Full Title: With all My Wrong Turns I Finally got Something Right with You

So I just rediscovered my love of Lestrolly, Molstrade, Mollstrade what ever you choose to call it and I decided that I had to write a fic. I had a couple of pages done when I did a read through and realized that I hated all of it. So I started over and now two hours later here we are. My first Molly/Lestrade fic. The timeline starts during the Christmas party in A Scandal in Belgravia and will go straight on to the present. There are some adult moments in this but not too much detail.

This is unbeta'd and written between 10.30pm and 1am so any mistakes are mine.

Their first time had been a mistake. He was upset about Sherlock's reveal that his wife was still cheating on him and she, despite all her smiles, was deeply hurt by Sherlock's actions. But it was a Christmas party and they wouldn't let Sherlock spoil it for them, so they each put on their brave faces and acted like everything was okay. Then the party went to hell, Sherlock left without a word, John and his girlfriend had a row and she left, then John left a short while later. After a half hour of forced conversation and two half assed excuses to leave he found himself driving Molly home. They were halfway to her apartment when she got a text from Sherlock. He got an instant urge to punch the man for ruining her night twice now but she insisted that it was important work. So he turned around and drove her to Barts. She told him thank you so much for the ride and to feel free to head home, but he waited.

He was just starting to hum along to the radio, Hot for Teacher had come on and he never could resist singing along to it, when he saw Molly come out the hospital door. She had changed, her dress was slung over her arm and her heels were dangling from her gloved hand. She had also let her hair down, though some of the curl from earlier remained. She stopped short for a second when she saw him before making her way to his window. He turned down the radio and rolled down the window just as she approached.

"You waited?" she asked almost in disbelief.

"Well of course I waited," Had there ever been another option? "Get in, you'll freeze standing out there."

She obliged and ran around the car, quickly getting in and tossing her things behind her onto the back seat.

"Thank you," she said not meeting his gaze.

"No problem."

It didn't take long after that to realize that something was wrong. She was staring out the window and hadn't made a sound since they left the hospital parking lot. He could see a slump in her shoulders that wasn't there before and she was sighing far too often for it to be okay. Once again he got the urge to punch Sherlock, because who else could have made her act like that?

"So what's wrong then?" She says nothing's wrong but she's a terrible liar. He doesn't push and after a few seconds she comes clean, "Do you think that Sherlock's ever had a girlfriend?" He scoffs at the idea but quickly stifles it when he realizes that she's being serious, "It's just that. The body tonight, Sherlock knew her but...not by her face."

He doesn't know what to say to that to make her feel better so they drive on in silence. They finally reach her road and he realizes that he knows it, there's a deli down the road that he frequents and just this side of it is a pub. He drives past her building and when she points it out he simply responds that he knows. The pub is called O'Malley's and thankfully the lights are on. Parking the car across the street he jumps out and opens up the door for Molly.

"What are we doing here?"

"We are here because we have both been victims of Sherlock Holmes this night and I refuse to let that man completely ruin my evening. SoI can take you back home or we can go into that pub and drink and complain about what a prat Sherlock is and have a good night. I may even make you dance with me."

He holds out his hand for her and begins to worry that she will refuse. She is hesitant but eventually takes it. When they get into the pub it's smaller than he realized and there's a decent crowd already in there. They try to get away from those who are partying and head towards the back where there are others trying to drink the night away because of sorrow and not fun. There's one table open and they grab it.

"What do you want to drink?" He asks, standing close to her because the partiers have begun to sing. He can smell her perfume when she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and leans in to answer with 'something strong'.

"Tequila?"

"Perfect."

He comes back with two glasses and a bottle.

The conversation starts off reserved. How is work going? Any good cases? How is so-and-so? But the more they drink the more they open up. Soon they are complaining about Sherlock and how completely insensitive he is, she tears up a few times recounting some of the things that he has said to her but refuses to let the tears fall. He shares some of his own stories of being undermined by Sherlock and he can tell that she feels better knowing that it's not only her that gets it from him. They get off on a new topic, one he can't quite remember, but he's swearing a lot and he knows he should stop, clean up his language for her but she's laughing and it's such a beautiful sight that he keeps ranting about whatever it is, some TV show he thinks. When she finally get's her laughter under control there's a new light in her eyes and there are tears brimming. At first he is concerned that he said something wrong but it slowly occurs to him that these are tears of mirth. They drink more and her face starts to get red from the alcohol, he knows that he must not be looking much better but neither of them can bring themselves to care. She grabs his hand and smiles and he can feel a heat in his cheeks that isn't from the tequila. Just then the party in the front turns on some music, it's AC/DC and it's one of his favorites. He takes her hand and leads her to the nearest empty floor space and starts to twirl her around. It's clumsy and awkward and he's sure that he stepped on her toes but they're laughing too much to take much notice.

The next time he spins her she bumps into a table and spills someones drink. The bartender cuts them off then and offers to call a cab. Molly explains that she lives just down the road and they grab their coats. It takes him three tries to get his arm into the sleeve and he sees that she has given up trying to put her jacket on properly, deciding instead to drape it over her shoulders and hold it closed. They stumble down the road towards her apartment and when they dart across the road it's as if their lives depend on it. It takes them a minute to regain their breath from laughing, he can feel in it his sides and it occurs that he has never laughed as much as tonight. Once they get up the stairs to her door she fumbles to find the key and get it in the lock. She gets the door open a crack and turns to face him and when did she get so close? They're nearly touching and if he wanted to he could lean down and kiss her.

Kiss her? Where did that thought come from she's a colleague, she's a friend, she's...beautiful. It takes him a second to realize that she's saying thank you but he can't concentrate on that. All he can see is the red of her lips and suddenly there's an intense desire to know what they taste like. He's in no state to stop himself and the next thing he knows he's kissing her, and she's not pushing him away. He pulls away and starts to apologize, the taste of tequila and cherry on his lips, but she grabs his coat collar and is pulling him back for more.

They push their way inside and stumble upstairs to the second floor where she once again struggles to unlock the door. Once they're inside the floodgates open. They're tearing off each others clothing and crashing into everything as she leads him to the back of the apartment where her room must be. She just got his suit jacket off when they bump into a table and he's almost certain he hears a lamp break. They bump into at least three more things and by the time they make it to the bed and they're already half-dressed, a line of scattered clothes marking their haphazard trail.

It's clumsy and they barely remember a condom but it feels so good to have her next to him. They way her fingers trail down his back leave a wave of heat down his spine. His hands rove over her body and she's even more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. His muscles start to tremble as he supports himself above her but she kisses him with such a fire that he forgets about everything else but her. When it's over it's too soon but they're both too tired and still too drunk to protest sleep.

It's the sun that wakes him, coming in through the window and shining right in his eyes. He grumbles and buries his head into the pillow until he realizes that it's pink. Which is absolutely not the color of his own pillows. Wide awake now he can still taste the tequila from last night and smell cherries. Flashes of the night before flood his mind, the awful party, going to the hospital, going to the pub, drinking, dancing and...oh. He can feel the shame wash over him, not because it happened but how and when it happened. Suddenly he's all too aware of the wedding ring on his finger, hot and weighing him down. Molly sighs beside him and pulls the blankets tighter around her.

Grateful that she's still asleep he tries desperately not to make a noise as he gets out of bed and pulls pants on. He's just got his trousers on when she wakes. She groans and rubs her head before stopping and he knows that she's realizing what he just did moments before. She bolts up but instantly regrets it when her head starts to pound.

"Detective."

"I think we're way past being formal with each other Molly," he's trying to make light of the situation. Trying desperately not to dwell on the fact that he just cheated on his wife of twelve years. Trying to not think that he took advantage of Molly who was drunk and hurt.

"Greg-" She doesn't know what to say. Neither of them do, so she stares at her hands and he stares at her. He doesn't know how much time has passed when his mobile rings and he thanks every higher power there is that it's Scotland Yard and not his wife.

"I should..."

"Yeah, yeah go ahead."

She still doesn't meet his eyes so he steps out of the room and takes the call. It turns out it's not anything pressing, just Sally asking about some clerical things before he heads off for a long weekend. By the time he hangs up he can hear the water running in the other room so he finishes getting dressed and leaves.

He's late to Dorset but only by a half hour so he blames it on the traffic. He tries to act like everything is okay but he sees the way that Elaine is acting around the hotel's manager and he just can't take it anymore. He confronts her just before dinner and they yell so loud that the manager comes to check on them and tell them that they've had complaints. When he leaves they calm down a bit but the fight is far from over. He admits that he slept with someone else, though he doesn't say who. She throws the clock at him and he just dodges it. It crashes into the wall behind him and lands on the floor, cracked open, it's display dead. Neither of them move until he slides his ring off and places in on the end of the bed and leaves. He pays for the room and leaves a large tip for the disturbance.

For a while he just sits in his car, too depressed to drive off but feeling like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders. He swears when he remembers how he left things that morning and pulls out his mobile to call Molly. He almost hits dial a dozen times before he realizes the he doesn't know what to say to her so he sends her a text instead.

I'm sorry, last night was a mistake.

He almost puts his phone away when one more thought comes to him.

But for the record, I don't regret it.

So what did you think? I had originally planned on making this a one shot but then I wrote four pages on one encounter so this is going to be a chapter story now. I already have the next chapter thought out so I hope to get something up soon! As always reviews of any kind are appreciated.