A/N: A bit of a long-winded explanation, folks, but bear with me. The fic you are about to read was written as a round-robin at 221B Con 2015 in the Sherlolly Suite on Saturday, the 11th of April 2015. The opening line and ending line were taken from Liathwen-slays-dragons' list (on tumblr) and randomly selected.

Also, there is only one actual story, but I am posting two "chapters" - the first will be the story as a whole and the second will have the author of each section identified by their tumblr ID after their respective sections. There's one person doesn't have a tumblr, and that's the wonderful, good-natured husband of allthebellsinvenice, who gamely joined in the fun. Thanks to everyone who participated in making what I expected to be a wildly off-kilter crackfic into a surprisingly (and wonderfully!) coherent, romantic whole!

List of Authors in Alphabetical Order:

Allthebellsinvenice AND Mr. Bells

Bassfanimation

Geekyangie

Just-Mindy

liathwen-slays-dragons

minirose96

MizJoely (2 parts)

Mollyandherjumper

Sherlollyandspoilers

Sincerelydayyy

"Never underestimate the importance of body language."

Molly gave Sherlock a confused look. "Um, what?"

He moved closer. "You heard me, Molly. Body language. Subtext. The things people say without actually speaking. Something I've studied my entire life."

This time she raised an eyebrow. "Really? Mr. 'human, no' and 'nature, no'? You're trying to tell me you can analyze body language?"

He gave her an affronted look. "Of course I can. And I can prove it."

Molly stared at Sherlock. "What did you have in mind?"

Sherlock stepped closer again, staring down at her. "How do you think I deduce you? It's not just your charity shop sweater and your too-big trousers. I read your body language. For instance, right now I can tell that you're uncomfortable with me being this close to you." He stepped closer again.

Molly took a stuttering breath and stepped back, attempting to increase the space between she and Sherlock. She was stopped by the counter behind her, and Sherlock quickly closed the space between them.

"Sh-Sherlock-"

Behind her, the door banged, and gratefully Molly twisted in the little space he'd left her to face whomever had just entered the laboratory.

"Oh, hello Molls, Sherlock," said John, glancing between them, betraying the slightest raise of an eyebrow. Behind her, Molly sensed Sherlock stepping back rather hastily.

"He's doing it again, isn't he," said John.

"Doing what?!" said Molly and Sherlock, simultaneously.

John made his eyes go wide and let his arms dangle awkwardly. "Paying attention to someone else so intently that he forgets to control his own stance and expression. That's when he's easiest to read, himself."

"Oh really?" said Molly, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Of course." John leaned forward, conspiratorially. "He's not as mysterious as he likes to think he is."

"And that's enough of that!" Sherlock made a move towards the door. "Don't we have a case?"

"No." John smiled and leaned against a table casually. "The perpetrator turned himself in a half hour ago. Greg just texted me."

"Greg?" Sherlock asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Lestrade," replied both John and Molly.

"So I've got plenty of time to explain how to read you to Molly," John said with a wicked grin.

Molly couldn't help but smile at Sherlock's blank expression. She didn't need John to tell her that Sherlock really did not want this conversation, even if he had been taking great pleasure in reading her just moments ago.

John's expression shifted into a smirk.

"Sherlock's nervous right now, because he's hiding something," he announced, sounding quite proud of himself.

"I am not!" Sherlock defended, scowling.

It was then that Molly saw it too, and she was forced to bite her lip to stop a grin.

"And something he is desperate to keep to himself."

"Yes." Molly said giving into her grin. "Something he is very desperate to keep to himself."

"John." Both their heads snapped back up to his face – Sherlock glaring at John. "I need to talk to Molly."

"You are." They both said in unison.

"Alone." Sherlock's eyes flickered to Molly's face but looked down when she locked eyes with him.

"Fine." John grabbed the door handle and flung the door open. "Molly – call if he gets out of hand."

Molly smiled gratefully at John and jumped back slightly when she turned around and Sherlock was mere inches from her face again.

"Why are you smiling? You were uncomfortable a moment ago." Sherlock frowned.

"You tell me, Molly. You're the expert."

She nervously touched the surface behind her, unable to move further. "I wou-wouldn't call myself an expert, exactly."

"Of course you are," Sherlock hovered his hands over Molly's hips, "you always see me, so," he leaned closer, not quite touching her cheek as he lowered his voice, "deduce me, Molly."

"You're not touching me," she began hesitantly, but then she felt her confidence growing, "but you desperately want to. You're not as confident as you want me to think. The smile was fake, but not disingenuous," she frowned. "You don't have to put on a front for me, Sherlock."

Leaning in a little closer, Molly grasped his hands, placing them on her hips. "So, tell me what you want."

Sherlock didn't lose his nerve. Hiding a barely there smile. He had a lot of ideas. Too many if he had to be absolutely honest. "Come with me." He mumbled, taking her hand and rushing out of the room.

Sherlock flicked the lights on as he hurriedly led Molly into the cold room. It was a room with only one purpose, one they both knew well.

"This is rather unorthodox, Sherlock," Molly quipped, "also, it's freezing."

The detective sent her a soft grin as he glided over to the exam table, "I'm sorry it's chilly," he said, his voice lower than it's typical timbre, "it won't be for long."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," Sherlock hummed. Molly would've had to be blind to miss the brief but heated look that crossed his face before his expression turned neutral. Clinical, even.

"What do you have planned, then?" she asked, trying her best to mirror his calm, detached demeanor but failing quite miserably.

The look she received in return to her question was positively wolfish. She felt a flush rush over her, starting in the apples of her cheeks and travelling all the way down to the tips of her toes.

"Up on the table, Molly."

Heart pounding, Molly did as Sherlock asked. She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the table, hands clasped tightly in her lap. "What next?" she asked when the silence stretched and grew, the weight of Sherlock's gaze a nearly physical sensation on her chilled flesh.

He paced in front of her, hands behind his back, head lowered as he studied her. She shifted nervously and he began to speak, the words coming in a rush. "You're nervous still, but not nearly as nervous as you were when we began this little experiment. No, you gained confidence when you put my hands…" He pulled them from behind his back and held them up in front of his face, stopping in front of her. "…when you put my hands on your hips." He took a few steps forward and stopped, his hands hovering over her body but not touching until she gave a tiny nod. Giving permission. His hands settled on her thighs, moving slowly, sensuously, sliding up to come to rest on her hips. "You're right, I wanted to touch you. And you wanted me to touch you. You've wanted me to touch you like this…" His hands slid up her sides, stopping just short of her breasts. "…for a long time. Even after you convinced yourself that you'd moved on." His gaze was intense, his eyes boring into hers, pupils blown back as he purred, "But you never did, Molly. You never moved on."

"And you never wanted me to," she whispered as realization dawned. Her own eyes were surely as dark with desire as his.

He shook his head, not breaking eye contact. "No. And now…" Instead of finishing the sentence, he lowered his head to hers, confident of her response as he pressed his lips to hers. Molly's hands slid up his chest and came to rest on his shoulders as she melted into the kiss, loving the sensation of their joined bodies and knowing very well where this all would end.

As Sherlock joined her on the table, pulling her down to lie in his arms, she smiled and murmured against his lips, "Are you sure this is legal?"