly's toned calves.
Dresses? Not Molly's church appropriate ensembles. These promised skin-kissed skin and lots of attention.
And then the swim costumes…
Meena just laughed and opened the newly purchased suit case, slowly packing away her purchases. Molly would surely kill her when she pulled that bikini out.
Oh well. I'm only helping a girl out.
And since Meena was a wonderful friend, she went above and beyond, buying Molly some new sexy knickers and bras as well.
A girl must be prepared. Especially with a bloke paying the bill.
Meena zipped up the suit case and set it by the door, unable to hide her grin. Once she finally lured Toby into his crate and escorted the cat out, she whipped out her mobile to send Molly a text.
I took the liberty of packing your suitcase. Just grab your makeup and toiletries and you'll be good to go. – Meena xx
Also, Toby is a brat. He hates that crate. – Meena xx
P.S. Just forwarded you the bill. If Sherlock is paying, I charge a ten percent service charge for my work. If the rich brother is paying, it's fifteen percent. – Meena xx
Oh, and have some fun. Get some sun and let your inhibitions run wild. You need it. – Meena xx
With one final smirk, Meena strolled out, Toby meowing in her arms. Maybe, days from now, she'd stop hearing about Sherlock's ridiculous antics and instead about his performance in the bedroom.
Now that was something she'd be interested in hearing.
Xxx
At 6:45, with only fifteen minutes to spare, Molly raced into her flat. She had finished up her work around 5, but Mike desperately needed a last-minute arrival looked over, especially with Molly's pending week-long holiday. Naturally, she stayed, but ended up finishing up at 6. Add in a tube delay and here she was, finally in her flat, fifteen minutes before Sherlock was due to arrive.
At that moment, she was extremely relieved to see a gorgeous new white suitcase standing in her sitting room, ready to be whisked away on a tropical holiday. She walked over to it and grinned, noticing a folded-up stack of clothes on top, as well as a cute pair of booties, and a note. She read it over quickly.
Just a comfy dress and your favorite jumper for the flight over. Everything is packed—don't forget to pack your toothbrush! Have lots of fun. – Meena xx
Molly unfolded the dress, grinning when her eyes met the both comfy and cute pink maxi dress. Meena knew her so well, especially to throw in her favorite jumper for the flight! With only ten minutes to spare, Molly dashed into her bedroom, quick to throw the last of her toiletries, makeup, and passport into her handbag.
She had just slid the new shoes onto her feet when Sherlock's voice rang through her flat and into her bedroom.
"Molly? Please tell me you're ready."
Molly peeked her head out, dressed in her new clothes, her favorite tote bag clutched under her arms. "I'm ready. You're standing by my suitcase."
Sherlock looked over at the white bag and raised an eyebrow. "This is new."
"It is. Meena picked up some stuff for me since your dress code was rather specific. I'll be sending you the bill," She announced, stepping into the sitting room.
He let his eyes roam up and down, considering her attire. "The dress will do. Regarding the bill, I'll forward it to Mycroft. This is his doing."
She just nodded and checked her handbag for her passport for the eighth time. She was rather paranoid about that sort of thing. Once she saw her cherry patterned leather case (surely Sherlock could deal with that fruit pattern), she looked at the dashing man in front of her.
Per usual, he was clad designer clothes, but even then, his attire looked less Sherlock-esq. His tailored top was a rich navy blue, a beautiful color that she had never seen him wear. And, instead of black trousers, he wore a tan pair, beautifully framing his delicious thighs and firm arse.
Damnit, Molly. You're supposed to be over him, remember?
"I've never seen you in tan trousers," She began, desperately hoping her cheeks hadn't turned red, "You look… unlike yourself."
He made a face. "Well, I refuse to wear a bloody Hawaiian shirt and shorts on holiday. I'm afraid my normal clothes are bit too… formal for the occasion, however."
She just nodded. "I think you look nice."
He rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, pulling out two silver wedding bands. He slipped one onto his finger and held out the smaller one, watching Molly with a steady gaze. She sighed and grabbed it, slipping it onto her fingers as well.
Sherlock studied her fingers, his eyes flicking between her hands and her eyes. Molly could feel her cheeks darkening, wondering what was going through his mind. Was he thinking the ring looked natural? Would this be the impetus for him to realize that they belonged together? Would they finally—
"You'll need a manicure at the airport."
With that, he strolled out, leaving Molly with blushing cheeks.
And her suit case.
This is going to be a long week.
At least you get a new wardrobe out of it.
Xxx
An hour later, Molly found herself sitting in a spa chair, two women working eagerly on her toes and fingernails. While she had initially grabbed a funky purple color for her nails, Sherlock scolded her and reminded her of the role she was playing. So, she had settled with a basic light pink on her fingers, although she had won the argument about the cherry red color on her toes.
He's like the bloody Queen, dictating the color of my nails!
At any rate, it was a bizarre situation. First of all, Molly was a simple woman. She had never, ever, paid to have someone paint her nails. She rarely did her fingers because of her job, and whenever she felt like painting her toenails, it was always across her sofa with a color Meena probably handed down to her.
Then of course, she could not get over the fact that they were in an airport. She envied people who got massages and such in the busy thoroughfares, and now here she was, getting serviced like a celebrity!
But, perhaps the weirdest component of the evening was Sherlock sitting across from her, also having his fingers and nails worked on. He was rather entertained, watching the three women work on his cuticles.
Three? Why does he get three and I get two?
She met his gaze and couldn't help but giggle. He gave her a defiant look.
"I'll have you know that Mycroft has been getting manicures since the minute he got a government position. He seems to think that maintained cuticles are the key to success," Sherlock explained, giving the women a sugary-sweet smile.
Molly laughed again. "Yes but… You're not Mycroft."
"Wow. Fantastic observation, Molly."
"I'm just saying… Why?"
He shrugged. "If I must wait for you to be serviced, I might as well try, shouldn't I? It's rather pleasant. Besides, I'm going for the type of wanker that gets his nails and eyebrows done."
She bit her lip. "So, you're getting your eyebrows done too?" She barely contained her laughter.
"Nope," he responded, popping his 'p' sound, "But you are, my dearest wife."
Xxx
Molly tucked her knees under her jumper, her eyes locked on the plane window. While it was dark outside, she had no idea else what to do with her time. Her face ached after having her facial hair brutally waxed and plucked. At the thought of earlier, she glanced down at her hands, having to do a doubletake when they landed on baby pink nails and a silver wedding band.
You're someone else.
"Surely you've realized that it's dark outside. Staring out the window is pointless," Sherlock's deep voice announced, his gaze locked on a stack of paper. He was now wearing a pair of stylish glasses, an addition that he emphasized was a part of his cover.
Why does he have to be so bloody fit?
She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sherlock. I'm aware. And don't call me Shirley."
He just blinked. Molly groaned and mumbled to herself, unsurprised by his non-existent pop culture knowledge. She shifted in her seat and yawned, although kept her gaze on the handsome man beside her.
My husband.
"So," She began, watching him read over his paperwork, "Tell me about our holiday."
He looked up from his readings and sighed. He gave her a nod and placed the papers back in the bag at his feet. She watched him expectantly and was rather surprised when he waved a stewardess over to bring them more champagne.
I can't believe we're flying first class.
When she disappeared, he turned to look at Molly. "We're looking for Richard Blackwell. He's an Australian businessman, although he lives in Belfast full-time. I believe he's behind some of my more recent, boring cases."
She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Boring, according to Sherlock, normally referred to crimes of the non-violent variety. Ergo, if someone wasn't at risk of death or great bodily harm, it wasn't worth his full devotion. Clearly, however, the connection of one man to many different cases was more exciting for the detective.
He continued with his story. "I think I can pin him for money laundering and fraud. But, mainly I'm looking for him because he has connections to some terrible people."
"Terrible?" Molly asked, unable to take her eyes off his gorgeous face.
He shifted in his seat. "According to Mycroft, he has proof we need to put some awful people behind bars. Sex crimes, prostitution, sex tourism… The list could go on."
She frowned. "Sex trafficking?"
"More or less. He's relatively harmless, but he knows people that aren't. Regardless, Richard Blackwell is taking his newest girlfriend to Barbados. He's known to use the presidential suite at the hotel we're staying at. We stay there, frequent the sort of places he would frequent, and befriend the couple."
He quickly thanked the stewardess once their drinks arrived and took a gulp. "Then, once we're trusted, I'll get the information I need, and he'll be apprehended at the airport right before his mistress can land a new rich man."
Molly blinked and sipped her champagne. "Right. Okay. But why me?"
Sherlock gave her a look. "Molly. Please don't act like you're stupid. It's unbecoming."
She rolled her eyes. "We live in a progressive society. Why not bring John? You two would make a cute couple."
He scowled and shook his head. "Molly." He issued, a warning in his face.
"Mr. and Mr. Holmes-Watson. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Or would it be Mr. and Mr. Watson-Holmes?"
She couldn't help but laugh at the way his shoulders tensed, and a deeply irritated expression crossed his features. She sipped her champagne and snuggled into the chair, knowing that she could make this trip fun. Sure, Sherlock was going to be working, and she was there to help, but that didn't mean she couldn't relax in the sun and drink her weight in sugary cocktails.
Xxx
Hours later, standing in their expansive suite, overlooking the ocean, Molly was incapable of doing anything but squeaking. She shifted from room to room, fawning over the ginormous space, to the glamorous decorations, to the shower that could surely fit eight people inside. The bathtub was a large jacuzzi tub, surrounded by candles and a bloody wine bar! And then there was a fully stocked bar, a gorgeous balcony that overlooked the ocean, not to mention a bed that looked so comfortable, so luxurious that—
"Molly. Have you transformed into a mouse within the past ten minutes?" Sherlock asked, his long limbs spread across the magnificent looking bed, his styled hair pressed into one of the pillows. While she was disappointed to see him tame his curls, she couldn't deny that he looked especially gorgeous in glasses and short hair.
She stopped her exploring and crossed her arms. "You've dragged me across the ocean to help you. Am I not allowed to at least enjoy myself? This is my first holiday in years."
Sherlock sat up and pulled his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes. "Indeed. We need to change," He explained, rising to his feet, "Grab your swim costume. We'll have to venture down to the pool."
Molly bit her lip and gazed out the window, her body buzzing deliciously at the thought of the warm sun and cool water on her skin. "Lunch too?"
Sherlock waved his hand and began to dig through his own bag. Knowing that was Sherlock for "yes", Molly skipped over to her own suitcase and opened it, her mouth dropping at the sight of Meena's meticulous packing.
With all the running around and time with Sherlock, Molly had completely forgotten about the clothes fiasco. But at the sight of a cute evening purse and new sandals, she was immediately thrilled by her luck. Meena was a godsend.
She stuck her hand into a pocket and couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the feel of silky, smooth fabric rubbing against her fingers. She pulled the clump of cloth out and proceeded to jerk her hand away when her eyes met the piece.
Staring back at her were two pairs of scandalously skimpy knickers, colored in a deep emerald green and a sapphire navy blue. She swallowed and held them up to the light, realizing that the pieces would completely expose her bum. She quickly shoved them away and dug her hand further into the pocket, pulling out another handful of knickers, this time in various colors of lace.
These too seemed to be missing fabric, given how none would cover her bum. Molly soon found accompanying bras with sheer cups, as well as a night gown in a style she had never seen outside of a lingerie shop.
Molly cleared her throat and shoved the lingerie away, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Meena was being sweet and bought her some sexy undergarments, ever hopeful that her relationship with Sherlock would be more than platonic. He would never know that her knickers were… erotic.
She began to flick through the folded clothes, when a beautiful mint green fabric caught her attention. Molly smiled and pulled the piece out, unraveling the shirt.
That was a mistake.
She let out a gasp, staring at the halter neckline that exposed her neck and shoulders. Along the chest were cut-outs, exposing lots of skin and at least part of her cleavage. And while the shirt was not inappropriate, per say, (although she had no intentions of ever wearing it to church), it was certainly far out of her comfort zone.
Molly set the shirt aside and stared at the open suitcase, her eyes scanning the perfectly folded articles of clothing, in various sizes, colors, and fabrics. She felt her stomach drop.
Oh, Meena…
She began to dig through the clothes, letting out desperate cries whenever she unraveled a new top, or dress, or pair of trousers, finding every single garment either fitting or tight or exposing skin that Molly had no interest exposing. From the backless satin maxi gown in a Tiffany blue, to linen shorts that barely passed her arse cheeks, to the v-cut romper that her breasts would surely escape with one wrong movement…
Molly had made a grave mistake trusting her stylish, adventurous best friend with making fashion choices. She glanced over at Sherlock, ensuring he was still in the bathroom, and quickly fished out her mobile. She dialed Meena's number, uncaring that it wasn't even eight in the morning back in London.
"I see you've unpacked?" Meena's sleepy voice asked, although clearly amused, "I had a bit of fun, as I assume you've seen."
Molly let out a strangled cry and pulled at her pleated hair. "Meena! I can't wear this stuff! It's…. It's…"
"Fashionable? Cute? Shows off your best assets?"
Molly whimpered. "Meena, imagine Sherlock's face when I walk out wearing a lace romper with half my tits out!"
Meena snorted. "Yes, love, that was literally exactly what I was thinking when I purchased it." She sighed and shifted, filling Molly's ear with noise, "Look, sweetie, I bought stuff that was cute and appropriate for a tropical holiday. I know it's not exactly your style, but I wanted you to come out of your comfort zone. Your clothes are a bit…"
Molly frowned. "A bit what?"
Her best friend groaned. "Outdated. Childish. Conservative. I love you, but I want you to take risks. And considering you're pretending to be someone else, isn't this exactly the time to do it?"
Molly swallowed. "I don't have the—"
"Bollocks! You have a great arse, shapely legs, and a flat stomach. Yeah, your tits are a bit small, but that means you can wear certain tops that us big-breasted girls only wish we could," Meena explained, "Have some confidence. You're gorgeous."
Molly glanced back over at the suitcase and bit her lip. "You really think I can pull some of these things off?"
"Of course! Otherwise I wouldn't have bought it. Now, go put on a sexy dress, and make that moron detective see what he's missing."
She pulled out a brown beach hat and found herself nodding, even though her friend couldn't see her. "Right. Okay. You're always right."
Meena laughed. "That I am. So, what's your favorite? I do love the navy dress, but I'm partial to the black bikini."
Molly dropped the hat and began digging through the suitcase, her heart hammering in her chest. When she pulled out the scrap of material, she let out a strangled cry. Meena's laugh filled her ears.
"Right. I'll let you go then. Love you! Be safe!"
The call disconnected, leaving Molly to stare at the itty-bitty swim costume, knowing she was going to kill Meena in a week's time.
Xxx
Back in London, Meena rolled back into her pillow, pulling her new friend into her arms. She pressed a kiss to his orange head and grinned.
"Oh Toby, hopefully after this weekend, there will be two more happy pussies in London!"
She rolled over and met the cat's gaze. "Although, at the rate our relationship is going, you might be the harder of the two to please."
Xxx
Molly and Sherlock entered the gate into the resort's pool area, an expansive terrace featuring a gorgeous infinity pool, two additional pools with fancy adornments like waterfalls, a lovely looking hot tub, an inviting poolside bar, as well as endless chairs and cabanas.
Sherlock pulled her over to a cabana and dropped her bag. He looked around the deck and back at Molly. He began to speak, although his voice hushed, "Blackwell has the cabana beside us reserved from noon to four. I expect they will arrive shortly."
Molly nodded and watched as he began to spread out their towels. She couldn't get over the sight of him dressed in navy blue swim shorts, falling just above his knees. She had never seen his bare legs before, and her body was going through a bit of sensory overlord. He had put on a pair of sunglasses, and was wearing just a snug, white buttoned t-shirt.
She looked down at her own clothes and took a shaky breath. She was wearing that black bikini, but thankfully was currently hiding in a white cover-up. She counted her blessings that the material wasn't see through and slipped out of her sandals.
Once satisfied with his towel fluffing, Sherlock pulled the shirt off, exposing his perfect body to the sun. Molly watched him, mouth agape.
Kill me now. He can't possibly be this fit.
She swallowed and watched as he dropped to the chair, immediately grabbing a medical journal. He flipped to a middle page and continued to read. Molly swallowed and dropped onto her own chair, her eyes scanning the pool.
Molly sighed and got comfortable on the chair, bringing the hat down to cover her eyes. Maybe now she could get a nice nap, only her lower legs exposed for a bit of sun—
"Molly, is there a particular reason you're still dressed?" Sherlock asked, rather uninterested, his eyes still locked on his medical journal.
She looked at the white fabric and gulped. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet, her hands twisting and pulling at the fabric. With one hand, she removed her hat, her other running up and down her thigh nervously.
Sherlock finally looked over at her, his eyebrow quirking. He shut the medical journal and watched her expectantly. "If your costume has fruit on it, I promise the honeymoon phase is over."
She rolled her eyes at his attempt at a joke and forced herself to take a deep breath. With one final squeezing of her eyes, she pulled the cover off, her skin immediately visible to the warm sunlight. She gazed down at her body, her eyes running over the black top, with a wide V-shape, exposing much of her breasts to the world. But the top wasn't finished at her waist, as a black x of fabric continued down her midriff, ending in the middle of her stomach.
Molly looked like she was preparing for an evening with Christian Grey. And of course, the bottoms were scandalously tiny, the strap along her hips extraordinarily high, showing an extensive amount of thigh. The back left out at least half of each arse cheek, although thankfully had more cover than some of the knickers Meena had purchased her.
Overall, the ensemble was something she expected to see on a super model or celebrity. Not mousy, plain Molly Hooper.
She had become so focused on examining the bikini again (she had spent nearly twenty minutes staring at herself in the mirror while back in the hotel bathroom) that she hadn't noticed Sherlock's gaze locked on her.
She looked across the cabana to him, and nearly stumbled back. The look on his face was very… Un-Sherlock. His body had gone taut, his eyes running up and down her form, his pupils blown back in surprise.
Molly swallowed and gingerly wrapped her arms around herself. "I, uh… This is nice."
Sherlock sat up and continued to stare at her. The muscle in his neck twitched, and Molly swore the look he gave her was borderline murderous. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, when a young woman skipped towards them.
She was sun kissed with wavy blonde hair, certainly no older than 25. She was clad in a sexy swimsuit herself, a skimpy teal ensemble that barely contained her (likely fake but expensive) breasts. A patterned scarf tied around her tiny waist, and an exotic flower pinned some of her loose locks back.
"Hello!" She announced, a grin spreading across her face, "We're neighbors!" She giggled and pointed to the cabana beside them, which members of the hotel staff were currently filling with food.
Molly looked over at Sherlock. His eyes were locked the approaching form of an older, yet rather attractive man. He was at least sixty but carried himself well. Judging by the way Sherlock sat up and attempted to relax, Molly knew that his target was the man approaching them.
"I just came by to say hello! I'm Mandy," She explained, her voice rather husky, "And this sexy as sin hunk of man meat is Richard." Mandy ran her hands down the man's chest and giggled when he grabbed one of her arse cheeks.
Molly swallowed and looked to Sherlock. He rose to his feet and gave them a very un-Sherlock smile. "What a pleasure. I'm Scott and this is my wife, Michelle. We just got in from London."
Mandy gasped delightedly. "Oh, a romantic trip then? How splendid. Come say hello if you get bored."
She gave Molly a wink and began to walk away, Richard in tow, but stopped to look back over at the petite woman. "By the way, I love the bikini." She giggled and bit her lip, her eyes excited, "I have something like that. Although Richard normally ends up tearing it off before I even get a pic up on Instagram!"
And just like that, the May-December couple disappeared into their own cabana. Molly squeaked and looked over at Sherlock, who incidentally was staring at her. She forced out an awkward laugh and lowered herself to the chair.
"Well. She likes my bikini," She forced out, ignoring the redness growing on her cheeks.
He tears it off her? Imagine Sherlock tearing this off me...
She whimpered and laid back, still conscious of Sherlock's burning gaze on her form. She swallowed and looked back towards him. His eyes were unreadable.
"I realize it's a bit… much, but Meena bought it!"
"You think that's an excuse?" He spat out, his face contorting in anger, "I told you that we were ladder climbing, and you show up dressed for a burlesque—"
He stopped speaking as Mandy approached, this time holding a large, colorful cocktail. She giggled and focused on Molly. "Hey, Michelle, would you like to hit the shops with me later? Richard got me a new credit card but shopping with him is so dull. He just wants to take the clothes off!"
Molly forced a laugh and swallowed. She looked over at Sherlock, who looked genuinely surprised. Molly bit her lip and realized that maybe, she was going to be the key to solving this case. In fact, she was starting to think that Sherlock seriously miscalculated what type of partner this Richard Blackwell was going to be bringing on holiday.
She looked back to Mandy and nodded. "Oh, I'd love to! There's nothing better than shopping with a girlfriend, is there?"
Mandy squealed and took a gulp of her drink. "You're so right! Besides, there's this incredible lingerie shop on the fifth floor. Just between you and me," She looked around before back at Molly, "the way the fabric rubs against your clit and nipples is just exquisite. It does most of the work for him," She gave Sherlock a wink.
Molly forced out a laugh and nodded. "Sounds wonderful. When should we meet up?"
"Say five or so? Richard and I have dinner reservations at eight. I just want to pick up some sexy panties and a new pair of heels," She explained, looking back to her cabana to give her man a wave, "He tends to ruin all of my favorite pairs."
"Five is grand," She glanced back at Sherlock, who was still watching, although based on his glossy gaze, Molly presumed he was buffering, "And what a coincidence. Scott and I are having dinner at the same time."
Mandy squealed and clapped. "Oh my gosh, yay! You totally can join us." She took another slurp of her drink and backed away, "I'll see you two later. And by the way," She leaned forward, her lips in a grin, "These curtains close and give some great privacy."
With a wink, the blonde was off. Molly let out a staggered laugh and got up, knowing she desperately needed a drink. She watched as Sherlock blinked a few times and focused back on her. She bit her lip.
"That was easy," She began, a smirk gracing her lips, "I already made a friend."
Sherlock scowled. "Molly…"
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and strolled off, in search of the poolside bar. While her gaze was set on the cute bartender and the delicious looking drinks he was preparing, she managed to miss the way Sherlock's gaze followed her, his eyes travelling over each and every inch of exposed skin.
She missed the harsh intact of breath, the shaking hand through his hair, and the soft expletive that escaped his lips. Because he didn't miss the way her breasts were tantalizingly exposed to the sunlight, or the way the fabric x wrapped around her tiny waist, or the smooth skin of her thigh and arse uncovered. He also didn't miss the way she caught the attention of every man on that pool deck.
Including a one Richard Blackwell.
And a very chipper Mandy-no-last-name.
To be continued…