xx A little bit of not-so-innocent fun ;) I hope it brightens your day (that's the intention at any rate) xx

"Come on, Sherlock. You can't possibly-"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I am correct. I am hardly ever wrong! I knew it…"

John Watson sighed in frustration, dropping his head into his arms. Sherlock Holmes was breathing heavily having only minutes ago rushed into the lab from the cafeteria. He had some new evidence concerning the pathologist Molly Hooper that he felt John just had to know about; it had been a long day and this was the last thing he needed.

Sherlock Holmes had yet another theory concerning his pathologist Molly Hooper. Last week, he was certain she had changed her lunch break to coincide with a meeting with some man. Sherlock had been in a foul mood that entire day despite Molly assurance it was a completely innocent meeting…not that Sherlock cared of course. The week before he demanded to see Mike Stamford because he feared she was transferring to a different hospital. Why he thought this, John wasn't sure but he knew it was bad news when Sherlock got an idea into his head. This time, he was convinced Molly had gotten herself a tattoo…a tattoo! It had been four days since Sherlock first became suspicious and now he was just plain obsessed; John didn't understand why he didn't just ask the pathologist. John was wasting his time in telling Sherlock that Molly didn't like them or thought they were pointless. Sherlock was adamant Molly had herself permanently marked and he was determined to prove it. How he was going to do this worried John more than anything else…

"I have encountered some new evidence…this is something even someone like you cannot deny," John lifted his head from his arms and shook it vigorously, trying not to be too offended, as he watched Sherlock pace up and down. John could almost see the cogs in his brain working, "…we were queuing in the cafeteria and I placed my hand to her back to pass and she yelled out in pain, John. Some rather solid evidence, I'd say…"

Sherlock looked certain as he stopped his pacing and folded his arms, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes deep in thought. John tapped his chin in mock interest before offering up a more logical conclusion.

"Maybe you startled her…" Sherlock shot him a stern look and John sighed as he remembered they had left together so Sherlock could attain some 'evidence'. John clapped his hands and shrugged, "come on, that's hardly conclusive, is it?"

Sherlock frowned and clasped his hands behind his back, gritting his teeth as he told a now irritated John of his suspicions.

"Think about it…she's moving gingerly and favourably, she refuses to lean back in her chair, suggesting sensitivity and possible soreness not to mention it must be irritating her for she keeps rearranging her shirt and the cafeteria incident. At first, I suspected a rash of some kind…I am certain, John. I need to know…"

John was shaking his head in disbelief and smiling slightly, dropping his head back into his arms. This is ridiculous. Why does it bother him so much? Sherlock had noticed his expression and was pouting again, occupying the empty stool next to his friend.

"You…must have been studying her quite, um…closely then."

Sherlock stiffened and gave a small shrug, pulling his microscope closer and avoiding John's gaze.

"No more than usual."

Even John hadn't failed to notice how Sherlock had muttered this under his breath. He lifted his head, a knowing smirk settling on his lips.

"Well, then…there's only one way to settle it," Sherlock looked up from the microscope hopefully and John folded his arms smugly, "ask her."

Sherlock frowned and returned to his microscope. No. I want the satisfaction of discovering on my own. Purely scientifically, of course. John giggled softly and glanced at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, noticing he'd turned slightly redder.

"Why does it bother you if she's got a tattoo, anyway?"

Sherlock ignored him, much to John's amusement. The lab doors swung open and Molly entered swiftly yet delicately, moving behind her table with her lunch balanced precariously in her arms. Molly perched herself carefully in the chair, suddenly aware of two pairs of eyes watching her.

"Oh, hi John…Sherlock. How's the case?"

"Oh, we should be finished soon. Sherlock just needs some assistance. You could help, actually," John's immense amusement was lost on Molly, who simply tilted her head in confusion, but not on the consulting detective who was glaring at him, "…he was wondering if you-"

John was cut off by a sharp kick to his leg under the table, yelping in pain. Molly frowned and Sherlock shook his head, not missing a beat.

"Now, John…I'd really see someone about those cramps."

John scowled before nodding reluctantly, massaging his sore leg. Molly shrugged and shifted in her chair; Sherlock watched her closely and gave John a smug look as she winced when her back touched her chair. That can be anything, though. You still need actual evidence, Sherlock. Molly sighed and waved a sandwich at a very grateful John.

"Molly…you're a saint."

"Yeah…don't get used to it."

John smiled gratefully and gave her a pleasant wink to which Molly giggled. After a short moment, Sherlock swivelled around in his stool to face Molly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Molly…" His voice had an air of questioning about it, as though about to ask for a favour. Molly rolled her eyes and caught John's 'brace yourself' expression but Sherlock didn't even wait for an answer, "…I need you to take your clothes off."

John almost fell off of his stool in shock, effectively dropping his sandwich in the process. Molly was literally choking on hers, staring at Sherlock in disbelief. He was waiting with an expectant expression, oblivious to the awkward air in the room. Molly managed to regain her composure and wheeze out a sentence.

"I-I'm sorry?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and folded his arms impatiently. John was silently begging him to shut up as Molly was glowing bright red, fixing her gaze directly onto the table.

"Did you not hear? I need you to remove your clothes. Right now would be ideal. My sanity depends on it."

Molly was opening and closing her mouth in sheer shock; did I hear him right? Sherlock was still waiting, tapping his foot against the stool in annoyance whilst John was shaking his head in severe disbelief, now restraining himself from laughing. Now, when I said ask her… Mainly to clear the awkward silence, John got to his feet and rubbed his hands together, speaking to the ground so he didn't show his smirk.

"Ok, I see this," he gestured between the two, "going two ways…and I don't want to be around for either. I'll be at the flat if you need me." He paused at the door and shook his head, muttering to himself, "…please don't need me."

Sherlock gave an acknowledging nod, not taking his eyes off Molly for even a second. John hastily pulled the door open and hurried away as Molly jumped to her feet. She swallowed and straightened her lab coat, confusion coursing through her.

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter…it needs to be done."

Molly was shaking her head and stammering incoherently, fiddling with her hands. Sherlock tilted his head, seriously considering marching over to her and doing it himself. Molly had apparently found her voice as she squeaked-

"What needs to be done?"

Sherlock titled his head slightly and Molly blushed brightly. Without another word, Molly turned and hurried out of the lab. Sherlock leaned back against the bench, smirking to himself and breathing heavily. Sherlock returned to his microscope and buried himself in his far less important studies. She'll come round. I'll have my evidence before I leave today…

It had been ages since Molly had rushed away and Sherlock finally looked up; it was now gone 10:00p. He must have been too engrossed in his microscope to even notice how late it had gotten. He rolled his stiff shoulders and rose gracefully to his feet, tilting his head and noticing her lab coat draped over the back of her chair; she had returned to collect her things, then. Sherlock sighed in defeat. There's always tomorrow. He collected his coat and flung it around his shoulders, departing the lab and heading through the dark corridor. He could hear the faint tapping of the night staff upstairs. He released a bored sigh as he moved down the hallway, pausing as he noticed a light emitting from a room to his left. Sherlock turned curiously, smirking as he heard the distinctive sound of water running and Molly's soft sounds and huffs.

The female locker rooms. Molly was having a shower.

Molly huffed to herself, ripping her jumper over her head. What the hell was that? Something for one of his damn cases? What was he trying to do? He's got a nerve…trying to embarrass me like that. Molly sighed, reaching for the zip on her skirt. Oh, I wish he'd meant that. I'd have been only too happy to have done that for him under different circumstances. A private show in 221B. Molly laughed to herself, pushing her skirt down to her ankles. That's not going to happen now is it? Today was the closest I'm ever going to get. She dropped her shirt to the floor and released her hair, smiling to herself. It's been a long day, all I want is a nice hot shower. Molly removed her tights and draped them over the chair, followed by her underwear and stepping hastily into the shower. The sound of a door opening and closing swiftly was audible, even above the noise of the water.

Molly paused and strained her ears, her hands stilling in her hair. Was that the door? It sounded like the door. Molly bit her lip and peered around the shower door, frowning at the entrance.

"Hello? If that's you Carl…Mike gave me ten minutes…"

Silence.

Molly shrugged and ducked back inside, humming to herself as she washed her hair and body. Outside of the hot shower, Sherlock pressed himself tight against the wall, breathing heavily in anticipation and excitement. He peered past the lockers and faintly saw Molly's pale figure inside, surrounded by steam. Sherlock subconsciously licked his lips and found himself inching closer. It was beyond scientific examination now and he was itching to know. Before he knew it, he had reached the door of the shower and was taking deep breaths, abandoning his coat on the chair next to the shower. Exactly how far am I willing to go to prove she has a tattoo?

Molly frowned and peered over her shoulder at the sound of the shower door being pulled open, her voice catching in her throat.

"We're going to need longer than ten minutes."

Molly would have been angry if Sherlock's voice hadn't sounded so deep and husky…and if his eyes weren't fixed to her lower back.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She swallowed as Sherlock stepped in, completely disregarding his own clothing getting wet and his cool hands gliding over her back. Molly stifled her moan with immense difficulty, her arms self-consciously wrapping themselves around her front. Sherlock shook his head, his breath tickling her skin.

"I was wrong about you. Too small, I said…"

Molly was seriously fighting the urge to turn and face him as she could clearly feel Sherlock's gaze flitting over her repeatedly. He was soon dragging his tongue along her back, applying his teeth now and then.

"Sher-"

Molly's breathy whisper was silenced as Sherlock had reached the top of her neck, his hands gliding down her arms to grip her wrists gently and spinning her to face him. He swiftly flicked his eyes over her and bit into his lip. Molly's gaze was also drawn to his chest, effectively showing through his soaked shirt. Sherlock smirked to himself and met her eyes, sighing impatiently when Molly simply stared at him with her big, brown, lust-filled eyes. Honestly, must I do everything myself? Sherlock leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, savouring the feeling. He pulled away just as quickly and noted how her eyes had closed.

"Now, do you understand?" Molly blinked and bit into her lip, shaking her head slightly. Sherlock gave a small chuckle, "…I understand if you want to wait but-"

Molly shook herself and brought her hands to his wet hair, pulling him down fiercely to meet her lips, snogging him passionately and feverishly. Sherlock responded equally fiercely, seizing her wrists again and pressing her into the shower wall. Sherlock's breathing was now very heavy indeed as Molly's tongue was relentless on his body, her nails scraping along his now bare chest; he didn't even remember Molly removing his shirt. His hands settled on her lower back once more and he managed to breath out a sentence as Molly caught his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hmmm…I…knew I…was right…"

Molly giggled gently as Sherlock carefully placed harsh, biting kisses down her chest and his hands trailing down her back. Molly fingers entwined in his hair and pulled gently, earning her what could only be described as a growl from the detective. His hands roamed her body playfully and the moans coming from Molly's mouth were something animalistic. Soon, they were moaning each other's names into their skin whilst moving rhythmically with the other, hitting the wall behind them as the water continued to drip down from the showerhead.

They both learned something that evening:

1. They both thoroughly enjoyed having sex against the shower wall in Bart's locker room and that, although their relationship would never be the same again, they were not going to stop whatever this was. It had been too good…

and

2. The acoustics in that little locker room were surprisingly good. They were certain they had been heard upstairs…and neither Sherlock nor Molly cared in the slightest.

John rubbed his eyes, climbing out of bed with a yawn and draping his dressing gown around him. I wonder how Sherlock got on with his 'case' last night. He moved into the living room and nodded towards Sherlock, who was in his mind palace pose on the sofa. After pouring himself a coffee, John settled himself in his chair and fixed the unmoving figure of Sherlock with a suspicious stare.

"So, did you get your evidence last night?"

He wasn't too far into his mind palace for Sherlock bit back his smirk as he gave a firm nod.

"I'd say so, yes. We…had an interesting shower experience."

John nodded, not wanting to know all the details; at least this case is finished with. I'm happy for them. After a moment, curiosity overtook him as he shrugged, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.

"Well…what does Molly have?"

Sherlock licked his lips and turned slowly to face his friend, the smirk clearly showing now.

"She doesn't. I was right all along."

John's mouth dropped to the floor and he folded his arms. The smug look on Sherlock's face was too much and John shook his head in disbelief.

"You mean…you made that up just so you could-"

Sherlock's cheeky smirk told John everything he needed to know. John rolled his eyes, picking up his paper. Well…about time, Sherlock Holmes…

xx Thank you for reading this probably awful piece of writing, lol. I hope you enjoyed that (Sherlock may have just invented his own pick-up line/system ;) xx