"I don't see why we have to be crawling to follow this guy, Sherlock," Molly hissed silently as she led the way through the bushes.

"We need to be close to him to hear what he's saying, Molly, and I don't exactly think we'd be able to get that close if we weren't doing it this way." Sherlock replied.

"Fine, but you're paying for a new pair of trousers. YOU, not Mycroft, get it."

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) to divert his gaze from Molly's arse.

The two had been away from London for a week, chasing after a thief who'd stolen a painting from Tate Modern Museum in London. The painting had been on loan from a private collection, and it had been the owner who'd contacted Sherlock.

The painting – 'Nude, Green Leaves and Bust' painted by Pablo Picasso was worth an estimated £75.7m and the owner was very eager to have it returned to his possession.

The man they were currently following was not a suspect, but he was deep in the illegal selling of expensive art, and they suspected the thief might contact him to sell the painting. Molly had argued that they should check out be the descendant of Paul Rosenberg – a man desperately in need of money. Paul was a friend of Picasso who'd brought the artwork, only to have it stolen during the Nazi invasion of France during the Second World had been many fights throughout the years by Paul's family who said that the picture belonged to them, and had been through many courtrooms to try and get it back.

It wasn't exactly a surprise to Molly however when Sherlock had decided that he was right, and had followed his idea as soon as they'd gotten to Ireland.

Molly grunted in annoyance when her knee landed on a thorny branch, the blasted plant poking a hole not only through her trousers but also her skin.

Sherlock had the audacity to shush her when she expressed her discomfort, and it earned him a deathly glare from the small, but strong (as he'd already had the pleasure of learning when she slapped him three times) pathologist.

"This isn't working, Sherlock; he's still too far away. We're never going to be able to hear what he's saying."

"You're right."

Molly raised an eyebrow, a bit suspicious that he'd agreed with her as quickly as he had, but she followed the consulting detective as he rose and walked out of the bushes, much to the surprise of the man they were following.

Sherlock gave the man a wink before turning to face Molly, and before she could react Sherlock's lips were slanted over hers in a passionate kiss that stole her breath away.

The man – Angus – as was his name, stared at the two people snogging with wide eyes, but slowly raised the phone to his ear, and continued his conversation. Sherlock chuckled when he noticed the slight colouration of Molly's cheeks as the kiss kept going and Sherlock's tongue brushed her lips begging for entrance.

The kiss stopped as abruptly as it had started, and all of a sudden Molly found herself dragged along behind a grumbling Sherlock.

"What?"

"Didn't you listen Molly? He's not involved."

"Well I'm sorry I was a bit preoccupied with the fact that you were kissing me."

"It got us close enough to listen in on him, and it's not like you didn't want to."

Sherlock immediately knew that he'd said something wrong when he turned to look at Molly.

"Just because I wanted to kiss you Sherlock doesn't mean you have any right to do so without asking for my consent. And I can tell you one thing, I certainly don't want to again." She hissed before walking away as quickly as her small legs could carry her.

Sherlock followed her slowly, keeping his distance so she could cool down before he told her the kiss hadn't entirely been because it would get them close; but because he'd wanted to as well.

A smile spread on his lips when he imagined kissing her again, sure that he'd calm her down enough with his proclamation of love that she'd let him touch his lips to hers once more – although preferably many times more.

"What are you smiling like that about?" She asked, disrupting Sherlock's train of thought.

"Have you calmed down?"

"Please Molly" Sherlock started when he saw that she was about to reprimand him again.

"Fine."

"I was smiling because I was thinking about kissing you again."

"You do realise I told you I don't want to kiss you again, don't you?"

"I do yes, but I figured you'd change your mind."

"And what would make me do that?"

"Oh I don't know. Me telling you that I'm in love with you... that might be a start at least."

Sherlock smirked when Molly's eyes widened slowly as she took in what he'd just said.

"Shall I tell you again, or can I kiss you now?" Sherlock asked when he became tired of waiting for Molly to say something.

"I don't know, can you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but stepped closer to Molly, raising a hand to her cheek and pulling her in for a soft kiss, full of promises.