This story is written for lilsherlockian1975. It was about a year ago that we became friends and even though she is on the other side of the world to me she has fast become one of my best friends. So we decided we wanted to do something to celebrate our friendship and what better way to do that than by prompting each other.
So Lil has written me a Sherlock in jeans fic based on a gif from Blind Banker. It's called Tangled Up in Blue Jeans (check it out it's hot - both the gif and the fic) and she prompted me to write her a Sherlock smoking fic and here it is. We're posting them at the same time so like Sherlolly fireworks they're going up together.
So thank you Lil for being such a brilliant, funny, intelligent, beautiful and amazing friend. This is for you.
Smokin' Hot
Molly knew it was wrong, as a doctor she knew the side effects and as a pathologist she had seen the havoc wreaked on the lungs and the rest of the body but she just couldn't help it, she loved seeing a guy smoking. Well, not just any guy; Sherlock.
She'd given it many hours of thought, far too many, and she reckoned it all stemmed from the first guy she'd ever dated and slept with. Jon had been two years older than her and a bit of a bad boy. Loads of the girls at Uni had fancied him. He would turn up on his motorbike wearing a Honda jacket; his hair so ginger it was almost like spun gold. He'd park up the bike, take off his helmet and light a cigarette and Molly had fancied him from the first moment she had seen him.
She'd been amazed when they had finally got together at some party or other and they had been together for almost a year until Molly had found out he'd been sleeping not just with one person but three other girls behind her back. She'd been devastated and humiliated by the news and after a noisy and, for her, emotional break up she had thrown herself into her studying and tried to forget about boys and men.
After that the thought of smoking or men smoking hadn't really figured in her life again until an evening in late December a few years ago when she had been about to leave the morgue after showing Sherlock and his brother a body. She saw them through the small window in the door; they were stood together over by the window. She was about to push the door open when she suddenly realised that Sherlock was smoking. She had never pegged him for a smoker, although when she came to think about it he did have a high maintenance, addictive personality so it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise...but it was.
That whole day had been particularly bad for Molly. She'd tried her hardest to be noticed by him only to have him notice her and embarrass her for all the wrong reasons and she'd just found out why. He had obvious been sleeping with the woman whose body was now lying in the morgue. And so here he was smoking a cigarette and being comforted by his brother.
She was the other side of the door and therefore too far away to hear what they were saying but her breath caught in her throat at the image of Sherlock, his head thrown back and his eyes closed as he let out a long exhale of smoke. The expression on his face, at that moment struck her as intensely erotic. She wondered if it was the same expression he would have on his face during a sexual climax and it triggered something deep inside her. She felt an almost overwhelming swell of pure lust for him which superseded the school girl crush she'd had on him up until that point.
That night was the first night she had ever masturbated with his image clear in her mind.
She started looking out for it and soon realised that whilst he wasn't a regular smoker it was a crutch he would lean on if he ever felt stressed or overwhelmed by a case or just plain bored. She began to pick up the warning signs the night he stayed with her at Barts; waiting for his showdown with Moriarty. He would get up and walk around, fidgeting, picking objects up and playing with them absentmindedly before he'd grab his coat and tell her he'd be back in a minute.
That night she had stood hidden at the edge of the window of the lab watching him skulking in the shadows outside the hospital, his face flared momentarily by the light of the match. She imagined all over again, the look of pure pleasure and abandonment in his face, and she wished she could see it there because of her.
The months that he was gone from her life were some of the hardest she had ever experienced; not knowing if he were alive or dead or whether she would ever see him again. It was during that time that she truly realised that she had been in love with him. She had tried to get over him with Tom; sweet, reliable, boring Tom but it hadn't lasted...not once Sherlock had come back into her life.
So she would watch him in the morgue or the lab and look out for it. The moment when she would realise that he was feeling frustrated and needed some release. More than a couple of times she made an excuse to leave with him citing a lunch break or a need to pop out and buy something. He didn't seem to mind her seeing him smoking, although she knew it was something he avoided when John was with him.
She'd once been watching him smoking outside when John had rocked up and thrown his hands into the air before saying something to Sherlock gesticulating angrily all the while. Sherlock had grimaced and sulked but expertly flicked the cigarette away into the gutter before making his way back into the hospital with his blogger.
Those odd times that he had lit up in her presence she'd watched almost entranced as he slid the cigarette from the pack with those long, slim fingers. Fingers she could imagine touching her, stroking her, bringing her off. He'd place the cigarette between his lush, full lips and would concentrate as he flicked the lighter and took that first inhale.
Then just as he had that first time he would tilt his head back and close his eyes and Molly would have to bite her lip and fist her hands to not touch him or make a sound. She wondered if he knew her reaction to him but if he did he never let on. He would just nod his head and bid her goodbye as he walked away; tendrils of smoke following in his wake.
The last time it had happened she'd stupidly asked if she could have a drag. He'd stopped mid stride and looked at her, his eyes narrowing before he wordlessly passed her the cigarette.
She took it awkwardly not quite sure how to hold it and even less sure how to inhale. When her lips touched the filter she realised it was still slightly damp from his mouth and she felt a little ashamed that she'd got a small thrill from sharing something so personal of his.
She tentatively breathed in the smoke holding it in her mouth before puffing it out, grimacing as she did and entirely not happy with the way Sherlock snorted with laughter. He shook his head, 'sorry Molly but that was rubbish. You have to inhale it into your lungs otherwise you just look like an idiot and it tastes awful.'
He went to take back the cigarette but she pulled it out of his reach feeling obstinate. As she went to take another drag he stepped forward looking mildly concerned; a warning tone in his voice, 'Molly...'
She stubbornly inhaled for a second time this time swallowing the smoke before exploding in a fit of coughing and retching. Water was streaming from her eyes and she could hear Sherlock roaring with laughter before he deftly removed the cigarette from her fingers. Finally he slapped her back to help her catch her breath and she stood back up burning in humiliation.
'Yes, well I think we'll leave that as a lesson learned hey Molly. I prefer my doctors clean of lung and fresh of breath anyway.' He walked away before turning back with a smile, 'until tomorrow Doctor Hooper.'
Her dreams started to be haunted by him and in them he was often lying half naked in her bed and always smoking. His lips forming a circle to blow out the smoke, his cheeks sucking in as he inhaled making his cheekbones stand out even more than they normally did. In her waking moments she wondered about this strange, secret fetish; laughing at the almost obviously phallic nature of it. After all, the burning cigarette was a direct metaphor for an erection. She'd even heard that lighting a cigarette was a euphemism for sex in old black and white films; the imagery between sex and smoking all intermingling in her mind. But even knowing why she maybe felt as she did didn't stop her enjoying it.
It all came to a bit of a head one cold, wet evening in late spring. Molly was glad that the two of them had finally resumed their friendship. It had all been a bit of a roller coaster ride in recent months. She'd been furious with him about getting high, even if he had promised it was for a case. Only to be terrified when she'd heard he'd been shot. That had been followed by a sense of hurt at reading the papers and anger when John had casually mentioned the stories were all false and Sherlock had dated the poor girl just to get himself shot in her bosses office.
She'd forgiven him completely though when he'd met her outside Barts, just before New Year, accompanied by two serious looking men wearing black suits. He'd lit a cigarette once more and quietly told her that he would be going away again and probably wouldn't be returning.
It had been all she could do not to burst into tears and cling on to him vowing never to let him go. Instead she had silently watched him finish the cigarette before flicking it away. Then he had smiled at her, a strange, pained kind of smile before bending to kiss her on her cheek. She could smell the scent of the cigarette still fresh and appealing. He seemed to linger, their cheeks pressed against each other for a moment then two...and then he had pulled away and walked away silently flanked by his well-dressed prison guards.
She'd been at home when his text had come through informing her of his reprieve. She'd sobbed with relief as she'd held onto her phone and they had soon settled back into their old routines. She did notice however that he spent a lot more time at Barts since John had moved back out of Baker St. He was lonely and she was happy to be able to give him some company.
So here they were on a wet Monday evening. There was no case bringing Sherlock into Barts just boredom. He had helped Molly with a few tests but now he was wandering back and forth between the lab desks, picking up slides and test tubes before glancing at them and putting them back down.
He huffed and Molly smiled as she watched him. She knew what was coming and maybe it was the fact that it was raining and she had no chance to watch which made her speak up.
'Just off out for a minute Molly, back soon.' He said as he started to pick up his coat.
'Wait, hang on.' She stood and walked towards him, holding out her hand to visually try and stop him, 'you know it's bad for you don't you.'
He rolled his eyes, 'God, not you too Molly. I get enough grief from John. It's only one cigarette, I need it, I need something.'
'Well, there are other things you can do to relieve the boredom,' she argued.
He leant against the table and raised an eyebrow smirking, 'what like a seven per cent solution? I seem to remember you weren't very happy with me the last time I took drugs Molly.'
'No, I don't mean that. You know I don't. I mean healthier alternatives.'
'Such as?'
'Well...' Molly knew she was floundering a little now and he was enjoying it, 'I mean. You could go for a run, burn off your energy like that..or...or..'
He stepped a little closer to her and she felt her heart speeding up as he looked down at her, 'I can't really see myself jogging, can you Molly? So what else did you have in mind to relieve the boredom?' He tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips.
Molly swallowed suddenly feeling very self-conscious, the image of his face looking as though he were orgasming coming into her mind unbidden. 'Err well you could...you could...I mean some people would...erm, you know.'
He stepped closer again, 'no Molly, I don't know. What would you do to me to distract me Molly?'
Molly took a step back but found herself up against the other lab desk. The wooden edge hitting her lower back; she put her hand out to steady herself wondering how she had got herself into this strange situation. She struggled to find an answer and he ploughed on regardless, his voice dropping down low.
'Would you touch me Molly, is that how you would distract me? Would you kiss me? Maybe get down on bended knee and blow me? Or would you let me fuck you into a mutual oblivion?'
Molly closed her eyes and tried to get a grip on her thoughts, dear God what was he saying and why...did he even have any idea of how he was making her feel? His voice had sent spikes of lust direct to her core and she had no idea if he were just playing with her. She felt a wave of anger wash over her and she opened her eyes to find him standing inches from her, his eyes unreadable as he looked at her.
'Sherlock, I don't know what's got into you but...well... this isn't funny.'
'It's not meant to be. And I can tell you exactly what's got into me...you Molly Hooper. You. You've been driving me mad for months now. Don't think I haven't seen the way you watch me when I'm smoking, the way your pupils widen, your breath catches in your throat; it arouses you Molly. Now every time I light a cigarette all I can see is you wanting to fuck me and you know what Molly?'
He paused and she shook her head not knowing what to say.
'I want to fuck you too. I want to fuck you right here, right now.' Slowly he placed his hand over hers on the desk. This time when he moved closer their bodies started to touch and as Molly looked up into his eyes she saw him move towards her. At the last moment her eyes closed and she felt his lips on hers for the first time. His mouth was soft and he tasted of coffee and faintly of cigarettes. Slowly the kiss deepened and Molly opened her mouth to his moaning as his tongue slid against her own. She felt dizzy with confusion and lust. She could feel him pressing against her; his hands moving to her waist to pull her closer. She let her own hands slide up his back underneath his jacket feeling how warm his skin was through his tight, fitted shirt.
She could feel every cell in her body wanting to get closer to him, to merge with his and be part of him. All rational thought seemed to have left her and the only thing in her world was him.
In one swift move and without breaking the kiss he picked her up and balanced her on the edge of the lab desk. She automatically opened her legs to him and he moved himself between them before tugging on her hips to pull her against his erection.
At the feel of him, hard against her, Molly broke the kiss letting her head fall backwards with a breathy 'oh God'. All that happened though was that Sherlock transferred his mouth to the skin on her neck kissing downwards even as his hands started to unbutton her shirt.
At the feel of cool air on her breasts Molly started to realise what they were doing and where. Her hands moved to tangle in his hair as she tried to pull him from her but the groan of desire he let out had her pushing herself against him once more.
'Oh God, Sherlock. We can't... Not here...please.'
He pushed her lab coat and shirt off her shoulders and quickly unhooked her bra, 'please what Molly? Please stop or please do this.' He covered her naked breasts with his palms and she gasped at the feel of his hands kneading her flesh.
'Please tell me no one is going to walk in.' Was all she could manage.
'I promise, it's late, most staff in this area have gone home, plus I locked the door an hour ago.'
As Molly tried to wrap her head around what that meant Sherlock bent his head and captured her nipple biting and rolling his tongue over it until Molly couldn't take anymore. She was barely aware that she was tugging at his trousers trying to find the fastenings desperate now to feel him inside her.
He pulled back slightly and deftly unbuttoned them even as she pulled on the zip. But then he caught her chin with his hand and forced her to look at him, 'Molly, are you sure. I'll...I'll walk away now if you're not.'
'I'm sure...God, Sherlock I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I want you...I've always wanted you.' He pulled her face towards him and kissed her. It felt brutal and Molly wondered briefly if she would be bruised the next day but she couldn't find it in herself to care. All she cared about was impaling herself onto his cock which was even now sitting in the palm of her hand. He thrust against her and it thrilled her to know that he was as desperate as she was.
He pushed her skirt up to her hips and moved her pants to one side but before she could move to position him he slid two fingers into her and Molly felt her muscles clench around them, already so close to coming.
She looped one hand around his neck, tangling her fingers into the edge of his hairline, holding his head as her tongue fought with his. Sensations starting to overwhelm her as she stroked his erection in time with his fingers delving into her; his thumb moving in delicious circles over her clit.
Just at the point that her orgasm began to start he pulled his fingers out causing her to moan in frustration at the loss but she quickly hooked her legs around his slim hips and felt him start to press into her. His cock was so much better and so much bigger than his fingers and Molly could hear herself as though from a distance repeating an 'ohgodohgodohgod' as he gradually filled her completely.
He held her to him with his lips locked onto her neck, stilling at first as he got used to the feel of her before he started to rock himself in and out.
Molly opened her eyes briefly, realising with a shock that she was still at work. The utter wrongness of it seemed to add to her arousal and tipped her over the edge into her orgasm. She came hard and knew she was calling his name and probably too loudly given the fact that he covered her mouth with his own quite quickly but she was beyond caring. For the first time in her life she understood what people meant when they said they saw stars, she literally thought she might lose consciousness.
She felt his thrusts start to increase fueled by her calling his name and clawing at his skin. She leant up and used her tongue to lick up the length of his beautiful throat. She could taste the salty tang of sweat on his skin. She could hear him starting to mutter her name under his breath, telling her how good she felt and how much he was enjoying fucking her. She sucked on the skin of his neck marking him wishing she could make him hers. As he called her name she could feel a second orgasm starting and as she shuddered against him she felt him falter as his own climax overtook him. He let out a loud cry and thrust into her as hard as he could as his come streamed into her. It was the best feeling in the world. Watching him as he came was beautiful; seeing him so undone and so natural...all his barriers down. It was similar to his expression when smoking but so much more.
They held onto each other for another few moments with Molly kissing his neck as he breathed heavily against her shoulder.
Slowly, he lifted his head and she shyly looked at him, wondering how he would react to this change in their relationship, only to be relieved when he smiled and kissed her once more. This time the kiss was slow and full of emotion. Molly didn't want to lose the feel of him against her and in her but she knew she had to let him go eventually.
As he pulled away he grinned, 'well I'm afraid that only worked in part Molly.'
She frowned as she looked around for her bra, 'why?'
'Well as distractions went it was perfect but now I find I want a post-coital cigarette.' His grin turned into a smirk, 'care to watch me smoke it?'
Mmm...I know, I know smoking is wrong and bad for you. But as an ex-smoker I do find it hot seeing photos of Benedict or Sherlock smoking.
Hope this is what you had in mind Lil. And as for the rest of you please let me know if you liked it.