Co-written by the incomparable lilsherlockian1975. This story is complete (huzzah!) and has 3 chapters and we hope you enjoy the cracky smut you're about to read.

"Molly! Take off your knickers!"

"What, now? Why?"

Sherlock, who had burst into the path lab as if his own knickers were on fire, screeched to a halt in front of her. "Er, for...science?" he half-said, half-asked, looking very shifty as he did so.

Molly gave him a narrow stare. "Do I have to make you pee in a cup?"

He shook his head, looking offended at the very thought. "No, course not! I have no interest in getting slapped by you again unless it's recreationally!"

"And don't you forget it!" she snapped, then did a quick double-take. "Wait, did you say recreationally?"

He glanced at his watch. "Get on with it, Molly!"

"What could you possibly do, scientifically, with my knickers?" Molly asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

He huffed, hands on his hips, and explained, "I won't know that until you take them off, now will I?" He motioned to her hips. "Let's go. Haven't got all day."

"Sherlock..." She walked up to him and looked him over carefully. Slowly reaching up, she dug her fingers into his hair.

He swallowed. "M-Molly..." Closing his eyes as her fingers moved across his scalp, he tried to collect himself.

"Nope!" she said, then her hands were gone.

He opened his eyes to see her looking at him questioningly.

"Nothing! Not a single bump. Okay, I give up! What the hell's wrong with you?"

He drew himself up to his fullest, most intimidating height and stared down his nose at her, not realizing how much he resembled his elder brother as he did so. "There is nothing wrong with me, Molly Hooper, that the use of your knickers...for science...can't fix. You're wearing a skirt today, with thigh-high stockings underneath, so it shouldn't take more than a tick for you to remove the lacy black scrap you're wearing." He held out his hand expectantly.

"How do you know which ones I'm...never mind," Molly interrupted herself. She was actually getting interested in seeing just what Sherlock would do with the, quote 'lacy black scrap' she had on, and so she slowly, deliberately slid her hands down her thighs to the hem of her skirt, sliding it up just enough to show the tops of her thigh-highs.

Sherlock, she noted, gave an audible gulp as she did so and took a single step backwards. What, did he not expect her to rise to the challenge he'd just presented?

A wiggle and a couple of skips (to clear the 'scrap' past her kitten heels) later Molly was holding up her sexiest pair of black lace knickers. "Here you go." When Sherlock didn't move she grabbed his right wrist and placed them in his hand. "Anything else?" she asked with a smirk.

"Ah..." Sherlock stared down at his hands as if he were waiting for them to do a trick. Finally he looked up. "Not at the moment, Dr. Hooper," he said as he stuffed the garment into his coat pocket. He then turned on his heels and marched out of the lab...with her knickers.

Molly was too stunned to say a word in protest. She just shook her head and tried to remember if she had a spare pair in her locker. Oh, crap...

Her shift ended four hours later. She was pretty proud of herself for not panicking and begging off half the day. As a matter of fact, there was something sexy about walking around the hospital pantless. Though she thought it might have been different if a body had come in. Of course the end of her shift brought her to a bit of dilemma: should she go retrieve them or count them as lost?

Deciding she just didn't have the energy to further confront - or was it tease? - Sherlock, Molly opted to just head home. However, she didn't quite have the nerve to brave the Tube knickerless, so she sprung for a cab instead, trying not to fidget the entire way. Going knickerless at work while either standing at an autopsy or sitting behind a desk with a nice long lab coat on was one thing; riding in a cab with only her above-the-knee skirt and colorful blouse was another!

It seemed to take twice as long to get home by cab, but finally she was safely inside her building. Again she was faced with a choice: take the stairs as usual or use the lift? She only lived two flights up, but the thought of someone possibly coming up the stairs behind her and accidentally getting a look at her arse and lady bits decided her against the cardio-friendly option.

However, as soon as the lift doors opened she let out a smothered curse: there, leaning against the back wall and smirking was Sherlock.

"Why are you in my lift?" Molly asked, scowling as she stepped in.

As soon as the doors closed, Sherlock leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He was so close, as a matter of fact, that she wondered for a split second if he was going to kiss her...or something. But instead he reached just past her elbow and pushed a button on the control panel. She missed which one but since the lift didn't start to move upward she assumed he'd hit the emergency stop button.

"I just had to pick something up," he explained.

"Pick something up? From where, my flat?"

"From your bedroom, more specifically."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. I needed another sample," he said casually.

Molly studied him for a few seconds, then it hit her. "Turn out your pockets!"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" She stepped toward him. "How many did you take?"

"I needed a pair of cotton ones. The lace..." he trailed off, with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"You destroyed them, didn't you?"

Suddenly he was advancing on her and she found herself backed up against the doors. "All's fair in love and war...and science," he purred.

"What in God's name are you doing with them?"

He brushed her hair over her shoulder and leant forward; his mouth couldn't have been more than an inch from her ear. "Testing tensile strength and...breathability, Dr. Hooper." His voice had never sounded so deep. "Surely you want to do your part for the cause."

It took Molly a moment or two to collect herself. Then she felt his hand move to her hip and squeeze. Well, that doesn't help. Her breathing became heavier and she suddenly missed her knickers... desperately.

"Did you enjoy the rest of your workday? Anything interesting happen?" he asked as he moved her slightly away from the doors, removing his hand as soon as he'd done so.

"No, why would it?"

"My day was fascinating."

There was a loud beep, then the doors engaged, opening up next to her.

"Have a pleasant evening, Molly." And with a kiss to her cheek, he was gone.

Molly was so caught up in wondering what the hell he meant by tensile strength and breathability - not to mention recovering from the intensity of their odd interaction - that she almost forgot to exit the lift when it arrived on her floor. Since she had no recollection of pressing the button, she could only presume Sherlock had done it for her before skipping off with his ill-gotten gains. Damn, she should have tried to steal them back, but he'd got her all discombobulated what with that deep, sexy voice of his purring in her ear. She rubbed her thighs together and shivered a bit as she entered her flat.

Her plans to go straight to her bedroom and relieve some of the tension Sherlock had stirred up was thwarted by Toby, who nearly tripped her as soon as she entered the flat. His loud, demanding meows soon gave way to appreciative purrs as she opened the tin of cat food and placed it in his dish. "Wish it was that easy with Sherlock," she muttered, tugging her hair free of its colorful elastic.