Hello all...now this is designed as a one shot but I am considering doing a series of them exploring our favourite detective's favourite kinks, if you will. For now, I hope you enjoy this for what it is, a dirty bit of fun. Thank you...


It all started when Sherlock Holmes unintentionally saw Molly Hooper naked for the first time; it wasn't his fault he just happened to need something and pick the lock to her flat when she was taking a shower. He had heard the distinctive sounds coming from her bathroom and sighed, approaching entirely unaware of what he was about to encounter. He had been frozen to the spot in her doorway, intending to announce himself and accept the consequences but found he couldn't. In the dimly lit room, Sherlock saw there was soap and steam and skin; lots of skin, skin he had never even seen of Molly's before. The sight was pure ecstasy but the soft sighs she emitted were absolutely heavenly. He knew it was wrong to watch her but Sherlock found himself smiling at how she was so relaxed and normal; he knew if she saw him she'd be reduced to a blushing, embarrassing mess...it's what he did to her. Seeing Molly being just Molly was perfect and he wasn't going to ruin it; little did he know, the longer he stared and allowed his eyes to wander to places they really shouldn't, his mind was categorising each and every segment to revisit in his dreams, most likely. Molly had turned around suddenly and only just missed Sherlock ducking out of the bathroom. When he dared to peer back inside, she had begun to shampoo her hair and her eyes had drifted closed; Sherlock narrowed his eyes, leaning in to watch her run her fingers through her hair - he had almost blacked out when Molly bent forwards to caress her legs, humming a tune he didn't recognise. She soon straightened and arched her back, tipping her head back under the water to thoroughly rinse; before he knew it, Sherlock's jaw had dropped open and he had clapped a hand to muffle any sound that might escape. He decided, as Molly turned the water off and moved to step out, he had seen enough and began backing away slowly; whatever he needed from her could wait. However, as Sherlock quietly closed her door behind him and ruffled his hair, he couldn't exactly remember what is was he actually needed...


It was now two days after this incident and Sherlock could avoid Bart's no longer:

Murder victim, body with Molly. Appreciate the help. GL

Sherlock sighed deeply; he really couldn't put it off any longer. He tried to ignore what he had seen but it was impossible. Every time Sherlock closed his eyes, he was helpless to stop a collection of hot, steamy situations involving himself and Molly - and the occasional shower - from entering his brain. He was certain distance was the key; if he couldn't see her, his mind will eventually allow him to delete the image. John was frowning at him from the kitchen table.

"What's the matter with you?" He spoke with a large amount of cereal in his mouth and Sherlock's gaze momentarily settled on his curious flatmate, bringing his hands under his chin and furrowing his brow in thought.

"Have you ever done something you know is wrong but...failed to feel guilty?" Sherlock asked, fixing his gaze onto the ceiling. John looked suspicious as he slowly chewed his breakfast, shaking his head. Finally, he swallowed.

"Sherlock, what have you done?" John's worry only grew when Sherlock didn't answer, choosing instead to ignore him and jump to his feet. Without another word, he was pulling on his coat and rushing from the flat, hastily stuffing his phone back into his pocket. John shook his head and grumbled incoherently to himself as he disappeared to dress.


He had spent most of the morning at the crime scene and managed to conclude the man had drowned in his own bath water; all he needed to discover now was how. The second he placed his gloved hand to the doors leading to the morgue, Sherlock was hit by a montage of images of what he had seen two nights ago. He shivered and, bracing himself, gently pushed the door open immediately suppressing a deep groan; she was bent over picking up something from the floor. Sherlock gulped and reached out subconsciously, suddenly remembering she wasn't his to touch. She was Tom's. He scowled and pulled his hands back, clasping them behind his back and clearing his throat. Molly straightened and smiled widely.

"Hi, Sherlock...I suppose you want to see the drowning victim Greg sent in..." she was wandering over to one of the slabs, Sherlock silently following her; she couldn't see how low his gaze was focused, "...there are no signs of any injuries but that's why you're here, right?" Molly frowned when he didn't answer and reached for her equipment, "...Sherlock?"

"Yes, of course," he shook himself and wandered around to the other side of the slab, cheeks slightly pinker and avoiding her gaze. He bent over the body and narrowed his eyes, "...business man, probably under a lot of stress, big deadline approaching. He-" Sherlock stopped abruptly when an unpermitted sound of Molly's sighing entered his mind. He cleared his throat to shift the obvious huskiness he has bound to have developed, "...he was expecting a meeting this particular morning. Can I see his belongings?"

Molly nodded and wandered over to her desk, retrieving the box and placing it on her tray near Sherlock. He inspected the items and frowned at how easy it was.

"As I expected, he was meeting a deadline..." he held up a piece of paper, purposely not looking at her, "an important one, apparently. Everyone needs..." he swallowed, shaking his head, "a stress release factor. His happened to be a weakness for a particular white powder. He unintentionally overdosed and drowned. His dealer most probably tampered with the substance..." sure enough, there was an empty plastic packet in his pocket and Sherlock gave a small smile. Molly nodded, impressed, "if we were to run some tests, I am certain as to what we'd find."

Molly smiled widely and nodded, taking the samples on her tray towards the doors; Sherlock was following a short distance behind her. They reached the end of the corridor in a short time even though Sherlock appeared out of breath. She reached for the lift but Sherlock shook his head.

"We should take the stairs, it's quicker. After you."

Molly smiled acceptingly and moved through the door he was holding open, quite impatiently. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to adjust her samples, glancing out of the corner of her eye to see Sherlock waiting too. She raised her eyebrows and started to move up to the lab; Molly attempted conversation during the one flight of stairs they had to take but found her every word ignored. Finally, they reached the familiar lab room and busied themselves with running their analyses and completing the case. Sherlock gritted his teeth forcefully and clenched his fists every time his skin accidentally brushed against hers. After what felt like hours of peering into the microscope and swapping different samples, Sherlock retrieved his phone from his pocket.

Cocaine overdose. Drowned in his bath water. Large amounts in his system. Dealer probably long gone after hearing of the death. You can inform the press. Case closed...barely a three. SH

Ok, but it's not like you had anything better to do, is it? Thanks. GL

He tucked his phone away and sighed, rolling his shoulders and peering in Molly's direction. She was chatting on the phone to Tom and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"...yeah, well...whatever. Tell Mum I said 'hi' and that I'll see her at the weekend. Ok? Bye, Tommy..." she glanced over at Sherlock who was shaking his head with a slightly relieved smile. She lowered her voice, "...yeah, he is, why?" There was a moment before Molly blushed and giggled, "...oh, shut up, don't be so filthy! How's Amy?" Another pause and Sherlock resumed his staring, tilting his head for a better view when Molly turned, chuckling, "...I bet she is, she hasn't got long now. Give her my love and you look after her and my nephew! No...you can't call him that...I've got to go before Mike gets back...shut up, bye..." she cut off and shook her head, still chuckling to herself.

Sherlock was so absorbed in his steamy-shower-naked skin filled thoughts he hadn't noticed Molly move over and was talking to him a low voice; this only served to increase the intensity of his vivid imagination and the hot shower was replaced with his bedroom-

"Sherlock!" She gently tapped his shoulder and Sherlock shook his head, lifting his gaze from her chest; he hadn't even realised his eyes had settled there. Molly folded her arms, "...bloody hell, didn't you get a good enough look the other night?"

Molly couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles at the look Sherlock was giving her. Feeling the burn in his face, Sherlock finally rolled his eyes and sighed, turning away.

"I made a mistake. Anyway, you didn't say anything." Like she would. As expected, Molly chuckled, leaning on the bench.

"Well, at first I was embarrassed, yeah...but usually when someone makes a mistake like that they leave immediately," Sherlock finally faced her and noticed she was biting into her lip, "...you stayed for almost ten minutes. I'm sure that was more than enough time to realise you'd made a mistake," she started running her fingers along the collar of his shirt, brushing his perfect neck whenever she could. Sherlock was blinking quickly, his blue eyes burning into her brown, "...mmm, when I noticed you were still there, I thought I'd have some fun...a little show, if you like. Did you like what you saw? It was...all for you.

Sherlock sprang out of his stool and hurried out of the lab without another word. Molly blinked in confusion, biting her lip out of fear she'd stepped out of line. However, Sherlock reappeared almost a second later and was watching her impatiently.

"Well? Are you coming or not?" There was no mistaking the deep, husky tone to his voice but Molly couldn't resist messing with him.

"Where to?" She gave a look of pure innocence but Sherlock was in no mood for games. He wanted her; there was no point denying it anymore, not he was this close.

"Where do you think? Baker Street, of course," he was shifting on his feet in agitation and Molly smirked, folding her arms.

"I'm working." It was now Sherlock's turn to smirk at her response, tilting his head and tutting.

"Yes but sex in the workplace is highly unprofessional, Molly. It is better to go to my flat."

With a final smirk, Sherlock departed the lab and Molly bustled around, hastily tidying her things away and collecting her stuff; her reports will have to wait until tomorrow.


John hadn't even bothered to follow Sherlock to the crime scene and Bart's; he had made it quite clear his assistance wasn't required. Anyway, he'd already solved it by the looks of the updated news article he had open in another tab:

TREVOR WILLIAMS MURDER ENQUIRY

This afternoon, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard informed waiting press officials the much loved MP had-

The door to 221B flew open and John jumped, turning to see a most unexpected sight. Sherlock and Molly fell into the flat, forcefully joined at the mouth and their frantic hands were tugging at each other's shirts. John raised his eyebrows as Sherlock backed them towards his bedroom; before he could nudge the door open, Molly jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling his hair less than gently. John shook his head and blinked repeatedly, focusing back on the computer.

'-passed away from a suspected drug overdose. Close family members have been informed and thank the public for their support. A source believes-'

Sherlock's bedroom door opened again and he rushed forwards, his purple shirt hanging open and belt unbuckled. The state of his hair was unbelievable not to mention the lipstick smears all over his face.

"Where are the-"

"Bathroom," John grimaced, nodding towards the bathroom. Sherlock hastily departed, returning almost immediately and dashing back to his bedroom. The doctor tried to block the audible sighing sounds he heard by burying himself in his webpage.

'-the case was solved by none other than Scotland Yard's aid, Mr. Sherlock Holmes although, Inspector Lestrade denies this, "Sherlock Holmes' involvement in this particular case was very limited. He-'

"Oh, God."

"I suppose so...yes...but...I prefer Sherlock."

It was this that made John slam his laptop closed and gather his coat, desperately heading for anywhere but the flat. At the sound of the door slamming, Sherlock lifted his head from Molly's damp chest and stilled his hands, causing her to frown. He smirked down at her.

"He's gone."

"Oh, marvellous...do you mind continuing...if it's not too much trouble..." her sarcastic, breathless voice rang out. She jerked her hips to prove her point and Sherlock chuckled, returning his mouth to her body.

"My pleasure."

Molly moaned in bliss when Sherlock re-entered, sucking at her throat and chest; his hands were roaming all over her body and he couldn't believe how much better this was. Why didn't he march into her bathroom and take her then? Her hands were back in his hair, scratching his scalp vigorously and yanking forcefully; he groaned at this action, he never realised he'd enjoy having his hair pulled so much. Molly's legs wrapped around him now which had them locked in a delicious position, meeting each other's thrusts hard. Her nails were raking down his hard, well-muscled chest; Sherlock was surprised when he was suddenly yanked by the hair to meet her lips hungrily, losing themselves in each other and finally letting go with a simultaneous swallowed moan. After collapsing next to each other, hands entwined and breathing heavily, Molly glanced around the room. Their clothes surrounded the bedroom and Molly breathed out peacefully, feeling thoroughly shagged. She looked over and raised her eyebrows; Sherlock was lounging with one arm behind his head lazily, the other placing a cigarette between his lips.

"Don't look at me like that...I need it..." he sighed; Molly swallowed at how attractive his smoking was. She pouted.

"You were doing so well..." she cuddled against him, breathing in his intoxicating smell and cigarette smoke. He chuckled.

"Why, thank you...you weren't so bad, either."

Molly rolled her eyes and grinned widely. They remained silent for several moments, listening to each other's breathing; Sherlock's eyes had closed and he was clearly in his mind palace. He returned when he felt Molly jab his side.

"So...am I getting dressed and leaving, forgetting this ever happened or...what?" She asked nervously, biting her lip. Sherlock rolled his eyes, a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Don't be silly, we haven't tried the shower yet." Molly met his eyes and her smirk matched his...


xx Thank you for reading...if you'd like to see more please let me know (they'd all revolve around Sherlock's filthy mind, lol) xx