Hello! This is a start of a new fic- probably only 2 or 3 chapters long. Let me know what you think!
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If it weren't for John Watson's midlife crisis- which he felt partially responsible for, Sherlock Holmes would have never gone to a dance club, but when the man had invited him to his forty-fifth birthday, he simply couldn't turn him down. So here he was sitting with Lestrade, Molly, a few members of Scotland Yard, and a number of men and women who were about twenty years his junior. He watched as his best friend danced across the floor in a drunken stupor with a tall brunette; Mary's opposite, Sherlock noted.
The other, older attendants of John's party were not particularly amused and had not gotten enough alcohol in their systems to "cut loose"-as John had insisted, but just enough to lessen inhibitions. The group had taken to playing a game- one that Sherlock had never heard of. It was simple really, the point, it seemed, was to drink as much as possible while embarrassing others and bragging about one's accomplishments and sexual prowess.
"Never have I ever…" Molly was quiet as she thought for a bit. "Worn a nicotine patch." She finished. Lestrade rolled his eyes and took a drink, then elbowed Sherlock to do the same. He felt the smooth burn trickle down his throat and frowned, watching Molly giggle at his shortcomings. As Molly seemed to do very little that was deemed naughty-or at least that the others knew about, her drink was quite full, giving rise to a bit of jealousy from the other participants. Lestrade eyed Sherlock and they both smirked. A plan was formulated.
"Never have I ever dissected a human body." Molly took a swig- her first- with a glum look on her face and an annoyed eye roll.
"Never have I ever touched a human brain," Anderson added sarcastically. Molly and Sherlock drank.
"Used a bone-saw." Drink.
"Held a human liver." Drink.
It was Sherlock's turn.
"Given Sherlock human fingers." Molly drank again.
"This isn't exactly fair." She folded her hands across her chest, and Sherlock couldn't help but notice that the movement exposed even more of her breasts from under her little black top. He gulped, noting that she only had one sip left.
It was again Molly's turn. She had a devious smirk on her face. She cocked an eyebrow and looked at him.
"Never have I ever stared at Molly Hooper's breasts for the last twenty minutes." She never looked away from his eyes. The whole group turned to stare at him. Sherlock froze, searching his mind palace for the best way to respond.
Drink and say nothing. NO! Idiot. Ignore her, change the conversation- no, she'll never let it go. Blame it on George- wait no Grahm? Greg? Yes Greg.
His mind raced for a few more seconds, only finding static until it cleared and he saw a steady picture.
Or maybe just embrace it.
Sherlock picked up his glass with a shaking hand. He stared into the amber liquid before downing a gulp. He had two sips left, he approximated.
The group was almost as surprised as Sherlock about his admittance, mouths agape and bulging it wasn't his turn to play, Sherlock retorted smugly with a
"Never have I ever stared at Sherlock's arse while he was working in the lab." Without losing her piercing eye contact, she downed the last of her drink.
Lestrade cleared his throat in an attempt to cut the awkward silence and tension.
"I believe that means you lose Molly." He said.
"Hmm." She agreed, still not surrendering her eye contact. "I believe you are right." She looked away and glanced at Greg. "Well, I'm not one to back down on a bet." She pushed herself away from the table and the group followed her to the bar. "Shot of vodka please." She said to the bartender. She downed it in a quick gulp, then slammed it down. Molly took a deep breath, now quite tipsy, and climbed onto the bar.
The crowd cheered her on as Sherlock ordered another beer. She began to move her hips to the music, her hands in the air. Every time the bass would drop, she would too, wiping back up, her locks of soft brown slicing through the air, rolling her body so her breasts stuck out and bounced with the beat. She spun around and whooped, receiving plenty of calls from the men in the club. Even John stopped to watch her.
Molly ran her hands over her delicate curves, up to her head, pulling her shirt off. She twirled the blouse in the air, before throwing it to Sherlock. She looked down at him and winked, but he was much too infuriated with the men around him to return a smile.
Animals. He thought. Yelling at her- as if that would ever get MY pathologist's attention.
When the song ended, Lestrade held out his hand, helping Molly down.
"That was brilliant Molls!" The DI exclaimed, pulling her into his arms.
"Thanks, Greg."
Molly skipped over to Sherlock, sitting down next to him. He felt a slight flutter in his stomach. She now wore only a strappy, black lace brassiere, a leather mini skirt, and thigh-high heels. She definitely could dress well, why she would keep up the cherry print sweaters and khakis was beyond him. He handed her the shirt, forcing himself to meet her eyes.
"Thanks." Molly pulled the garment over her head. "So what did you think?"
He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a man coming up behind him and placing his arm on the back of Molly's chair. He was almost taller than Sherlock, with light, spiked hair and arms that screamed of hours at the gym.
Appearance driven. On the rebound- recent breakup. Late thirties. Large dog. Oh! American.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The man asked smoothly. Molly blushed a bright red and nodded. The man sat down next to her. "Aiden." He offered his hand to her and she shook it.
"Molly."
"Well Molly, it's very nice to meet you." He turned their still clasped hands over and planted a kiss on the back of her hand. Her blush became an even deeper shade of red and she giggled. "I very much enjoyed your dancing."
"Thank you." She replied.
"A dry martini and.." He looked at her, waiting for a response.
"A mojito please." Aiden paid the waiter and turned back to his companion.
After quite a few drinks and a long conversation about nothing of depth- almost boring the eavesdropping Sherlock to death, Aiden whisked Molly off to the dancefloor, closely watched by Sherlock.
The pair danced close, grinding against each other, twirling. Sherlock could hear her giggles from across the floor. He felt a heat bubble up inside him. His hands tightened into fists and his jaw clenched. The pounding of his heart echoed through his head like the flapping of thousands of birds, eager to escape the confines of his skull. Sherlock leaped up from his chair and strode quickly towards his pathologist. He reached a hand out to stop Aiden, holding him still. He turned to face the detective with a stern face.
"Dude, what the hell?" Sherlock smirked at the other man's response and turned to Molly.
"May I have this dance, Ms. Hooper?" Sherlock held out his hand to her. She took it, relishing how small her hand looked in his. Sherlock looked over his shoulder to glare at Aiden.
"Fine," Aiden said, clearly agitated. "I'll get us more drinks, and when I get back, she's all mine." He stormed off towards the bar.
"Jeez. He was really nice until… that." Molly giggled. She eased into him, resting her face on his chest. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"I didn't like watching you dance with that idiot, Molly," Sherlock admitted.
"I know Sherlock."
They were silent for a while, simply enjoying being in such close proximity. Molly could hear his heartbeat hammering in his chest and she found herself wondering what caused its rapid thrum. As if he could read her mind, Sherlock broke the silence.
"I can't say I don't understand why those behemoths got so… excited. Basic human interaction is led by our species need to reproduce the fittest offspring. The human beauty ideals are purely based off what would make the strongest and most capable offspring. Simple evolutionary biology."
Molly frowned at his response- not the best way of telling a woman she was attractive, but his next few words surprised her.
"That as it is, I still must admit that I do find you exceedingly attractive." He finished.
"That's how you're telling me that you find me attractive?" Molly removed her head from his chest and stopped their gentle sway in order to look up and meet his gaze. She waited as he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Ye-p." Her spine shivered at the pop of the p, searching his eyes for signs of lying, but all she found was dilated pupils and a devious smirk.
"And what exactly did you like about my performance?" Molly asked.
"The way you moved your perfect hips." Without hesitation he grabbed firmly onto her waist, moving them back and forth with the beat.
"That beautiful hair, whipping around your shoulders." With one hand still on her hip, Sherlock began to run his fingers dexterously through her hair, letting the ends fall through his grasp.
Molly could feel her heart pounding in her chest. The bass of the music echoed so loudly in her head that it felt as though her whole body was vibrating. The strobe of the lights only intensified the pull of complete and joyous freefall- she gave in.
Sherlock leaned in closely, his lips lightly brushing her ear. She could feel his warm breath spread across her face.
"The way those perfect little breasts bounced with the music." He spun her around, leaving her even more breathless, this time whispering in her other ear. "And the things that makes me want to do- it causes me to think that I'm no better than those animals." At this, Molly's every strand of hair stood on end. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
"Then why don't you show me how much of an animal you can be?"
Please leave a review! They really make my day. How do you think Sherlock is going to reveal his inner "animal"?
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