So, I told my dear Adi Who is Also Mou that I wanted to make her day by posting a story too. She sent me a prompt, which I have taken and worked on between bouts of driving people to work and then going to rent DVDs and buy pizza, and then other bouts of napping. :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy it Adi, and the rest of you as well.
Rating is because of Smut, as per her request. Teehee.
Oh, I own none of the characters and/or people in this story. All credit goes to Sir ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, Vertue, and the BBC. No infringement is intended.
Red Lipstick and Blue Scarves:
It was just another day, just another body. For Molly Hooper, life had taken an unexpected turn toward the path of pure, unadulterated boredom. Which was odd, considering two things. First, she was a pathologist, with more than enough interesting fatal heart defects, incurable diseases, and murder victims to keep her mind and time occupied. Aside from that, she was in a relationship with the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes. Life should be a never ending bout of excitement. However, as she sliced into the spleen of Mr. Dover, Molly couldn't help but feel like she needed something better to do. Something new, something exciting.
OoOo
Sherlock Holmes was a man who knew too much about boredom. When he didn't have a new experiment that his mind fancied exploring, and when there weren't any cases worth his time to solve, Sherlock became almost inconsolable with the amount of boredom he felt. That had changed slightly, of course, since he began seeing St. Bart's most beautiful, and only competent, pathologist, Molly Hooper. They had settled into something similar to domesticity, which Sherlock found just a bit...boring. He knew she must have been feeling the same, when he returned home from to find his lovely lady waiting for him, in nothing but her ruby red lipstick. Well, this is new. This is exciting.
OoOo
Molly wasn't sure how the plan had unfolded in her head, but she knew it was going to be fantastic. She hurried home after her last autopsy of the day, wanting to have everything in place before he returned. The evening was free of embarrassments, as John now lived with his fiance, Mary. Molly had showered the scent of death off her smooth skin, and washed the chemical smell out of her hair. She spent time curling her long hair, making it wind perfectly into the rings she knew he loved to bury his hands in. She didn't apply any makeup, other than the bright red lipstick. Her favorite, now his favorite. Molly looked at herself in the mirror, nodding at her reflection with a small smile on her face. Now all she had to do was wait.
OoOo
Sherlock walked up the stairs to 221B Baker Street, and heard the hushed tones of music.
"It was a five. The husband was a drunk, didn't even realize he'd killed his wife. Hardly worth the..." The detective had already started complaining about his case before he stepped inside the flat. He opened the door, and was immediately greeted with the sight of his pathologist. She was sitting in his favorite chair, legs crossed and hands tucked neatly behind her head. There was a coy smile on her face, that was all together just as innocent as it was devious. Her wide hazel eyes peered up at him, both sweet and sinful in their gaze. It only took his long legs four steps to reach her, his blue eyes sweeping over her features, over her body. Molly stood up then, brushing his coat off of his wide shoulders. The heavy Bel Staff slumped to the floor with a thud. She had already began working on his suit jacket when he spoke.
"What's all this about?" Sherlock hadn't meant for his onset arousal to come through so obviously in his voice, but it did anyway.
"I've been thinking lately..." Molly started. He quirked a brow, ready for a sarcastic remark, but was quickly cut off as she ran her long fingers over the zip of his trousers. His eyes widened just a bit, the drop of lust plummeting further into his stomach.
"I've been thinking, that things have been a bit boring around here lately," she started her statement again, "You've not had any exciting cases, clearly, and I've not had any exciting autopsies. I'm bored, Sherlock." Molly's smile had grown as she felt him grow underneath her touch. She had managed to work him out of his suit jacket and half way out of his tailored shirt. His trousers had been unbuttoned and zipped down, merely waiting to be pushed down his long legs. The bright genius was currently standing there, allowing the woman to graze her fingernails over his chest, hissing as the prickling sensation coursed through him.
"W-well, we should uh, we should do something to fix this, yes?" His gravelly voice barely made the coherent sentence string itself together as Molly pushed his shirt off his arms. She stood close to him, and he could feel her soft, luscious skin touching his chest. It was when Molly decided to lick up the column of his neck, that Sherlock lost his resolve. His head rolled back and he allowed the suppressed, guttural moan leave his throat. Molly chuckled into his neck as she applied fervent little kisses to his collarbone. Finally, his hands felt more than compelled to touch her. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, a hand flying into those perfect tendrils that he enjoyed tugging on so much. He pulled at them just enough to bring her lips up to meet his, smashing into her mouth without hesitation.
"Mmph..." Molly let out a surprised moan into his lips, but continued to undress his, even as he kissed her. She pushed his trousers and pants down together, to his knees. It was as far as she could go without separating herself from his searing lips, ones she didn't want to part with. So, she took it upon herself to use the bit of balance she knew she had to bring one of her delicate feet up to finish the job. Molly had nearly lost her balance, as Sherlock was more than eager to walk them both toward the bedroom. Her foot slipped out from the material of his pants, and Sherlock stepped out of them as he managed to get her back into the chair, at least. He hovered over her now, breathing rapidly against her face.
"Hm, well, if you'd rather we do something else, I guess I could get out Cluedo." Molly smirked at her joke. Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he tried hiding his own devilish grin.
"No, I think this will do just fine. Thank you, Molly." Sherlock replied stoically, before he nudged his way under her chin to kiss her throat. Molly found her legs separating to allow him to come closer, and she could already feel result of her own arousal between her legs. Sherlock was all too happy to dote upon her body. His strong hands ran their way down her front, stopping only to grope her chest and then to rub along her pelvic bone with pristine accuracy. Molly found that to be far more pleasurable than it should have been. Soon, Sherlock was kissing his way down her body. He again, stopped at her breasts, taking his time to appreciate the rise of her nipples. The pathologist sighed out as he traced over each of them with his tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders as her legs wound their way around him. Sherlock felt her feet lock tightly behind his bum, and knew he wasn't allowed to go anywhere. He continued worshiping her body further down, stopping to bite the tender skin at her hip. Molly gasped at his tender nibbling, but any argument she had had was flushed from her thought at his next ministration.
Sherlock's hands had found their places. One held her calf high above his shoulder, giving him a much better view of her sex. The other had hooked two of his long fingers into a curve, and were currently burying themselves inside her. Molly's head fell back to the chair as he slowly pumped in and out of her core.
"Sherlock..." Molly's voice breathed out his name, much like a secret being exposed. She could feel him all over her flesh. Pushing into her, his lips dragging across the soft skin of her belly, his curly hair tossing about as he made his way back up to kiss her lips. She felt her moans and appreciative cries escape into his mouth, as if he were devouring her entirely. Sherlock removed his fingers from her, and Molly barely had enough time to groan out in protests, before he filled her with himself.
Things at that point had become entirely too blurry to tell how they had ended up where they were. Molly had somehow managed to go from sitting back in Sherlock's black leather chair, to now writhing underneath him on the floor of 221B. Her hands flew up above her head as she tried anchoring herself to something, anything, as the unresolved detective drove into her with relentless force and passion. Her fingers tightly gripped something soft, and she refused to let go, even when her hands then flew up to wrap around his shoulders. She soon discovered the thing she had chosen to anchor herself to was none other than the long, blue scarf that Sherlock wore constantly. As Sherlock set a grueling pace for them, Molly felt herself spilling over the edge of ecstasy. Her ruby lips parted as she cried out his name over and over again, mixed with a variety of sordid pleasured phrases.
With a final few thrusts, and a low, rumbling growl, Sherlock finally joined her in blissful release. His buried himself deep inside of her as his body came down from its high, and he could hear her staggered breathing jolt and stop again, much like his own. Having absolutely zero strength left, he lowered himself onto her. A soft fabric sat between them, one he hadn't noticed before now. As they both came back to reality, he looked down to find her beautifully draped in the soft fleece of his favored scarf. It was a stark contrast to her pale rosy skin, and he found it made both her, and his scarf, look radiant.
"I've always loved this scarf." She purred out in post orgasmic tone. Sherlock grinned against her breast, where his head now lay.
"Me too. However, I feel I may enjoy wearing it even more now." His voice was a bit groggy and tired sounding. Molly giggled before she ran a hand idly through his hair.
"Just so you know, this doesn't mean you get sex every time you get bored." Molly said with just a touch of authority. The detective raised his head to look at her now. Her curly hair was now in disarray, beautifully tangled and frizzed. Her lipstick had been smeared just enough to make her look completely spent, while still remaining truly gorgeous in its appearance. He gave her a look of challenge, and Molly laughed a bit, her half lidded eyes brightening back up.
"Well, alright, it does mean that, at least for the next month or so. I'm definitely not bored now." She said with a sleepy, happy grin. Sherlock chuckled along with her. Before long, they had regained enough strength to walk back to their bedroom. Sherlock stood first, before helping Molly to stand to her feet as well. As he started toward the hall, he turned, to find Molly draping the scarf loosely around her neck. Her eyes met his, and she could make out the distinct sight of them dilating again with arousal. She wiped the coy smile back onto her face, and simply walked past him down the hallway.
"Oh, I definitely knew I liked that scarf for a reason." Sherlock said as he followed suit, eager to take the one bit of material off her.
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So, there ya have it. Teehee, What else do couples do when they get bored? Lol. Anyway, I hope you liked it. It was definitely fun to write. Let me know what you think, okay?