A/N: Well, really, this is my excuse for smut and fluff, but I have no shame. Enjoy!
One word prompt: ginger
Molly jutted her tongue out cautiously to taste what was on the hot spoon. She scrunched her nose as it inevitably burned her, which she knew would happen, but she wanted to make sure the food was good.
Sherlock had been away for over a week now handling a case and he was coming home. She knew he would be tired and hungry and she made his favourite. She also knew that it was a very special day that he would try to ignore.
She wore his blue dressing gown, the sleeves pushed up on her arms. It was much too big for her, and she didn't want to get anything on the gown; it was his favourite one after all. She liked to wear it while he was away and was missing him. Before she moved in to 221B she was fine living on her own, but she preferred now to not go to bed alone at night. She understood though, she wouldn't ever try to keep him away from his work.
While she poured the rice into a bowl, she froze. A pair of hands rested lightly on her shoulders and someone's head close to hers. His head rested against hers and out of the corner of her eye she saw a few of the curls from his bangs and couldn't help but smile wide.
"Ginger chicken," he said as she heard him sniff the air again. It was his favourite food; he always liked Chinese after a case was finished, but he always got take away. She wanted to try to make it home made for him.
Molly spun around and jumped on him. He made a small noise in surprise, but caught her in his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Welcome home," she said excitedly, her nose nudging against his.
She moved her lips to his, her fingers running into his hair. He kissed her back tenderly, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and nipping at her. A breathy gasp escaped Molly as she broke her mouth away from him.
"I almost thought you weren't going to be home in time," she said as he moved his lips to hers again for a quick kiss.
"I had almost forgotten," he replied in his deep, low baritone, almost as if trying to distract her. Molly shivered for only a second, but a frown was on her face. She kissed his nose before he set her back on her feet.
She turned away from him to go to the stove to check on the food. "No, you didn't." Sherlock wouldn't forget that; he doesn't forget anything. Well, unless he deletes it, but after being forced to celebrate it, or at least being reminded every year made it hard to forget.
Sherlock shook his head as she was turned away from him, but a small smirk creeped onto his face. "I still would've done something for you even if you hadn't returned tonight." He could practically hear the smile forming on her face. "And happy birthday, Sherlock."
Sherlock let out a groan. He hated celebrating his birthday; well, birthdays in general really, but he put up less of a fuss on Molly's birthday after he ruined one of them for her. They were pointless events where people got presents they didn't want because of a social obligation, as were most holidays.
Sherlock had been focused on coming home to Molly and was excited to see her. Being in a relationship, accepting sentiment- it was a bit different for him. But he was used to it now and he always missed Molly while he was away. It was only now that he observed her bare, pale legs exposed, which he then realised that she was not wearing anything under his dressing gown.
He walked up behind her again and waited for her to put down the hot pan after the food was on a plate. When she had put down the hot contents, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and his other came up to push her hair to fall over one shoulder. Now that her hair was out of the way, he placed gentle kisses on the back of her neck.
He heard her inhale sharply, but didn't say anything, wanting him to continue. "Not hungry," he mumbled against her skin.
"Sherlock," she groaned. "It's bad enough you don't eat on cases…" she trailed off as she turned toward him again, a small pout on her lip.
"I will," he assured her as he moved his mouth down to kiss along her throat. "Later." He moved his hand down to the sash on the dressing gown, ready to pull it open, but froze when he felt Molly's hand on top of his.
"F-Fine," she squeaked, her voice a pitch higher and Sherlock smiled as she was already falling apart. She missed him, and she wanted him, but he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when her hand still stopped his. "But," she hesitated for only a moment, and in that time her voice had composed itself again, sounding confident. "Not until you admit it."
When he looked up at her, there was a devious smile on her face. She knew that he didn't mind his birthday as much last year; he had seemed to enjoy it actually when she had done something nice for him. And clearly, he was enjoying it this year already. Either he was going to admit it or she was going to deny him.
He twisted his hand so that two fingers rested against her pulse. It was racing and her eyes were dilated as she smiled up at him. Molly was still as stone as he leaned in, pressing his lips lightly against her ear, his hot breath against it. "Never," he whispered.
Molly tried her best not to react to it, but she rested her cheek against his for a second before pushing his hand down to his side. He thought she was giving in when she pushed his suit coat off of his shoulders and then untucked and unbuttoned his shirt, but apparently he was wrong. Molly Hooper did not give in that easy to him, not anymore at least. "You should probably eat," she said mock seriously as she turned to walk away.
Before she could get away, she let out a squeak as he grabbed her waist and spun her around, pulling her close to him as he stared into her eyes. He was being rightfully teased and she only smiled at him as she traced her fingers along his collarbone. "You know you want to," she said calmly as she bit down on her lip. She was convinced that she could get him to admit it.
He narrowed his eyes for only a second before losing his serious expression and had a smirk on his face. "And you know I don't," he said as one arm was wrapped around her waist and the other moved down. The dressing gown was pushed up as his hand slid up from her knee to halfway up her inner thigh.
She gasped and rested her hand against his. It paused there for a moment as Molly's eyes only grew more dilated. "Yes," her voice coming undone again, "you do." Sherlock couldn't help but let out a low chuckle as he saw the pleading in her eyes. And to his surprise, she guided his hand further up her thigh.
Molly closed her eyes as she felt his hand against her, a finger gliding over her sensitive spot as she let out a whine. She buried her face against his chest, her breath becoming uneven as he rubbed his finger in circles. She looked back up at him though when his hand paused, a desperate need in her eyes; she didn't want him to stop.
"Maybe I should eat," he whispered, raising a brow. But before he could even move, Molly pushed him down onto the kitchen laminate, her lips meeting his. She kissed him fiercely as he grabbed hold of her waist. She whined and whimpered as she ground her hips against his, letting him swallow her sweet noises through their kisses.
She moved her mouth down to skim across his jaw and down the column of his throat, one hand moving down to graze against the bulge in his trousers. He desperately found her lips again as he felt her hand, nipping at her lip as he flipped them over so he hovered over her.
He almost ripped the gown as he pulled on the sash, letting it fall open. She undid his trousers and tried to push them down, but it was taking too long for the two them. Sherlock assisted her, pushing them down, along with his boxers, and throwing them somewhere unknown in the kitchen.
Sherlock settled between her thighs, pressing himself against her entrance as he kissed along her neck. Her hands slid over his abdomen, the hard muscles on his chest as he felt her nod.
When he pushed himself into her, Molly's hands found their way into his hair. He let out a groan as she tugged on it, her hips rising to meet his as he moved into her. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, locking them at the ankle as they found their rhythm.
He let a hand run up and down her side, his fingertips grazing against her soft skin as his pace sped up. Her moans became louder as he drove into her harder, her hands tugging tighter in his hair. Sherlock slid his hand down to find her sensitive nub, rubbing against it as he felt her begin to get tighter around him. He buried his face in her hair, cheek against hers.
"Molly," he whispered into her ear as he felt himself coming closer to his peak. At the sound of her name, Molly let out a loud moan, clenching around him as her back arched and her hips rose high to meet his. This was enough to get Sherlock to reach his climax; Molly met her lips to his as he orgasmed, taking in the groan released from his throat.
He moved within her only a few more times, riding out the waves as Molly trembled beneath him. Her breath shook as they both panted, giving each other lazy, but tender kisses. When his hand came up to cup her cheek, she turned her head a bit to kiss his palm lightly. Her hand came up to rest against his, their fingers lacing with one another.
Sherlock rolled onto his side, pulling Molly onto her own as their legs tangled with another, lying over the dressing gown below them.
"I love you," Molly said softly as she gave him another kiss.
"I love you too."
She rested her head against his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair, lying there quietly in bliss for a while. Molly was glad to have her detective home, and he was glad to be home with his pathologist.
"I admit it."
"Sorry?" Molly asked. Fatigue had almost taken her before he spoke, and she was lost in her post-sex haze as she nudged her nose against his chin.
"My birthdays are… better now," he admitted to her, kissing her forehead.
"I know," Molly said playfully, sighing contentedly as her head moved back to its position against his chest.