This little story was inspired by a conversation about musical festivals and tent sex.
0% Not plot-centred. 100% Lemonade.
Summary: "I had two days off and I did not plan on spending them in the middle of the Lake District with you."
"You have got to be joking me." Molly stood staring at the now erected tent after returning from a stream nearby to collect some water.
"I was advised by John that it was a two man tent." Sherlock poked his head out from the front entrance. His curly hair was slightly disheveled from his earlier construction. She peered inside behind him and noticed he had already laid out both of their sleeping bags and mats. She sighed when she noted how the mats overlapped each other slightly.
"I believe when John advised you on the size of this tent he also had no idea that I would be accompanying you on this trip. You are only just adequate for a two person tent yourself you lanky git." She threw the water canteens at him, and of course he caught them effortlessly.
"I don't believe it is my problem that you don't hold stock of emergency camping gear." He wrinkled his nose.
"Says the man who has rented half of Go Outdoors from his best friend." She folded her arms across her cotton vest top. The day had been unusually warm for June in the lake district and only now in the mid summer evening was it starting to get chilly. She felt completely out of place in her speckled purple yoga pants contrasted with her dark walking boots and vest. Yet Sherlock had told her there would be a lot of walking involved.
"Plus you left me little choice when you doused me with a cup of water at five fifteen this morning insisting I should join you on this trip. You literally gave me fifteen minutes to get ready and to pack. You also failed to mention that we would be camping on this excursion. I still haven't forgiven you by the way. I had two days off and I did not plan on spending them in the middle of the Lake District with you." She huffed out and stomped on one of the metal pegs, which hadn't been properly secured into the ground.
"Oh Molly, don't be so ridiculous. John wasn't available and I could hardly be on my own for two days. Plus, you are not a morning person. You snooze your alarm on average seven times every morning, I didn't have time for you to 'wake up' we had a train to catch. Also, I did tell you we were camping, it just so happened that it only crossed my mind to tell you once we were alighting from the train. Plus we are in an area of outstanding beauty, you should be thanking me for such an opportunity." He sat cross legged and stared at her, mirroring her position with her folded arms.
"You are the worst liar Sherlock Holmes. If you think for one moment that you're trying to kid me that you'd rather be here under the stars than back at Baker Street then you have taken me for a fool." She looked up to the night sky in annoyance.
"Molly you can stand out here arguing with me or you can get in the tent. Those nimbostratus clouds are hanging awfully low and I predict that rain is imminent." As if on cue and not even a breath after he spoke that final word Molly felt rain drops on her bare arms. She inhaled long and slow before diving into tent.
"This is utterly ridiculous. Why could you not have rented a bed and breakfast?" She growled as she angrily removed her walking boots and socks.
"Because we need to monitor the flock disappearances and seeing as farmers tend to keep their sheep up on the hills throughout the spring and summer months, and not in B and B's, I would confirm that this is the best place for us to be. It also gives us a two hour head start in the morning." He spoke matter of factly as he watched her battle with her laces.
"I cannot believe you took this case. I thought you didn't leave the flat for anything less than a seven?" She proceeded to rip the bobble from her hair, letting her hair hang in loose waves.
"I was intrigued." Sherlock spoke, continuing to watch her prepare for bed.
"That's it? That's your answer? Farmers from all over the lakes complain their flocks are disappearing and you literally came running to the hills." She eyed him briefly and shook out her sleeping bag.
"Yes well I thought it was different to the usual murder slash affair slash theft cases I am inundated with. I have found them rather tedious as of late. Anyways we are here now so we better make the most of it." He sniffed and started to move from his seated position at the front of the tent.
Molly laid back onto her poor excuse of a sleeping mat with her rucksack improvised as a pillow. She closed her eyes for a moment when she felt Sherlock arrange himself next to her. They laid in a peaceful silence for a while, with only the sound of the rain bouncing off the tent to disturb her thoughts. All the annoyances she had with him disappeared the moment their skin touched. Their bare forearms pressed up against one another. Molly tried not to focus on the small part of her body where their skin was touching. There was nothing remotely sexual at all about this situation. She told herself repeatedly but she couldn't remember ever being in such a close proximity to Sherlock for such a prolonged period of time.
She looked down his length and observed the grey tracksuit bottoms as a last ditch effort to distract her thoughts. The ones he'd worn the day she slapped him hard. Twice. They were the complete opposite of Sherlock's usual attire but she assumed he didn't own any other leisure wear suitable for outdoor walking. There was no way he would have fit into John's gear. She saw he had even opted for a plain white cotton t-shirt, than his usual button up shirt.
"You should probably get into your sleeping bag. The temperature will drop significantly over night despite the cloud cover." He spoke from beside her and she rolled her eyes and wondered if she'd come away with the infamous Sherlock Holmes or her mother.
However, he did have a point, she decided to put on her only layer of clothing in the form of a jacket she had brought with her. It also gave her a slight relief from their body contact. She shrugged into her jacket and wriggled into her sleeping bag and attempted to embrace the warmth. She looked over to Sherlock who was still lying on top of his sleeping bag, his palms clasped together and deep in thought. She mentally kicked herself for freaking out like a teenager. Sherlock clearly hadn't even acknowledged their touching skin. She watched as he delved into his mind palace and reconfirmed that the man beside her had about as much sexual prowess as a log.
For the next ten minutes she tried her hardest to retain some warmth. It was becoming almost impossible and her body was wracked in shivers. She felt slightly irritated that Sherlock was always right on some level. It was only when Sherlock's arm came swooping over her and he pushed up against her clothed back did the shivering stop.
"Is this better for you? I thought I told you to bring more layers." She heard him mumble behind her. But she was too stunned by his action to say anything. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body into her own, even through the sleeping bag. She tried to take some deep breaths and relax but her mind was racing. She was lying in Sherlock's arms flush against his chest and she was internally freaking out.
"Molly, is there are a reason why your breathing is so erratic?" Of course he would pick up on her lack of composure. She responded to him with a pathetic shake of her head and hoped he wouldn't ask any more questions.
"Molly you are freezing. You know the best way to increase your blood circulation right now is to share body heat." He didn't even let her respond when she heard him undo the zip on her sleeping bag. He pushed her flush against his chest again, only this time without the barrier of the sleeping bag. All she could feel was the firmness of his chest against her back. What he did next was more shocking than anything that had come from his mouth. He placed his hand on top of her stomach, his palm stretched flat out pushing her closer to his chest. At this moment it wasn't just her skin which started to burn.
She bolted upright then. No. Definitely not. She would not allow herself to be turned on right now. Not when the man behind her was so obtuse to the result of his action. She scooted into a sitting position with her unzipped sleeping bag pulled up around her.
"Sherlock I -" she stopped herself mid sentence. She dared herself to look into his eyes in the dull light emitting from the battery powered torch hanging from the tent ceiling. His eyes looked hazy in the low light and she told herself it must be down to tiredness. She didn't want to entertain that they beheld another, a more serious emotion.
"Is there something you wanted to say Molly?" He asked from where he rested on his elbows, and he looked slightly confused as to why she had jerked from her position. She knew she couldn't respond to his question honestly. Instead she closed her eyes and tried to assess her options briefly. She was denied that time when Sherlock's fingers lightly brushed the underside of her chin.
"Ah. I think I understand. My actions were inappropriate. I apologise for being too forward Molly, I was honestly just trying to ensure you didn't freeze to death." He looked into her eyes then, and quickly retreated his hand and Molly almost whimpered at the loss of his touch.
"It's not that I didn't find your actions inappropriate, it was more I didn't really expect that type of behaviour from you." She looked down to her hands in her lap, fidgeting with a loose bit of thread on her pants.
"That type of behaviour?" He questioned with raised eyebrows.
"Yes you know, the intimate type." She couldn't look him in the eye, and remained her focus on the thread.
"Did you think my actions were intimate Molly? It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable." Sherlock spoke softly, realising he had made her feel incredibly awkward. Silence resumed amongst the pair. The tension between them was unbearable. She couldn't decide if she wanted to jump into his arms or beat his chest. It was at that moment she felt suffocated. She lurched forward and fumbled with the zip on the tent and stumbled out as quickly as she could. She embraced the cool night air as it poured into her lungs.
"Molly? Molly where are you going? It's pouring down out there!" Sherlock called after her as he stumbled behind her. His long limbs put him at a distinct disadvantage in tight spots.
She ignored him. She could not give a shit about the pouring rain, she just needed to get out of that tent. The grass below her barefoot was wet yet soft as she marched away from the comfort of the soft glow behind her. The rain bounced off of her skin and she welcomed every refreshing drop. She couldn't have gotten more than four metres away when she felt a large hand enclose around her bicep.
"Molly. Just stop this. Stop." Sherlock's voice spoke firm through the pouring rain. She stopped dead in her tracks but she didn't turn to look at him. "I liked being with you then." She turned abruptly and stared at him.
"Is this one of your disillusioned attempts to try and make me feel better about myself, because it won't work." She choked out, but she was determined not to cry in front of him. She was sick of looking weak in his eyes.
"No, this is me trying to be honest with you. Now, I am more than happy to continue this conversation but can we please get back into the tent." He squeezed her arm, trying to coax her back to the shelter. She continued to just stare at him.
"Why do you want to be honest with me? You've had seven years to be honest with me. Why now?" She spat out at him. Years worth of frustration had finally surfaced and she had never felt so empowered as she did now.
"Because my actions earlier made me realise how you thought I felt about you." He declared to her. His hold on her arm loosened and it dropped to his side.
"And what do you think I feel?" She pushed him for an answer and she watched as the rain soaked into his skin and hair.
"I think you see a man who is selfish, uncaring and shut off. That I have little regard for anyone else and their feelings. I manipulate and step over people to get what I want, at whatever the cost at my own health and my friends sanity. And that I could never truly care about you, Molly Hooper." He spoke quietly to the sky.
"For an emotional prude you are dreadfully accurate Sherlock Holmes." They both looked at each other then and Molly softened her facial expression.
"Do you want to know how I feel about you?" He whispered to her. She contemplated his question. His honesty at the moment scared her and she wasn't sure if she was mentally prepared for his answer at this moment, but she needed to hear it. Bloody hell she deserved it. Seven years of a fucked up relationship and he owed her this. She nodded slowly, maintaining his eye contact in the darkened night.
"I don't know really how to articulate my feelings with one word. I just know that I don't want to hurt you emotionally any more. It wasn't just that moment back in the tent, that is often how I feel when I am around you. And I really wasn't lying when I said I liked lying next to you before. I find it difficult to measure how much I liked it but it gave me the same feeling any case above an eight makes me feel." Molly laughed softly at his admission and Sherlock took this as an opportunity to take a step closer to her.
"Molly, how I have treated you over the years is not acceptable. And I am truly sorry so please can you forgive me." Molly noted how close they were stood now. The rain had completely soaked them both through to the skin, but neither of them seemed to care.
"I accept your apology Sherlock. I also appreciate your honesty it means a lot, I think this is a good step forward for you." He responded by leaning in and he kissed her hesitantly. She didn't kiss back at first. She observed the feel of his wet lips against her own, his fingers lightly ghosting over her cheeks. He started to pull away when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Her hands thrusted into his hair as she kissed him as if he was the last source of oxygen on the planet. She felt his hands caress her waist as he pulled her flush against his body.
"Does this count as another forward step?" Sherlock asked tentatively against her lips and they both laughed, still wrapped in each others embrace. Seconds later she felt his large hand take her own and pull her forcefully back towards the tent. The both clambered in and rested on their knees next to each other at the foot of their sleeping mats. Their soaking bodies and clothes caused tiny puddles to form on the ground sheet.
"We should probably change out of these clothes for both our benefit and the tent's." His voice was low and husky and she watched how the wetness of his hair in the low light made it as black as the midnight sky. She moved to take off her vest top rolling it up to her chest when Sherlock's hands covered her own.
"May I?" His look was intense as he hovered above her. She nodded slowly and his hands replaced her own at the edge of the cotton material. His movements were slow as he pushed the garment up and over his head. He watched the rise and fall of her chest beneath her black balconette bra. He ghosted his hands down the side of her bra and down to her hips. He tugged at the rim of her yoga pants, but she figured he was never going to be able to remove them in their current position. She moved to sit on her bum and he followed her movements. He crouched over her and retuned back to his target of removing her trousers. He slowly peeled them down over her backside and legs. His hands caressed every part of skin he uncovered with each pull.
She suddenly became very aware of her partial nakedness sat in just her black matching underwear. A mixture of the coldness of the night air, rain and Sherlock's intense gaze chilled her skin. She felt goosebumps run up and down her body and Sherlock seemed to notice this too. He pushed her further back up the tent onto the sleeping mat and pressed her into the floor, embracing her with his warmth. Her hands came up to his chest, which she noted was very much bare. He brought his face close to her own again pressing their noses together and he pushed her dark wet mane out of her face.
They watched each other in the dim light. No words were needed. She observed the paleness of his skin and the definition of his cheekbones in the orange light. She always knew he was beautiful, but in this exact moment he looked like a God. They were pressed chest to chest, his bottom half was still covered and his knee planted between her legs to relieve her of his own weight. The heat from his body poured into her and she forgot all about the cold.
He kissed her again then, softly, and she groaned in pleasure. Then his mouth was everywhere; her jaw, temple and neck. He kissed her like she was the most divine piece of fruit. She ran her hands up and down his lean torso before settling on his damp tracksuit bottoms. She gently brought her feet up to rest on his arse and hooked her toes into the elasticated band and pulled them down. He shrugged out of them leaving only his boxers, without breaking contact with his lips on her skin. They both relished in the further skin on skin contact this brought, moulding into each other. Sherlock released a low growl as their hips ground against each other, his arousal pressed into her stomach.
Oh God did she want this. This moment of sheer bliss she never wanted to end. She brought his lips back to her own pulling his face towards her. One hand steadied himself as his other scooped behind her back and pushed her into him. She felt the release of her bra strap as the pressure eased off of her chest and she shook it onto the floor. His hands were on her breasts in an instant. He rolled her nipples in his fingers and she hissed in pleasure. The intensity of his hands, lips and groin smothering her body was almost too much to handle and she gently pushed his chest as an indication that she needed a moment.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his face only a centimetre from her own. He had stopped his advances, only his fingers drawing circles around her heightened nipples.
""I have never been more fine in my life. I'm sorry I just needed a brief moment just to remind myself that this is very much real and I am in fact -" He silenced her with a chaste kiss.
"You're babbling, Molly. But I suppose is now is as a good a time to ask if you're okay with this?" She groaned as he ghosted his fingers over her aroused breasts.
"Hmm?" She asked in a daze after being blindsided by his advances.
"Well, I think it is very clear where our actions are going to lead to and my arousal has been pressing into you for the better part of a few minutes now." He spoke low and ground his hips against her again as he spoke the word 'pressing'.
"Sherlock, I'm protected and I know you're clean, please stop talking and just kiss me." Molly growled at him and he returned a wicked smile at her before continuing his assault on her body. This time she moved her hands down between their bodies to his clothed erection. Her hands grasped his covered member and he grunted as she grasped and rubbed him firmly. Her hands let go to push his boxers down, exposing his awaiting arousal. She took him in her hands again and they watched each other as she teasingly pumped him slowly.
"Molly" He whispered out as she gradually increased her pace, his face pressed into her shoulder blade.
"No more words Sherlock." She spoke into his wet curly locks.
He withdrew himself from her body and she whimpered at the cool air that assaulted her skin. His eyes were full of lust and her wasted no time in pulling her knickers from her and tossing them aside. She let out a half scream as his tongue caressed her. He quickly picked up where her highly reactive spots on her clit where as she arched up into his mouth and shook with pure pleasure. She could already feel how highly aroused she was, and it didn't surprise her when his two fingers slid easily inside her but she still let out a low moan. He removed his tongue from her sex and proceeded to kiss her deeply with the taste of her on his tongue. His fingers still pumped steadily in and out of her. She held onto his shoulder blades as if they were the only thing keeping her from falling off of the planet.
"Sherlock" She gasped as he picked up the thrusting.
"Ah, we agreed no more words Molly Hooper." He spoke into her ear and with this he removed his fingers from her. Molly sighed in disapproval of the emptiness of her sex as she felt Sherlock come to lie beside her. He pushed her lightly onto her side and with his propped arm he grabbed her wrist to steady himself and he squeezed her breasts with his free one. His erection pressed into her backside.
Slowly he ground his hips, sliding his length against her slick folds, coating himself in her juices. His mouth was hot on her neck and she could feel the tip of his cock pressing into the opening of her sex. She let out a groan of frustration as he continued to rub himself against her waiting opening. She was about to beg him then when he slowly eased himself into her. Molly gasped at the sensation of him filling her. God it had been too long since she'd had sex. Now she was having it with a man she never imagined she'd bed in a million years. And it felt fucking amazing. He continued to pump slowly, taking his time to seat himself fully inside her.
He removed his hand from her breasts and grabbed her leg and thrusted it into the air as he started to pick up his pace. He used her leg as leverage as he ground into her. Molly gasped at the intimacy of the position. The position he was holding her leg allowed him to plough deep into her and every one of his thrusts caused her to see flashes in front of her eyes. She brought her hand down to her sex and proceeded to rub at the exact spot Sherlock's tongue had been lavishing her before.
He continued to caress her neck as he rhythmically pumped in and out of her. She knew he wasn't going to last much longer. She could feel his breathing labouring and he released intermittent growls to try and control his arousal. She came hard as Sherlock released his latest groan into her neck which sent vibrations through the whole of her body. Her legs trembled and shook as she rode out her ecstasy. Sherlock didn't hold back after that and thrusted manically inside of her, spilling himself into her. He hugged her to him as he came, dropping her leg and splaying his hand across her stomach. His bare teeth pressed hard into the nape of her neck.
They stayed still for a few moments in Sherlock's arms as their breathing levelled and they mellowed into their after glow. Molly rolled onto her back, running her hand up and down Sherlock's arm. Sherlock held her firmly at her hip, his thumb drawing an invisible horizontal line. They continued in silence for a few more moments, taking the time to tenderly touch each other in the ambient light.
"Do you still feel the same about spending your two days in the lake district with me." Sherlock smirked from beside her, knowing fine well that she most definitely felt differently from their conversation an hour ago.
"No, of course I don't you bugger. But tomorrow night can you make love to me with a relatively firm mattress underneath us?" She traced spirals on his bicep, as she looked lovingly into his eyes.
"Consider it a deal Molly Hooper." Sherlock spoke deeply, moving his face down to hers.
They kissed each other softly and Sherlock arranged the unzipped sleeping bag over Molly, before unzipping his own and resumed his spot beside her once more. He cradled her in his arms and Molly slept more soundly than she could have ever dreamed of on a lumpy sleeping mat.
Not really a story to tell the Grandchildren of how you fell in love. Although, I doubt this would stop Sherlock from telling it.
Thanks for reading!