'Pompous, great big fat arse,' Sherlock muttered angrily under his breath, storming through the big forest next to their house. He could feel thorns ripping holes in his clothes, and water dripping from the branches after the rain that had poured over the city earlier that day.
Sherlock didn't care.
Once again Mycroft had gotten away with making a fool out of his younger brother, Sherlock knew of course that Mycroft was clever, and even though Sherlock didn't care much to admit it, Mycroft was smarter than he.
Something Mycroft found important to mention almost every day.
Today Sherlock had enough and he had vowed to leave the house, and to never come back. He'd waited to leave of course, waited until everyone else in the house were asleep. He could take care of himself, he was seventeen, and he knew that he wasn't going to need school anyways, he'd show his brother just how clever he was by becoming the world's first (and only) consulting detective.
He stopped abruptly when he reached the beginning of a lake and chose quickly to take a break, for the moment unaware of the girl walking naked into the lake.
For Molly the lake was a place to come when she needed peace, and the cover of the night mixed with the soft waves in the wind helped her get that.
She'd stumbled across the lake one day after school about a year ago, she'd been teased that day and she'd run away refusing to let the other kids see her cry.
Now she came here almost every night, sometimes she'd just sit at the shore with her eyes closed, enjoying the gentle breeze sweeping through her hair. Other times (like today) she'd come to bathe, the cool of the water swept away the worries in her body, and allowed her to find calm in her otherwise chaotic life.
Sherlock had been rubbing his head and eyes, running his hands through his hair several times before he heard the noise of splashing water coming from the lake. He snapped open his eyes at the sound, his eyes quickly falling on the girl in the middle of the water.
The first thing he noticed was the almost milky white colour of her skin, standing out so strongly against the darkness of the still water. The next thing he noticed was that she was naked.
Sherlock was not one to be shocked by what people did; he had seen many things in his still short life. But this girl, whoever she was, had taken his breath away, and for several minutes he didn't even realise that he was staring, ogling, his brother might even say.
Sherlock quickly shook his head and stormed off in the direction he had come from, soon standing right back outside the house he had left. For some reason he couldn't leave just yet.
The next night he went back to the lake, staying there until his eyes were drooping of exhaustion, and he returned home.
He went back every night for a week before the girl returned.
He'd hidden between the trees, knowing that what he was doing was most definitely wrong, and creepy. But the look the girl had on her face that first night haunted him.
She'd looked how he desperately wanted to feel, utterly relaxed and comfortable in her own skin.
He'd always been an outside, even sometimes in his family, and was still waiting somehow to find his place. Even though he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
This night she didn't go in the water, she was just sitting peacefully at the side of the lake, either with her eyes closed, or staring up on the darkened night sky.
He kept coming back, waited for her even when it was clear she wasn't going to turn up, a thrill going through him when she did. His cheeks would always take on a bit of colour when he saw her clothes falling, and he'd quickly turn his head and snap his eyes shut.
About a month had gone by since that first night, and somehow her contentment, Sherlock had become much more relaxed, now able to shut his brother out, and sometimes even outwit him, something he was immensely smug about.
'You do know it's rude to stare right?' The voice shocked him out of his thoughts; Sherlock had become a bit moody as he hadn't seen the girl for five whole days. He snapped his head around to bite out a piece of his mind at the stranger, but the words got stuck in his throat when his eyes fell on her.
'I asked you a question,' she said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
'I realised that,' Sherlock snapped back his brows furrowing in annoyance. Sometimes meeting the object of your fantasy was not how it was supposed to be. And she had been a fantasy for him; somehow she'd not been a real person, until now.
He got up from his place on the ground and stormed away, 'i'm not stupid' he yelled before crashing through the trees, swiftly running through the forest.
He faintly heard the 'I never said you were' but decided to ignore it as he ran home.
It took a few days for Sherlock to realise he'd been rude, and a few days more to realise he'd have to give her an apology. Both realisations made him groan, he'd never been good with apologising, sentiment, he thought with utmost hatred.
When he finally decided to return, she was there. He was glad because it meant he could apologise, be on his way, and never see her again.
'I'm sorry' he muttered quickly turning back around from her, and started walking home.
'What's your name, mines Molly' Sherlock slowly turned around to face her, keeping in a short gasp when he saw she'd gotten up, and was now staring directly at him from barely one metre away.
'Sh-sherlock' he made a sour face at the pathetic stutter coming from him, though it didn't seem to bother the girl – Molly. –
'Well it's nice to meet you Sherlock,' she told him returning to her spot on the ground next to the lake.
For reasons Sherlock didn't know, he sat down next to her, he couldn't really run away now, then he'd just have to come back and apologise once more.
The first couple of evenings after they'd simply stay silent, but slowly they started chatting; Sherlock told her things and insecurities he'd never told anyone else, and Molly told him about the chaos at home. Her sick father and the mother who had left them, they barely had any money, so Molly had to work after school.
They didn't pity each other though, and even found that they had quite a few things in common, they both loved reading, mysteries, exploring, and found that their wished professions could end up complementing each other nicely.
His work would most likely bring him in close contact with the police and require him to go to morgues to look at the dead bodies, which was why Molly's wanted profession of becoming a pathologist was a welcomed thing with Sherlock, and he promised her that she'd be the only one he'd work with.
When Sherlock didn't show up at their secret meeting spot, Molly still went skinny dipping, for some reason she didn't need to when he was present, his whole personality and the way he talked so passionately about what he wanted to do was enough to calm down the turmoil in her body, and she was thankful that she'd found such a special friend.
It had been a week since she'd been in the water, so she welcomed the soft waves enrapturing her being. She took in a deep breath and went underwater, the silence was deafening, but she let the darkness swallow her for as long as she could hold her breath.
A pair of lanky but strong arms swept around her waist, effectively pulling her up from under the surface.
Sherlock looked almost mad when she raised her brown eyes to his stormy blue-green ones, 'what are you doing?' He asked with a ragged breath.
She raised a single brow and give a small laugh only just realising he might have thought she was trying to drown herself.
'Diving, i'm thinking the concept is familiar to you?' She said with an obvious smirk playing on her face, and her teeth gently grazing the rosy skin of her bottom lip.
Sherlock gave a puff of air, obviously annoyed that he'd panicked slightly, Molly found it endearing and she placed a quick, sweet kiss on his cheek before she pulled herself away from his grasp and swam away.
Sherlock raised a hand to the warmth spreading over his face, erupting from where her lips had just grazed his skin.
Suddenly he remembered how close they had been as well, how her naked body had been pressed against his. Granted he wasn't naked, he'd jumped in wearing all of his clothes and now he felt stupid.
Molly seemed to see the change in his expression; she gave another small laugh as she swam back toward him.
She'd always been shy had never had the courage to stand up for herself, or tell boys that she liked them. But she swam all the way to him, and stood up, essentially baring her breasts and most of her lower abdomen to Sherlock.
She saw his Adams apple bobbing and the slight bounce in his pulse, hers was beating loudly in her ears and throat.
Slowly she raised her hands to his shoulders to slide off his jacket they were so close now that their breaths and puffs of air was mingling, swirling together in the fresh wafts of wind surrounding them.
Molly bit her lip again as her fingers slowly travelled to the buttons of Sherlock smooth maroon dress shirt, Sherlock gave a groan at the sight and found himself unable to hold back anymore. His right hand went around Molly's neck and he pulled her to him, his lips crashing against hers.
They stumbled to the shore and the towel and blanket Molly always brought with her, remembering to divest Sherlock of the rest of his soaking clothes before falling down unceremoniously to the ground.
Their lips were locked together as their hands explored, every crook and every bump was inspected with curiosity and the excitement of learning.
When Molly scraped over Sherlocks cock he gave out a muffled moan and he returned the favour by leading his hands to Molly's warmth, she gasped when he entered a finger into her cunt and her breathing became ragged and uneven.
'God, oh god, Sherlock' she moaned loudly, uncaring of the nature encircling them. It was slow, still an exploration as he tried to elicit moan after moan from her, working her from the small signs she gave, and the movements of her body.
She grabbed his cock again, using his signs for her own exploration, and it didn't take long to turn his hard breathing into deep moans of pleasure.
They looked at each other when he entered her, sharing gasps and small whines when he was fully seated inside of her.
Molly knew her body pretty well, she was seventeen and had experimented with a bit of masturbation but Sherlock inside her was a feeling she had never had the joy of before.
Sherlock was grunting against her neck as he moved his hips in perfect alignment with hers, sucking and nipping over her pulse point, and effectively turning her into a writhing mess.
Thankfully he wasn't much better off and as soon as her walls started clenching around his shaft he pulled out with just enough thought left in his mind that he wasn't wearing a condom. He opened his eyes and looked down to Molly, she was breathing heavily, his sticky white come was spread over her breasts, and Sherlock had never seen anything more beautiful.
Molly smiled at him shyly as she got up and returned to the water, he followed and they helped clean each other up. When they returned to dry ground they dried each other up and went back to their position on the blanket.
It was big enough to curl around the two of them, and they fell asleep like that, curled up in the blanket and each others arms.