"Miss Hooper, if you would be so kind." Sherlock held a folder without looking up from his current case. The folder flopped and he look up in an irritated huff. His secretary stood at the door way with a pleasant smile on her face, her fingers drumming on her hips. "Please?"
"Of course, Detective." Molly said taking the folder and turning to head back to her desk with a sway in her hips.
"The dress, it's new, why?" Sherlock asked before she reached his door. Molly shrugged with a sly smirk as she did a slow spin. Sherlock cleared his throat and tugged the knot on his tie that suddenly felt too tight.
"Mary and I went out and I wanted to get something better than my abominable jumpers that you seem to love so much." She chortled, heading back to her desk while humming to herself. Sherlock watched as she quietly closed the door behind her.
"Case, Sherlock, focus on the case."
And focus on the case he did.
"You, Miss Hooper, are going to get me into trouble one day." Sherlock growled upon his entry to the little flat in London that was not 221B Bakers Street. Molly grinned as she looked over her shoulder from the reports she'd taken home as Sherlock flung his coat, on to the couch and strides over to her.
"Really now? And how is that?" Molly asked as Sherlock spun her chair to face him.
"A six, Molly," Sherlock said as he sought purchase on her neck. "I couldn't even focus on a bleeding six. Might as well have sent Anderson." Molly gave a breathy laugh as his tongue swiped over the smooth skin of her neck. "Maybe not Anderson, but…" Sherlock's eyes blue eyes met her own brown ones. He froze for a minute, taking in her uneven breathing, his marks on her neck, eyes wide and pupils blown. He groaned. "You're nothing but trouble."
"So I take it that you like the dress?" Molly laughed as she threaded her fingers in his hair. The light nip on her collar bone was her answer and soon she was dragged to her feet.
His feet were guiding them too her bed room.
"Too far, Sherlock, too far. Here. Right here." Molly sighed as his lips met hers, clever fingers dancing down the sides of the black fabric.
"Trouble." Sherlock growled again, taking her lower lip between his teeth as their lips pulled away again. "In so much trouble." He huffed as their lips met again.
"Exactly how much are we talking? A seven at the least?" Molly said, pulling his head down by his tie. "Seven in a half, maybe?" There was a teasing a twinkle in her eyes.
"Nine." Slipping his hand up the bottom of her dress to grip her bare backside. "Make that a nine and a half."
"Well, I better serve my time accordingly."