"Oh, hold on! I've got a call!"
Anderson left the room after his cell phone rang loudly in his pocket. Sherlock shoved another slide into the microscope as the door shut behind him.
Sherlock didn't really care that much that Anderson was leaving, so he was puzzled as to why Anderson felt the need to inform him. The blabbering scientist had not shut up for quite a long time.
Although, listening to Anderson talk nonsense was almost better than the horribly boring silence of the lab.
Sherlock half-heartedly switched slides again.
He had decided the lab was dreadfully boring today. That was only partly because it was New Year's Eve and all of his friends were out. It was also because the work he was doing wasn't terrible interesting. But when he was on a case for Lestrade, he made a point to stick with it.
Oh, but the mundaneness of it! Slide after slide of the same components; blood, dirt from the pavement, rust from the knife, over and over! He'd been at it all day and was quite tired and ready to go home. But even when he was done at the lab, which would be who knows when, he was going to a meeting at Mycroft's, the only man to hold business meetings on New Year's Eve. It was enough to make Sherlock want to scream.
But, as always, he kept a straight face and continued to look through every slide, looking for traces of the poison Lestrade dubbed as a 'pivotal key to the case'.
The lab seemed so blank and empty, but it was a holiday, and Sherlock was working on the only project in the entire laboratory. Normally the solitude would soothe Sherlock if he was doing some serious thinking, but the infuriating part was this case required barely any thought at all! It all made him much too restless.
It wasn't as though he wanted to go out like John and Mary and party until dawn with 'the mates', but he would have appreciated a nice, quiet night at home. But oh no! A working man knows no rest!
His stack of useless slides grew indefinitely as his stack of useful slides remained at three. His regret for taking this case was also growing.
He was examining slide number why-the-bloody-hell-does-it-matter, when someone came bustling through the door.
"I have a new set of slides from Lestrade. He said these ones are from the western side of the alley."
"Thank you very much, Molly," Sherlock said with faux cheerfulness as his eyes stayed glued on the eyepiece. As Lestrade's slides were set to his left, he held out his smallest stack of slides without looking and said "Molly, could you please mark these as possible evidence."
"Oh. Yeah, sure." Her reply was delayed but Sherlock didn't let it concern him. He suspected she was about to leave, but he didn't mind using her to help him out a bit.
Molly sighed as she found a pen and the marking tabs. Molly sat on the table, carefully, so she wouldn't disturb Sherlock's work, and went about marking the slides.
"Happy New Year's Eve," Sherlock said, trying to make conversation while she worked, so he didn't seem too rude.
"Oh, yes." Molly replied half-heartedly, "Happy New Year's Eve."
Sherlock dismissed her tone. Molly had been nonchalant lately, much more cool and collected, and Sherlock had been trying not to let it get to him. He kept telling himself it was better than the puppy-dog Molly, but in the back of his mind he missed the power he had over her.
He held up a slide to the light, examining it with his own eyes first before putting it in the scope. The corner of his eye saw something sparkle and that was all it took.
Suddenly, his full attention was turned on Molly. She was dressed in a small black dress, with a slight glitter to it. It was tight to her body, much more risqué than anything she normally wore. She was decorated with gold jewelry and shimmering make-up, not too over-bearing, but just enough to be eye-catching. Her legs were crossed, black pumps dangling off the lab desk in a way that was infuriatingly arousing. Her gorgeous hair, lips, body, it was all just sitting right there on his table like a gift from above. The less erotic part of his restless mind was wondering where her lab coat was.
Sherlock blinked several times. The slide was held tightly in his hand and hadn't moved. Molly was still calmly labeling slides. It was like she didn't even realize how much of her body was exposed, or she just didn't care. By casting her eyes downward at her work, Sherlock could see her magnificently elegant eyelashes, a detail he had never noted before. This was the most gorgeous, intriguing and dazzling version of Molly he had ever seen.
It put him in a state of shock.
He blinked again and said, "Molly?"
"Hm?" She replied, not looking up. She grabbed another slide, and as she turned to set down the finished slide, the neckline of her dress slid so low Sherlock thought he might combust.
It was like all Sherlock could see and think about was her stunning body and how he had never seen her so… alluring. It was probably sinful, the way he was looking at her, but the poor man couldn't help it. He focused on forming words, forming a conversation. It proved to be difficult.
"Going to a party tonight?"
"Yeah," She said casually, "I was just heading out. It's just a little thing with all the staff; we wanted to have at least a little celebration. Champagne, maybe a few fireworks at midnight, you know."
Tearing his eyes away from the spot where her dress nearly exposed her bum, Sherlock shoved the slide he was holding into the microscope and peered into it. Sherlock was becoming restless and uncomfortable, but he didn't let it show.
"Ah," He said slowly. "It's unfortunate I won't be able to attend. I'll most likely be here at the lab for the larger part of the night."
"Well, parties aren't really your cup of tea, are they?" Molly said, not offensively, but in a joking nature.
Sherlock stood.
Molly finally looked up, jarred by his sudden movement
In Sherlock's current state of boredom, it obviously didn't take long for his desire to get the best of him. That was something he wouldn't admit to later. "Molly… Are attending this party with anyone?" He took careful steps toward her, like a predator to prey.
Her bright eyes, finally with that familiar scared-animal look that Sherlock loved so much, stared back at him. She blinked and batted her splendid eyelashes. She sounded confused as she said, "No, I'm just going by myself. I mean, it's not a huge party, being dateless isn't that—I mean—"
Her breath hitched when Sherlock approached her closer. His hungry expression startled her. Such a shame, Sherlock mused. In a moment she was about to be much more surprised.
In a swift motion, never breaking eye contact, Sherlock plucked the slide and the pen from Molly's fingers, tossing them to the table with a clatter. He stood so close his legs were against Molly's knees.
"The only reason I ask is…" Sherlock said, voice husky, "If you had a date tonight, it would have been rather unethical for me to do this."
He took Molly's face in his hands, with her eyes as wide as saucers, and tipped it up so their lips could meet. Her lips were warm and plump, perfect for Sherlock to devour. Sherlock enjoyed kissing Molly. Her lips were familiar, always there, waiting for him.
Their kiss quickly escalated. He'd pull back slightly and she'd follow, mouth open and eyes closed, begging for his mouth again. Her back arched and she reached as high as she could, but Sherlock would look down and grin. He was tall enough to tower over her, making her wait for him to lean down once again. And that's the game Sherlock played, kissing, then pulling away, hearing her whine, then launching back in.
As Sherlock's tongue dominated Molly's mouth, his hands began to explore her body. His hand slid up her leg, pushing her dress up slightly. She sighed, breaking the kiss. Sherlock's mouth kissed down her neck, tasting her delicate skin.
It was pleasing to him how fast Molly melted to his touch. He kissed her again on the mouth, pulling away with her chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping it tipped up towards him. "Did I tell you, you look ravishing this evening?"
Through the haze in Molly's eyes, she simply blinked at him in disbelief. She tried to get out a thank you, but then Sherlock's mouth was on hers again, tongues battling back and forth.
He shifted so both his hands were on her bum, drawing her closer until he was nearly leaning over her and the desk. She kissed him back with a rhythmic ferocity. She would bite his lip and he would return the favor. Her weak moans and breathy sighs filled the room. The entire kiss was so scandalous; Sherlock didn't feel it would disturb his morals if he broke one more rule.
So his hands moved to her thighs were he slid the dress up even further, touching whatever he pleased. Suddenly she was straddling him, hands buried in his hair, and then his hands were cupping her face again, trying to find a deeper angle. Lips here, lips there, this way and that. Sherlock kept kissing Molly over and over again as long as his mind kept thinking of creative angles.
Then the far door burst open.
"Sorry that took so long! My mate is being a stupid bloke, going on about some new girlfriend."
Sherlock released Molly and was back, in his chair, eyes focused on whatever was in the microscope, before Anderson had even put his phone in his pocket. Thankfully, he had the courtesy to pull Molly's dress down first. Molly was lucky he was such a gentleman, because she was still in shock when Anderson approached the lab table.
"Hi Molly," He greeted her.
"H-Hi." She turned to him. Her familiar smile flickered back on. She turned around and stacked up her finished slides. Even though she tried to hide it, Molly was a blushing mess. "I-I was just heading to the staff party." As she walked to the door, she stumbled, and quickly regained her balance. Adjusting her dress, she glanced back with a shaky laugh. But Sherlock's eyes were still studiously glued on the slides and Anderson merely raised an eyebrow at her.
She had her hand on the door knob when a low, rough voice said. "Molly?"
"Yes?" She turned. He looked up and their eyes met.
"You really do look beautiful tonight."
She smiled the widest smile Sherlock had ever seen, illuminating her whole face.
"Thank you."
She ducked out the door, and Sherlock went back to his microscope.
"Hey, Sherlock," Anderson said once she had gone. "John told us you can't attend the New Year's Eve party." He wiggled his eyebrows, and said "If you don't go, how are you gonna get a midnight kiss, then?"